Matching Tracksuits

Today we had our first day of training – it was interesting: very little instruction until the end. Tomorrow I’ll have an extra hour or so – I’ll probably write more then.

Writing by hand takes so very long. I long for my computer, at least for my journal. I know I’d write so much more.

I am surprised that I’m not at all homesick. I would imagine that I”ll get that way in the future – once the newness wears off. Yet with the linguistic challenge always grudgingly offering its rewards, I don’t know that the newness will dissipate. I am very comfortable here. I know few phrases; I would become easily lost; I understand little of the culture – yet I’m comfortable. I even call this house “home.”

I am in Poland – occasionally it really hits me and I am shocked. I stand with other PCVs at the post office and I realize as I speak that I am the exotic one for a change. A little boy stood staring at us as we spoke – it felt good in a strange way.

I’m going to bed now. I am still so tired from the flight and I’m sure the stress, though not obvious, is taking its toll.

The sun comes up here amazingly early. I [have] been up for almost an hour now – I decided to put down some thoughts rather than lie in bed.

My host family is polite and friendly, though I haven’t seen my host father since he dropped me off yesterday. [Piotr], my host brother, speaks English quite well, and for that I am thankful. Despite their incredible kindness, I feel a little out of place. It’s only natural – I still am a bit surprised when I remind myself that I am in Poland.

There is so much to write about – I long to have my computer. Soon enough, I suppose.

Though the sun is up, it’s not very bright at all. I am wondering whether it is the pollution I’ve heard so much about, or merely a cloudy day. I’ve so many questions like that. I will find answers to many of them, I suppose.

I spent a bit of time last evening talking to Peter and his mother. I showed them pictures of Bristol and my family. For some reason, I was hesitant to show them all, and I held back a few of Puck and Lily. It was strange because the ones I gave them were simply whisked through while pictures of the house and my family were studied.

Peter was enthralled with the idea of State Street when I explained it to him. He asked what happened if a Tennessee officer saw someone across the street stealing something. I didn’t know quite how to answer that one.

There are many dogs barking outside. Most seem off in the distance yet last night it was as if the house was completely surrounded.

Speaking of the house, I suppose I should try to describe it. On the outside it looks very much like one of the townhouses of D.C., though only in groups of two or three, not whole rows. We entered through what I thought was the back door, but had the feeling of a front door: entry [area] with a place for coats and such. The floors are all hardwood and much of the wall space is covered with wood. I feel at times as if I’m in a spa!

My room is spacious with a large wardrobe from my clothes and a large (but low – about one and a half feet off the ground) bed. The bedroom suit is new – makes me wonder if my arrival had anything to do with it. Perhaps they were considering new furniture and this served as an excuse or prod of sorts. It’s almost something I can imagine my Dad doing. Of course, this is just speculation.

One thing which surprised me was the number of children on rollerblades. They were everywhere at the training center and on our street there were quite a few as well. It’s so strange to hear children laughing and playing, then scream and yell in another language.

I cannot believe how flat everything is around here. I’ve yet to see a single hill, or even the slightest rise in elevation. While I might not be “in Kansas anymore,” it’s certainly flat enough to be Kansas.