Sorry for the delay. I’ve been rather busy.

Now that I’m starting my third week of training, I’m feeling that this blog thing is overdue. Better late than never though, right?

It’s hard to believe that a little less than a month ago, I was scrambling to collect my belongings and make last minute purchases in preparation for my big move. Packing was something of a disaster, as I didn’t buy luggage until the last minute, and realized too late that the bag I’d purchased was far too big to be useful. Sure, it fit all of my belongings. Sure, it was durable and a good price. It was even a nice, dirt-hiding color. The main problem was that, fully loaded, I couldn’t lift it. Oops. Lesson for all: people with no upper body strength should not attempt to use duffle bags big enough to fit (albeit uncomfortably) their own bodies inside of. I ended up stealing a small duffle from my father, and packing a second small duffle and even smaller backpack. In all, I checked only 35 lbs – way under my 80 lbs limit – simply because I couldn’t pack anything else. After seeing what others in my group had packed, I was quite concerned that I would be ill-prepared, but for the most part I seem to have all that I need (even if, in the end, I couldn’t bring all that I wanted).

The quick trip back to DC for pre-trip orientation proved to be bitter-sweet. A whirlwind visit filled with as many of the friends and food I’d come to love over the past three years as I could fit in a 24 hour period. Orientation was dizzying in the amount of information that was squeezed in, and then it was off to the airport for a relatively short flight. As we touched down in Managua on the evening of January 11th, it first hit me that I was really doing this. Moving farther from home than I’d ever gone. Leaving friends and family behind. Giving up my life, my identity, my sense of stability and comfort, and trading it for something far more exciting and frightening. But nothing fully set in at that point. I was too tired, too psyched out after months and months of suspense, and too busy. We were more or less sequestered in a conference center for the first few days as we slogged through introductions, information sessions, interviews, and language sessions, only leaving at night to return to our equally isolated hotel. Then, there was a sudden shift as we were divided up and dropped off at what would be our homes during our next three months of training. One big group of people that had begun to bond after three and a half days of close contact suddenly became six small groups. Hotels were exchanged for homes, and off we went into the open arms of our host families, and into a world of unfamiliar foods, customs, and history. A world filled with foreign language. For me, it was overwhelming.

The first week was exhausting. I’ve been out of class for over three years, and adjusting my life to meet the constant demands of a student’s existence was tough. Homework? Seriously? I’ve just endured seven or eight hours of class. I should be done! Class on Saturdays? You have to be kidding me! Reading, speaking, and listening to Spanish all day, every day – my brain was reaching the point of meltdown just trying to keep up. And then there was the unfamiliar family I was now sharing a home with. Unfamiliar space, unfamiliar habits, unfamiliar food, and unfamiliar ways of operating.

But I AM adjusting. While classes can still be tiring, they no longer leave me longing for 8 hour (or even 10 hour) work days. The larger cities that we visit on a weekly basis no longer leave me dizzy, and I suspect I’ll one day manage to navigate them (and the transportation system) without assistance. I find myself understanding more of what is being said to me, and having a slightly better chance of being able to adequately express my thoughts. And I am lucky. My host family is fantastic. They are helpful and patient, and treat me with kindness and respect. My host mom is a great cook, as is my host sister. My home is comfortable and peaceful – a haven – as is my host town. My fellow “aspirantes” are fun. Most days, I am quite content. Happy. I still have doubts about my ability to fully learn the language, and to effectively do what I have set out to do here, but these doubts are surfacing less frequently.

So that’s where I’m at. Three weeks in, with many, many more to go.

While I’d like to say that I’ll be better about updating this blog in the future, I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. But I’ll try. Be patient with me. I’m on Nica time now.