This first post comes to you after I’ve already been in Madagascar for 3 month. I’ve just finished the Pre-Service Training.

When I was child and watching TV I saw a commercial, it announced, “The toughest job you’ll ever love.” In that 30 sec spot, young, good looking Americans toiled in the fields of an exotic, lush, green country far away. It planted a seed in my young mind. After High School, at Sacramento City College I saw a Peace Corps booth on career day. I asked them, “I’d like to join. How do I go about it?” They replied, “You need at least a Bachelor’s degree or a special skill like farming or in the health field.” I had neither, but I needed to explore the world….pronto. So instead, I joined the military and traveled the globe, even went to Antarctica.

Much later, I left the military, after which searched for adventure and enlightenment while living out of my backpack. Eventually I landed in Miami Beach and got my degree from Miami Dade College in 2013. Here’s a sample of my life in Miami Beach.

Immediately I applied to the Peace Corps but, I was too far in debt to go in. I was working at The Standard Hotel Resort Spa in South Beach at the time and making squat. Luckily, I scored a job at the Sandbar Lounge adjacent to the beach and worked my butt to the nub over the next two years, and it paid off in spades and, in the summer of 2015, I applied again. My application was denied. I applied a 3rd time and in November of 2015 I got my invitation to serve in Madagascar, departing in June of 2016. My inner child celebrated.

On June 27th my group met in Philadelphia for staging, all 31 of us. It was funny meeting the others. We had been communicating for months over social media and had a few video chats. It was like meeting television personalities for the first time. There were some nerds and some class clowns in the group yet all were adventurers, hardy, and selfless. During those 3 days, we attended sessions, went shopping, and reunited in TGI Friday’s to watch soccer games. There was a young guy named Kamaka, he was recent graduate and from the big island of Hawaii, and he did backflips off of waterfalls. A group of us would end up back in his room. We’d goof off, watch Game Of Thrones and swing numb-chucks to hit peanuts while a third volunteer would try to catch it in their mouth. Bonding.

After golden moments like that it was time to depart the USA.  We met in the lobby at 3 am to take the bus to JFK airport. We were all jazzed and sleepy. Jokingly, I placed my travel pillow on a fellow volunteer’s head. She was not pleased at all and I’ve been on her shit list ever since. Bonding.

The first 3 days in Madagascar were spent in the Peace Corps training center, a fortified compound a few hours east of the capital in the chilly mountains outside a small town called Mantasoa, with a climate similar to a rainy Scottish village I didn’t pack for. We were housed in dormitory rooms. I shared mine with Juan, a lanky guy from Kansas who makes people laugh by saying funny things about Kansas and with Ahmed, a burly, bald-headed former police officer from Louisiana who always has something good to say to get anyone out of the doldrums. The dormitory shares a community bathrooms. Bonding.

The days were spent in sessions learning about the Peace Corps regulations, safety security issues, and the malagasy culture & language. After dinner we were free to do as we pleased: a bunch played volleyball, some studied, some lounged in hammocks, some wrote to family members, and I usually meandered about taking pictures, chatting with people, and working on a documentary video that will encompass our first 3 months together.  At night, we’d play card games, watch movies, have some drinks, sit by the fire, dance, and wire in to the internet. When we weren’t at the compound we stayed with our host families in neighboring Mantasoa. It was cold and our homes had no heating, so there was no escaping the frigid air. We did our business in squatter toilets away from the house. My host family was hospitable. There was always plenty of food. The house was a half hour’s walk from town trudging up and down slippery, muddy roads into the forest like I was Little Red Riding Hood. I used this time to study Malagasy on flash cards. Six days a week we did Peace Corps stuff but Sundays were ours. Our first Sunday we went for a hike through the rice fields but had to abort mission because agitated bulls blocked our way. Diana, a former ski instructor from Colorado suggested we go to the top of a big hill overlooking the town, instead. We stopped at a store for some drinks on the way there. 20 minutes later we gazed at the town, the hills, and the rice fields below. I opened my beer and made an enthusiastic cheers with Juan and a rainbow appeared. It was our first drink in country and it was as awesome as a beer commercial during the Super Bowl. Bonding.

After a month and a half we were sent to our site for two weeks. This is where we will eventually spend our two years. Mine is Alakamisy Ambohimaha in the south central highlands. I wanted a hot-all-year-round-place but I didn’t get it. I was bummed. When we all found out our places, most us got giddy and looked for our places on a big map. I instead, brooded alone on the water’s edge of the Peace Corps compound. Later, I saw a trainee from NYC who was also placed in my region. She was happy and positive. That lifted my spirits. If she could be happy than so can I.

On the bus down to Alakamisy I rode with the volunteer I’d be replacing. She’s a friendly girl from Louisiana. Not very talkative but she has a common-sense perspective that I jive with. After about 9 hours I was feeling antsy. I thought, “Where is this damn town?” She pointed out the window and said, “There’s your new home.” We were going downhill and from our perch I saw a big bowl like valley and rising up in the middle of it was a plateau with buildings on it. Alakamisy Land Ho! Around this plateau was farmland, mostly rice fields, and hella mountains around that. If the valley flooded with water, Alakamisy would be an island. Most of the town hugs the main highway of Madagascar, the RN7. It’s the only road in town, no side walks, so the traffic and pedestrians share the asphalt. Despite its size it has a few little restaurants and some social activity, some nefarious, I’m sure. I spent the two weeks with a wonderful host family. They showed me around the area and treated me very well. One day, I had a beer in one of the small restaurants and immediately the whole town knew I was drinking in town. I was told not to drink in public. Well, they said it wasn’t going to be easy.  The two weeks flew by and then I was back in Mantasoa.

The two weeks were over and back to Mantasoa. Our first few nights we stayed at the Peace Corps training compound and on Sunday we lounged around the area next to the lake, some playing volleyball and talking on the grass in the sun. It was like the paradise scene you see in religious pamphlets left in city buses that paint a picture of Eden. On Monday, it’s back to the grind, more sessions, more homework, and more cold, cannot escape it.

I we spent our afternoons.

Me and my host family.

The road to my host family’s house.

The last month we spent at the compound which made everyone happy. My fellow trainees are like my family and like my family it was time to say good bye to them, but we had one more month.

One day after classes, I went with a fellow trainee, a girl from the northeast, to a little mini-market outside the gate of the compound to buy a few things. It had been a tough day. We had to give two speeches, one in Malagasy. Plus, the day before we had our final language test. I needed a beer, a lot of us needed a beer. So once out the gate, we began walking down the dirt road and started talking about our Peace Corps trainee family. It was good to vent, but I didn’t know how honest to be. Inside, I am cruel, but I don’t want everyone to know that, even someone that I trust.

We bought beers and sat on the side of a dirt road. We talked about everyone and she brought up a rumor about me that’s been making the rounds through our group. It was about me and a girl. I wasn’t mad or even bothered by it. I know the score. Humans spread rumors like bees make honey, and honey is sweet.

More of our friends arrived. The conversation was wonderful. After a time, I had too many sips of the nector, I came back to the compound, pissed some people off and the next day I woke up just knowing I had to go on an apology tour. You make your bed, you gotta lay in it, as they say.

We just swore in as new Peace Corps Volunteers. A representative from the US embassy and other VIP’s were there as well as lots of townsfolk and we had a snazzy parade and a local band. Afterwards, we had a little cocktail-like party and we took pictures, during which I had a searing conflict with a fellow volunteer that put me in such a funk that I decided to skip out on our going-away party, and finish our documentary, instead. But oh well, that’s life. The toughest job you’ll ever love.