Holy crap, I found a nudist colony!

When music hits you, you feel no pain. However, when you are sitting in a chair and feel something flair. Diarrhea. Diarrhea. Goes the tune.
So when the shit hits the fan, do not panic. This will only make a shitty situation, well, shittier. Getting the point of this entry yet?
Luckily Isabel is the shit and helps out the sick gringo living in the attic of her house. For this illness she took me into the garden to collect some herbs to make a tea. She handed me a canella flower and the root of onion, and we headed back inside. Interesting combination, I thought as I wondered about the taste of this particular tea.
She put on a small pot of water and waited for it to boil before turning off the burner and adding the ingredients. Once it cooled, I was allowed to drink the oniony concoction and then promptly went to bed. The next morning I awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take on the world.

Another interesting discovery was recently found by another volunteer and brought to my attention by another PCV. When you yawn, it does not signify that you are tired. It means you are hungry. I never put two and two together until this point. I have been randomly asked if I was hungry, but never thought it was because I yawned. It is better than being asked if I am tired, plus I am always hungry.
So a week ago I tried to explain to Isabel why I did not want to drink coffee at 11pm. I informed her that it keeps me awake. She found this to be really funny and in fact a bull shit excuse for not drinking coffee. Now a few days later I had coffee and humitas http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humita with Isabel and her uncle. She told him this hilarious story about me and my unique problem with coffee. He found it just as funny and my explanation of caffeine was not effective. Frustration ensued and I ate my humitas quietly.

Saturday the 16th of October

Today Clint and I went to meet the Scout group as per usual. However, today was different. It was field trip day! Destination, unknown. We arrived at a government building and the Scouts attire was looked over and approved. Shit needed to be in order and tucked in. When it came time to inspect Clint and I they just walked on. I had on a dirty shirt and grass stained jeans, no hope.
We walked in to a very nice reception room where on the stage some Scouts set up guitars, drum machines, microphones and a bass. Ok, looks like we might get some live music! Sure enough they played a couple songs throughout the ceremony honoring certain Scouts. It appeared that some had deserved the privilege of becoming a higher rank and that was the point of this trip.




Clint and I have also agreed to teach 30 minutes of English to the Scouts every Saturday. So we need to get a lesson plan (general) together pretty quick.
Later in the night I while drinking a beer at a bar I was approached by guy who asked me if I play rugby. I asked why, and he pointed out the fact that I was wearing Scotland’s rugby polo. Yeah, I did play for a bit in high school and college.
He asked me to join him and his teammates for a drink. From what I gathered it seems they do not know a lot and there coach just quit. So they want someone to help run practices and get them ready for a tournament in December. I told them I not a great player but I will try my best to help them out. I will be at their practice next Sunday to help out.


Sunday

Today I felt guilty for finding the following situation funny, but I did not laugh out loud. Whilst at a barbeque lunch at the neighbors I noticed the little 4 year old cousin mildly harassing a bunch of very small baby chicks. Then all of sudden mama chicken sees this and does not approve. The bird runs full speed to the sitting girl and drills her right in the head with its head. BOOM! The girl goes over backwards and is reduced to screams and tears for her mama.
Mom told her that there is no need to worry. That next weekend they will kill and eat the bad mama chicken. This made the girl stop crying and she smiled a little. I hope I am invited to that dinner too!







Websters’ defines homesickness as “longing for home and family while absent from them.”
Tristan defines homesickness as “longing for Creedence Clearwater Rival at full volume, family parties, friends, Yuengling and pizza, Phillies, Eagles and of course WaWa.”

To overcome this occupational hazard, the author employees many age old tactics. Firstly he combats this disease (which is almost as deadly as RLS, which the author most definitely has as well http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/restless%20legs%20syndrome) with writing this blog, so thanks for reading it! Secondly, he has an American flag hanging proudly in his bedroom window. Thirdly, he hears updates about the hit show Jersey Shore, and is glad he is on the other side of the world from that over-gelled mess.
The Author’s mind is also worried about culture shock. Defined by Webster as “a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation.”

Eh, that is a pretty good description.

Tristan’s definition is similar. “A sense of confusion for paying more than a $1.50 for a 22 oz. beer at a bar and a state of uncertainty on deciding whether to go to either Pat’s or Geno’s for a cheesesteak upon returning from Ecuador.”


I heard somewhere catchy titles get people to read things they normally would not. Hope it worked!