Everyday there is a woman who balances on the edge of the first seat of the bus, getting off around two or three stops after I get on. She has short hair which is frayed and silvery. Her body is more round than the average Pole and she always wears a skirt with a gray sweater, and her veins stand out clearly on her pale legs. A couple of days ago the bus driver applied a bit too much force [on the break pedal] a bit too quickly. She tumbled out of her seat with a thud and cracked her head against the door of the glass enclosure around the driver. No one offered to help; no one asked her if she was okay. We PCVs stood watching, remembering that Chrissy told us that it is often better not to get involved. A bit ironic, for it is too late for us not to get involved . . .

The weather of late has been absolutely wretched. It as been overcast and windy with interspersed days of rain or sprinkling mist. It is good in a way: no sweating. Yet day after day of gloomy weather makes for a bit of emotional gloom.

Tomorrow I talk to my parents for the first time since I’ve been in Poland. I’ve so much to ask them about: batteries for my BOSS; guitar; computer; books; posting letters on the Internet. I am eager to talk to them.

I had a most intriguing experience in the first language session this morning. We were to determine and describe the ideal woman/man. Of course we were divided by gender, which was quite interesting in our class. The three males in our class are . . . Wade . . . James . . . and I. The teacher called us up and told us, “Describe the ideal woman.” (In Polish, of course. Or something like that. I’m not even going to try to record her actual words here.) James handed me the marker and said, “She’s all yours, Gary.” Kerry pointed out this afternoon, “How often do you get to pick out the ideal woman with two gay men?” It’s quite a memory, I suppose.