WISH I COULD'VE GONE WITH RYAN ON THAT COOL RETREAT! JAN HAS PLASTIC BOOOBS! I HAVE HEMORRHOIDS !

There is a small child that lives with his family in the apartment above us. He is probably 3-4 years old and has an abundance of energy. Every morning, without fail, the thumping of his little feet running laps around his house awakens me. This usually happens around 5 o’clock, which amazes me because you hear the thud, thud, thud all day long until late at night. How does this kid run on 3 hours of sleep? How does Baby Huey make the thunderous floor pounding so loud? Does he quadruple in size when he crosses the threshold of his home because he is only like 35 inches tall and 35 pounds? Trying to figure out the physics of the huge decibels this track star in training produces, hurts my head. The only thing I can figure is he times his steps perfectly to sync with the previous vibrations and makes use of resonance and amplification… like when a moderate breeze destroys a bridge. For real people, google “resonance AND bridge.” Seriously, go do it. The video is pretty crazy.

Anyway the kid makes a ton of noise. A few days ago, Erin and I think that his parents locked him out on the porch. We feel pretty sure of our assumption as he wailed his little heart out and rattled the iron door grill creating a cacophony that eclipsed his floor thuds. This morning however he has resorted to vociferously hollering while running his requisite house laps. Oi, Ich habe Schmerz in meinen Kopf!

Sorry again for not posting in a while. My battle with Fail and Worthless continues and it seems as though I only deserve to have Internet connection two days every other week.

Erin and I are fanatically excited about our visit home. I can almost smell the wonderful BBQ and taste delicious pale ale. Oh most palatable treats of KC, I can hardly wait to imbibe upon your treasured delights! I am also excited to see family and friends. If any of you can’t wait to see us any longer than you have to, you are more than welcome to meet us at the airport or at Chipotle shortly thereafter.

Maybe Erin will post more when she gets around to writing a blog. I just wanted to post so everybody knows we are still alive.

If the oceans were whiskey and I were a duck, I’d run to the oceans and drink them all up…Patrick Mazi

ps Jesse~ Emailing questions will probably yield you more insightful answers as we are somewhat forced by Peace Corps to self-censure what goes on our blog. So if you want more detailed answers or have more personal questions, feel free to email me at pbmazi@gmail.com. Plus when you, or any other group 79er, know they are coming to Jamaica, email me about what we wish we would have packed. Who knows… if you want Erin and I could probably talk to our friends and post some sort of packing list a la the Tight Pants blog (as it helped us quite a bit, but is starting to get outdated).

pps Scott~ I am at best a very enthusiastic amateur rock climber. I spent a lot of time during my junior/senior year of college climbing. But alas climbing in Missouri is limited to mostly limestone thus my experience is fairly limited. I have gazed longingly at many exposed rock faces and wished I had brought my climbing gear (and more importantly wished I had someone to climb with). Getting to these areas would be a chinch, but getting home would be a problem unless a taxi was chartered. This doesn’t really make sense for me alone, but if you, or other climbers, end in Jamaica I would probably get exponentially more excited about making the effort.

There are four kinds of business. Tourism, food service, railroads and sales. And hospitals slash manufacturing. And air travel.

I warned all of you not to get used to frequent postings. The reason we have not posted in awhile is we have not had access to Internet. The provider of the World Wide Web here in Jamaica is ‘Cable and Wireless’ and it is my personal belief that this company has the worst business practices EVER. You may be saying to yourself, “Patrick don’t be silly, the worst EVER?! Aren’t you being a bit superlative?” No, I am not over-exaggerating. I have been locked in an epic battle with Cable and Wireless that is worthy of immortality in a Homeric poem. I realize that having Internet access in my home is a luxury not available to most Peace Corps posts. I should be thankful I am able to email friends and family regularly, look up lesson plans, and have a creative outlet such as our blog. But it is incredibly frustrating when I am used to having such amenities and they suddenly go away with no explanation. When I try to call Cable and Wireless (loving called “Fail and Worthless’) they have no idea what is wrong, can give me no idea when I can expect service again, then have the gall to ask me for payment. Why would I pay for a service I have not received?

Not a whole lot has really happened in the past week since we posted a blog. But I will try to provide some interesting commentary so that those of you that check out the ol’ blog with any frequency can get your fix.

Instead of calling February 29, 2008 ‘Leap Day,’ I am going to forever remember it as ‘The Day My Butt Went to Sleep.’ In order to find out what happened to me that caused my derriere to go numb, we are going to do the rest of this blog ‘choose your own adventure’ style.

→Okay so if you think that I spent 10+ hours on a minibus continue reading on in the next paragraph.
→If you think that I got my ass paddled like a freshmen by Ben Affleck a la Dazed and Confused, continue to the p.s. part of my blog… at the very end.

I was scheduled to arrive in Kingston for a 1 o’clock meeting of the PC student council, aka VAC. I left the house at 8 o’clock thinking 5 hours would be plenty of time to travel 110 miles. Who has two thumbs and completely misjudged the unreliability of public transportation in Jamaica? This guy! Two short jaunts in a taxi and 5 hours on a minibus later I get to the PC office only to be told the meeting was unnecessary and had already happened (side note to incoming PCVs… fill out grant request forms correctly so I don’t travel all across the freakin’ country for no reason). Well, Ryan and I treated ourselves to some Wendy’s before catching a taxi back to the bus park. Reluctantly I got back on the bus and though I was dreading the return trip to MoBay I was at bit pleased because I was able to snatch up one of the best seats on the bus.

→ If you think that I gave up such prime real estate to a flustered young mother and her infant continue reading in the next paragraph.
→ If you think I keep my head down and enjoyed what would have been a vastly more comfortable ride… slap yourself for thinking me such an asshole.

Yep. I gave one of the best seats on the bus to the young mother and her baby. What a completely terrible idea. What was I thinking? Damn chivalry, why won’t you die?!

When it comes to public transportation on island, there are good (actual) seats, the very front seat or any seat next to a window. The rows closer to the door usually get squished as more people are packed in. The worst seats are the ‘jump seats.’ They are rickety contraptions of the southern engineering variety that go in the aisles. Not only did I give up my seat next to a window, I succeeded in getting the jump seat right next to the door. So for the journey home I sat uncomfortably squeezed in the aisle on the only jump seat without a back. So yeah, my rump was completely without feeling about 15 minutes into the 5-hour return journey.

This was not my only rear related problem this week. While singing ‘cabeza, hombros, rodillas, y pies,’ I was bending over to touch my ‘pies’ and one of the students proceeded to credit card me with a large seed pod. Those of you unfamiliar with getting credit carded, think about sliding your credit card through the machine at the grocery store, now think about a kindergartner doing that with a seedpod to my gluteal cleft. Though I was feeling shocked, violated, and a bit emasculated, I was to finish my lesson. Note to self… protect family jewels from miniature fists of fury and protect the plumber parts (sorry Tony, with so much crack talk I couldn’t resist) from errant seedpods. The things one learns by teaching 5 year-olds.

We have been taking a bunch of pictures of our kids to share with all of you interested when we come home. Sorry for those of you who want them posted on the blog. Our boss asked us not to post pics of the kids and we are honoring his request. Also our camera situation is a bit of a problem. I am grateful to my father for gifting us Jen’s hand-me-down camera as we have gotten quit a bit of use out of it. The only problem is it takes 5-10 seconds to take the picture once you hit the button, it is larger than what is comfortable to carry in a pocket, and it chews through batteries like that’s its job. These three things prevent us from taking more pictures. The first two make us look incredibly touristy, a label we fight daily, or make us look like CIA. I don’t really understand the CIA thing, but it was told to me. I guess I can see it… a random white guy walking around taking pictures of people and things in places that don’t see many tourists. It doesn’t really seem that big of a stretch when I put it like that.

That’s all I have to say and I mean it… anybody want a peanut? Patricio

p.s. If Ben Affleck ever showed up at my baseball game and tried to paddle my butt I would pound his craptastic-movie-making face in.

Does anyone actually know what Sue Grafton looks like? I mean is she hot or?

So I have a tooth growing in. I'm guessing that it is a wisdom tooth. Who knows, I didn't get my 12 year old molars until I was like 16, maybe it is another of those. All I know is that the dentist said that I would make it a few more years without having to have my 3 wisdom teeth out. Liar. Now my mouth hurts and and I'm starting to look British. Also I am afraid to scratch any random itches because I am worried it is more ringworm. I had dream about Budweiser last night. Mmmm, nice cold bottles. Yeah, so not much going on, I'm diseased, Patrick is full of pumpkin cake and locked in a battle with the internet company that would make Alan proud. We're trying something new at SOS and it is a ton of work on our part. It's difficult to plan activities for all ages and abilities. I dared to search through the forest of ideas we got during training. All it did was make me feel okay about finally throwing it all away.

I just wanted to let you all know we survived the week, I don't have anything to say really. Perhaps Patrick will want to add more when he awakens from his pumpkin cake coma.

Jesse- As for the wearing of rings, we do not own them and so do not wear them. This is for personal reasons and not related to our service. We've noticed that the other couples wear plain bands. In some cases a wedding ring may cut back on the harassment, but I doubt it helps much. Most harassers don't take the time to notice your jewelry and even if they do, your marital status does not deter them. I don't think you have to worry too much about having your rings stolen. When Patrick was mugged, they were concerned with his phone and cash. Most of the theft is picking of wallets and phones, your rings will probably be safe as long as they are plain and simple.

In the wild, there is no healthcare. In the wild healthcare is 'Ow, I hurt my leg. I can't run. A lion eats me, and I'm dead.'

They have gun control in Cuba. They have universal healthcare in Cuba. So why do they want to come here? – Paul Harvey

At various times I have spouted off rants about one thing or another on this blog. You have my apologies if I have caused offense, but brace yourself for another harangue. I also apologize as this has little to do with Jamaica. Erin and I watched Barack and Hillary debate last night and made pumpkin pie. The pumpkin pie really hit the spot but the debate has me worried.

For those of you unfamiliar with my political leanings, I consider myself an independent with fairly libertarian interpretations of most issues. In short I think the government should have as little impact on my life as possible. It is my belief that the intentions of the founding fathers was to erect a minimal government that only served to protect the individual citizens when their rights are infringed upon.

There are many things that are great in theory. The most striking one that comes to mind is communism and having dabbled in the works of Marx, Engels, et al. the idea itself is reasonable. However in practice, historically, it has failed to live up to its utopian aspirations. Back to last night's debate... One of the key issues the candidates sparred over was universal healthcare. Up until last night around 9:15 I thought universal healthcare was a great idea. Like I said, "... many things are good in theory." Upon further reflection and reading details of their plans I am thoroughly freaked out about healthcare of the universal variety. Are they serious about making it mandatory? Charging fines for those not enrolled? What if I cannot afford it? What if (however unlikely it is) I place 15% of my salary into an account for future medical procedures, am I still forced to participate?

Having healthcare is great and I think it should be a feasible venture for anybody interested. BUT, the thought of the government forcing me to participate in anything severely rubs me the wrong way. To me, it seems mandates such as the ones planned by both candidates about universal healthcare, are actions that begin a descent down a slippery slope.

I have pointed out an issue that is predominately from the democratic party, but neither party is currently sympathetic to libertarian viewpoints (save Republican Ron Paul, though his candidacy is very, very unlikely).

I lieu of a sign off, here are some quotes from people more intelligent than me concerning their libertarian ideals...Patrick

-They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety. – Benjamin Franklin

-One of the greatest delusions in the world is the hope that the evils in this world are to be cured by legislation. – Thomas B. Reed

-No man's life, liberty, or property are safe while the legislature is in session. – Mark Twain

-There's no way to rule innocent men. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible to live without breaking laws. – Ayn Rand

-To compel a man to furnish contributions of money for the propagation of opinions which he disbelieves and abhors, is sinful and tyrannical. – Thomas Jefferson

-I believe that every individual is naturally entitled to do as he pleases with himself and the fruits of his labor, so far as it in no way interferes with any other men's rights. – Abraham Lincoln

-The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not sufficient warrant. – John Stuart Mill

Trash talk is all hypothetical like, your momma's so fat she could eat the internet.

If by "your momma's" you really mean "Patrick's," and by "fat" you mean "hungry," and by "internet" you mean "pizza that Erin and I from scratch that is muy delicioso," then the title of this entry is about me waiting on dinner tonight. We made a pretty fabulous pizza crust using beer. It is far cry from Pizza Factory quality but not too shabby.

I wrote the following blog Saturday. After rigorous discussion, Erin and I felt as though we should wait a day or two before posting. We don't want to condition our readers to new material as often as we have been posting in case one or the both of us develop a 47 day writer's block. Anyway pretend it is last Saturday and read on...

I just returned from a downtown odyssey, which was a very bizarre experience indeed. My taxi ride downtown was pretty routine except that rather than taking ‘top road’ which is faster, the driver opted to take his passengers the scenic route through the Hip Strip. His reasoning for doing so was that it is tourist season and he wanted to see white girls. He was rewarded for his efforts and proceeded to wolf-whistle and hiss at every girl on the road.

I arrived at my destination in one piece. As I walked through the gauntlet of St. James Street—the main thoroughfare through downtown MoBay—I bumped fists with no fewer than 5 bums. I believe this is a new PR for bum fist bumping in one day, which is always cool despite an incredible urge to wash one’s hands.

Fast-forward to the grocery store. I think that Jamaican grocery stores may have finally one-upped American grocery stores in one feature, free samples. I have not been away long enough to forget that heading out to Sam’s Club/Costco on a late Saturday morning will leave you full until dinner. However, American samples can’t begin to compete with Jamaican samples, mainly because they always involve alcohol. Last week while visiting Ryan in May Pen, we were offered free beer samples and a free beer stein if we purchased a 6-er. Cha-ching! I’ll take two! Today at the store they were comparing hard liquor. I tested Bailey’s versus a local Irish Cream and good ole’ Jack Daniels versus a cheap whiskey. My day was made because 1) having a non-Red Stripe or rum based drink felt pretty damn good and 2) I also was able to find yeast so that Erin and I can make pizza dough later.

Traveling by public transport in Jamaica is a ‘trip’ (pun intended) that must be experienced by all visitors. I personally have a love-to-bitch-about-it relationship with Jamaican public transport. There is bound to be some strange and bizarre twist every time you venture out. Case in point… On my return trip a very dapper man approaches me and asks if I am going to Rosehall/Lilliput. I assumed he was the driver trying to drum up business, but soon realized that he was a loader. Loaders tend to be disheveled in appearance bordering on bum-ish, very pushy, and generally ask you and/or the driver for a tip. Okay so never judge a book by its cover… lesson learned. But, my astonishment was further extended when one of dirtiest dudes I have ever seen hops into the drivers seat. I am amazed because his taxi is fairly new (a rarity in itself) and pristine in condition. How could a man as dirty as this one keep his taxi as clean as it is? Never judge a book by its cover… lesson re-learned.

Maybe I did not notice the smell of the man/taxi because I, only a half hour before, enjoyed cocktails from the grocery store. Or maybe my beak missed out as a result of the extreme breeze that occurs when barreling down the road at mach 3. Whatever the reason, I definitely failed to detect the extreme odiferous-ness of the taxi/driver until we were stopped due to road construction AND forced to roll up the windows due to dust. Holy balls Batman! I nearly blew chunks from the over-powering pong. The driver, being soiled to the extreme, was obviously the only culprit right? Wrong. As he opened his center console, he had a pile of rotting garlic, just sitting there! WTF!? What possible reason for having rotting garlic in the center console could there be? I hope he just forgot about it because he lacks a sense of smell. Thankfully we resumed driving and I was able to roll down my window and hang my head out doggy style.

Today I was reminded that you should never judge a book by its cover. However, judging it by its stench is perfectly acceptable… as is choosing a new book if the one you have smells like crap or rotting garlic.

And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street… Patricio

So, the deal was, Dwight doesn't blow anything up and I wear a costume. And a mustache.

“Happy Friday!” Erin cheerfully announces while checking on what would be a delicious (surprisingly for those of your who are familiar with Erin’s culinary exploits) dinner in the oven. This makes me feel better as Jamaica was doing a pretty good job of beating me down today. The realization that bad people are everywhere (I mean worldwide not just in Jamaica) sometimes depresses me. What the hell folks?! That piece of crap in Illinois who swiss-cheesed his former fellow students before doing himself is beyond my scope of understanding. Feel free to help out natural selection and remove yourself from the gene pool but leave everybody else alone, tool shed. For what reason would someone possibly have to shoot up his ex-classmates at school? Or for that matter another person in a busy section of downtown MoBay? I am lost on their reasoning, maybe my pragmatism is getting in the way of identifying with bloodlust-ing creepers. “This-ism, that-ism, ism ism ism
 All (I am) saying is give peace a chance!” Thanks Mr. Lennon… I completely agree.

Give peace a chance indeed.

So Erin and I attended a little ceremony at our orphanage today. The local Ritz-Carlton Hotel was sponsoring one of our houses and they had a ceremonial ribbon cutting. Erin has never shied away from detailing her situational social awkwardness but I have never lumped myself in with her in that regard. After many evenings spent rubbing elbows with Kansas City “elite” (aka folks that are richer than god) while volunteering at Leukemia and Lymphoma Society fundraisers, I felt as if I could schmooze with anyone. After 8 months in Jamaica my ability to connect with strangers in social situations has completely disappeared. I am not saying this to whine… but as a statement of fact. I used to be able to sell ketchup popsicles to ladies in white gloves and now I babbled on for 4 minutes about the fact the Jamaica is hot. No sh*t Sherlock! I hope this social deficiency is a temporary fault. I attribute this to the bulk of my daily interactions being with people under the age 10 and the occasional crazy-ass bum. So a plea to all, when I come home in March, please be patient as I adjust to proper conversational etiquette.

In the vain assumption that new volunteers are currently or may soon read our blog (I have proof of at least one… thanks for reading and commenting Jesse), Erin and I will post commentary useful to Peace Corps newbs in upcoming blogs. This may be entertaining as it will inevitably show how ill prepared we were at times and maybe give non-PC recruits additional insight into what is required for daily life here. On the plus side, even if it fails to provide useful info or insight, it might provide respite to those of you weary of my eccentric soliloquies.

As American as Apple Pie… Patrick

p.s. Jesse~ You are more than welcome to link our blog. We are glad you got some enjoyment out of it. If you, or your husband, have additional questions/concerns/impatient ramblings about Peace Corps feel free to email. pbmazi@gmail.com

You lookin' for dinner and a movie? Cause you're not gonna find it in that box.

I feel that, as of late, both Patrick and I have displayed our vanity by rambling on about our thoughts and what you can buy us when we come home. I’ve decided to tell you a bit about what is going on here, and then I’ll indulge my narcissistic tendencies. Today, Patrick got punched in the balls by a five-year-old. He rallied himself and was able to teach 3 classes of kindergarteners Spanish. I think we should all give him a proverbial pat on the back for bravery. I don’t have balls, but I bet it is difficult to walk into a room full of potential ball-injurers after such a traumatic encounter. I may have contracted ring worm…on my eye. Gross, right? Before you condemn me for being dirty, I want to remind everyone that I fight OCD tendencies and wash my hands often. However, I do high five a lot of bums and frequently hold the sweaty hands of small children. So maybe I picked something up there. Who knows?

I’m trying a new thing. Apparently other people use paragraphs. I’m just too random to organize my thoughts, but I’m going to make an effort. I realize that many of you may be shocked by an omission from my visit-to-KC-to-do-list. Usually, both before and after any prolonged absence, I visit Pizza Factory. And I must say, I do miss me some country dressing and I will forever find all other pizzas lacking. However, I do not ‘do’ change. A visit to the Factory without helping Lindy finish the crossword just rings hollow. So there’s nothing I want more than a visit, in fact it would probably be the first place I went, I just want everything to be as I left it—which is impossible because it is now owned by strangers. Basically, all I’m asking is that the whole Evans family shows up for a couple of hours and arrange themselves as if they never left. Not too much to ask, is it? Okay, maybe it is.

Alright, who decided a poodle should look like that? This is not as irrelevant as it seems, we are (kind of) watching the Westminster Dog Show. We’ve been able to see most of the contestants despite the finicky-ness of the channel. This is one of Patrick’s favorite annual events. He was almost as excited about this as he was about the Super Bowl. But seriously, I like the little hair beret the poodle sports, but what is with the little poofs on their hips? Who first thought to do that to a dog? It can’t grow in like that, can it? The beagle just won. It was an extremely adorable beagle, it’s trying to eat the prize ribbon. Patrick wishes me to include that he called it. Congrats, Uno. I bet you wish your owner would quit touching your butt.