New Place

It's a spacious studio right in the city center. Private bath. Front door exiting to a tiled boardwalk, right near Pampas' hottest kiosk. Water 24/7. Proximity to the town's loud speakers. And a window large enough for little kids to stare at me while I cook.

Did I score or what?

I didn't even mention the best part: My new host family is amazing. I've known them for over a year. We've baked chocolate chip cookies together. Made pizza. Filmed music videos. They ask me about my projects and offer to help. They let me sit at their kitchen table when I have a bad day and beat me at chess. They tease me. Adore me.

And that was all before I moved in.

I suppose I should probably back up since many of you had no clue I was moving host families. Which is actually kind of surprising considering how much it has consumed me for the past few months. I won't bore you with the details, but allow me to sum up.

November: Move in.

December: Get to know each other.

January: Bond with host brother.

February: Host dad finally talks to me.

March: Ok.

April: Good.

May: Good.

June: Ok.

July: Ok.

August: Gets awkward.

September: Gets more awkward.

October: Spend whole days in the health post to stay out of the house.

November: Talk to counter part about moving out. Find place.

December: Tell family I'm moving out. They freak out.

January: SUPER awkward. Awful. Miserable.

February: Move into new place!

I like my old host family. But long story short, I realized that in order to save our relationship and do this Peace Corps thing right, I had to find a different place to live. So I went to ask my "adoptive" host family (a family that had embraced me from the beginning) if there was room for me. They was, but it would take a couple of months to make it "Peace Corps approvable." I didn't want to go behind my old host family's back, so I told them my plan to move.

And they kind of flipped out. There was a lot of yelling. Peace Corps came in and saved the day. I went home for Christmas. Came back. Spent whole days out of the house or locked in my room. No one talked to me. When they did, it was biting. Then they tried to convince me to stay. They put in a fridge. Then Peace Corps approved the new place. Silent treatment again. I moved out. They took down my photo.

But now, I'm living in my new place with my new family, and going to my old host family's every day for lunch. It's working out really well.

Super cool bonus? I have three new host siblings, one of whom (Keysi) has made various appearances on my blog as the star of a music video we made and active member of my youth group, PALMA. Both parents are teachers and care a lot about education, which is blatantly obvious when you meet their incredibly bright kids:

• 
  
  Oreste, 18, is studying to be an accountant, has taken to calling me "hermanita" — which means "little sister" — and does this thing where he talks in a high-pitched voice just to be funny.
• 
  
  Keysi, 14, loves math, art and volleyball. She competes in chess tournaments and changes at least three times a day, always looking her cutest. This year she took a test that placed her as the top student of her grade in the whole department.
• 
  
  Samir, 10, didn't talk to me for the first year that I knew him. Then, out of nowhere, I see him in a regetón video Keysi made, and now I've discovered he's really talkative, outgoing and a total dork. My little rock star.

There's still some awkwardness. And my old host siblings still won't talk to me. But for the first time in my service, I feel at home where I am.

My front door. Note the hot PC logo to the right.

My big front room/office.

My kitchen ... sort of.

My conference table and library.

My bedroom. And for those who are wondering, yes that is a hospital bed. The health post lent it to me. The part under my pillow can even be pulled into an upright position.