This may take some getting used to, part 1

  So, this is going to be a running thing, I'm guessing (hence the "part 1" in the title).  Some things are going to take some getting used to here. Any time you move, that's going to be the case. Any time you move to a new country, that's even more the case. I will say that I am glad I am a man, because I'm sure the harassment that women receive would drive me crazy. Over these first couple weeks, I've been compiling a list of things that really stuck out to me.

1. Water. As I've mentioned, nobody here seems to drink it. Beyond that, it's sometimes hard to find cold water. In fact, it is easier to find a cold beer than a cold glass of water. What my host mom taught me to do was save water/soda/juice bottles, fill them halfway, and just toss them in the freezer, so you will always have a good chunk of ice.
2. The driving. I know I'm supposed to be a good ambassador for this country, according to Peace Corps policies, but I would be remiss if I neglected to mention just how bad the driving can be here. Driving on the wrong side of the road (unlike in America, where we drive on the right side) is weird enough, but I'll often see people driving in the middle of the road, using the horn rather than the breaks, and not giving pedestrians the right of way. Now, this isn't everyone, but it seems a lot more common than in the States. And so is drunk driving. In fact, one of the most common ads on TV/radio is about driving drunk. Going to gas stations (or petrol stations, as they call them) is also weird. It's basically a CF, with cars trapping each other in.
3. Sundays. This is a very religious country. A very Christian country. And on Sundays, pretty much every store closes early. If they open at all. Now, there are a few places, mainly supermarkets and petrol stations, that stay open, but for the most part, Okahandja seems to shut down. Like Israel on a Saturday. I actually find it relaxing, but it certainly makes for a stressful day when you have your first day off and need clothes because yours didn't arrive, only to find that all the stores are open.
4. Water. So, this time, it's not so much the drinking part. It's the fact that it's scarce. And because of that, the water company will, from time to time just shut your water off for a day or 2 to save water. Our first Saturday we were still at the training center. We hadn't moved into the home stays yet. We were hanging out that night when we were informed that the water was supposed to be off the next day. Turns out, this was just a rumor, but still, that's a concept that's going to take some getting used to.
5. Soccer is actually a big deal here. Or football. Seems some of the people haven't made up their minds what to call it. But everywhere you go, Chelsea jerseys, Spain jerseys, Man U jerseys, Arsenal jerseys, Kaizer Chiefs jerseys, Barca jerseys. They're everywhere. This is actually a nice change of pace for me, though I'm still looking for a place to buy a Chelsea jersey, since mine is still victim of South African Air. Apparently, I'll have to be careful when I wear it, though, since people will test your expertise if you wear a jersey of a major club. This shouldn't prove much of an issue for me, other than the lack of internet making it hard for me to keep up on scores.
6. Food.  They (or at least my family) doesn't each much vegetable.  When on a budget, that's the first thing they leave behind.  Everyone will have like 2-3 pieces of chicken or a large portion of beef, but they'll only use 1 onion for the meal.  Also, it's very oily and often they use a lot of salt or sugar.  There are meats we don't usually eat in the US (not a bad thing, just different).  Also, they're fruits and veggies aren't loaded up with hormones like ours are.  So they tend to be a lot smaller, go bad a lot quicker (so eat them while they're fresh), and sometimes taste a bit different.  I actually prefer them.  But it really makes you realize how much chemicals we use in our food in the states.

Tita ge khoekhoegowab ra //kha//khasen

"Tita ge a Jayb. Tita ge Americaba xu ra ha. Tita ge a ≠urusib mesaxa-sisen-ao.  Tita ge //gam kuriko ni ha. !gai ≠angus."

If anyone can translate this, you win a prize.  Oh, and no, that's not gibberish, and yes, those are the symbols for different click.

Sort of getting into the swing

Written Saturday, March 23:

So, I'm sitting in my room, listening to the rain. It's the end of our first full week of training, and we just got back from Windhoek (I FINALLY HAVE A PHONE...and some very tasteful t-shirts that I am hesitant to post here but can certainly tell you about). As the recent pictures have shown, I am now living with my home stay family. I'm living in a part of town called Smarties. “But why is it called Smarties?” I assume you all want to ask. So I'll answer you. Picture a package of Smarties candies, those little sugar pills that came in different colors. That's what the houses here look like, all colorful. The house itself is nice, and with the window open at night, not too hot. I will say this, though, I am very happy that I grew up in a country where having easy access to cold water was not a concern. Here, my family only seems to drink juices and sodas, and though I can fill my bottle from the tap, the fridge can't seem to keep up with my thirst. Especially because every day when I come home, my host brother and sister immediately come at me to get my football so we can all play rugby with all the kids on the street (see Facebook for photos of some of these games).

My host mom is a born-again Christian. This led to an awkward exchange when she asked me about my Judaism and couldn’t understand that Jews don’t believe in Jesus. However, she is very nice, and extremely helpful and generous (I usually eat a piece of fruit for breakfast, and because the kids ate all the apples, she got me my own container to set some aside, and then got me some peaches just for myself, since I mentioned I like them a lot). She has 2 older daughters in Windhoek, one who is working and I have not met, the other is in in 12^th grade, and is actually home this weekend. Her son, Brodi, is 14. He’s a lot of fun, and always smiling. We talk about Chelsea a lot, and every day when I come home, the first thing he does (after giving me a minute or 2 to change) is ask me “can we have your ball?” I have a football, and we use it to play rugby and American football. We’ve also played soccer with a ball made of shopping bags (yes, I know it’s cliche, but I enjoyed it). The youngest child is Peggy, who turned 8 yesterday. She’s super sassy and a lot of fun. She loves playing with my djembe and watching me play it. Meaghan and Courtney will be happy to know that she tortures me by listening to Miley Cyrus a lot (her favorite artist). She and Brodi can’t comprehend that I’ve never met any of the celebrities they see on TV, since they, like me, are from America. There is no father; he died of cancer a few years ago.

Of course, the home stay isn't the only thing going on in my life here. Classes are really getting into the swing of things. I'm learning Khoekhoegowab (KKG). For those of you who don't know about this language, it's spoken by the Dhamaras and Namas peoples, and features 4 different clicks. As hard as it is, I actually feel like I'm learning this language a little (granted, since everything we've been taught can be responded to with “!gai a” or repeating what was said, maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself. My host mom has also been using the time we spend preparing dinner to teach me about food. Food here in the house tends to be very simple. Some form of meat (generally chicken, beef, or sausage) with a little veggies (enough for flavor, but not really a full serving), and either pasta/rice or porridge. How do I go about describing the porridge? It’s a staple of the diet here, and is a lot like grits, but made of corn meal and a lot thicker. Though my host mom always gives me silverware, when you eat meals with the porridge, you generally eat with your hands. This takes some getting used to (after all the years of being told it’s bad manners to eat with your hands), but I’m getting the hang of it.

We also had a day of learning about the history of this country on Namibian Independence Day. That was brutal, though very interesting. We've also been learning about HIV prevention and basic health to keep ourselves safe. Soon we'll start learning about actually trying to fight the disease in this country. The most interesting class (other than language) was one on Peace Corps model for development.

So, how do Namibians celebrate their Independence Day? Well, actually, not too differently than in the US. They have a day off from school, and many spend the day with their families. Many families have a braai. A lot of people drink. There are some festivals/parties. And people apparently drive around with Namibian flags tied to their cars.

For those of you wondering, no, my bag still has not arrived, and yes, I am finally starting to get angry. While I've recovered a decent amount of wardrobe (though the N$1200 Peace Corps gave me didn't come close to covering the cost of the 3 polos, 5 pairs of boxers, 2 pairs of pants, 2 undershirts, and 4 t-shirts), it would still be nice if South Africa Air would find my bag. Honestly, I'd advise anyone out there to avoid that airline at all costs. I'm not the only person who lost a bag, and it really seems like their making absolutely no effort to find it (I've had to send in descriptions 3 times so far). Sorry if I sound like an arrogant American, but I paid extra for that bag, I think I have every reason to expect it to reach this country, or at least for them to give me regular feedback on their efforts to find it. Or even SOME form of update. I know Peace Corps wants me to be a good ambassador for my country, but this is beyond acceptable in my mind.

Okay, angry rant over. While I could go on forever about classes, I'm pretty sure I'd just bore you. So, instead, I'll just talk about Windhoek, the capital city. Our first stop was Heroes Acre, a cemetery for national heroes, originally formed to honor the heroes who lost their lived in the war of independence. After a stop at the mall to buy cell phones (sorry Kellie) and grab lunch, we went to a graveyard in a formerly black part of the city where they honor the victims of a massacre. It was during apartheid, and this neighborhood, mostly inhabited by blacks, was to be a whites-only neighborhood. As one might expect, the blacks were not particularly happy to be forced from their homes, so many refused, and the 1959 massacre broke out. After a stop at the Herero Mall, an open air market (where I got some super yummy meat called outete and a bag of spices), a stop at a shabine (a word I probably badly misspelled, but is basically a metal box operating as a bar), and a drive through a less than pleasant part of town, we returned to Okahandja, just in time to beat the rain that just stopped falling.

So, while I could continue in great details, I think it would be better if I stopped here. Not that the rain has cleared, my host brother is impatiently waiting for me to come make teams for another rugby match, and, besides, let's be honest, if I keep going, I'm just going to bore you all. So, if anyone wants my phone number, just ask on Facebook or send me an e-mail. Incoming calls are free for me. And with that, I will talk to you later.

Just some pics to make you smile

   So, I'm still working on my next post, and will probably have it at some point next week, but for now, enjoy some pics of me and my host siblings.

She wants me to teach her

Jergens (a friend) playing my drum

She's super sassy

My new sister and brother

me and children

My sibs and a few friends

Hello from Namibia

  The first thing you notice is how sparse it is.  We're flying over Namibia now, and you look out the window, and you just see space.  A lot of landscape, a lot of desert, some hills and trees, a road here and there, maybe a small body of water.  A few houses here and there, but mostly space and sand.  I'd read about Namibia, and all the info mentioned this fact, but having lived in or near cities all my life, I just couldn't have ever pictured this until I finally saw it with my own eyes.  Think of an oil field in Texas, but without the oil rigs, and you're still not close.

  So, in case you haven't yet figured it out, I've made it to Namibia.  We made it.  All 19 of us who showed up to staging in Philly.  After an afternoon of orientation classes, I had a final dinner with my parents, went out for drinks with a few of my other trainees, and around 2am, I said goodbye to my mom and dad and boarded a bus to New York's JFK airport.  “Here we go” we all thought.  Of course, we get to JFK about 2 hours before the South Africa Air check-in opened, so we had to wait.  Then, once they opened, we went through security, and again, we waited, about 2 hours, until, finally, we were on our plane to Africa.  For about 15 hours.  And then a wait in South Africa.  For about 5+ hours.  Okay, so rather than the climactic start with music blasting and a dramatic slow walk across the runway as we arrived in Namibia, it was mostly a lot of waiting.  I wrote and mailed off a couple post cards from South Africa, got my first Windhoek Lager (not the best beer, but I can certainly live with it).  A long taxi that required a re-fuel, and finally, about 2 hours late, we arrive in Windhoek.  And by we, I mean the volunteers.  And all but 1 bag.  The one with my clothes.  In the grand scheme of things, not the end of the world, and of all the people in the group, it was probably best that it happened to me (it still hasn't arrived, and might not for a week, so tomorrow, one of the trainers is taking me shopping and showing me around the town).

  We were supposed to have a little welcome session, but we arrived so late (after about an hour and a half van ride from the airport in Windhoek to our training center in Okahandja) that they just served us dinner (while we watch the reveal of the new Pope) and hit the sack for a good night's sleep.  Well, some of us.  Well, me.  I think I might be the only one who actually slept the whole night.

  We had our first day of training, got mosquito netting, I took a walk around the town with one of my fellow trainees (I will probably be using names in the future, but for now, until I have permission, they'll remain anonymous).  Not sure which language, but we got our first language lesson on fruit as a bit of a mixer (though one of my fellow trainees and I sort of got lucky and cheated).  This town is really pretty.  It reminds me a bit of Pardes Hanna, to be honest.  A lot of sunshine, which makes me happy.  We had our medical and programming interviews, got our first round of rabies shots, but, otherwise, today's a light day.  So is tomorrow.  I know I left a lot out.  There's no way I could chronicle everything adequately here, but I'm trying to keep a journal of things also for people to look through when I get back.

  However, whenever your day is started by being serenaded in a language you can't even read or pronounce, much less understand, it's gonna be an awesome day. (see Facebook or ask me to e-mail you the videos).

Oh, one more thing. As beautiful as this place is (every time I walk around, I get happier and happier), that's not the best part.  Here's the best part: THE WATER IN THIS COUNTRY IS DRINKABLE IF IT COMES FROM A TAP!!!

Thank You All

  So, it's coming down to the wire.  Nightly freak-outs and mornings lying in better wondering just what I've gotten myself into have basically become a regular thing.  Packing is about half done, and I think I'm finally done buying things I need.  I went to one last Caps game the other night (and they sent me off in style with a 7-1 victory over the Panthers), and tonight I'm going to the DC United home opener for a final thing with my family.  About a week ago, my mom threw me a "Goodbye Party" and a few friend and I went out for one last night of fun before I spent my last week running around and getting things ready.

Sick goal

  As you all know, these last few days have been crazy.  And exhausting.  And stressful.  And nerve-racking.  I'm basically going insane.  And, for the love of God, people, please, I'm begging you, stop giving me advice.  It's not that I don't appreciate it; I really do.  It's just that I can only process so much.
  On the other hand, I would like to take some time to thank a few people.  All of you who helped me during the application process, my friends and family who put up with me during the stressful application process and these last few weeks as reality has set in.  Those of you who have driven around with me as I pick up what I need or have advised me on what to get.  Those of you who took the time to see me during my "Goodbye Trip," and especially the Hopkins family, Tommy, Cooch/Cammack/VH, and Courtney/Courtney's family for letting me stay with you during the trip.  To the many friends, especially Rob and Elyse, who've had to deal with my freak-outs.  To those of you who have taken the time to offer advice and words of encouragement.  Like I said, I appreciate it, just one person at a time, maybe?  To all of you who have given gifts (if I haven't already, I will also be thanking you directly very soon).  To all of you who gave me book or last-minute music recommendations.  To DC101, for being the unofficial soundtrack to my driving around getting stuff and for torturing me with all the "Shamrock Fest" and "Chili Cook-off" ads.  To Steve, for helping me get ready physically.  To my parents, for all the money and time spent helping me get ready.  And to all of you who have been there over these last few years, during the rough times, the stressful times, the crazy times, and for some reason continue to put up with me.  I will miss all of you.  Thank you all for all the help, support, kindness, friendship, advice, and for just being there.