Induction looms ahead

It's been some time since I've written.  Have arrived at a cozy hotel where we fledgling Peace Corps trainees are in the last leg of our training.  We arrived at the hotel nestled in amongst the lush vegetation on the grounds of the Mayfair Hotel.  The mountains rim the area where I'm seated and dark storm clouds hover overhead.  The skies have opened up once with torrential rains, welcome after sweltering days in Portmore.I'm getting to know the staff at the clinic and feel like I can contribute on many levels. They smile and say hello when I arrive each day. I spent the other day helping a home health nurse run child developmental/immunization clinics.  The children were dressed neatly and their hair was adorned with braids and barrettes.  The ages ranged from 3 months to 6 years. All the children were quick to smile, except for a 4 year old boy who had to be dragged in by his dad.  He was convinced that he was getting a shot, so I had to keep reaasuring him that I was just going to ask his Dad some questions.  He finally relaxed and answered my questions about Elmo on his shorts.It's interesting how the taxi drivers milling about calling out their destinations and vying for business don't intimidate me anymore.  I ask them pointedly how much for the fare and refuse if it's too high.  It's a constant balancing act trying to ferret out a sincere person from one that is about to ask me for money.  I'm going to try a new approach and say no, then ask them if they have any money for me!Last week I visited Castleton gardens to view a Small Projects Association project that was completed by a PCV.  The botanical gardens were located in the mountains north of us.  It was so serene once we arrived at the site and were guided around the project by the director.  It was green everywhere, a far cry from our urban setting.  There was a river that runs through the 32 acre gardens and I couldn't wait to remove my sandals and plunge my feet in the cool water. Assorted sized pebbles and boulders lined the bottome.  It reminded me of the Kancamangus area in NH, on a smaller scale where I've sat happily amongst the rushing water and stones.  Saw a large tree with gorgeous blossoms called a cannonball tree.  A Rastafarian tour guide plucked one from the tree and gave me one.  I have several close up photos that I'll publish later.The small zinc covered shacks and mini market stalls scattered all over the streets in town seem so normal now.  Fruit vendors on the street, guys sellling machetes to cars stalled in traffic, guys running on the bus while your waiting at intersections with bags of flavored coolaid mixture, bags of snacks who run up the aisles hawking their wares and who dash off once the lights change!  Another scene while I waited for the bus: a guy riding a bicycle juggling a plastic, open jug of gasoline on his handle bars, with a weed wacker balanced on his shoulder.  I could just imagine the KABOOM sound as he collided with an oncoming taxi driver.  Then another guy had a pair of lace women's panties on his head, nonchalantly seated on a bench.  It was all we could do not to laugh, we had to look the other way as we tried to guess if it was a size 6, 7 or 8 panty.  So much for macho Jamaican men image!All in all, anyone you pass on the street will take the time to say: Good Morning as you pass by.  It's amazing how Jamaicans never say good bye. They use words like later, soon come, walk good instead.  Their philosophy is that there is always the possiblity of seeing each other again, so no need to say good bye.All for now,Love and peace,Kareaomthing to reflect on: Peace Corps in Patwa is spelled Piss Kuor--- does make one wonder!