GOING BACK TO CALI

er... I mean "Going back to Tanna". And I'm very ready to head back to my home village even though I don't have a home. In fact, I'm not even sure if i'll be living at the bungalows again. Turns out that Kamut has built a custom house for either Jeff or I, but I really don't want to live in this home since it is right in the middle of all his other family homes and there is no private toilet or shower facility, not to mention a kitchen. Plus, there are tons of barking dogs, crying babies and the worst of all - cackling manfowl. Those are absolutely intolerable. At the bungalows I had the soothing sounds of the rolling ocean and nothing else.

I'm flying back with the Country Director, Kevin George, and bigwig visiting from D.C. His name is Reuban Hernandez and he's the Director of Operations for the South Pacific and Inner Americas - so he really is a bigwig. And whenever we have a visitor from the States it's practically written in stone that they will visit Tanna. The volcano is too tempting to pass up. And since I'm close to the airport and the coffee project is something of a dynamic "success-in-the-making" I get to be the local host/guide. I'll be flying with them today, traveling to the south of the island, visiting the volcano, talking about coffee the whole time, then Saturday I'll show off the factory and they fly out that afternoon.

That's when I get to find out if my puppy, C.J., is still alive and start to set up my next temporary home in the factory. The coffee season doesn't begin until May so there won't be any real activity. I guess I can sleep in the conference room or something. And there is an actual toilet, but we will need to build a new water tank to supply the bathroom with running water. Not a problem considering the alternative - sharing a bush toilet with the whole freakin' family village. NO THANKS.

I also want to give a big, fat THANK YOU to all the friends and family that sent cards, cash gifts, and packages over the holiday season. It's difficult to understate the significance of recieving even a card from the States. Getting mail, any mail, is one of the most incredible things to ever happen to a Peace Corps volunteer. I know, it sounds silly, but when you are on a remote, isolated island you feel very disconnected from the outside world. In fact, I'm so disconnected that I don't even think about what season you are experiencing (it's hot and damn humid here in the south pacific) or what holidays are happening or who is having a birthday or what. Our worlds are totally removed from each other so much that just a simple message is an amazing thing.

And then to get a package in the mail is practically mind boggling. So, again, thanks for sending the love!

Once I get on the plane I will be away from computers for at least two weeks.