tomorrow's the day.

After two months of intensive training and living with a Malagasy host family, I am officially ready to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. Perhaps "ready" isn't exactly the right word, for I still barely speak the language and desperately want to spend more stime studying, but nonetheless, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. And tomorrow's the day... the day I finally haul my two bags and a carload of newly-bought household items to my beachside hut and settle in for two years. In keeping with the theme of most of my experience in Peace Corps thus far, I feel fairly relaxed about the great unknown.

Perhaps one of the best things about living in Madagascar is the sense of contentment here. Not only does it eminate from the kind actions of the Malagasy people who speak always with quiet voices, but I have found such joy in the beautiful and diverse environment. At my village, I was surrounded by green rolling hills, lush with trees, flowers and interesting songbirds, as well as vast expanses of rice paddies, rivers and red earth, and each day enjoyed both sunrise and sunset. And now I have moved to the far north, with its crystal blue ocean, white sand beaches, coconnut trees and much more vibrant African culture. Women in beautiful brightly-colored lambas sell tropical fruits and vanilla on the street, and delicious and cheap seafood is available everywhere.

I truly feel at home, which is strange to say after only two months- and a few days in the north- but the pace of life and mentality of the people are things I feel very much akin to.

However, it is not always easy to live here, where life is always happening right in front of you. All the cruel parts, the parts that get hidden in American culture, are exposed here. There is no hiding the trash in the trash can that magically gets taken away to a place where we never see it again. There is no perfectly-wrapped meat in sanitary packaging kept at just the right temperature; here you see (and smell) all parts of the animal on the chopping block at the sweltering outdoor market, complete with flies. And again, there is no hiding from the stench of human waste in the toilet houses (called kabones). There is no avoiding being shouted at by street children who live everywhere and call out, "Vazaha! Vazaha!" (a derogatory word for "French foreigner.") Life is exposed here, sometimes uncomfortably so.

But I like it this way. It feels real, the way I think life should be lived.

One thing I especially long for is privacy and the chance to cook my own food after two months of living in an extremely small house with my host family, which consisted of my host mom and three children, the youngest crying incessantly. And soon, very soon indeed, I will be living alone! Then there will be all new challenges to face and experiences to be had. I am blessed to be here.

More to come...