Monday

I wake up at 5:30 to the sound of the table saw downstairs. My landlords are putting the finishing touches on their new house in the market center and have set up a wood shop in my backyard.  The carpenters they hired are super friendly and even slightly apologetic for the noise and sawdust that's infiltrated every corner of my life.  I lay in bed until 5:45, get up and start heating my bath water.  I change into my exercise clothes and do an Insanity video.  After I cool down I carry my water downstairs to bucket bathe and get ready for the day.  Dilan comes by, shouting my name.  "I'm out here, bathing," I shout back.  He comes to the door and shouts "DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS TODAY?!?"  I respond, soap in my eyes, "I'm not sure, what day is it?"  "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!"  "That's right, it IS your birthday. Happy Birthday! Five years old, I can't believe it! Come back here after school, I have a surprise for you!"  "OKAY BYE JANA."

At around 7:30 I make oatmeal and green tea, and enjoy breakfast while reviewing my plan for the week.  I get a text message from Peace Corps that the Standfast has been lifted and we can resume our normal activities.  After breakfast I whip up some vanilla icing and frost Dilan's birthday cake that I made the night before.  I stick the cake in the fridge and take my dishes down to the pila to wash.  It's cold and rainy.  I go down to Olga's store to chat and make some photocopies for my afternoon visits.  I eventually head back upstairs and spend some time checking email, facebook, and working on some lesson plans for later in the week.  Any and her brother stop by to talk about her scholarship fund.  We rework the budget and calendar, plan to meet with the Director later that day.  They leave right before noon, and I hurry around packing up my bag for that afternoon.  Dilan shows up, as promised, a few minutes later.  I give him his cake, sing him the birthday song.  He's thrilled.  I tell him that he's in charge and can give pieces of the cake to whoever he wants.  Five minutes later he's back with his brother and two cousins.  They all enjoy pieces of the banana cake.  Dilan asks for seconds.  He brings a piece down to his mom.  He insists I take a piece, too.  Suddenly it's almost 12:30 so I tell the boys that I have to go, but that I'll keep the cake safe until later.   

I set off for Birmania for the meeting I scheduled for 1pm.  It's drizzling and the path is muddy.  On the way I bump into Profe Oscar who's returning to Campur.  He tells me that he'll no longer be working in Tzibal this year, but at Birmania instead.  He asks if I can come help start the Healthy Schools program at his new school.  We set up a meeting for the following Monday morning.  I get to Birmania about five minutes early.  The primary school teachers are still there so they let me into one of the classrooms to wait.  I read for about 15 minutes when the Director shows up, seemingly surprised to see me.  "You're already here, Seño Jana."  "Yes I'm here, our meeting was at 1pm, no?"  He ignores my remark and sets about dilly daddling around for 5 minutes.  Profe Macario shows up and we can finally begin our meeting.  I re-explain the goals of the following 6 months, give them some blank year plans to fill out, and respond to their questions.  I'm surprised when Profe Domingo chimes in; he's really retained what we discussed last year at the curriculum implementation meeting.  I try not to get my hopes up too high; it's really up to the teachers now to start teaching this curriculum.  We set up a next meeting and I'm off, in the rain, for Campur.

A half an hour later I arrive at the Campur Institute where they're having the school-year inauguration ceremony, distributing books, meeting with parents, etc.  I hang around for a few hours helping with books and meeting my two Bach classes who I'll be teaching English to.  Around 6pm I leave.  It's still raining, and I'm cold.  Soon after getting home and putting on dry clothes Dilan's back, on a major sugar high, wanting more cake.  I send him home with the leftovers, telling him that he can't have any more unless his mom says it's okay.  I heat up some of the Mumbai Bhaji Pav Masala I made over the weekend (thanks to some amazing Indian spice packets sent by a good friend back home.)  I eat while contemplating the enormous pile of bananas on my table.  On Sunday I made a visit to Tzibal and stopped by Maria's house to see the baby and give her some baby clothes I bought on market day (any excuse to buy teeny tiny socks is enough reason for me).  She gave me a huge bag full of bananas in return.  I resolve to make banana bread later in the week.  And perhaps banana baked oatmeal. 

I clean up, say goodnight to Olga who offers to pay me for the cake I made Dilan.  I say no way, and that I still owe her a cake-baking lesson.  I turn in for the night, check my email again, and curl up with a book.