A Letter to Readers

Dear Beloved Readers,
I may not know who all you are, and I hope there are many of you. Sometimes there are times where I feel like my entries are mundane and boring and not so enlightening or educating, but I want to encourage you to please... tell me about your life! I was pondering on my Tongan Life next as opposed to what we now dub as the "Clean Life." I know this sounds terrible, labeling non-Tongan life as "Clean Life", but every time I talk to people from back home, some seem reluctant to talk about their lives because it seems too "plain" as opposed to my crazy Peace Corps Tongan Pacific Island life.
Dear friends, please: I sometimes THIRST for mundane clean life, with washing machines and Starbucks coffee, regular cleaners, mosquito-free zones in the winter, houses without rats and ants and cockroaches and geicos, a bed not closed in by a scratchy mosquito net, regularly running water, normal jobs. So please. Email me, message me through my blog posts... please, let me here from you! My best days here are when I get to talk to family and friends, and when I get message updates via facebook or email from my friends and family. So please: don't worry about living a "normal" life-- I would love to hear about it! And I would love to know who you are. Are you old, young, a stranger, family? Maybe this is a selfish request, wanting to know who's reading... but I want to know who you are, what you think, what you do...
Also, I want to make 2 things clear:
1.) I don't have lice! Bre checked my hair today and it is lice-free! We think the itching might be from shampoo/conditioner buildup since bucket baths and showers don't always rinse out the stuff. But I DON'T have LICE! This is a cause for an applause or a happy dance. Speaking of dancing, I danced/tau'olunga'd 3 times last night at the konseti (concert) fundraiser... lots of money was stuffed in my shirt...I had to dig a $20 bill out of my bra. Don't think this is perverted, and please don't think I'm becoming an undercover striptease dancer. This is just Tongan life. And I made a lot of money for my PTA, dangit!
2.) Also, from my last entry, I realized that I came across as a lazy, uncleanly person--especially with the not doing laundry thing. Here, since I handwash my laundry and have to hang it to dry outside, it's hard to do my laundry during the week since I now teach in the mornings every week. Since it's hot and sticky here, laundry is best done in the morning before the heat and humidity attack. But since I teach in the mornings, it's hard to accomplish this task (usually between 1-2 hours), and especially when it rains so much. I COULD hang it up on my makeshift closet, but if it's moist and rainy outside, wet laundry inside can attrack mold and mildew stains even faster than if they're dry (many of my clothes and underwear--esp. bras--are eaten with mold). So laundry must be tackled with a strategy. I did laundry in fact this morning--and washed my underwear last night so I'd finally have panties to wear-- and as soon as I headed to my friends house, it started raining. The laundry should be read to take down tomorrow, but since it's Sunday, it's technically illegal for me to do laundry, since no one can swim, exercise, or do any type of "work" since this is such a Christian, Legalistic country.
Frustration.
Anyway, dear readers, I hope we're clear, and I hope you don't think I'm a grody young lady who wears dirty clothes and never wears underwear. Although, I must say, sometimes I go Commando just to personally express my empowerment as a female, since I must wear skirts most of the time. It's a statement, that's all.
So friends. Please. Talk to me. Tell me about your suppers and your trips to grocery stores with air conditioning, and your plain sandwiches with lunchmeat and lettuce. Oh, how I miss lettuce. And please tell me about your weekend mall trips or restaurant visits. Or your work occurrences or church happenings, community gossip or even family quarrels or awesome celebrations. As much as I love my current adventure, I also feel very withdrawn from life. The "Clean Life", as we 'Euan PCVs call it.
So don't be ma (shy)...talamai fepau'aki a e mo'ui 'a koe! (Tell me about your life!)
Malo 'aupito, (thank you very much)
Jamie

Life: a Quick Update

-I ran out of gas for my stove last night. Faka 'ofa. It'll be PB&Js and whatever nice Tongan wants to donate pre-cooked food.
-My birthday is next Sunday. Woah. Where did March come from?
-My back is annoying right now. It started hurting on the way back from a long hike... Kim and I got lost for a couple hours, but we headed to a beautiful lookout above the cliffs near where I live. It was beautiful! But my back started spasming and doing other crazy things. My bed doesn't help... I flattened my refrigerator box and stuck it under my "mattress" to give it support so it won't sag. It helped a little. Sleeping was bad the first 3 nights.
-Teaching is getting more normal for me, though I still don't have my resources from PC yet. Few resources kinda suck... but my school now has a copier! Woohoo!
-On Saturday, my fellow Group 76ers on 'Eua and I will bury a time capsule, which will be dug up during our COS (close of service) conference in Sept/Oct. of next year. I'm pretty pumped.
-Things I've sewn: a pillowcase for a pillow, my skirt, and half a pillowcase for another pillow.
-I badly need to do laundry. I've been goin' commando for nearly a week now. (You'd be surprised how refreshing this act is on a tropical island. Even if I DO have clean underwear, I still go commando sometimes. Sorry Mom--you and Dad are probably thinking, 'Oh that child...she'll say/do anything!')
-I'm almost finished with LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring, and I love it! Why have I not read it before now? I need to find copies of the 2nd and 3rd immediately!
-I was tricked into being a tou'a (kava server) on Wednesday. I was told that a feast started at 2:30, but that I should be there at 2. I thought it was peculiar since Tongans are never told to be early anywhere... I get there at 2 in the middle of a kava circle. I was slightly pissed. ESPECIALLY when I, who had not eaten lunch out of such anticipation for this feast, sat for 2 hours in one position. That's right, 2 hours. We sat down at 4, and started eating around 4:30. Jamie was not a happy camper that day.
-Friday is a koniseti (concert, for all intents and purposes), which is actually like a dance to raise money. This time, they're raising money for the school... and to pay my electricity/water bills. This makes me feel guilty.

The Day of Reckoning: Tales of the Molokau Massacre

The day started a bit shoddy. I felt like poo after losing my voice in Nuku'alofa, and it was my first morning of gladly waking up in my own bed. (Nuku'alofa was nice, but by the end, I was ready to get back. That city just isn't my favorite, and I was tired of spending money.)
Anyway, so my body feels completely weak and incapable of performing such medial tasks as rolling to the left, lifting up the mosquito net, and ascending into morning life. But I did it, eventually. I needed to lesson plan anyway, since I went to bed so early on Wednesday due to sickness and the need for a night of sleep without earthquakes or a full-day agenda. (We've had a lot of earthquakes lately.)
ANYway, I eat breakfast, teach, and come back to the dishes from the morning and the night before... I'm always anal about dishes, but I was soooo tired and sickly. But it was a bad choice.
I can't explain to you the number of ants--not the tiny scurrying ones, but the reddish ones with spidery long legs. They were lined up like militia on the edges of my bowls, pots, pans, forks, spoons... no joke, there were hundreds. When it comes to ants in Tonga, hundreds is hardly an exaggeration.
Fortunately, I used the rest of the red-bottle Mortein, the insect-killer here in Tonga, the one that kills on-the-spot. I drowned the rest. I finished killing them in about 15 minutes and decided it was a sign to do the dishes.
The rest of the day was hazy. By 10 I was asleep again...which is a big sign that I'm sick, since I'm incapable of taking naps, and I woke up at 1 when a PC lady called me to tell me that the rest of my purchases from Nuku were on the way in the boat. Great. Another trip to town when all I want to do is sleep or possibly remove my inflamed throat glands.
When I returned home with my 3 boxes, I was so excited to get my new things... I had a new energy now--one that wanted to clean and arrange new food, organization tools (God knows I need that) and other items to make my house feel more homey.
First, though, was the Black Mortein. This is the atomic bomb of insect killer, only you spray it along walls, floors, etc. and it kills any insect (except ants, for some reason) that crosses it for 6 months. And it works, too. So I covered my house with a happy sense of accomplishment. The only cockroach I would see in 6 months would be a dead one. Yesssss.
I start cleaning out my cockroach-poo infested cabinets to line with leftover floor linoleum when the first emerges. It's a medium-size cockroach and it's struggling. I kill it quickly, but the guts shoot about 10 inches across the floor. Luckily I just bought paper towels and all-purpose cleaner. Problem solved. Then a poor baby geico suffered the Mortein activation, and then another cockroach, and I swept them outside. A third cockroach emerged by my cabinet and I decided to get a shoe from my room to smash it. I walked through the kitchen, stopped mid-living-area and contemplated just taking off my own flip flop rather than dirtying the sole of another. I stepped back in hesitation...
on a squishy long-ish thing.
At first I thought, "Oh no, I just stepped on a poor dead geico...I don't want them to die!"
And I looked down at the writhing, wriggling, spiny, and terrible creation of...
the molokau.
It was sick from the Mortein dosage, but it was the most intimidating, ugly thing I've ever seen. Opposed to the picture, it was a yellowish-red color, at least 4 inches long, and I stepped on it! Luckily, my shoe was still in place, and it was too sick to wrap over my toes. It would've hurt like a mother... molokau stings are pretty serious here. You can die if you don't handle the sting properly.
Needless to say, I screamed. It was a hoarse, broken, embarrassing scream, which I repeated after the biggest noted cockroach in my house flew kamikaze-style at my head until I deflected it with the broom with which I had just swept away the remains of the molokau and a dead wasp.
I was done.
I took my broom, sat it in my room, hauled my scared self into my bed, and tucked in the mosquito net as tight as it would go.
I needed to NOT see bugs for a few minutes.
Then I realized, "Shoot, my front DOOR is open, which means random people might come into my house, but then they'll see the mess in my kitchen, but I don't want to go into the war zone to shut my door because I don't want to see another molokau or kamikaze cockroach or a poor dead geico...I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this!"
Eventually, I calmed myself, shut the door, and found only baby cockroaches on the floor. Luckily, some students came over to exercise, so we walked through the village and talked about life. It was nice to get away and to chill with the kids. I told them my story and the "trouble maker" of the classroom--the one whose mouth I wanted to sew shut--gave me a high five and said, "Good, Jame!" I felt proud.

Anyway, eventually I will post the video I took of the live molokau... it's pretty cool/scary/realistic. And the day turned out great, to be honest. The massacre motivated me to clean my house and start organizing things differently. By the end of the night, I had begun sewing my own skirt (I'm almost finished now... Mom, I know you're glowing with pride!), and I'm planning on using other material for seat-pillows in my kitchen.
Self-sufficient, that's me!
Oh mighty molokau-killin', cockroach-defeatin', skirt-sewin', pillow-makin', house-cleanin' Seini, the new Tongan woman.
Rosie the Riveter would shine my shoes.

Tales of the Mui Mana

(experienced in late November with my amazing host family in Ha'apai.)

Setting: Ha'apai, Tonga, November 2010, I am eating at the kitchen table, my host mom, dad, and brother are in the living room. A wall separates us.

I am eating a delicious concoction of french fries (with Del Monte ketchup) and a wonderful bowl of pele (like spinach) and moa (chicken), cooked in a coconut sauce. It's one of my favorite meals, and I am feeling sleepy, though I'll soon go to another Trainee's house for a movie night. I won't make it through the movie, as usual. In fact, I think I fall asleep after 20 minutes. We attempted Lord of the Rings at 9pm and we were conked out by 9:30.
I digress. So I am quietly enjoying my meal, not paying attention to high-pitched hehe's of my Tongan father, a massive policeman with arms twice the sighs of my thighs, covered in tattoos. He's ripped and looks like a total bad-ass. But when he laughs, as all Tongan men do in their girly hehe's, he always reveals a slight gap between his teeth and looks nearly adolescent. It's funny.
Anyway, so they're all giggling, I'm off in Jamie-land, vainly wishing that Heinz would ship to Tonga and that the toilet would flush better, since all this oil and root crop gives me lots of poo pains. I've only walked in on one family member using the bathroom. Apparently Tongans have diarrhea a lot--someone asked, when a Trainee complained about diarrhea, "Don't you have diarrhea all the time in America?"
The volunteer replied, "Uhhh, NO...diarrhea is like a sickness."
"Oh," the Tongan replied, "Really?"
Anyway, so there's giggling, Del Monte ketchup, and I'm feeling full already. I slowly chew my lukewarm french fries, and suddenly. It happens.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
Incessant giggling, and I cannot help but laugh my obnoxious laugh that I try to never let escape. I can't hold it back. After all, I didn't fart, and up til now, I hadn't heard anyone in my family fart, so it was a big deal.
I laughed. They laughed more. Then I laughed more. Then they laughed louder and louder until I walked in and we all collapsed with laughter. I looked at the gap-and-all-gaping mouth of Manase, my Tongan dad, and I knew he was the guilty party.
My mom explained that my brother, 13, and my dad were play-fighting and Manase decided to fart on my brother.
A few weeks before, my brother commented on a little girl's accidental fart as we watched TV, and since he couldn't think of the English word for fart, and I didn't hear the poor girl, he said, "Her back....her back SHOUTED!"
So this whole gas thing in Tonga is pretty funny.
Then, my mom says, "Sound like THUNDER!"
"OhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I said, "Mui mana!"
For all intents and purposes, my dear friends, mui mana means "butt thunder." People don't usually talk about arses here, as its impolite, but in an intimate family setting, I decided to take a chance and pull out the Fart-joke card.
Card well played, because from then on, Manase became "Mui mana."
On my next-to-last day with my family, we went to town to eat our last ice cream cones together and buy groceries. We stopped by Manase's work at the Police Station, and as we left, my mom and sisters said, "Say it Shay-mee, say it!"
In Tonga, when you leave and everyone else says, you say, "Nofo 'a!" (Nofo means stay). When you stay and someone else goes, you say, "'Alu 'a!" ('Alu means go.) If you say goodbye to someone in particular, you say, "(name) 'e! and the person replies, "Io!" (yes). It takes a while to learn.
So anyway, I swallowed my courage, and as the flatbed truck pulled onto the dilapidated road, I shouted,
"Mui Mana, 'e!"
and I heard guffawing, high-pitched he-he's from the police station as we females giggled all the way home.

An Orchard

When you imagine sewing a students' lips together and you find yourself smiling at that image, is that bad?
In a nutshell, I was a bit blue yesterday. My class is pretty good, though the learning levels are way way WAY different, but I have a couple of real a-holes who just cannot listen. One HAS to have the last word (I'll say, "Okay, _____. Just listen now" and he says, "YEP!" Ugh.), and the other deliberately does what I tell him NOT to do.
And the language barrier. I can't even talk about it. I use my Tongan-English dictionary to aide in translation, but... it wastes so much class time.
And the hitting. Corporal Punishment is God-Law here, but I refuse. I mean hello, I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer. Wouldn't it be great to put on my resume, "I served PC Tonga for 2 years where I actively participated in the satisfying and disciplinary action of Corporal Punishment." I don't think so.
So I was blue. I kept thinking how I didn't want to wake up every morning dreading ONE class. I still don't have my resources from Peace Corps yet (it's taking a while to get my teaching kit because I switched from Secondary to Primary at the last minute), my principal doesn't quite understand my role, and the students just want to play with me like we do every afternoon.

Luckily, a PC staff (my favorite, actually) flew here yesterday, bringing veggies (praise SISU they're here!) and warm smiles and a few candies. I told her about everything and she was so nice and honest. What a sweetheart. She's like my PC Mom.
I cooked some banana scones for her little visit, which were good except for the ones I forgot about and burned, but all in all, the afternoon started looking up. My laundry was done, my house was clean, and I hadn't seen a cockroach in days. AND I had running water. Things were definitely good.
I read some, tried to nap (which let's face it, never works,) and walked into the village to get in a good walk and make sure the village knew I wasn't a hermit. I met some of my students, who love exercising with me, and we walked down the road having colorful broken conversation.
Then they asked about "kuava", or guava, which I've been eating like a madwoman the last few days. Every morning and afternoon, they come with a shirt-basket full of beautiful green-yellow guava. They are delicious.
So they lead me into a little side road and we walk just a few yards when I realize that I am literally in the midst of a guava orchard! It was beautiful with the beautiful 'Eua hills in the background. The girls kept pointing and running, squatting, tip-toeing to get all this fruit.
In Tonga, when you have good fruit like that, you just eat it.
In America, we buy a bag of apples, we eat maybe one a day, and if we finish the whole bag, it takes 4-5 days.
In Tonga, if someone picks a bag full of guava, you eat them all in about 20 minutes, with the help of some friends.
Tongans don't mess around with food!
Anyway, we 'eva'd back to the village, I watched the kids play some, and as it darkened outside, one of my favorite boys, from New Zealand, came to me saying that he had to go back to New Zealand today due to family medical issues.
He would've stayed the whole school year with his stepmom and grandfather, and he was my biggest supporter of my Creative Writing class. He loved speaking English with me, and he's really a nice but troubled boy.
It really made me a bit sentimental because I felt as though he were my little brother . He always came around to talk, discuss social issues (for a 13 year old, his maturity level is ridiculous), books, music, advice...
Now, both the English-speakers in my village are gone. It can be lonely.
But times change, things happen. And sometimes I don't realize that though I live in a huge empty field, the eyesore of an overgrown fence leads to an orchard.

"For Desire"

In December, my married PC friend Bre, still under the impression that I'd be on Tongatapu for omy post, gave me a list of over 20 Get-to-Know-You Questions. (To display her coolness, the first asked if I'd rather live in a house made of meatloaf or cat litter. Oh yeah, we're friends.) One of the questions asked about my favorite quote. Later, after I'd found the exact words, I sent her the quote via text. Ironically, it now hangs on my wall, which she now sees when she's at my house.

--I want to walk into the ocean and
feel it trying to drag me along like
I'm nothing but a broken bit of
scratched glass,
and I want to resist it.
--For Desire by Kim Addonizio

The day the sun laughingly seared my back and thighs at the beach, I solely meandered to the small reef pools that shaped themselves into coral steps leading to the palace of the almighty and powerful blowholes. I didn't wish to test the blowhole gods again since poor Kim got bulldozed by the huge wave that thrust through the coral openings. So I sat in a shallow pool, enjoying the delicious spray at my bakc when the heat was already warming down to my rib cartilage.
I like having Jamie time anywhere outside, and I liked seeing things from a new perspective. The bush looked towering but more tropical by the beach. To either side I could see the wave progression peaking through distant and close blowholes until I heard the spurt and crush of the geyser-like miracles behind me. I never glanced back. I didn't care to measure the wave size or waste my time anticipating when I should close my eyes or lock my legs to avoid a stumble.
I remained sitting on the dead-ish coral that poked my tender bum and imagined myself as a Pacific Island "Wanderer Above the Mist," Friedrich's painting that has never left my mind. Eventually, I finally felt the weight of it all. I don't know, just IT. I felt tired, my head heavy, my legs sore from the bike ride just short of 2 hours. Tired. Beaten.
I drew up my knees, propped my darkening limbs, and rested my head on my freckled, cradled forearms. I nearly slept until a wave so violent lifted me off my spiny seat and set me back down on the pin needles. I finally turned around and witnessed that beautiful dark blue, a wonderfully shadowed green island in the distance, and let myself exist among those drastic colors, that pushy, tireless movement out there.
A wanderer amidst the mist, not above it. Inside, twirled about, lifted and seated.
I slowly float-kicked my way back to shore, finding a trench between two large coral masses that my body appreciated due to the fully-immersed cooling process.
Shortly after I returned, we left. We were all getting flushed by this Pacific sun and we were drained. Hungry. Anticipating several laborious uphill climbs with our heavy bikes and tired bodies.
Yesterday, a week after our beach day, Breand suddenly said, "You know Jamie, when you walked by yourself into the water and sat down, you leaned over onto your arms and the waves just walled up around you. It was the coolest thing. And I kept thinking of the scratched glass being dragged in the ocean--that favorite quote of yours? I kept thinking how you looked like the scratched glass out there resisting all that water."
I think that's the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever said to me.

Self-Evaluation Time (A journal entry from Jan. 12)

Pet Peeves: having moist matches, shopping carts in parking lots (not that that's a concern here...yes!), scream-preaching, hair in any hairbrush, people reading over my shoulder, such as Tongan children when I'm at a computer, when I have to be assertive because people don't pick up on social clues, when people (Tongans) think I'm beautiful solely because of my skin color/status, inherited religion (big issue here... and everywhere, honestly), the inability/social taboo of having a male Tongan friend, billboards (especially in the middle of a field), stingy people.

Favorite Sounds: Silence/static of my earbuds, rain--especially a downpour, baby sounds other than crying, slurping, or pooing, striking a match (b/c it's dry!), my fan when I'm sleeping, bluegrass music, wind in coconut trees, a "G" on my uke, my shower because it means I have running water!, a motor when I'm hitchhiking (yes, unfortunately we do that here...but it's safe), Tongan men singing, and frying pancakes.

Favorite Smells: Gas!--I love having a gas stove!, my dish soap...it smells like Sprite!, baking bread/baking anything, books--new, old, my leather journal, Boy Bodywash/deodorant/soap, Ginger, Cinnamon, Rain...except when it blows into my clothes or bed, which then smells like mold, permanent markers, my mom's kitchen, biscuits, my sheets (which smelled like my house 3 weeks ago, before I slept on them), Christmas morning food, TOngan flowers, fresh laundry, fresh pineapple/mango, and, this is weird...the salty kind of sweat (not B.O.)

Current Fears: Love. My inability/its inevitability--conditional/difference, Stasis (in Tonga and back in America), Never writing or finishing a book, Losing my nerve with Tongans, teaching Primary, Molekaus or an army of cockroaches, becoming a hermit, frying bacon.

Current Favorite Foods: JAM, kumala, pancakes, ginger, tea w/ milk and sugar, cinnamon anything, PBJ & crackers, chocolate, anything I can bake, 'otai, onions, veggie soup, brownies, siamu lesi (papaya jam), and pele with chicken.

Things I Miss: nonstick frying pans, hugging my mom, my brother's hilarious vocal antics (ahhhhhhhh... lil Jay-may!), my nieces, my big bed, Dollar General Store, Oreos, Wine/Sangria, Bible study, my computer, paved roads, trips with friends, church music I know, winter, running in the cold, porches, garden vegetables, clean tap water, Chick-Fil-A, Sushi, my dad's ridiculous jokes, my PIANO, a public library, poetry books, coffee, tea that has flavor, movie marathons, movies (period), talks with friends, cooking (and eating) with my sister, God-talks with my bro-in-law, Hummus, strawberries, contemplations with my philosophy friend, Sunday meals, Belgian chocolate, Belgium, Ella's big grin and squeaky "HI JJ!" when I walk in the door, pet names from my parents (Jame-Jame, James, Nutty, Middle Child, etc.) having new music, Glee, taking Writing classes, Target, carpet, the ability to go to a Mexican restaurant and have good food, drinks, laughs, and talks with my aunt and her family, having a fully-functional phone.

Things I Don't Miss: politics, arguments, driving, hot showers, Wal-Mart, school traffic, sports (except volleyball...only boys play vball here and it pisses me off!), Billboards, Parking lots, Scottsville traffic, BG traffic (any traffic), American Christianity, fundraising, country music, heels/uncomfortable shoes, big mirrors, clocks

These are the students in my school!

Since it's the first week, not all students have their uniforms. Boys wear white button-ups with khaki shorts, and girls wear white button-ups with red dresses and red ribbons with their braided hair. Aren't they adorable?

This Week: A Quick Spiel

Monday: Still recovering from a terrible sunburn, I started school. I got there at 8:30 and was told to think of song and rhymes for the kids (there are only 30 students in total). I sat for a few minutes, thinking, and realized that my principal wouldn't be back for a while. So...for 2 hours, I played with the kids, and my principal told me that she wanted me to teach all 30 kids (ages 5-11)every day for 2 hours while she and the other teacher found rides to this village. Umm... Anyway, we were done by about 11 because it was the first day. My principal gave me lunch-- fish, hopa, and potatoes. Enough for about 3 meals. After school, two of my students took me to a beautiful lookout called Matamahina Hopo. I can't wait to go back to take pictures. I was afraid these beautiful scenes would start getting mundane to me in this island life, but not so. I couldn't stop staring, mouth gaping open, brain lapsing into silence. We were so high that the birds were hundreds of yards below us. What a place it is, when you're on ground, but the birds seem as far away as the forest canopy.

Tuesday: You know that whole teaching-all-30-kids-at-once thing? Yeah. Disaster. After my overwhelmed self talked to my principal, we decided to change things around. Now (as far as I know...some things can be lost in translation), I will teach Class 4-6 (age 8-11) in the morning for about 45 mins, then I'll teach PE to all the kids in the afternoon, which is great since we have a huge field to play in. I also made 2 batches of siamu lesu (papaya jam), mashed potatoes for lunch (it was soooooo good), and baked brownies for my Tongan BFF who is now, sadly, in Tongatapu to finish school. I'm sad :( BUT I rode the bus for the first time in 'Eua! It was $1.60 for both ways, which seems silly because the island is so small, but gas is super expensive here. Plus it was nicer than I expected. I'll pay $5 if I don't have to hike a total of 2 hours for groceries! Plus, I got boisenberry ice cream at the market. It tasted like strawberry. I've never been so content in my life.

Wednesday (today): Class was TONS better. The kids had a blast working on verbs (thank goodness for Simon Says), putting sentences together with post-it notes, working on introductions, and practicing pronoun use. In Tongan, you don't have to worry about gender pronouns... it's easy, but it makes learning gender-specific pronouns hard. I made one more batch of siamu lesi, and now have 5 guavas sitting on my table. I also tripped on my concrete steps after school was finished and, of course, knocked a chunk out of the toe that may possibly have an ingrown toenail. It hurts like a mother. For real. I cleaned it with peroxide and antiseptic and it is wrapped with a bandaid and tape. I don't think it needs stitches because it's just a really deep concretey scrape, but it's sure bleeding a lot. The hits just keep on comin'! I attempted to talk to my parents and, later, my sister today by phone, but my phone is a P.O.S. I am so frustrated with the phone and the network! Next month, for my own birthday present, I'm buying a phone from the other phone company here, b/c that network is cheaper for calling home. Hopefully the service will be better. Maybe this island just has bad service. :/

Tomorrow: Teaching again... I need to make banana bread before my bananas go bad! It's still hard for me to eat a banana...

Friday: Teaching, go to town in hopes of scoring some potatoes! I want to make a faux-hashbrown casserole for our Palangi feast on Saturday. That means I get to ride the bus again! Woohoo!

Saturday: Palangi Feast! The theme this time is "Childhood Favorites." Hopefully I'll make hashbrown casserole, biscuits with my siamu lesi, and chocolate-covered peanut butter and crackers, with crunched-up toffee (thanks to my awesome stock of Werther's!...go Uncle Ted and Aunt Debbie!) on top. Yummo!

Sunday: Church, eat, sleep, church, eat, sleep. I tend to like Sundays. Except for the sitting-under-a-yelling-preacher-that-I-can't-understand part. Maybe I"ll go back to the Jehova Witness church. It's air conditioned, plus a Palangi goes there, plus everyone seems happy to be there. I read a booklet about what they believe. Interesting stuff.

Life so far... good. Annoying with all the injuries. I think my speaking abilities are improving, and my comprehension is definitely better. Once everything heals I'd like to start running regularly... that will make things better, I think. I often feel vegetable deprived... the market here has veggies most days, but it's in town, so it's far, and plus the quality isn't always the best. Yesterday I saw an eggplant that was as mushy as melted ice cream. It was gross. And the tomatoes are rarely ripe. Usually, they're green.
School so far...adjusting will have to happen, but the kids are adorable. I love names like "Luvi" and "Monalisa" (I know, right?!)Kulisi (Chris) and "Line" (Lee-nay)... I still get Ana, Malia, and Anamalia mixed up...they look very similar and they're all the same age, so it's very difficult. Plus my memory is awful, so it's always a fun game to guess everyone's name. The kids think it's hilarious.