Embarking on the journey

I’m writing this blog entry from my room in my host family’s home. They don’t have internet access, but there are many internet cafes in the area, including a small park about three blocks away with free wi-fi where I can upload my writing.

My adventure began in Washington, D.C. on Monday, March 14^th, where I met my fellow volunteers, had my visa photo taken, learned about travel logistics to Mexico, and did some team-building exercises. The next day a group of us went to a sushi restaurant for lunch. There was a fortune for each person and one for the group, which read: “If a true sense of value will be yours it will come through service.” Mine read: “Your dearest wish will come true.” We all said, “Woah!”

We departed from the hotel on Wednesday at 3:30 a.m. It was a long day; we went by bus to the airport, flew to Dallas, then to Mexico City, followed by a three-hour bus ride to a retreat called a “Christian Kibbutz” outside of Queretaro. We stayed three days, giving us all much-needed time to decompress from our past lives and get ready to move on to the next chapter. The food was wonderful: jicama and oranges with chili salt, guava pudding (wonderful flavor but with impossible little seeds like stone chips), chiliquites for breakfast, agua fresca with cucumber or citrus, and pan leche or “conches,” sweet bread with frosting shaped like bivalves (i.e.: conches) at every breakfast, and tres leches cake.

Every moment at the Kibbutz was filled with preparatory studies, from language and culture to safety, health, policies, money, etc. We’ll get more of the same over the next 2-1/2 months at PC HQ. The language instruction is provided by a Spanish language school called Ole. There is one teacher for every 3 to 5 students, who are matched by language ability. My studying paid off and I’m not at the bottom, but that would have been OK, too: nowhere to go but up.

This volunteer group ranges in age from 21 to 68: Three are in their 20s, more than half are over 50, and six of us are over 60. There are four PhDs (give or take), three attorneys, five or six MAs and the rest BAs; many have double majors. Everyone is intent on doing a good job and sharing their skills and knowledge.

We left the Kibbutz Saturday afternoon and drove to the Peace Corps Headquarters in Queretaro. After a brief orientation about living with our host families we were reunited with our checked luggage and met our hosts. My “mother” and her son called for me wearing the name badge “Eigen.” Later they asked if my name was Donna or Eigen (apparently Donna is an uncommon name in Mexico). I asked them to call me Donna.

Ole contracts with the host families to provide housing for language students who come from all over the world to learn Spanish and live in Mexico. Maru, my host, told me she once had a Chinese student who spoke no English or Spanish, and most of the communication was through pointing and gestures, but after a few months they were able to communicate better. Maru is my age and we made an instant connection in spite of the language barrier. She says we are “simpatico.” She has three grown children, including Javiar, who lives with her and is Jonas’s age. He speaks some English, which is a relief, although they’re supposed to speak to me only in Spanish. She also has several grandchildren, including six-year-old twins. I explained there are two sets of twins in my family – not an easy task with limited Spanish, but they understood when I drew a family tree, connected twins with circles and added birthdates.

I’m staying in a lovely house with 3 bedrooms, 2-1/2 baths, a dining room and an upstairs deck. I have my own bathroom and bedroom with twin beds. It’s very nice and clean, and the people are lovely. I’m doing OK with the language, thanks to some cheat sheets and a translator application on my iPod. And the crash course at the Kibbutz really helped.

Sunday morning I waited for Maru to turn on the hot water at 8 a.m., as instructed the night before, then took a shower. I’ve already been reminded of the many things we take for granted. Electricity is very expensive, and water is scarce. It took me a while to understand Maru’s explanation to put a bucket under the shower to catch the cold water while it warmed up so it could be recycled for cleaning, watering plants, etc. No one drinks from the faucet, not even the locals. Instead, they purchase bottled water with government subsidies.

Although the host families get paid by the U.S. Government to house us for three months, nothing requires them to be warm and gracious. I’ve been lucky on all counts. It’s a great beginning.