I've only been in the Peace Corps for, like, SEVEN DAYSSS!!

Borrowed from (and slightly altered) one of my favorite comedies, Corky Romano, this describes how I’m feeling at the moment. For all who haven’t seen the movie, this quote comes when Corky, pretending to be in the FBI to steal all the evidence against his father, is sent out to do some actual FBI work. He walks into a junkyard, badly costumed as a thug, they quickly see through his disguise and it cuts to him on the floor, crying to the tough guys, “I’ve only been in the FBI for, like, two daysss!”

No matter how prepared someone might think they are for something like this, they aren’t. The PC warned me that everything you're used to, from your own bed, to your routine in the bathroom, will change, but I don’t think it registered that every minute of every hour, I'd be immersed in these changes. Part of me knows I’m in it for the long haul, but another part of me expects the trip to end and to go home soon. My travels thus far have prepared me somewhat, but a lot of what I’ve experienced here on has precedence in only movies and NOVA. It feels like I’ve experienced a lot in the past three days here in Guyana, maybe too much for that short of time.

My host family is Indo-Guyanese, practicing Hinduism. That in itself is a big experience. My host parents have an altar they pray at every morning and the family doesn't eat beef or pork. There was a wedding down the street and my host mom took me to it. There were many similarities between our gatherings and this one, but there were many differences, too. I walked across the bridge, over the trench, and into the front yard of where the wedding was taking place the next day. The night before was the dig dutty, where there were prayers, blessings and dancing. Pretty streamers, flowers and palm branches decorated the area. The bride was dressed in henna, a lot of gold jewelry an Indian dress (maybe a sari), and a veil. As they prayed, they held flowers, coins, rice in their hands, they lit incense, lit small fires and at one point the mother of the bride took dirt tilled up and tied some into her veil. She later released it into the ground where they placed a tree. With the drums beating and songs being sang, it was a mesmerizing, loud, filled weekend.