Angonia for the Holidays

     With no "out of country" vacation time, a 3 month ban on travel outside of your site's province, and limited Mozambique friends or just acquaintances at site.  The boys of Chitima took a Holiday weekend trip to the coldest place in Mozambique that just so happens to be in the hottest  province of Moz.  Sound backwards? Yeah well it’s Africa so just roll with it like everything else illogical we volunteers experience.  For Christmas 2015 and my first Christmas away from family, my roommate and I traveled up to our fellow (Tetie) volunteers‘ house, Alejandra and Michelle, in Angonia Tete for some holiday cheer, good company, and great food. 
    The Chitima Holiday Vacation started the day before Christmas Eve after locking up the house and leaving Tximanga a boat load of cat food to hold him over for the vacay.  We headed down to the oven of a capital, Tete City, to meet up with the other three Moz25 volunteers we would be spending Christmas with and do some holiday shopping  for our secrete Santas and white elephant gifts.  Also some grocery shopping for the holiday meals to get important things you just can’t ever find at any volunteers’ site like, CHEESE.

 (Cramming food outside the store into our backpacks for the pleasantly unpleasant 4-hr chappa ride.)

     (Yeah that's an entire gallon bag of cheese, the cravings are a real thing)

     After the grocery shopping mission, and a 4 1/2-hr 22 person minivan taxi ride; we all arrived in the delightfully cool village of Angonia.  Really though.  After leaving Tete City that morning which was around 100 degrees and slowing feeling the breeze in the taxi turn from scorching to refreshingly cool.  It was amazing to step out into a place that was a comfortable low 80s with a nice breeze.  For a hot minute it felt like I had ended up back in the Midwest. There were pine trees and green grass with the sense of seasons changing as you could feel the crisp wind bringing some rain with it.  A little rain and a couple days in the high 70s, this was definitely the closest thing to a white Christmas in Africa that you could get.
    The next 2 ½ days we did all the classic Christmas events we could: listened to holiday music (Michael Buble on blast), watched Christmas movies (White Christmas, The Grinch, and of course Elf), made awesome breakfest and dinners along with Christmas COOKIES, and opened actual wrapped Christmas gifts. 

 (Santa musta been sweating bullets when he made the trek out here)

 (BACON, french toast with apricot jam, and  REAL coffee)

(It was a bad ass Hawaiian Tee and a slick ball cap. Thanks Ale!)

 (A whole tray of BACON, thanks to our Zimbabwe ex-pat friend Blaine.)

     After all the fun and cheer and absolute bliss of being in weather below 90 degrees; Drew and I headed back to Chitima the day after to get back Tximanga, house projects, and some much needed laundry. 
    So, even though I wasn’t spending the Holidays with all you people I love and miss, hope ya’ll had an awesome Christmas yourselves! It was a good Christmas in Africa and I was very thankful to spend it with a good group of people and be able to enjoy each others company and our attempts at having a traditional westerner holiday with a few little twists. 

(And the gift that keeps on giving continues still in Africa.... Getting Iced)

Breaking Radio Silence

Hey Fam, Friends, Peps, and Curious People,

So I want to apologize for the bit of radio silence that occurred over the past 2 1/2 months.  PC training in Namaacha was a bit more busy than I had intended and my devices to connect with the outside world didn't always work like I had hoped.  Figuring out this internet jist here has been a little tricky in itself too.  But now that I am at my 2 year site and have found this oasis in the desert of Tete that has wifi, I hope to stay more on top of this blog and in touch with you all.

So for a quick recap and update about what had happened in the past two ish months:

Late Sept:
-Arrived in Mozambique and started our stay here in a fancy hotel in Maputo, this was WAY nicer than anything I have experience since than here in Moz.
-Moved to Namaacha and met our Homestay families (Had one Mae and 2 brothers: Pedro and Costa)
    -First night was a real reality check: chicken feet for my first dinner and a bucket bath outside with no  roof.)
 
Oct:
- Training was in full swing
-Language training twice a day every day for two weeks
-Teacher training starts up during week 3 in what were called "Tech Hub" sessions
-We have a Halloween party for all of the homestay siblings and they loved it. (Super-hero, Hunter and a gangster lion.)
-Take our first language test and I am just under the threshold needed for passing
-We go on shadow visits to hang with some current volunteers and see what life is like for PCVs
   -I visit Cambine, Inhambane with a volunteer named Rebecca and we made some BOMB food that was a good break from the non-stop Peixe(fried fish) of my homestay dinners.
   -also started the visit with the weekend in Tofu Beach, which was BEAUTIFUL

Nov:
-After shadow visits we get our site placements, I was placed in Chitima, Tete
   -northwest part of the country and I have a roommate, his name is Drew Cool dude, cooks like a champ.
-I was in the intense language training to try and get me ready for model school.
-Don't quite get to the language level before model school.  But I still teach anyway.
    -we teach a couple classes at the local high school before school gets out
    -I taught 9th grade math, the topic was polyhedrons. I brought in objects from home for examples.  Was a big hit.
-After model school I am still grinding out language class for another two weeks. (Foreign is not my forte)
-For the final language test though I some how pass and am cleared to have enough skill to survive haha
   -although I do feel confident in my language to get around and not worried about living.

Dec:
-Have a homestay party with all the families and enjoy one last night in Namaacha and can dancing at Tinga's
-MOZ-25 swears in! At the Mozambique Ministry of Education headquarters in Maputo.
   -I don't want to brag but.... I think my swear in outfit killed it.  Real Mozambiquen-esq haha
-After swear-in we say good by to all the good friends we've made over training and we jet off to our respected regions of the country.
-After couple days in the central part of the country for supervisors conference, we truck it out to our site.
-Am now here at my site and really enjoying it.
   -and getting used to the crazy heat.

Hope that helps ya'll fill in some of the blanks about what the heck I've been up to for the past 2 1/2 months.

Homestay Fam at homestay celebration

First Lingua Group

There is MY SITE

We are on the board and out in the Bush

Mae Nature knows best.

So yesterday was Thanksgiving and us trainees were lucky enough to leave Namaacha for a few hours and take a mini trip to the capital, Maputo, for a short mental vacation and enjoy some of the US comfort foods we all know and love from Thanksgiving.  Also we were able to enjoy a little A/C, which was very much needed that day, and got to vegg out on a couch that had more than an inch of padding.  

Life was American good for a couple of hours while I stuffed my gut full of turkey, stuffing, fresh greens,  REAL CHEESEy potatoes, and pie.  And the free Heineken beer was a nice added touch too.  Though the oasis of our country director's house could not last for ever and we were ushered out of the place after a few great hours.  

Actually we were hustled out of there real quick, with our PC training staff telling us that we were being late as we are all trying to get one last use of a flushing toilet. So we all hurry and pile into our chappas, taxi buses, that we're going to take us back to Namaacha, which had been in the direct sun that whole time and were still directly in the path of those intense African rays. Which heated that thing up like the charcoal on my mae's stove.  And of course once we all pile into the chappa our driver is no were to be found and we have to wait, typical.  We slowly start baking like the holiday turkey we just ate.  I'm in the back of the chappa and sitting at a seat without a window that opens, bad move on my part.  It's like being an ant underneather a magnifying glass in the sun.  Like a little kid was just antagonizing me seeing how much heat I could take and that kid was simply life itself.  As I sat and stood up to try and air out a little it seemed like everything I did only made me sweat more.  My whole shirt was now a solid shade darker and I was dripping sweat off of every corner of my body, could only compare this amount of stagnet sweating to my few days of cutting weight during freshman year high school wrestling.  Rocking a sauna suit and two pairs of sweats doing push ups at the top of the pool room bleachers.  

Though our driver was finally found and we were on our way, thank the lord, with the chappa moving and every window on that thing wide open I was able to eventually catch some breeze and cool down. After getting through some holiday traffic, which I don't even think I can call it that because they don't celebrate Thanksgiving here, we were back in Namaacha and being dropped back off at the front of my barrio.  Once I stepped off that chappa and started on my trail back to house I felt so stale and coated with a thin layer of dried sweat all over my body.  Needless to say when I got home I wanted my nightly bucket bath in the worst type of way.  As I am drawing up my water in my NEW BATH BUCKET I notice there is a good storm a coming up from our southwest in Swaziland.  A solid thunder cloud with lots of lightning to show.  I don't care, I'm feeling pretty grimey and in serious need of this bath.  

So I start heading out to our roofless bathroom and my Mae stops me on the patio to tell me there is a storm coming and I should skip the bath.  I tell here I'll be fast and I need it, also thinking what are the odds I'll ever get struck by lightning.  I do my thing with the bucket and am hast about it.  The storm is rolling in quick but I'm almost done and the rain isn't even to us yet.  I'm drying off and the thunder is coming quicker and quicker after each lightning strike.  With my towel in hand and getting ready to go for my shorts all of a sudden, Flash, the whole sky is lit up and then the loudest BOOM follows immediately after.  I'm not struck but damn did I hit the deck.  My heart is racing and high tail it outa there.  Snatching my shirt and shorts on the way to runnining to the house as I attempt to wrap my towel around my waist.  I hear my Mae shout, "Man Cole," and she ushers me inside once she sees me rounding the corner like I'm coming around third base heading home to beat the relay throw to the catcher.  I make it in the house and she shuts the door, we go into the kitchen and shut that door too were now my two brothers, Mae, three neighbor kids, and I (still dripping and barely wrapped with my towel) are all huddled up.  After a few moments we calm down and the rain begins to come down in buckets.  My Mae and the children then look around and see me. Then realize what had just happen to me and they all being to burst out laughing and speaking in xingana to eachother about what just occur and trying to quote the explicits they all heard me yelling as I hurdled into the house.  I begin to laugh too as I simply look at my Mae and tell her she told me so and was right. Mae always knows best. 

MozamBustAMove

Out of all the Peace Corps countries I could have been invited to serve in I don't think I could have landed in a better place to fuel Jerome's incessant urge to dance.  Lemme tell ya why.  While majority of the population here have less than most I've know in the past they do love their music and someone's house will often have at least one decent speaker or set.  And everyone loves to dance! I'm talking EVERYone: the kids, boys, girls, the ladies, and the men.  Men here actually like to dance the most I'd say and they are all about getting in the center to show off their moves.  It's an odd day if I don't see a group of kids together taking turns showing their stuff around a cell phone with a beat or a teenager doing his solo thing walking down the street with his headphones in.  Our only channel that we get on our TV also just so happens to be a Mozambiquen version of MTV before it got lame with reality shows and actually showed music.  But the afternoon show is usually a guest show where they bring on aspiring artistic and dance crews and let them get their 15 seconds of fame and show off their goods for a bit.  And this show's set looks as though it is a slightly better funded version of Wayne's world, like a chic

  Heck on a nightly basis in my house my brothers will steal my Mae's phone and dig into her library to put on the latest and greatest one hit wonder that has gone viral throughout the barrios and will just let it all go.  I mean full body moves gettin in to it, stanki-leg, the whip, nea-nea, Michael Jackson classics, and even booty twerking (yes, especially my little brother loves to twerk).  He busted his go to move at our sibling Halloween party in the center of the costume show circle.  A couple nights at home we can't even make it through dinner without one brother stopping to bust a quick move because our Mae's ringtone went off. 

But the fun doesn't stop with the local kids, because the adults have their own awesome dancing go-to's and games they like when the party gets going.  For some insight I'll tell ya that most of the Mozambiquen dancing styles involve a lot of use of the legs, which they take that to a whole knew level.  And it's all about getting your chance to show off your stuff in the spotlight for a brief moment.  Circling up to a good song and taking 30 sec turns leaving it all out there is pretty much the norm.  Nothing really like "you got served" stuff, most people are all pretty good at giving others a chance when they want it and props when they are deserved. 

Though the most entertaining dance finominan and was also one of my first cultural nuances I saw upon arriving to Mozambique is something we have just been calling "can dancing."  And it's pretty much exactly like it sounds.  Once the party is good and going someone will take the liberty of kicking it up a notch by placing a can, or a stack of cans, in the center of the dance floor circle and everyone will take turns really strutting their stuff this time. All while attempting to getting as close as possible to the cans without touching or knocking them over while still maintaining that elevated level of swag to impress the masses.  It's a honestly some of the most fun and definitely most entertaining type of dancing I've experienced.  And like I said this was the one of my first cultural oddities that I witnessed, which was during our first night in Moz at our hotel in Maputo which was hosting the reception to a wedding and the bridesmaids had got the competition going while all of us newly arrived trainees watched in the fun from the patio.  Knew there was at least one thing about Moz I was going to like at that point, and still is a country highlight now.

    Teaching the local school kids the whip-naynay

        Dinner time dancing

Was almost a nightly occurrence.

Can dancing in all its glory

Life just comes in buckets.

So like with many of the things here in life in Mozambique that are simplified down to the bare minimum, so is my way of usage with water and bathroom dealings.  And how my life around this is currently set up, my life is technically run out of 3 buckets in my room.  I have my bath bucket and my drinking water bucket, that are used for obvious reasons.  And my last bucket is called my xi-xi(she-she) bucket, which unless you speak Portuguese is less harder to see the obvious meaning.  So what it is in a simple explanation, it is my midnight pisser.... Yep I get a simplified master bathroom in my room in my house in Africa.  And as grossed out as you might initially be reacting, which I did too at first, but after a few uses out of serious necessity of waking up at 3 am because the dang roosters already started chirping.  I actually became pretty happy I had such a simple luxury. 

Alright, so this is not where this post ends but rather starts with this background info.  I tell you this in advance so that you will get the full appreciation and unfortunate-ness and or gravity for the rest of the story to which it would rather not be a story worth posting at all.  One other thing, in my short time here I've quickly learned from my own and hearing other peoples' experiences that to stay sain it seems you really gotta learn to laugh at yourself. So I am currently chuckling.

When I am taking my bucket baths, outside in my open air "shower" area that is also conveniently made from the same structure that also holds our "toilet" area, I've been trying to let my bucket dry out as much as possible while I'm drying off to drip less water in the house when I go back in.  So, to help dry it out lately I was hanging my bucket upside down on a wooden pole that was attached to the bathroom structure holding my door up on its hinges.  While up there after one of my recent rejuvenating baths, the bucket slipped off and cranked upon hitting the ground putting a good size hole in the bottom.  Well me being the McGuiver I am, I decide to try out at being that resourceful volunteer that can fix anything and role with the punches.  I jimmy-rig a patch with some e-tape and cardboard for rigidity.  Looks good and I test it out the next night.  Holds water ok in the house so I go for it.  Make it to the start of bath and I see it's leaking already.  So screw it I tried and I know we have other buckets in the house.  I take it to my Mae and show here, tell her I'm really sorry.  She shrugs me off and takes the bucket form me. 

Morning after that, I return home from my morning run with a good sweat and am in need of that bucket bath.  So I stroke up to my Mae on the living room couch and ask her which bucket I could use to take my bath?  She says some stuff quite fast which I miss and points in the general direction of  both the kitchen and my room.  In the kitchen above the dish shelves are the buckets for laundry.  Cool, perfect I'll just use one of those for the time being.  I go and start taking down one of the buckets when she comes in the kitchen and tells me to stop.  I do and back away into the doorway of my room to get a view of her and ask here which bucket I should be using, I point at the laundry buckets and say, "isto?"  She shakes her head and points threw me into my room behind me and says, "isso." 

My stomach instantly drops, I know exactly what she is getting at.... I remind you, I live out of 3 buckets; one is full of my drinking water and another just broke, yeah.  So I quickly try to change her mind with my weak/broken Portuguese but nope, she sees no foul in this or reason why I shouldn't use my xi-xi bucket.  And me standing there all sweaty and with no good enough reason, the deed had to be done.  I used it, TIA(this is Africa).  

P.S. As grossed out as you might be now and I kinda don't blame ya.  I have to try and save face.  In my defense every morning after I ever used my xi-xi bucket during the night I rinsed it out with water.  But yeah, the principle is all the same...

The Trio

Bath bucket with hole

Drinking water bucketXi-Xi bucket......

Inny. Outy.

So I am about as stereotypical western as they come on my mind; Caucasian, male, brown hair, blue eyes, and I only speak English (hopefully only for the time being). While I expected to look physically very different from the Mozambiquen locals and they rarely spare any chance they get at letting me know that.  Pretty sure it's almost a universal mothers topic that they teach their children that it's not polite to stare, but what are the kids suppose to do when momma is doing the starring too.  Haha it's not something that bugs me at all.  It has been kinda of nice so far being the center of so much fascination and curiosity to so many people since for my entire life I've only been publicly seen as a basic white guy.  Even though all the girlies say, I'm pretty fly for a white guy.  

The children easily get the biggest kick out of the differences between us volunteers and them.  During my first day with my family.  My brothers must have told all their friends I was coming because we had quite the crowd for at our house while we were lounging and playing catch in the front yard.  When I would take a break from tossing the old pigskin around and sit on our front stoop the little tikes would all gather around me and begin to study me.  Their collectively biggest fascination had to be with hair difference, all body hair difference.  All the little guys must have ran their hands through my hair at least twice and the entire night when I'd turn to look at my little brother or take in the scenery I'd feel a lite touch of a hand stroking my leg or arm.  Just enough to feel the hairs without actually hitting my skin, like they were playing operation and if I was touched I'd buzz.  I let them get their fill of hands on operation because it wasn't like I was gonna be able to answer any of their most pressing questions. 

My most interesting difference though that was brought to my attention by my little brother Costa during my first night here.  So aside from all the awkward pointing, nodding, and hand sherades I had to use to communicate with my family then and the seemingly endless game for catch with the American football we played in the front yard, my little brother was just excited to be all over me all the time.  All night and even during dinner he was on my like a monkey in a tree.  Used to it though from years of chucking kids into the SJ River during SJJF summers.  Costa was at one point later in the night on top of my head and trying to get perched like a bird in a nest.  Sensing something bad about to come , I picked him up to move him to a more manageable height.  His shirt though had gotten tangled up and lifted above his stomach when doing so and it was at this moment I saw he had the largest outy (belly button) I had ever seen.  It was sticking out about an inch and half, I was fascinated and my eyes just happen to do a double take long enough for him to notice my curiosity.  Which must have led him to wonder why I found his button so interesting.  After being put down he immediately went for my shirt.  Lifting it up enough to see my button he was instantaneously AMAZED by my inny.  And I am not exaggerating how much he was blown away.  He quickly tried to jam his finger as deep as he could into my button acting like it was a door to Narnia because he was just giggling and smiling non stop while he examined me.  This new discovery was such a big deal that after pulling his hand out of my gut he immediately turned around and slapped my other brother, Pedro, in the face, who was sleeping.  Shouting at him to look at my lack of belly button. Pedro turned around, looked and was not nearly as impressed as Costa and mumbled what must have been him telling Costa he was crazy.  Though this didn't deter Costa in the least as he went right back to trying to jam more fingers and at one point a cell phone into my stomach.  I couldn't do much besides sit back enjoy the attention and laugh, and keep him from proding me in the gut with something too dangous.  

Was fun being someone's first anatomy experiment and since then we just point to each other's belly buttons and get a laugh out of it.

 Smiling just ain't cool. (Costa is on the far right)

 But they do love the camera.

Moz25 to ground control

Alright, so enough with the deep-minded philosophical jargon about why I'm doing this and the personal reflections about what I experiencing.  Because frankly I'm on this plane half way across the Atlantic to Johannesburg and there is little turning back unless I'm deathly ill or I can't stand Mozambique more than a whole herd of pregant women taking the pleasure to let me know that they are going to "pee."  Plus I'm promising there will be more of that vast psychological mind magic later to come.  

I just want all you beautiful people at home to conceptualizer some of the experiences I'm going through and some of the hilarity that I'm bound to witness.  I will more than certainly be wishing some of you experienced it with me.  But for now this is the closest it can get and will hopefully do.  

Being that I've never flown on an cross oceanic flight before my imagination of what to expect was slighty on and far off as well.  For starters, when I first started picturing this flight I couldn't help but conjure up scenes in my head of Samuel L. Jackson in Snakes on a Plane with that iconic line, "All these Motha F^€%ing Snakes on this MOTHA F^€%ING Plane!"  Also the idea that we were going to Africa and I would problem encounter more deadly snakes in my trip than the sum of my time spent in the reptile room on field trips growing up, it seemed plausible.  And then of course Liam Nessiam, after watching the Taken trilogy more times in the Cougar Hunter with the boys than I care to admit. The epic hostel hostage situation in Non-Stop came to mind as well.  Though I'd vote trump to get a personal recording of him telling me, "Good luck." But I'll do without the plane bomb scenario.  

What I have had to experience though in this air pilgrimage to Africa has been some what entertaining as well.  At least for me. Being someone who enjoys flying, 15 hours in the air ain't nothin to F^€% wit. After being informed of the crippling possibility of acquiring swollen ankles from the lack of movement, struck the fear of having kankles he size of bread loaves in me.  So I've been on the strict regiment of walking around, standing up, or using the head every couple hours.  Safe to say so far my calves have not begun to sag into my achilles.  Second on my air time journey has been the somewhat young and hipster European newly wed couple that is seated right in front of me.  The guy rocking a beard like he's Dan Balzarian and looks like his lankier dopple ganger and the petite little blonde arm piece he has with him.  These two have been exchanging sweet nothings like their in the back of math class, probably my math class, and their PDA (public display of affection) rivals that of the underclass first "love" we would witness at St. Joe High in between passing periods.  And they just went to bathroom, $5 this flight has been christened , what UPP.  Feel bad for Rob, my roommate from staging, who has been enduring their endless love for the duration of this.  But third of all that has appeased me on this flight is the on par food and beverage service we've been getting.  Salmon with mashed potatoes and a lager for lunch, game on. Along with the great accents of the stewardesses. Which I'm sure to hear more of in Moz, has been quite fantastic.  All in all, I'm like a kid who road his first roller coaster, hooked.  And the best part of this international flying is that when we do touchdown, I'm gonna be even more (aye aye) blown away and taken back by the place where we make port.  Can't wait!  And if you can't tell; I'm soaking in all the luxuries into my sanity bank for myself during those expected low points during service. 

Hungry Peace Corps volunteer XXL TV dinner

Not two-hearted or keystone, but it's beer.

P.S. Sorry, Couldn't snake a selfie with the the sweet hearts :/

Yes, it's real.

We're off, out the gate, lit the fuse, in THE FINAL COUNTDOWN to leaving America in the dust and starting our new lives in Africa as Moz25 volunteers of the US Peace Corps.  Even though there are a few hours left until we are really at the no turning back point of take off; as I write this on the bus to NYC's JFK from Philly.  We really in my mind have begun the service.  Staging is in the books and the offer to rethink our decision and feel the gravity of what really is about to be our lives has been told to us and made clear.  That being said it's nice to say I still saw all 63 of us up this morning and willing to through our packed lives on the bus.  We are in it together and that was one of the better things that was clearly made to us at the close of our staging.  No one else, not friends, family, significant others, or phone line therapists will really understand and be able to weigh in on what we are going through.  Even though I'd like to think you all will live pretty vicariously through me in this blog, giving you the sense of sitting on my mud porch with me soaking it all in.  But never have I been in a situation with a group of strangers and very new friends that will have to band together and lean on others to struggle, persevere, and succeed like this.  Which is cool to think that just a group of somewhat young people can instantly become so close just over a mindset and common goal.  

A quote that one of our staging instructors had said that almost brought this whole idea of what I'm doing onto a whole other mindset level was, "while some of you have been waiting almost even three years to serve in the Peace Corps, you need to think about the communities you will be serving and that they also have been waiting a long time for you to arrive and help them," which caught me by surprise because I never occurred to me to of it being that serious for those people too.  Being kind of selfish I really had thought mostly of myself having to give up things and put forth the time and effort. Though she continued with, "and if you are to ET(early terminate) and leave, think of how they might take that.  As if they screwed up, made you unhappy or unwelcome and messed up with a person they had hoped for a good while to be in their community."  So already I feel more responsibility and sense of purpose for this than I had ever previously though about.  Which with as much pressure as it adds on my conscious, it feels a lot better to have than to not.  Giving me some more confidence and determination for this role I'm looking to step into.  

So next time I post in this, it will probably be from the good ole continent of Africa.  Excited for this 17 hour flight, being my only previous preparations of 2 hr max flights to condition me; it should be a blast! 

Deuces!

 Yeah.

The great migration begins, 

By waiting for the terminal to open.

Sundays

I've never really liked Sundays, the start of a new week and the end of the relaxing weekend along with more homework more errands mo problems less money. Whether it was a Sunday in high school and a full day of classes to come loomed over my head or in college and a late night of studying was probably needed from the neglectful weekend filled with road trips, regattas, or a legendary Cougar Hunter banger.  Either way many Sundays all felt pretty similar and predictable of what they would hold. 

This last Sunday was different though, despite waking up and heading to the 11 o'clock mass at St. Bernard's with the rest of the Radenbaugh and visiting Flores clan, the predictability was gone after that. Which was a weird feeling, like the stuff you get before a drop of a roller coaster or the moment before meeting a blind date. My mind was restless as the thought of what's next began to sink in and really I have no clue to what I am truly about to experience this next week. Yeah, I know my itinerary and plans of where I'll be but everything in between is a great big blank and there's nothing I can expect for sure. I'm excited to meet my fellow volunteers, worried I'll do well at this, nervous to take the first step off the ledge of certainty and free fall into a world completely different from anything I've every been apart of.  

But I know these feelings are good, they are what I've chased for most of my life and reveled in these moments when I have experienced similar emotions before.  So I embrace these feelings and pack my bags like I have times before as this Monday is the start of what I believe will be some unreal journey. 

Start'n somewhere

English was never my best subject, not in the least.  And if you have spent anytime around me in the recent decade and heard me try to articulate well formed statements, debates, and/or comebacks; you've probably gotten a decent laugh out of my amazing use of proper grammar and word choice.  And you've probably heard my excuse... I'm a math major.  So, I digress. (NAILED IT)

   You also probably know some of my root stories and how I was brought up 1/2 the time in a household of two teachers, one being an English teach and the other a linguist of the Romance language Spanish. Both subjects of which I can't say I particularly excelled at, not for the lack of effort on the rents end of it (Spanish Wednesdays) ;) When friends and acquaintances I would tell this to their usual and logical next question would always be, "so, do you want to be a teacher yourself?"  To that I would say, "HELL NO."  Not that I never thought highly of my rents or my past teahers noble pursuit of educating the next generation.  I just never pictured myself in that setting OR dealing with parent teacher conferences and administration fiascos. 

  Though as cliche as it is, and I like it when cliches are true, fate works in mysterious ways.  As I am about to attempt to master and take part in all three of my previously renounced subjects and career path.  Keep up a blog (English), teach math to secondary students, and live/work in a Portuguese speaking country.  Fate, you crafty SOB.

   So if you are reading this and have some sort of affiliation to me, or not, I hope that you and I will be able to enjoy my attempt at writing throughout the next chapter of my life.  I extend my sincerest apologizes now for any grammar mistakes or improper word usage you might find along the way, just laugh at it. My goals are to stay as up to date with this project and all of you as humanly possible, god (wifi access) willing.  I'm not very sure what to expect for very much of what lies ahead, only a few ideas and expectations with a whole lot of trail magic in between. 

Take it easy & stay posted.

-Cole