Hello All. It’s a Sunday night and you can catch me writing my blog and procrastinating further studying for a statistics exam tomorrow. Statistics.

I want to be a high-school Spanish teacher. I repeat: Spanish. Statistics.

I think back on last week and how much fell into place almost every day, to the point that I almost feel settled now. Now, there are degrees of settledness and it’s fair to say there are moments, hours, handsome chunks of time where I feel all bet settled. But that is to be expected for any return Peace Corps Volunteer. Or human.

But I feel settled because my bedroom is set-up, I have at least two friends who would notice if I didn’t show up to class, and acquaintances who would notice too, and I have two roommates who are very tidy and nice. So, with that, I am feeling grateful for a lot.

Not to mention, I GOT A 93.85% on my FIRST GRADUATE SCHOOL EXAM! I got a 93% on the homework assignment which, to be honest, bummed me out because I thought I did it correctly. But, that is that. I’ll take it. (UPDATE: The Teaching Assistant graded it, and when I checked with the head teacher, she disagreed with the TA and changed my grade to 100%. Boom).

However, on Tuesday of last week I was not feeling very settled at all. I had been staying in Kind Ms. Joan’s house, couchsurfing, since Sunday night (my first night in Tucson). I met Joan when I walked into the door. I didn’t know her story, hadn’t seen her couchsurfing profile.. or anything. My friend Nicole helped me find her and submitted the request through her own profile. So I simply texted Joan to introduce myself and she sent me her address. When I swung open the gate to her house, I knew I was in the perfect place to ‘crash’ until I could move into my sublet on Wednesday.

Her garden was elaborately designed and loved, punctuated with cacti, wheelbarrows with plants going out and the crowning glory, an artistic installment across the fence, 5 foot high letters made out of ceramic pieces and mirror bits that spelled out: FRIENDSHIP. It wasn’t cheesy because it was so gosh-dang charming and, dare I say it, magical. And I had been on the road since Wednesday, staying in different strangers’ houses, not knowing a thing about who was hosting me, and getting a bit road weary. For my heart and soul at that moment, I couldn’t have picked a more perfect place to step into than this elaborate, inviting FRIENDSHIP garden.

The pictures don’t do it justice, but they give a sense:

Joan told me her story while I prepared breakfast on my first day of grad school. I am glad I got up early because I really just needed to get going, not stand and listen to Joan’s narrative, but at the same time I liked her so much and her story was fascinating, but my nerves about ‘The First Day of School’ were first-in-command. I had done a ‘dry run’ from her house to the school the night before, but I still wasn’t sure what traffic would do in the morning or, more dubious, if I knew which parking lot was the right one… The program director had sent me the campus map and it was probably the size of Santa Clara. (It’s not on the university campus, it’s on a high school campus but still, the campus is a veritable village). Yes, it’s a university program taught in a high school classroom.

Joan has an undeniable Canadian accent, is a former dairy farmer and social worker who provides care for adults with autism. She looked at me and said: “Your room is being flipped over so you can set your things down now and when you get back tonight you can move into your room. If you see anything in the fridge that you want, please help yourself. We do not have wifi.” I saw the guest room where I stayed completely fraught with books and understood why she didn’t have wifi. It wasn’t ’til my last day that I learned why: she ripped the wires out of the house not knowing that they were wiring for internet… so everyone else on the block has wifi but she can’t because she ripped the wires out. Her roommate, an east coast, very loud, bubbly and nice lady offered me some of her weed that she tried to veil the smell of with excessive incense. I politely declined. I’m as square as they come when it comes to substances. But I thought it was kind for her to offer, anyway. I wonder if Joan the dairy farmer cared. I doubt it since they’re roommates. Or maybe she dabbles. “Oh the places you’ll go!” was about couchsurfing, right?

On the first day of class I walked into a room and noticed my name written on a placard next to an ‘apple’ icon and my nametag next to it. I slipped on the nametag and found a seat, asking the three ladies at a table if fourth spot was taken. We introduced ourselves and I already knew I liked the girl sitting across from me. She had just returned from Peace Corps in The Gambia. Turns out there were only three RPCVs (Return Peace Corps Volunteers) in the room, and I had magically sat across from one. This had led me to erroneously conclude that I was among a host of RPCVs, but it was just coincidence. First friend.

The professor seemed confident with big bangs and a long pony tail held back with a sturdy barette. She is a doctor of education and wore Converses with coral-colored laces. She seemed smart, funny and extremely knowledgeable. She gave us our first icebreaker: figure out what you have in common with everyone at your table besides education. We established, myself with the other three ladies, that none of us were from Arizona, that none of us were married and none of had children. When it came to our table to share, we all introduced ourselves and I raised my arms and said: “And none of us have children!” like a victory chant. The room rippled with laughter. I felt like I had already one a small victory: my first comedic delivery. The rest of the class I was taking notes from her powerpoint and trying to understand the forum where she posts her lecture notes, study guides and homework assignments. The last time I was in a class was most certainly prior to submitting homework assignments online. Call me an old-fogey but this is all new to me.

I performed other random tasks like driving to the university one day and introducing myself to it, both of us strangers. I felt like a total outlier though this institution will be receiving a handsome stash of my money. I had to literally walk myself to all of the places and introduce myself to all of the people who I needed to meet. Am I grown-up enough to be doing that?

By Wednesday morning I woke up to the screams of the client outside who is autistic, I thought it was good that it was my last day couchsurfing. I needed a space of my own. But I had a big exam on Thursday, so if I spent too much time moving my stuff in, or worse, getting lost in arranging all of it to my liking, I wasn’t going to do well on this exam… I got the sense by the end of my time with Ms. Joan that she is a welcomer of all people: misfit toys, awkward transitioning grad students, adults with autism, grieving friends, traveling musicians and every personality in between. I was in awe of her work ethic, her bubbly personality, her invitation to people with messy lives and her chicken rescue. That’s what it is, Joan is a hard-worker and a rescuer, of chickens and perhaps people, and she is a hostess to couchsurfers like me.

It was truly an honor to be in her home for the genesis of this new chapter where my nose is stuck in books.

And by Friday I had two friends, had passed an exam with an A! And was already getting ready to study for the second exam (on Monday) on statistics.

In between, I’ve been on the usual rollercoaster of emotions, transition and finding myself again, an independent debt-incurring agent stressed about money in the country of dreams and opportunity while my Guatemalan constituency longs to enter where I have free access without batting an eyelash. Meanwhile I grieve the end of the most romantic relationship of my life, still not totally grasping why it couldn’t last but knowing, somehow, that he is not meant to be in my life right now.

I cooked myself a meal at my new apartment and sat down at a quiet glass table to eat my dinner, alone. I didn’t feel sorry for myself but I did almost cry when I looked at the avocados at Trader Joe’s. Avocados and Guatemala will always be inextricably linked. That and so much more of my heart. Yeah, that says “Cute Butt.” Roommate humor?

Meanwhile Tucson was hot the first few days I was here and somehow it has magically cooled down. I hold on to my hat for the days of extreme oven-like heat in July and August and hope that it passes without me even going outside. Maybe I’ll buy a personal cooling system and attach it to myself. I hate the heat.

And with this update, with 300 and some posts behind me, I must say that it is time to officially pause First Person Foreign. It isn’t because there isn’t writing to do, but it is because I am spending all of my efforts in front of the computer on grad school, and when I am not working on grad school, I need to be outside in the sunshine, moving, looking at cacti, trying to make friends and sorting out my thoughts on the business of being, not behind this screen typing it out. In Peace Corps, writing here was my sanity, my constant in a see of variables, but now it would tip me over the edge of screens and characters.

So, for now I saw See You Later. Thanks for joining me on this wild ride.