And I had to spend the entire winter in shorts. That is what Ryan is like: A fake brother who steals your jeans.

Living on Eastern Standard Time is bizarre. Having the US just ‘fall back’ an hour while the time here remains constant leaves me feeling an hour early. To watch the nightly news (we get NYC news) I must wait until 11pm. I suppose this is a bit trivial, but it really affects my food network schedule. We miss Paula Dean and Giada most days. This is distressing as we both derive great pleasure from viewing Paula’s billion calorie concoctions and I generally enjoy watching Giada chop vegetables. The rain here is beginning to let up a bit, which is nice break from perpetual moistness. The rain has brought out the frogs. Remember when Erin blessed us with the knowledge that Jamaica has 17 species of frogs that have no tadpole stage? Well there have been thousands of tiny little frogs hopping about. These brown-speckled nickel-sized creatures bounce around your feet as you walk and remarkably get out of the way before you squish them. Today all the volunteers in the St. James Parish met with the PC regional security officer. I made a strong push to try to get Vespa scooters for volunteers as a safety measure, but the PC did not see the connection to safety that I did. Oh well. Work is going well as Erin and I are getting better at this whole teaching thing. I know this is a bit surprising as neither of us have much experience nor patience. Not that there are no setbacks. Last week one of our kids almost got expelled from school. When his principal ‘licked’ him he hit back and then went for a pair of scissors (with the intent to stab? I know not). After a meeting concerning the situation he is going to be allowed back at school. Recently I became the secretary of the VAC, which stands for volunteer advisory (or action or something else possibly) committee. This is pretty much student council for PC volunteers here on island. I assumed this responsibility after the newly elected secretary early terminated her service. I did not originally run and was not the least bit interested in the committee. I really wanted the ‘member-at-large’ position which is no more than a member who gets all perks and has no responsibilities what-so-ever (as is written in the VAC constitution). But I ended up with the secretary position and will take it fairly seriously as I think there are some things that the committee can really do to help volunteers. A big weekend in college football this weekend. I want everybody to know now that I am picking Ohio St. to lose (BCS mix up!), a close game and narrow victory for the Jayhawks at Okie St. (top 2 ranking?), and a 52-16 MU rout of Texas A&M at the ‘Zou. Erin is going to make chocolate chip scones for dessert tonight. Domestic Goddess???? Not quite yet, but… soon come!!!!

I’ll catch you on the flip side…
Patricio

The eyes are the groin of the face

I’m fairly sure less work is accomplished during rainy season than any other time during the year. At first I was appalled to learn that many citizens choose to skip scheduled meetings, school, work… due to a little rain. Then I realized how wet and muddy I get walking short distances in the rain, and how quickly my damp clothes and shoes develop a potent odor. Taxis are suddenly jam packed and scarce, and roads flood after 10 minutes of steady cloud excretion. The flooding is almost impressive in it’s speed and scale. Everyone back home should take a second to appreciate gutters and sewers. Really an integral, but often overlooked, component of our infrastructure. The rain (and demonic 4 and 5–year-olds) is what is keeping me from the 400 books that need to be dusted and labeled. The problem is that I am here, more or less dry, on my couch while the books are a soggy uphill walk to the mosquito and rock-throwing-child inhabited basement of a basic school. Otherwise I would currently be contentedly slapping stickers on paperbacks. In an attempt to make use of my morning, I swept and then got down on hands and knees to scrub the floor. After about 2 tiles, my effort became half-hearted and I resigned myself to just hitting the really dirty parts. Domestic goddess I still am not. I just noticed a pile of dirt under the coffee table. I have an admirer. He’s always at the stand I pass on my way to work in the afternoons. He began showing up two weeks ago when Patrick was absent. Every time I step through the hedge next to the stand, he opens his toothless maw and shouts jubilantly, “Teacha!” He usually follows this up by telling me he is back again today (a fact which I can see for myself, thanks) or mumbling something about “baby.” I’m not sure if he is calling me “baby” or if he wants me to have a baby. Either option is likely, and unwelcome. This sudden attention has made me consider running for Miss West Best Fish and Bammy. I think I have a real shot. What a sweet title, right? Who wants to be Miss America if you can instead wear the crown of Miss West Best Fish and Bammy? Not me. Taxi rides always mean a chance to catch up with the fresh new hits on Jamaican radio. Someone hit gold—maybe platinum—with the bag juice song. We were on a bus to Matt’s house when we heard it. Bag juice is sugar water that comes in small plastic bags. It costs J$10 and is the sole cause of diabetes on the island. The dancehall ode praising this adored potable is reminiscent of the peanut butter jelly song. Except that this is no novelty ditty. Oh no, it is serious musical poetry that shares airtime with Sean Kingston and the molestation song. I know it is an actual radio-worthy song because they interrupt it with sirens, air horns, and the Irie jingle. That’s how we roll here in Jamaica.

I did not become a Lackawanna County volunteer sheriff’s deputy to make friends. And by the way, I haven’t.

Usually our blogging consists of interesting anecdotes or maybe a humorous poem written about one’s bathroom. However, this one is more serious. Not that this is a huge deal… but I would like to share with all of our subscribers that Thursday night I, Patricio, was mugged.

Okay, the story…

I traveled to visit our friend Ryan in May Pen. He is working in his community on a football (soccer) field and community center. This weekend was supposed to kickoff the retaining wall for the field. So naturally he called Peace Corps Jamaica’s resident concrete expert. I went down to see what I could do to help out. Ryan is getting ready to move into a new place, so when I arrived in May Pen, I met Ryan and accompanied him to meet with Ann the Wonderful, our PC Safety and Security officer, who was in town to inspect Ryan’s new abode. After viewing Ryan’s new digs, we went with Ann to visit Tiff-Tiff at her site. By the time we returned to Ryan's, it was around 8:00. As Ann pulled away, Ryan and I realized we were locked out of his house. Having nowhere else to go and feeling some hunger pains we traveled back into town to get some grub. After a quick bite, we caught a taxi back to his street and were dropped off at the bottom of his hill. When I say the bottom of the hill, I mean we were less than ¼ mile from his house. About halfway up the hill a man with a bandana wrapped around his face jumped out of the bushes and demanded our phones and wallets. Ryan emphatically told the man we had no money or phones, but I had just received a text message and was holding my phone in my hand… with all the buttons and screen lit up. I couldn’t really say I didn’t have a phone so I threw the phone to the other side of the street. I forgot to add that he had his shirt over his hand and it looked as if he was holding a gun. This proved to be a pretty scary moment as it would not be that far of a stretch to think a mugger in May Pen would hold you up with a gun. Well the man picked up my phone and demanded what was in our pockets. When he went down to pick up my phone his ‘gun’ looked a bit suspect. When I took two bills out of my pocket I wadded them up separately and threw them down hoping he would try to pick both up at the same time. My thinking was if both hands were occupied Ryan or I or both would have a chance to tackle the man or punt his face. Anyway, he carefully picked up the cash and at that point we saw that he had just been using the handle of a knife to pose as his gun. Which was immaterial as in hindsight, we did not need to get into a knife fight over less than $40 US. Our mugger took off back into the bushes and we tried to call the police on Ryan’s phone. When the police did not answer we walked back down the street to catch a taxi to the police station. When we arrived at the corner we saw our assailant. I yelled at him, threw a rock, and decided to give chase. We lost him around a corner but were able to flag down a police jeep. The body armor clad police complete with their assault rifles took us around the area in search of our mugger. No luck. We spent the next couple hours filling out a report at the police station. Ann turned around and came back to meet us at the station and took us home and made sure we went inside.

So that’s the play-by-play. At this point, there are just a lot of coulda, woulda, shouldas going through my head. I am a bit disappointed that I got held up, especially considering that we gave up two years of our lives to help better his country. WTF? I realize that there are dirtbags everywhere but getting robbed definitely makes it hard to let ones guard down again, which happens to be pretty necessary to get along here. I am super glad that Erin was not there. I would be significantly more upset if she had been subjected to that situation. Sorry Ryan, but I am glad it was you that was held up with me. It is hard enough to come into a new country, new culture, and adjust/acclimate/assimilate without a mugging experience in the back of your mind. It is especially bad right now because I happen to be quite sick. I feel better though being back at our own place and after eating some of Erin’s double-dipped French toast.

i want you to know that it takes more patience than i am endowed with to post pictures

Here are some pictures of views from our new place. Both are of our view of the ocean. One was taken from our porch and the other was just 50 feet from our door.




These pictures are of Patricio jumping off of the cliffs in Negril. Everyone coming to visit us should be required to jump off these beautiful rock formations.

It kind of had a funky smell. At Christmas, the tree helped.

It is true, our new digs came with a funky smell. Although the smell may be from us. There is an odor emanating from our mountain of dirty clothes. Dirty. As in we spend all day sweating profusely and then leave clothes in big, mildewy piles for weeks. I have yet to master the domestic arts of Jamaica. Which is why the clothes sit in heaps. I spent hours doing laundry by hand yesterday. It made my hands bleed and the clothes are still stinky and the pile is still immense. Sigh. We just finished a fabulous dinner. We made our own tortillas, and guacamole. I know. The stove shocks you if you are barefoot. Actually I am having a difficult time concentrating. The Girls Next Door is on. It’s Kendra’s 21st birthday, her boob popped out and she was too drunk to notice. I would like a pimp cup. Our shower here is quite chilly, and this, unfortunately, makes Patrick reluctant to use it. It also doesn’t drain well and the tap is about shoulder height, which makes acrobatics necessary. BUT, there are no cockroaches crawling out of the drain. Nothing makes your skin crawl like plagues of roaches when you’re naked. Our porch kicks ass. You can see and hear the ocean from it. Besides the porch, and the lack of cranky women asking us when we’re getting out of their houses, my favorite thing here is the artwork. Behind the couch, there is giant parrot. It has a lilac plumage. My least favorite part is the MU poster on the wall. Are you going to let this nonsense stand, Dad? I thought not. Speaking of father figures, Alan and Meg visited last week. I don’t consider Meg a father figure. I do like the word inane. Sometimes I act that way. These pictures are of Alan and Patrick launching themselves off of the cliffs in Negril. How cool are elephants? One just crunched Jeff Corwin’s arm with his trunk. Awesome. The kids at our village were convinced that Meg was Patrick’s mom. I’m fairly sure that all white people look similar to them and that our ages are indeterminate. Every time I am with another white person people ask if we siblings. I’m not really sure what the logic behind that is. Luckily, we enjoyed mostly sunny days for the duration of the week. We put those days to good use, making our guests move all of our stuff from our former abode to our new haven. What a vacation. Our Jamaican friends came for a housewarming this last weekend. Matt made a delicious cheesecake that was for Tiff, but which we all partook of. In spite of our anomalously hectic lifestyle, things are going along swimmingly at the children’s village. We have a loyal contingent of diligent homework doers. Both of us feel extremely lucky to be placed where we are. I can’t stress how wonderful the staff is, and the children are pretty much all we talk about. As I wrap up, I would like to once again express our gratitude to family and friends for acting as our pipeline to the States. Alan, it was wonderful seeing you and we can’t thank you enough for acting the part of courier. Moms, the library and school paraphernalia is invaluable. The children are already nuts about the flash cards and books. Jen, the book is wonderful and the Office stuff is prominently displayed on our fridge. G-Ma, I’m told you sent the lovely, soft sheets. This is a relief from the hideously scratchy sheets we picked up here. Aunt Della and Laura, thanks for the kitchen stuff. Meg, I’m glad you came to visit and I’m glad you brought tampons and chocolate. Downside to American TV channels—you see things you can’t have i.e. pumpkin lattes and donuts.

Technically, I am in Human Resouces, and Dwight was asking about human anotomy... I'm just sad the public school system failed him so badly.

I would like to have a one-sided discussion with myself about the upcoming Oklahoma vs. Missouri game. Before I initiate my dialogue I would like to offer my congratulations to all of you Kansas fans out there (Tony Smith and others). Mark Mangino’s coaching has far exceeded my expectations and I assume he will continue to make decent progress barring a coronary. Todd Reesing has actually blossomed into respectable QB and Aqib Talib is a damn fine athlete that I would be proud to have play for my team. But what does a 5-0 record (4 of those wins and the huge stats are against superfluously lollipop-ish nobodies) get you? I guess a 20th ranking just because you beat KSU in Manhattan. But really do you want to give KSU so much credit that beating the likes of a NCAA violating, underachieving football team like them vaults you from being unranked to 20th? The only other ranked team with as much of a cream puff schedule is Hawaii and they can hardly help that fact considering they play in the WAC. I guess I am just a bit bitter that 11th ranked Mizzou is predicted to be blown out against OU. Really? Really? I agree that it is going to be hard fought game considering it is to be played in Norman. OU is a good team, but not great as some of the OU teams of lore. They already lost a game to Colorado (a solid team but 4-2 nevertheless) and they barely beat a pedestrian Texas squad (who lost to a very pedestrian KSU squad). I am not trying to say that Mizzou is a world-beater, but to predict a blow out, be reasonable. Mizzou-OU will be a good game that should be a good yardstick to measure how Mizzou will fare against good defenses (one that matches up quite favorably for OU against Mizzou’s offense). I am also angry that it will not be televised, not that we have TV’s readily available to watch American football. The shirts we are pictured in are courtesy of the Columbia Meschers. Erin wears hers daily and refuses to take it off unless we are washing it. GO TIGERS! Enough about that, on to all things Jamaica.
The husband of our landlord came home this last week. He is a delightful person with an amazing outlook on life. He laughs regularly and seems genuinely pleased to be sharing his home with Erin and me. He is somewhat of a famous musician as he is one of the heroes of Calypso. He spends half the year now traveling on cruise ships playing for passengers and writing music. His passion for music is infectious and makes me want my guitar sent down. But this half of a year away fell during our initial time here. I marvel to think how different our host family experience would have been different had he been here from the onset.
So instead of a weekend of confinement Erin and I visited our friend Matt. He lives on the south coast in a beautiful area. The pictures that are posted are of views that one would see walking out his front door. The hills in his area are luscious shades of green and the ocean is not too far away. It is nice to get away from the tourist Mecca that is Montego Bay. It was a pleasant feeling not to be noticed as tourists. This change in perception made me very jealous of Matt’s location. It seems to me that he is getting more of the quintessential ‘peace corps experience.’ I guess that getting the stereotypical PC experience is pretty difficult to get in Jamaica, or not as every PC experience is probably vastly different and I should not be vain enough to assume I know what it should be. It is what it is. Anyway, we had a great time hanging out listening to music and eating Matt’s vegetarian meals. The only bad part of the weekend was having to leave.
So Erin and I have a very busy week planned. We continue our after school homework program and we have a retreat this weekend that we are to prepare a session about sexual health/HIV/personal hygiene/decision making/budgeting (we should find out Thursday…hopefully). This week two of our friends, Ryan and Tiffanie, are having their birthdays and subsequent parties this weekend. Also Erin’s roommate, Meg, is flying in on Friday night and my father is flying in on Saturday afternoon. To top it all off we are moving no later than Oct 15th but quite possibly earlier. It will be a hectic especially if we get told we can move in the 13th or the 14th. Whatever happens should be a good time and there should be plenty of stories to write about on the ol’ blog. This is especially true with our first human sacrifices to the Jamaican taxis and the first ones to experience Country Western Music night at the beach café. Well E-Dawg is in a sour mood so I am going to go try and pull her out of her funk for the second time today.

And that’s the way the cookie crumbles…
Patricio

I need to give you your Christmas gift now, because um...well I'll just tell you. The past few months I've been sending Dwight letters from the CIA.

Santa came to Jamaica today. He arrive a little earI can’t describe to you how wonderful it was! We had no less than 7 packages from home. Crazy, right? It makes us feel so cared for and loved. So this whole blog is a gigantic thank you to any and all who send us things, or shoot us the occasional email, or take the time to leave comments on the ol’ blog, or make ridiculously expensive phone calls. All of those things go a long way towards brightening our lives here. It gives us a taste of home and reminds us of the friends and family we miss on a daily basis. Things are a little crazy in our nook of JamRock at the moment. We’re looking to strike out on our own, and it’s more difficult to find a place than we anticipated. So Christmas in October came just in time. I now have enough chocolate to revive myself each evening after human jungle gym time. Even though this is Patrick's account, this is actually Erin.