Just For The Helmet!

For as long as I can remember, I've been a whiner. I complain about this and I complain about that. I look for shortcuts everywhere because I think everyone else is wrong. I'm right, of course, but I can rarely prove it. And by "rarely" I mean it's never happened until now - and that's why I'm writing.

Peace Corps requires Volunteers to wear a bicycle helmet while riding a bicycle. And, since it's a requirement, punishable by a ticket home, they supply them to us at no charge. Unfortunately, they sent me a terrible helmet! It was broken and old and gross and way out of compliance. I kindly asked for a replacement and the one they sent was technically unused, but it was literally falling apart. I kindly asked for a third helmet and PC told me they didn't have anymore and they would let me know when more came. Sure... I responded, asking if I could be reimbursed for the purchase of a new, approved/appropriate helmet. The acting Country Director had earlier been CCd on the email chain and she wrote back to my new question to say, "No." Oh, really??? Well, that was the spark that lit my fire.

The specific Peace Corps policy governing bike helmets just says that "An approved bicycle helmet is a bicycle helmet meeting standards approved by the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission." The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission's standards are listed in 16 CFR 1203 of the Code of Federal Regulations and are really only concerned with the helmet's initial construction. There is one part, however, which says that a helmet should be replaced after it sustains damage. That worked for my first helmet, but not the second. I contacted one Shelby Mathis at the CPSC to ask more about their regulations. She wrote back with the following:

Unfortunately it looks like our helmets regulation doesn’t cover when to destroy/replace a helmet. If you are concerned about the helmets construction and its ability to function properly, you should report this to the manufacturer. Additionally you can make a consumer report to our agency via saferproducts.gov letting us know about your concerns on the new helmet. 

I contacted the manufacturer who simply told me to replace it. Of course. And then I submitted a consumer report as she suggested.

I'm currently serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ukraine and I've recently been issued a bicycle helmet, which is required if I am to ride a bike while serving. The specific Peace Corps policy requiring this says that the helmet must meet the standards approved by the U.S. CPSC.

I've been scouring the internet, as well as the 16 CFR 1203, for information for standards on the continued use of helmets, but it seems all of these standards and requirements are focused on the manufacture of a helmet, and not its effectiveness in use.

The first helmet I received from the Peace Corps was dirty, clearly used, had visible damage to the plastic shell, and came with no pads to achieve a proper fit. 

The Snell Memorial Foundation, the gold standard for helmet safety, says that helmets should be replaced after 5 years of their manufacture date or whenever they sustain any damage. My first helmet was manufactured in December, 2001 and very obviously damaged.

The helmet I received was not safe and was out of compliance with Peace Corps policy due to a labeling requirement in 16 CFR 1203, specifically §1203.6, so I requested a replacement. The replacement helmet's outer plastic shell was not glued to the styrofoam part and while unused, was manufactured in 2010. I contacted the manufacturer who said the the helmet needed to be replaced.

I contacted CPSC to ask about the regulations a bit more. Shelby Mathis responded to my inquiry with: "our helmets regulation doesn’t cover when to destroy/replace a helmet." This seems like a very unfortunate shortcoming in the policy and legislation. Please keep it in mind when revising it. 

In the meantime, what do I do about the Peace Corps' supply of unsafe bike helmets?

A week went by and I thought nothing would ever come of this. Like all my other rants. But then I got an email from saferproducts.gov. It began by telling me that my issue fell outside their jurisdiction, like adding oxygen to my flame, and then it finished by informing me my complaint had been forwarded to the Peace Corps Office of Inspector General. A few hours later I got an email from the PCOIG wanting to forward my email on for investigation. 

The only problem with this, is that I had already been in hot water with the Peace Corps Ukraine staff, and they had already threatened my service (bunch of half-wits running the show over here). I didn't want any extra attention - I wanted to disappear and be left alone, which is why I shouldn't complain in the first place. 

Ended up having a phone convo with an Investigator from OIG who suggested that in return for dropping my specific complaint, he would follow up with the Peace Corps Office of Health and Safety to revise their policy with respect to my specific case! Neat! Peace Corps-wide change! You're welcome, 4,000 Peace Corps Volunteers per year! And, almost 6 months later, I just got a brand-spanking-new, fully-approved/appropriate bike helmet!

None of my whining has ever resulted in anything good! This is so great! It finally worked! My New Year's Resolution will be to retire my complaining so I can quit while I'm ahead.

Гроші For Nothing and Some Perspective For Free!

I had a chat with my old PCBG buddy, Tim D. Wade, about how much I was paying for a gym membership in my village community. The answer is 320 UAH. That, of course, means nothing to him. It's actually quite expensive for my community, and strangely more expensive than other gyms in Ukraine despite its lack of toilet, showers, and locker room. I thought it might be fun to put some expenses and costs in perspective for my American audience. I'm partial to the Portland area on account of having roots there so I'll compare to there.

The Peace Corps gives me a stipend of 3600 UAH each month on which to live. This amount is meant to mimic the average Ukrainian salary (which is actually closer to 5000) so that Volunteers live at the same level/standard as their colleagues - and will have an easier time integrating with them. This 3600 UAH is my living allowance for food, drink, fun, and whatever else, like a gym membership.

If I go and blow 320 UAH of my 3600 UAH on a gym membership, that's 8.9% of my take-home pay. If an average Portlander (who's average in Portland?) blew 8.9% of their take-home pay on the gym, it would be 240 USD per month! I used to pay 15.00 USD per month for a 24 Hour Fitness membership, and it had a sauna! That's a pretty big difference in ratios of costs to incomes between my two homes.

To get my "averages" I consulted government websites, data nerd websites, crackpot websites, news websites, and fake news websites for their interpretations of an "average salary" in Portland. For 2016, the numbers varied and no two websites had the same number. So, since I'm not a professional numbers guy (just a hobbyist), I'm gonna say that the average salary in Portland for 2016 is in the ballpark of 53,000 USD per year. More or less. And the average take home bit, minus taxes and 10% into savings, is roughly 2700 USD per month.

The average salary in the two Ukrainian places (city/village) in which I've lived so far, is right around 2,300 USD a year. Using some math to pull that down to a monthly level makes it right around 190 USD per month. Ish.

The local currency here is a called a "grievna" and is represented by UAH. Every time someone tells me the price of something, I hear Ryan H. Haberlache in my head yelling, "Grievance!" Now-ish, each USD is worth about 26 grievances.

For comparing things a bit more fun, I'll start with beer. It would be easy to look at a menu here and see a beer listed for 20 UAH and think, hot damn, that's less than a dollar and it isn't even a happy hour price! In fact, I've heard many Americans insensitively exclaim, "It's so cheap here!" It's really just cheap for us, and comparing local costs with local earnings tells a very interesting story. The 20 UAH for a beer here would transpose to Portland pricing at 15 USD! Can you imagine paying 15 bucks for a beer in Portland! The cafe in which I'm typing this up and flirting with waitresses is charging me 17 UAH per basic black coffee. That would be like 12.75 USD in Portland. I've only been gone a few months, is Starbucks close to that yet?

The following are what things cost for the Ukrainian people I know. They're not paying 15 bucks for a beer, but they're paying an equivalent to 15 bucks for a beer because of the percentage of their income it takes to purchase a beer. These prices obviously vary slightly from store to store, and stand to stand. And probably city/village to city/village.

Beets are 12 UAH per kilo → 4.09 USD per pound

Onions are 15 UAH per kilo → 5.11 USD per pound

Carrots 18 UAH per kilo → 6.14 USD per pound

Milk 28 UAH per liter → 84 USD per gallon

Wine (the ones I like) 70-90 UAH per bottle → 52.50-67.50 USD per bottle

Gasoline 24.56 UAH per liter → 73.68 USD per gallon

Toilet paper 7 UAH per roll → 5.25 USD per roll

Sunflower oil 35 UAH per liter → 26.25 USD per liter

Bread 8 UAH per loaf → 6 USD per loaf

Pepsi 22 UAH per 2-liter → 16.5 USD per 2-liter bottle

Whole Chicken 50 UAH per kilo → 17.05 USD per pound

Chicken Breast 70 UAH per kilo → 23.86 USD per pound

Pork 125 UAH per kilo → 42.61 USD per pound

Movie ticket 70 UAH → 52.50 USD

Protein Candy Bar 30 UAH → 22.50 USD

Unlimited internet (if you can find it) 150 UAH per month → 112.50 USD per month

Installing an internet connection 5000 UAH → 3750 USD

Really Pretty Mountain Bike from a generic sports shop in the mall 15,000 UAH → 11,250 USD

MacBook 40,000 UAH → 30,000 USD for the same MacBook I brought with me.

With these prices, it doesn't leave much room to save for retirement, investing in hot stock tips, or buying a plane ticket to come visit me in Portland. This is an extension of the reason why people who don't make USA wages have a much harder struggle at affording life than we do. Not putting down anyone's struggle in Portland. I know there's a housing crisis and all. But, it's good to know that one of the luxuries of Portland/USA is its livability, wealth, and financial security - and to understand what that means in comparison to some other places. I remember complaining when my 24 Hour Fitness membership went up from $12.50 a month to $15.00 a month. I was so disappointed. That $2.50 a month was $30 a year! That's a full first date! (#gosmallandthengohome #alone) I used to think I'd be miserable with one less first date a year. I'll try to remember this perspective, after my service, every time I don't pay 15 bucks for a beer in Portland.

For a gram of further thought, my buddy Graham L. Bearden, found this interesting comparison between Portland and Lviv (the cultural/coffee capital of Ukraine) made by people who understand numbers better than I do.

Nobody Can Do (The Peace Corps) Like I Do!

I pulled up to my new home around two in the morning,

And I said to the driver, "Are we there yet? - I'm still learning."

Looked out at my village, I was finally there,

To declare myself to Shatsk, as the new Volunteer!

Well, I was allowed to swear in 🙄 and am finally at my permanent site. My assignment is the Shatsk Village Council, a municipality of a village of 5000 people. Shatsk is the most populous village in the NW corner of Ukraine, in the middle of the Shatsk National Nature Park. If I could climb a tree, I could see Poland and Belarus. The whole region has less than nine thousand people. 58.2% of the working-age population is employed, with an 8.75% unemployment rate, and 33.1% of the working-age population are economically inactive. The park has 241 species of birds, 150 of which nest here. And annually, the park sees one million tourists between the end of June and the beginning of September. The park has somewhere between 22 and 32 beautiful lakes, 60-ish lodges and hotels, 185-ish eco lodges and cottages! Tons of opportunity for fishing, swimming, canoeing, funning, and fighting off mosquitos.

My specific work/volunteer expectations, so far as I currently understand them, are working on large scale infrastructure and strategic business development. Specifically, some of the projects I'll be working on are:

1. Helping to manage the implementation of 96 km of sewage line and the construction of three waste water treatment facilities.
2. Helping to manage the implementation of 4 km of road improvement and the acquisition of an electric bus.
3. Helping to manage the implementation of a village-wide recycling education campaign. 
4. Helping to develop a project for alternative energy and solar water heating for my village.
5. Helping to develop a project to create a fire brigade and acquire two fire engines. 
6. Helping to develop a project to remodel and reprogram the defunct community center.
7. Helping to develop projects to extend the tourist season by offering other activities throughout the year.
8. Helping to develop a project to create a car-camping campground. 
9. Helping to develop a project to create a new border-crossing into Poland to increase European tourism.
10. Helping to implement a children's summer camp in a nearby village.
11. Helping my colleagues improve their English.
12. Teaching a class on pollution and resources at the Forestry College.

No big deal. It'll be interesting to see what of that list I'll be able to talk about at the end of my service.

Aside from that, there's been a lot of cultural shock to talk about. People here are absolutely shocked when I tell them I'm an atheist and that I don't want children. This society is surprisingly religious. I think while communism tried to kill it, it became a rebellious thing "to believe" and it's a symbol of resistance against communism. Also, family is an insanely high priority here and people just can't comprehend that offspring are not a part of my plan or desire. Literally. Like, dropped jaws, and breathing that stops, while they attempt to process what they just heard. I can see them thinking: it's more likely that Andrew doesn't understand what he just said than it is that we understood what he just said.

I have sufficiently established just how foreign I am, and there are also things foreign to me. The ones that make me laugh daily are the morning handshakes from the men. Guys, upon seeing another guy for the first time that day, shake their hand. Every day. For years and years. And women are not included... It's strange and I kinda like it. I wish the gals were included, though. The other is with the drinking. If you're not drinking alcohol, you're drinking water. Even if it's soda, juice, milk, whatever - it's called water.

The language is still a struggle... I learned it well during our training, but I'm now 15-ish hours away from my training site and folks here speak a different dialect, with a different accent. Most of the time, it seems like a completely different language from what I learned. They seem to understand me, but I can't seem to understand anyone.

There's an oddity in local language that I didn't learn on the other side of the country. It's a word meant as a prompt to continue or a validation of agreement. The word sort of translates to "well/so what/you bet" in English, and is academically pronounced as the English word "new" but in my new hood, it's accent-ally pronounced like the English word "no." So, I'll be in the middle of stumbling through my sentences, or have just made my point, or sometimes I'm just standing there, and someone blurts out, "No!" It throws me off my game every time. Such a strange thing, and it'll take me a while to get used to it. If I ever do. No.

Aside from telling me no all the time, the people here are amazing. I share an office with the lawyer, the financial manager, and the project development manager. I could not have asked for better people to be working alongside. They are overflowing with character and I love it! On top of that, they make me feel like I'm being accepted into their group (what with the 9 am shots, and the 30-minute coffee breaks with the great gals on the first floor, etc.) and it's pretty wonderful!

Here are a few pictures of where I'm living.

 First floor of the guys dorm at the Forestry College! 

 A kitchen without a sink.

 The water quality here is so poor, my counterpart commented that I'd be cleaner if I swam in the lake than I would by taking a shower...

My room! Only noisy when the drunk kids stand on my window sill to get access to the fire escape so they can climb up and smuggle in girls and more booze. 

Everything is awesome! No.

Peace Corps Shakes My Nerves And It Rattles My Brain

Peace Corps is hard.

One expects some hardships when jumping into an experience like this. Like when I got frostbite on my penis from jumping into icy-cold water in my first Peace Corps experience (that story costs a glass of wine). Discomfort here, confusion there. After a rocky first week, including being switched to a second host family and starting all over again, my stress levels were pretty high. When Friday finally rolled around, I looked for the best stress reliever I know, the one I’ve been without for far too long, my old friend, the gym. I found one 20 minutes away from my new home and bought a month’s membership for $13. I trained chest. It was magnificent! I felt like I was on top of the world! Thank you, Gym!

On my way home, I decide to buy 2-dozen eggs. Protein must be expensive in this country - or just not a priority because 95% of my calories since living with the first host family, and with the second, are carbohydrate based. I want meat! But I also don’t want to seem super princessy. So, I figure eggs are a good compromise. I fry up seven eggs, enjoy the long-absent protein in my belly, and go to bed. I consider showering before bed cause thats a good idea, but American showers are such a topic of conversation in our group and I don't want to seem so needy. My morning shower isn't so far away anyway. NBD.

I wake up on Saturday morning and feel like someone kicked me in the balls! I get up slowly, and carefully go downstairs to use the bathroom.

I look down and my immediate reaction is, "Awesome!" cause my special friend is huge! But then comes the "wait a minute" moment... It's only the left side that's huge - and it's also very red, and in lots of pain! Swollen like a painful boner! But just on one side. Hhhhh.... Well, shit.

I try to walk it off a bit, which is not the easiest thing to do. I ask my host mom if I can do some laundry. Not understanding each other very well, the simple, quick process is difficult and frustrating. Hanging my clothes to dry on the line outside, I pull my hood over my head and she mumbles something to the effect of, "some strong man you are." It's cold. 

I go back inside and it's still cold. A minute goes by and I realize I have a fever! I haven't had a fever in a long time. I also feel super tired so I go to my room and sleep.

I wake up at 2 pm and bust out my training manual to look for the Peace Corps doctor's number. It's not clearly laid out and after the first number didn't work, the second number got me one of the doctors who was off duty. He lectures me about calling him while he's off duty. I struggle to listen politely as he tells me to call someone else, but offers no number to call. I finally find the right doctor who recommends antibiotics. And showering.

The doctor has me convinced that I picked up something from the gym. Some funky bacteria on a bench - or on a barbell - and like an idiot, I forgot all my hazwaste training and didn't wash my hands properly enough before using the toilet before I went to bed. Embarrassing. How am I going to explain this?

It's 4 pm now, and I'm starving. I go downstairs and explain to my host mom that I have a fever and I'm super hungry. She asks about my condition as she's genuinely concerned. Ugh... How do I explain this? Very awkwardly, and uncomfortably, I tell her I have a skin infection. She asks where. Uhhhhh... All I can think about is how she's going to interpret my answer and all the assumptions she will make. I point to my lower abdomen, ashamed to tell the full truth for fear of further misunderstanding. She asks if I've been puking and I tell her it's just a skin infection. She asks if I'm nauseous and I tell her it's just a skin infection. She asks if I have diarrhea and I tell her it's just a skin infection. Please, may I eat something?! She tells me I'm sick because I ate so many eggs at one time. She makes me some carbs and as I'm eating, my host dad walks by. "Andrew has an infection," she informs him. "Why?" he responds, but doesn't wait to hear the answer. Host mom goes back to diagnosing me and interrogating me for more details. This is probably more uncomfortable than the physical discomfort. And then it gets more uncomfortable. My host sister walks in and her English is perfect, but she's only 15. An explanation of a skin infection on my dick would likely warrant further explanations that I'm just not ready to give. I claim fatigue and retire.

The next morning, Sunday, I join the family for breakfast. A big bowl of oatmeal, followed by a big bowl of potatoes. Dad informs me that he was a pilot for the military and a person can only eat two eggs in a day. He says if I eat 7 at one time, something bad happens to my stem cells in my spinal cord and that's why I have an infection. I explain that there's been a lot of research done on eggs and it's okay these days to eat eggs. He tells me I need balance. So, for lunch, I boil 6 eggs and eat them without shame. #takethat

My swelling, discoloration, and pain have only slightly subsided so I call the Peace Corps back and they send a driver to pick me up and take me to the capital for an examination. Host mom freaks out that they're taking me away and explains that she feels responsible. I try to tell her everything's going to be okay, to no avail. 

In Kyiv, the doctor examines me and says I have a twisted testicle (literally). She says we need to go to the urologist to confirm, but she thinks I need surgery. I'm "happy" that it isn't the funky skin infection from the gym that I thought it was, nor the stem cell mishap from eating seven eggs my host family thought it was. However, I don't seem able to enjoy this moment of relief with a potential nut surgery looming over me. 

We get to the urologist around 7 pm on Sunday night. She pokes and prods and grips and twists. And agrees. Fuck. As a final measure, we do a urine analysis and draw blood to check my numbers. While the tests are underway, why not head down to the ultrasound room for another scan. Some guy lubes up my sack and commences sound-scanning me for defects. My humility is long gone. I lie down and he goes to town. I stand up and he continues. I perform the deep breathing, coughing, and various other tricks so that the scan is complete. Both doctor and urologist receive and take calls while simultaneously staring at the screen. I feel like everyone in the hospital has fondled my balls, but I'm not enjoying it. Good news is, my testicle is not twisted and I'm going to survive. Hooray... 

I wipe up and we wait for the blood/urine results to roll in. We're sitting in the children's section and the doctor draws me a picture of the underwear I shouldn't be wearing, and then draws me a picture of the underwear I should be wearing - in crayon.

The urologist calls us back in to go over the test results. The doctor tells me I have an infection. No shit. She concludes that a lymph node has clogged and become infected as a result of an imbalanced immune system from being under such high stress and then suddenly relaxing. Thanks a lot, Gym. Some friend. Or was it the eggs messing with my stem cells?

I sleep in the Peace Corps office and a driver brings me back to my host family on Monday morning. We pass through a town called Brovary and it makes me laugh because of my aching brovaries. I try to explain this to the driver. I don't think it translates well. 

Back at home, my host mom wants all the answers and I want to give none. Host dad keeps checking on the temperature of my room and asking me if I'm cold. The awkward dial has been turned up to 11 all weekend. I'm in very good hands, literally and figuratively.  

Peace Corps is hard. If these antibiotics do their job, soon, I will be too. Week 1, complete. Week 2, I'm ready for you. #bringiton #igotthis #canihashtaginablog

Sorry, and you're welcome, for the lack of pictures with this post. #owmybrovaries

Good time to plug men's health? Did you know that 1 in 2 men will have cancer at some point in their lives? And that testicular cancer is the number one cancer in guys ages 15 to 34? Well, it's true.

I Was Made For Loving Peace Corps

I remember hearing a story about putting a frog in a pot of cold water and putting the pot on the stove. The story goes that the frog would just sit there, not bothered by the slowly increasing heat, as if it had nothing better to do. Maybe it enjoys the warmth? Did anyone ever think of that? Well, ultimately, I think the heat makes the frog not understand anything. It probably forgot where it was or how it got there. It might have pondered for a second why it ever decided to sit around in pot of water in the first place - until finally someone's eating its legs. So, here I am in Peace Corps.

I'm in a group of 77 rockin cool kids, who are spread all across the age, state, and experience spectrum. I've met some really wonderful people and had some fantastic conversations. One particular highlight for me came from an endearing southern boy who requested, "Yellow, please" when he played a Wild card in our game of Uno. 

Food has been pretty okay. Eggs and chicken seem common. They serve salad with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all of which are a cabbage or beet base, supplemented with carrots and/or onions. At one point, I sat at a table with four other guys who had never before had beets! Welcome to Ukraine! In fact, I think I've had more vegetables in this last week than I had in all of 2016. I can already feel myself losing my hard-earned weight gains.

My anxiety has almost completely faded away as I slowly come out of my shell. I've so far gone through a very poorly executed staging event in DC and a pretty well done orientation in Чернігів to having just landed in the care of my host family yesterday. More to come on that. 

They picked me up in a car and as we pulled away from my new friends, KISS was on the radio singing I Was Made For Loving You! And like a frog in warm water, it felt pretty good. I think I want my epitaph to one day read: It's not as hot in here as I thought it would be.

In The 40th Year, I Cried More, More, More!

The first time I had sex was amazing! As I explored the full extent of my imagination, all the mysteries I had only just heard about suddenly became real. It was everything I wanted it to be, and more! And less... It was over way too quickly, for both of us, and all I could think about was doing it again.

When I joined the Peace Corps in 2005, I was lost in life and searching for excitement and happiness. I found it in Bulgaria. I explored culture, language, poverty, richness, struggle, success, food, friendships, relationships, running, and most importantly, myself. I grew more in those two years of service than in any other segment of my life. During those two years of service, I hit super high highs, super low lows! It was the best thing I've ever done and despite the lengthy-sounding 27-month commitment, it finished too soon for both me and my hosting organization. As it had become so much a part of my personal development, I set a goal to serve again!

At the tender and naive age of 30, I decided that I would serve again just after getting married - like a Peace Corps honeymoon, and again in retirement, when I'm old. I did two short Peace Corps Response projects to tide me over while I waited for "The One" to sweep me off my feet - but she seems to be dragging hers... So, like I've learned so many times before, I adjusted my expectations and restructured my goals! I arbitrarily chose to celebrate my 40th birthday while serving in the Peace Corps! And I have begun my adventure to accomplish my new favorite arbitrary goal!

I'm all packed to go to Ukraine tomorrow with a great group, but I'm not ready at all! I suppose this is something that happens when one makes arbitrary goals. There were so many things left undone in Portland, partly (mostly) due to my own foolishness. I took a two-week trip back to Bulgaria within a month of my departure - as if I had on my list to say goodbye to my Bulgarian friends and family, when I should have spent that time with my American friends and family.

I went for my favorite Bulgarian holiday: Trifon Zarеzan. It's a day to celebrate wine. February 14th. The Bulgarians say you celebrate wine all day, and then celebrate love at night. Well, I just love everything about it.

But, I woke up that morning at 4 am unable to breathe! I wheeze-coughed a hole in the blockage for about 30 minutes until I could breathe normal again. Texted my sister with my symptoms when I had calmed down and she told me I had pneumonia and that I needed to go to the hospital. I waited for Iliyan to wake up cause I didn't know where the hospital was.

As we marched through the town square, the mayor was giving a speech. The gals were all dressed up in their traditional clothing. There was music playing. There were people dancing. Everyone was drinking wine. And we had to walk through all the action. I sunk. Got to the "emergency room" which was a concrete, drafty, cold cube. Waited there for 45 minutes before seeing the doctor. I had those 45 minutes to construct my sentences instead of mope about missing my favorite holiday so when I did get to see the doctor he was blown away by my Bulgarian.
"Your Bulgarian is really good!" he said (in Bulgarian).
"Thanks!" I responded, "yours is, too."
They all laughed.

He looked me over, listened to my parts, and concluded that my lungs were clear, I was not dying, I simply had laryngitis. He also told me that I wasn't contagious, that I could be around old people and infants - and that I could drink and celebrate the holiday! Well, hot damn!

I was pretty sure they wouldn't accept my Kaiser card for health insurance and I was really nervous about the cost of the office visit. I asked. The doctor looked at me, looked at Iliyan, looked back at me and told me not to worry about it. He then turned to Iliyan and said, "Have your mom bake me a cake."

With that, I was free to go enjoy the holiday! And I did.

The Peace Corps brings me so much happiness on so many different levels. Of course it's difficult and challenging at times, but so am I. And I'm pretty great!

There's nothing else like these experiences - and like the people I'm sure I'll meet. I'm quite ill-prepared for this trip. It's intimidating. My anxiety associated with this big, new chapter in the Words of Magnificence is through the roof! I think I know what I'm doing. I'm sure I'll get in there and start having fun - and this, too will be over far too quickly. Leaving me wanting more! I feel like I'm #winning at life, and I just can't get enough!