Overdue; it's a slacker's life.

Sure, I should have started this blog a long time ago...but I'm a slacker. In fact, I'm busy avoiding packing and writing a report, (which is due for my PC duties) by starting this blog, so you can see the extent of my slackitude.
There are many great blogs being written by Peace Corps Jamaica; this isn't one of them. I'll put up some links for those later on, but for now just idle here a while and do what we're told is one of a volunteer's greatest talents: practice patience.
It's been an exciting ride so far; the staging event was fun, the first two weeks of training were hot, humid, time-warping goodness, mixed with mind numbing lectureness.
I've met 51 amazing people during this period; they at times amazed me, humbled me, frustrated me, cracked me up, laid me low and flat out made me glad I was a part of this group. The 3 group mates who left us each deserve a hand for being wise enough to know what they wanted; each will be missed and should know just how much.
I have to admit, I'm a bit worried. Those of you who know me will understand when I say the good luck (my APCD calls it skill) I've had with my home placement and job placement is nothing short of amazing. Being a person used to the 1 on the dice rolls and the wrong card drawn from the deck, I tend to get jumpy when things go as well as they are. Mosquitoes and other varied and annoying bug bites aside, I can tell you that I'm happier than a guy in the midst of a foreign culture, (and nowhere near a beach, while on an island) should be.
My new family members are rather like my old ones; funny, sweet, opinionated, great cooks, so-so cleaners, protective, and loving. I've been accepted into a home, a routine and a life; my gratitude for their trust and kindness grows almost as quickly as my meal portions.
My co-workers are also kuul; my supervisor is a great teacher, amazing farmer/window maker and a funny guy. His beat up old Toyota racer is faster than all your namby-pamby Evo's and WRX's back in the states and reminds me of the Millennium Falcon...she may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts.
The association members I work with impress me daily; being from USA, land of the specialists, I boggle at their almost unanimous ability to be farmer, architect, builder, scientist and business person. You could learn a lot from a Jamaican greenhouse farmer; I know I will.
Jamaica is a wild and wonderful place; the cab and bus rides are a paradox of ha-ha and boo-hoo to my American expectations; the cost is amazingly cheap, while the bust-a-ride condition of the cars and the body scrunching "smalling up" can make me yearn for a solo cab ride. The driving skill needed here would test the limits of even the most talented US driver; I'm glad I don't have my motorcycle here because well, I'd be pushing my near-legendary "Death Luck" to its limit. I'm annoyed daily that I can't drive however; come on PC dudes, I have the "The left side is the right side and the right side is suicide!" thing down by now...
The people are not at all what you think and the country is nothing what you've seen. There is more of me in everybody I meet than I would have ever expected, and I'm proud to be a small part of these big people. You need to wrap your mind around an island culture to understand the reason things are so different here; all news is local news, the whole island cheers their successes (just be here when Sir Bolt wins an Olympic race to know what I mean) and they curse their failures as one. I look forward to learning more about everything and everybody Jamaican; I'll write it here in the days...well okay, weeks to come, (I'm a slacker after all.)