TravelStream™ news feed for member supaambassador on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/supaambassador en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 03 Sep 2008 10:32:45 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/6/1220452200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/6/1220452200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/6/1220452200/tpod.html Wed, 03 Sep 2008 10:32:45 -0400 SA-SA-saucy travels around the cape

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Stellenbosch, Western Cape, South Africa


If I am going to write about Namibia I must pay tribute to my first adventure outside Lesotho. Into the great, big South Africa we roamed. Stopped in Bloemfontein for the night. Enjoyed the company of Li (pronounced Dee) and Lexi at Lexi's clothing store, which also holds many artful treasures, LPs, local artist's pieces of work, a foosball table. It goes without saying- we had a relaxing and wonderful night.

Next morning the drivers, Racing Rebecca and Stick shift Sam, went to get the car and by 11 we were off to the beautiful West Cape. Oh, yeah, with a couple of hitches. We had not been in the car for longer than 20 minutes, actually 5 but I gotta give my girl some credit, when the car hit the left-hand curb and we lost a hubcap! In defense of Rebecca, it must be said that driving on the other side of the road for the first time can be quite difficult- 'Am I far enough over, Will I run into the cars on the other side, Is that a billboard of a skinny 50 Cent?' I believe that our drivers did a fantastic job. Especially since they were only two splitting a 10-hour drive and they had to endure the chaos of three newly released volunteers in the back seat. Another hiccup along the way was a ridiculous charge of speeding. At which the officer's first words to us were "Speed Kills!" Immediately I jumped to the defensive- we do not have any drugs in the car.... No, crack baby Lindsey, he meant the rate of the car at kilometers per hour. Oh, well that makes more sense.

Anyway, arrived in StellenPosh unharmed and only slightly exhausted. Of course, Rebecca and I needed to support the local economy without delay so we found the closest bar. A swank little place playing funky jazz and serving our poison, whiskey on the rocks, in sturdy glass tumblers. Barely able to get through the first round with our heavy, road-trip lids closing we went back to the backpackers and ad sweet, sweet dreams. Now it must be said, Stumble Inn Backpackers Lodge in Stellenbosch is an incredibly warm, accommodating and clean place to stay. It also has a great staff and a very lively atmosphere conducive to pre-night and post-night chilling. If possible I would give it the highest of ranking and can honestly claim that StellenPosh was my favorite part of the trip with much credit to our amazing accommodations.

In addition to the wonderful lodge, we all went on a wine tour. Stellenbosch is well known for its wineries. We are all very proud. Through the Stumble Inn we booked ourselves on the Easy Rider Wine Tours. The name alone was a selling point. Along with many other tourists we jumped into two vans with our guides, Titi (I couldn't make up a name like that so you know it's true) and a good-looking bloke whose name I have totally forgotten but whose flirting and smile I will always recall;-) So, there we are on a gorgeous sunny day being driven around to visit five wineries. The first stop, and the only one where I took notes, was at Zevenwacht. Interestingly, or perhaps well-planned in teaching the tour all about the distillation process and proper etiquette before the 20th taste of wine, this winery was the only place that actually led us through a true (or at least as far as I know) tasting of the wines. No matter. The sun was shining, the wine was tasty and the company was superb- even the lunch was delicious! It was, in fact, at lunch when we all decided that we would stay an extra night in Stellenbosch. I've come to the conclusion that it is quite difficult to stay in one place for only a night, particularly if you are having fun. That night we started at a Cuban themed bar, smoked a hookah, was politely escorted off the dance floor and then made it to a real dance club, Mystic's, only the music was awful. Even though I was in what all my friends have termed 'Robot Lindsey' mode and I had had plenty to drink, trying to dance was disastrous. Also, Titi- the guide from the tour (not cute one) was at the club and failed miserably to pick up Madeline. Still a memorable experience and a night full of many jokes. Unfortunately I am bound by honor not to disclose any more facts and actions from this night. Consider it a violation of trading insider information and we'll just leave it at that.

Okay, now on to Cape Town. If Stellenbosch were Westwood with vineyards, Cape Town is Santa Monica. Malls, boutiques, restaurants, cafes, movie theaters and all the shopping, drinking and eating one can consume in two nights. To be honest it felt great. Being deprived of all the familiar amenities for five months left me in a bit of shock and gluttony was long over due. We ate sushi, Mexican, Italian and Thai. Saw "Juno" (which is amazing and if you have not partaken in this wonder- go rent the movie NOW!) And danced our asses off at Jo'burg. The name alone is quite confusing, as many people imagine that you are saying you went to the city Johannesburg, nicknamed Joburg, to dance when clearly you are standing in Cape Town on the other side of the country. But, really, they can figure it out if they try.

Excessive capitalism and gluttony were balanced by a trip to Robben Island. The boat ride out was a bit cold but we were able to see a nice view of the city and Table Mountain. This is one picture that I am very sorry to have missed but I will try to explain as best as I can. Table Mountain is huge, 1073 meters tall, but the beauty of the mountain was seeing the thick mists floating over the top from the ocean. The clouds spilled over the peak like dry ice billowing out of a caldron on Halloween. Unforgettable.

Anyway, on to the Robben Island tour. Touring the island on a dilapidated bus we heard a well-practiced oration on the history, the geography, and the geology. It was at the lime mines that Nelson Mandela and the other political prisoners worked day after day, sweating under the blinding African sun. Consequently many prisoners would develop eye problems, have you noticed the sensitivity and lightness of their eyes. Interestingly it was during these hard days mining lime that the prisoners would meet and discuss varying issues. Like a university, small groups of men, guards and prisoners alike gathered around Mandela, could be found discussing such great minds of non-violent revolutions; Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi. Or at least that's what I remember from the tour, along with the annoying habit of the guide to point out each group of visitors' origin. We cleverly claimed Lesotho, therefore avoiding all the obvious jabs at America's previous and present administration. After the bus tour we were able to walk around the prison and saw Mandela's cell. A pleasant man in his late 50s who had been incarcerated with Mandela, though not in the same building, led us through the prison, describing the daily schedule and groupings of the political prisoners. His first hand knowledge was depressing but informative, the gravity of the location compounded by his anecdotes.
On a lighter note, a little southern girl said it best when walking past Mandela's cell, "Man, I'd get so bored in here." Yes, ladies and gentlemen the future of America is looking brighter and brighter. We finished our vacation on a beach in Cape Town with Thai food for dinner. Pretty anticlimactic ending but we did have to return to Lesotho for further Peace Corps training. So, as you can imagine, the mood on the drive home was a bit subdued. Thanks again to our amazing drivers making it back to Bloemfontein overnight in one piece!

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/5/1220173860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/5/1220173860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/5/1220173860/tpod.html Sun, 31 Aug 2008 05:15:21 -0400 Life in Lesotho

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Mashai, Lesotho

So, yes, things can get tough. Cultural differences take on all shades of frustrations. Most of the time I can shut it out by going for a hike, getting lost in a great book (currently reading Zodiac by Neal Stephenson) or venting to the wondrous Pam, closest foreign neighbor and all around great gal. But today was something else entirely and, embarrassingly, I think it is the closest I have come to loosing it.

Let me set it up for you...I had just returned from a productive, and what I can only hope, effective day at Khotsong Primary School. I made plans for future workshops on composition writing, methods (yah!) and Bloom's taxonomy- a bunch of education jargon. Anyway, lunch was to be a faux taco salad of chili beef Soya mince on a bed of cabbage with corn, beans and tomatoes! (I know, delicious, right?) I set out all the ingredients and was about to chop vegetables when I look toward the door AND to my dismay, horror and surprise I see an aussi (girl not married) placed in front of my door with a stool! What the f*@#?!? She was just peering through my screen door (actually a mosquito net cut up and duct taped on to the burglar bars- one can be REAL handy out here). I immediately lost my cool. (Imagine raised voice in Sesotho garnished with a kitchen knife) "What do you want, auusi?" "Speak. What do you want?" Nothing. She says not one word but continues to stare. In hindsight, perhaps she was scared out of her mind by the crazy white lady with a knife, but still. It seems that her and her friends thought it would be cute to stare at the foreigner while she prepared her meal.

I open the door, start walking toward my M'e's house and requesting help. Of course at this point, the girls had fled the scene of the crime leaving the stool- at least there was evidence. I explain in broken Sesotho, as well as I can, the problem and even though my M'e' speaks little to no English she understood enough to call out for the guilty party. With the girls nowhere to be found we return to the rondavels after a brief search. Meanwhile, I will not let up- I repeat, oh five times, "It's okay if they want to talk to me but looking only, NO WAY!" Nothing left to be said or done, we part ways and I return to my lunch.

As I am eating, and pretending to enjoy the salad- nothing will ever compare to RFD's Mexicali chop- I glance around my rondavel, take in the two small windows barred with strong iron, a door matching the same description for burglar prevention, the neat and tidy basics of living- bed, wardrobe, table chairs and tiny (ooo, would we call it a...) kitchen. When it hits me- those little punks think I am a monkey at the zoo!!! I am the new exhibit at the animal viewing horror house. Just take a seat and watch as the funny, little woman attempts to cook. What? I am NOT an animal. Okay, yes, I am, but you know what I mean. My god, how those poor animals must feel. Stuck in a small, barred cage (for everyone's protection?!?) while the crowds gather to compare, analyze and evaluate human's higher place in the animal kingdom.

Now you may be asking- "What about reality TV shows?" Yes, we are all guilty- at one time or another (don't even lie, your only fooling yourself) of zoning out and completely losing hours of our life by watching the lives of others. Albeit, their lives fall under some superlative- more pathetic, more depressing, funnier, more adventurous or more exciting (if they fall into the last two categories maybe it's time you get off the couch?!? I am just saying...) that entertains and soothes us, but really, when did Peeping Toms become the wider audience?

Okay, I have gotten way off topic. You all probably didn't click to read about my latest rant. I know I won't be taking my children to any zoos- god, I get the chills and I shake my head, thinking about those animals being watched day after day. I couldn't handle one minute.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/4/1217422080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/4/1217422080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/4/1217422080/tpod.html Wed, 30 Jul 2008 09:42:02 -0400 Namibian Highlights

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Bloemfontein, Free State, South Africa

Nothing is as good as shopping and watching movies on vacation, right? Actually there is not one time in all of my long, long life where I can claim to have wanted to catch a movie while travelling- but then again, this is my first time in Africa. And serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer. We started out our vacation to Namibia full of many hiccups. Victoria lost her wallet and needed to go to the bank in order to claim a lost card and request a new one (yes, we have banks in Lesotho). Madeline's pipes burst up at Katse dam and visions of flooded rooms and soggy furniture crept into her mind. Meanwhile I was frantically calling and emailing the tour company in Namibia to save my spot on the trip. Originally I had booked the trip online with my credit card from the states but, unfortunately or fortunately- depending on how you look at it, the credit card was not approved. It seems my bank will not approve anything from Africa on my credit card over a certain amount in order to protect my account and, as it turns out, add unwanted stress to an already chaotic afternoon.

Anyway, we all ended up over at the border to get into South Africa and start Madeline's birthday celebration when...Immigration Officer "Long Pinky Nail" ushered us four into his office. Lets start at the beginning, shall we? Madeline and I went into the South African/all other passport holders line while Rebecca and Victoria waited in the Lesotho line. Hoping to beat the other pair Madeline and I chatted away paying no attention to the visa stickers being issued. Once through we looked over in triumph to see Victoria and Rebecca still waiting. Here's where the problems arise. As the kind immigration officer was about to place the much coveted 3 month visa sticker in Rebecca's passport, Immigration Supervisor "Long Pinky Nail" ( I am not that clever or wittty just observant and at the time rather disgusted) informs Rebecca and Victoria that they can not receive the visa and that they are trying to swindle the officer. Eventually they leave that particular line, inform us of the problem and we all head over to the South African/ Others passport line where we encountered no such issues. As we are waiting Immigration "LPN" sees us and orders us into his office. Flashes of solitary confinement, barren interrogation rooms and bright eye-blinding lights came into my mind as I followed the immigration supervisor but alas we were led into a stuffy, crowded a-typical beaurocrats office.

Once in the office I start to freak out. Are we going to be able to get into South Africa? Will we miss our bus to Namibia? How much fun can a birthday party be at the border? Man, who is going to read this story on my blog? Honestly I was not handling the situation well as the 'Man' accused us of trying to sneak across and break the rules and regulations of South African visa requirements. Having received a 3 month visa I was told that I had illegally asked for such a visa!!! For once, I was completely innocent (j/k) The officers at the borders give you a visa sticker after they have asked you your purpose and length of stay in the county. Many see that we are Peace Corps volunteers living in boring Lesotho and give us the 3 month pass so we do not have to be issued 50 7-day passes throughout our service. Blah, blah, blah. Immigration "LPN" proceeds to take out the manual on South African Immigration Laws and instructs Madeline to read the section on American passport holders. With a crystal clear, and one might say defiant, voice Madeline does as she is asked and then begins to inquire about our rights and the outcome of this completely ridiculous interview. Okay, I added the part about being "completely ridiculous", she didn't say that but we were all thinking it! Eventually, "LPN" gives us back all of our passports and says farewell. In fact, I think he had the gall to wish us a bon voyage.

Breathing some fresh air and commenting on the hidiously long fingernail we four put all the hiccups behind us and crossed over the border. Being in South Africa, and putting Lesotho behind us, brought an amazing amount of relief into my body. Even with the 30 lb. pack I decided to bring I felt lighter and ready to celebrate. We took a taxi into Bloemfontein, met up with Ben and James (other volunteers accompanying us on the trip) and had one of our first meals in a mall at the wonderful Mugg & Bean. Having turned into quite the coffee junky I was incredibly pleased at the 'Bottomless' cup of coffee offer. Knowing that we had a long night of drinking and dancing I enjoyed 4 cups of hot, steaming java. We left the mall reluctantly, promising ourselves that we would return for a full day and headed over to some friends. Li and Lexi are Rebecca's host families grandaughters and amazing women that offered to put us up in Bloem for two nights before we headed to Namibia. They are some of the best people that I have met during this experience. After we recounted the last 3 months of our lives and freshened up, we headed out for Madeline's birthday celebration.

It was a cold night in Bloem. Consequently most people hate to venture farther than their couches so we had the luxury of wide open dance floors and bartenders attention. Actually, the night was a huge success and we all had a wonderful time. Highlights: Victoria rang a random bell in the bar Cool Runnings and was forced to dance the chicken with the bartender, Rebecca followed two Boers into the mens' room and in an attempt to carry 6 foot Ben in a yeti-back I fell face first and skinned my knee. Oh, my struggles with growing up.

Next day, as you can all imagine, started around 10 and we trudged over to the great mall. Yah! Movies, mindless shopping and pizza. It was a wonderful day, beside the awful "Hancock". Really could have missed that one but sitting in a dark theater and making sarcastic comments brought back old times and a sense of home- I didn't know I was missing. We ended the night in front of the TV watching a Bond film. All in all, gluttonous and glorious are the two best adjectives I can use to describe the first stint of our vacation.

More to come...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/3/1215775440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/3/1215775440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/3/1215775440/tpod.html Fri, 11 Jul 2008 08:24:12 -0400 Busride from Hell-o Valium!!!!

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Maseru, Lesotho

So, I am sure that everyone out there is curious to hear all about the public transport in Lesotho. Wait no more you catlike fellows for here is a story to satiate all your interests.

Following my Phase 3 training at the Peace Corps training center in Maseru I boarded a public bus with my dear friend, Rebecca. The bus itself was parked in a dirt taxi rink smelling of fried bread and russians, russians are a sausage-shaped link filled with unknown animal flesh (carnivores eat your heart out!) and surrounded by eager travelers hoping to get home to the beautiful Thaba Tseka. As we boarded the bus, the conductor threw our over-sized backpacks to the roof and we walked into a half packed bus. The bus itself is something called an automobile from the 1970's. Complete with dents. dings, ripped vinyl and the lingering smell of last night's dinner (regurgitated or not). Once we sat down, Rebecca and I were clever enough, in hindsight, to ingest a wonderful relaxing pill that not only calms the nerves but also brings a sweet, sweet smile. From the window one can see women's heads balancing baskets upon baskets full of edible delights. Such delights include fried breads called makuena, bananas, oranges, apples and the forever disgusting and inedible simba. Simba are puffed corn snack treats covered in a blast of chemicals with the varying tastes of beef, cheese or spicy tomato- go figure!

We waited under an hour until the wonderful sound of a diesel, outdated and on the brink of collapse roared to life and we slowly pulled out of the rink. Two hours outside of Maseru I woke from a nap to take in the beautiful scenery when all of a sudden the bus goes up on two wheels. Now this was an accident straight off of a child's racetrack with hot wheels. Imagine a huge bus rounding a corner quickly on its two right side wheels, crashing down and then colliding into a fence and falling into a ditch! The fence then fell back into a store. On the bus women and men started screaming and praying to God, fearing the end while Rebecca and I simply opened our eyes and glanced at one another with a look reading 'okay, now what?' We exited the paralyzed bus along with the other passengers and found ourselves in a typical Basotho town, one shop, one cafe, a school and of course a bar. After a couple of failed but comical attempts the bus was removed from the ditch and drove off into the sunset.....Unfortunately, all of the passengers were still on the side of the road. We ran after the bus, up the hill to find the bus once again stalled. This time we were told that we would have to wait for a mechanic to fix the clutch. Since Rebecca and I had a packed lunch, yogurt, cheese and bread, we headed to the side of the road- a lush meadow and had a picnic.

Two hours later the mechanic arrived and we were on our way. I said good-bye to Rebecca in Thaba Tseka, the camp town and her home, and fell asleep. Seeing that it was getting dark I contemplated staying the night with Rebecca but having been gone from my sight for about a month I craved solitude and my own bed. Needless to say, I made a huge mistake for an hour later I woke up to a stopped bus and complete darkness. The bus's headlights were out and we would be sleeping on the bus until morning light. "What? No way, give me my bag and let me hitch back to Rebecca's." These were my thoughts but alas the other passengers were convincing and charming. "This happens all the time, Aussi. Just take a blanket and go back to sleep." Okay, no big deal. Being a Peace Corps volunteer we must assimilate and live like the locals so I did just that. Found a blanket from one of my teachers and took another nap. Surprisingly the bus seat was comfortable but my journal as a pillow left quite a bruise.

But, wait, it's not over yet. At 1:30 am I woke again to find the bus moving! A small Toyota was guiding us through the mountain passes as our headlight and I was finally dropped off in my village around 2. The walk in the dark to my rondaval was probably the scariest part of the adventure but when I entered my new home the only act I had enough energy to muster was laughter. I laughed myself to sleep that night and dreamt of the next glorious journey I would have on Lesotho Freight...to be continued
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/2/1201000320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/2/1201000320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/2/1201000320/tpod.html Tue, 22 Jan 2008 06:42:05 -0500 Swearing In

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Maseru, Lesotho, Lesotho

I almost left Lesotho because my box spring was upside down and other swearing in follies...

So, it is official I am now a Peace Corps Volunteer in Lesotho, Education Group 2008(Thank you, thank you). And believe me as far as conferences and current PCVs go- that title is incredibly important and pertinent to your place at the 'cool kids table'. Actually, I have been pleasantly surprised at how wonderful and accepting all the PCVs have been during my stay so far. I mean really, how awful could a person be that has devoted two years of their life to helping others? There are cliques and better or closer friends amongst all the PCVs in Lesotho, though. It would be unnatural or even worse, un-American, for there not to be that social dynamic.
Anyway, my first week as a volunteer has been much busier than I expected. We went straight over to the college after the feast (All events in Lesotho- big or small it seems, are followed or accompanied by a huge spread of local dishes- pumpkin, greens, papa, rice, potatoes and meat). Don't worry I ate my dessert first- a cross between ice cream and frosting- in case we had to leave promptly. The experience of meeting the teachers I will be helping was quite emotional. I had just said good-bye to the people that were my roommates, confidants, friends, and challengers for the last two months and now I was about to put faces to the motivation and my purpose in joining Peace Corps, for being in Africa. The best emotion capable of describing the walk into the classroom/lecture hall was a surreal giddiness. All the training and hypothetical situations cannot prepare you for what I will be experiencing and how I will be reaching and hopefully helping these young women and men of Lesotho. And I must be honest, the teachers I saw before me are the real hope and protagonists of change in Lesotho classrooms- I, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, am only a facilitator. Most of the teachers are looking forward to having me observe and help them with their assignments while some are timidly going along with the others and, rightfully, questioning my real motives. Unfortunately all the teachers are extremely frustrated, and as am I now, about the lack of modules and resources available to them. The DTEP, Distance Teaching Education Program, in which I am a site-tutor, basically is an independent study program where the teachers work at school as a primary school teacher and complete three assignments per course through a module. Then they take an exam at the end of each semester on campus in order to pass. The problem is that these teachers have not had any classroom observation or help from a site-tutor. Meanwhile, they have been completing and taking exams without modules. The program receives a lot of funding from the World Bank but this past year the application was not turned in on time. Consequently, no funding, no modules but many upset teachers/students.
Obviously I have a lot of work cut out for me and while I am eager to get started and settle into my village, I am not naïve to how difficult and trying my next two years will be. Just another example of all the roadblocks and detours I will face in a developing country.
I guess, I should start from the beginning and explain the title of this blog. Rewind to two weeks ago, I had gone out to Mashai, Thaba Tseka. The village is breath taking, surrounded by lush, green mountains and tucked in between Mashai and Senqu (Orange) River. But there were some problems...
Firstly, I had no curtains; therefore I was a real-live exhibit of how foreigners live in a rondaval. The children would peak their heads, stare and ask for food. At one point I was able to relax and take a nap, only to be startled awake by a glass breaking. I can only imagine that something had been pushed off my window ledge by a curious child's hand. The women ok only two but still, barged in the front door without knocking or having any respect for my privacy. Therefore, I did not bath the whole time I was staying in fear that my new neighbors would get a lot more than the pg-13 foreign film.
In addition to not bathing I was unable to sleep. Not only was I freaked out about the windows but the bed was horribly uncomfortable. Now, I know that the legs of the bed were screwed onto the wrong side of the box spring but at the time I was sure that all beds in Lesotho were poorly made- one two-by-four inch slab in the middle of the mattress. As a result, I played a little bit of a single tennis match with myself all week long. Really a diagram is necessary in order to fully grasp my ridiculous sleeping routine but here is a glimpse. I started out the night sleeping in the fetal position along the outer frame, in the upper left corner. Serving my body over to the lower right corner in the same position. Backhand up the middle of the court into a crescent shape hoping to fall asleep like a baby in a pouch. Somewhere in the night I would find myself pretending that the mattress was not that bad and attempt to sleep on my back sprawled out the length of the bed. No luck with that, I ended up being a horizontal pervert with my hips thrust toward the ceiling. So, with many sets being played in a variation of the before mentioned positions, the bed won the match. And defeated, sleep deprived and smelly I returned to the training site in Maseru.
There I am sitting in a meeting with the Assistant Program Director and his assistant, discussing my first impression of my village (You don't really get to own it because that would require a chief's approval and many minister's signature but for lack of better terms we say "my" village instead of the name)..."Lindsey, are you still committed to Peace Corps and serving for two years?" My response through tears, "NO." How could I possibly want to return to a place where I cannot sleep, bath in privacy or do anything for that matter, and where I do not feel safe and secure. Plus, did I really believe that Peace Corps were going to do anything to help correct the situation. NO.
The truth is that my friend had been attacked through the window of her rondaval during our community based living. I cannot give any specific details about the incident. But I was disappointed by the way it was first handled. At that time I could not say that I was confident volunteering with Peace Corps. In my opinion, they were not doing their all and their best to provide the volunteers with a safe and secure living. My friend is doing better, she is happy in her place, and I think she will make it- though, one can never be 100% positive here, there or anywhere for that matter.
With all of these thoughts milling around my head you can believe that I was an emotional mess. I tried to call the one person I know can always set me straight but to no avail. Luckily, I ran across a current volunteer and while I was vague about my reasons all she had to do was recount the experience she had with trainees who had left before swearing in- "They all wish they had at least given it a shot"
So, here I am now, listening to an amazing storm brewing across the ridge and watching it come into the city giving it a shot.
p.s. I am still waiting to have the bed and windows fixed, its being done on African time.
p.p.s. Send me your mailing addresses so I can write personal letters- I do not get internet up in "my" village- imagine that!
p.p.s.s I had a tremendous amount of support from the Peace Corps Staff, the other trainees and volunteers during this hard time- I will always be thankful....
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/joburg-_maseru/1198323480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/joburg-_maseru/1198323480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/supaambassador/joburg-_maseru/1198323480/tpod.html Sat, 22 Dec 2007 07:08:12 -0500 Flew into Jo'burg, stayed at posh hotel and then hitched a ride on a dinky plane to Maseru, Lesotho....Training as a PCT in Africa!

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Mokema, Libya

Happy Holidays to all and bestwishes from Lesotho! I apologize for the length in between entries and want to take this time to remind everyone that the best means of communication are letters, snail mail- remember the stuff in envelopes and stamps?, or for those of you with the cash and time, phone calls. Once again, my cell phone number is 01126658682629. You can send me packages or letters to Lindsey Valentino, PCV
Peace Corps
PO Box 554
Maseru, 100
Lesotho

Okay, so onto th egood stuff. I have been living in Mokema since the end of November and living with the Masaballah family. They are a huge family, which I am used to, always singing, listening to music, working in the fields or with their animals, cleaning or relaxing with some papa, moroho and fresh baked bread. They smile often, although they are a bit overprotective and have collected me from other trainees homes after the sun sets. The view from the mountain overlooking the village is incredible. I often walk up to the top with some friends for Thaba Talk and marvel over the beauty of vivid, luscious green pastures, white puffy clouds and miles upon miles of unoccupied land. Iwish I could say that I was able to leisurely enjoy my host family and village life but during CBT, Community Based Training, in which I find myself now, I am constantly busy with training sessions. We are learning the language, receiving plenty of knowledge to ensure our safety and health, and lastbut not least learning the culturally appropriate wayto behave in Lesotho. The training is a heavy load and I am eager to be finished and get started with the teaching project. Patience and learning to relax has been a constant theme in my group.
Don't get me wrong-there is still time enough to have a good time. Just last night was my friend, Ben, birthday. We all pitched in(I made a chocolate cake ina dutch oven- quite an interesting experience that has put in the lead for the Carolyn Ingalls Award, thank you very much) to make him a nice dinner and a few of us ended up at my place talking late until 9:15!!! That is the latest that I have been up talking to friends in a month and I have to admit I fet like a bit of a rebel;-)
This morning we woke up and hiked up the famous Thaba Bosiu(Night Mouintain). This is the mountain that King Moshoeshoe, the first King of Lesotho, used to save his tribe anf protect them from the Zulu Wars?- obvoiusly I was busy looking around and did not listen verywell during the leaders presentation. The beginning of the hike was straight up and we lost a few of the trainees but from the top we were able to get a little historylesson on Moshoeshoe. During the battles, he would hide his wives in a small cave-polygamy and having mistresses is still a common practice. We also were showed the traditional entry into the Moshoeshoe's court and village. Everyone placed a stone on the pile and gave respect to Moshoeshoe's father and walked through three stones placed as a gate. The view from the top was nice, not as impresive as Thaba Mokema, but we were able to see the mountain that has been emulated as the traditional Basotho hat.
It is really hot here and it would have been nice to go swimming like we didlast week. Last week we hiked in the Tsehlehane National Park and it was a greatday. The Country Director led us up through the mountains onto a mountain meadow where we took plenty of pictures that I promise to post one day. After the hike many of us jumped into the cool waters of the fresh water stream. The water was shockingly cold at first but after a bit it was rather refreshing and we played around, sliding down a little rock slide and/or soaking up the sun. I have become horribly two-toned. My shoulders and arms are brown while therest of my body is pasty and pale. Let's just say that appearance is not as important here as it is in Venice Beach, thank god! The trainers cooked us a huge feast and we all were quiet as we inhaled the food.
My time is up, I love you all and wish you all Happy Holidays! &nb sp; &nb sp;
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