Message in a Bottle


Before the tales of uncharted shores begin, I must preface this with a tiny apology for my ever so short hiatus from the interconnected “first-world” where concepts of time and expectations of timeliness run rampant. I have departed from that world. And you’ve wondered I’m sure, was I simply building suspense or was I really struggling with internet and all things technological whilst trying to share approximately three working outlets in a training center with 65 other brand new volunteers whose excited yet terrified hearts were also set on contacting home? Patience is a virtue- check. Ninety-nine more virtues to master. Despite my rather extreme appreciation for rule-following and respect, I too became a pirate, and began to commandeer the administration’s private wi-fi access. (Okay, you caught me- only late at night of course, well after the day’s operations had long since ceased). I was steadfast in uploading about 10 photos to fb in just under five hours! The days were long, and the training was longer. Dawn to dusk was inundated with new everything- from information, language, culture, technical how-to, food, sunscapes, ecosystems, sleeping habits, strangers, friends, paperwork, mystery, wonder, to adventure without a single day’s rest interfering. Energy became gold- a treasured commodity and I found myself stumbling through the banana trees every night waiting to come across that X-marks-the-spot. To share tales of a brave new world is an art that suffers when rushed or forced. And that’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make. Stories will eventually reach your ears by way of the wind or internet. When you read this, I hope you feel you’ve castaway’d from your world and shipwrecked into mine. Before we sail back to the history of my arrival, let me briefly tell you about the sands in which I now stand. Quite literally.



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