Day 6

Okay, so.

For anyone who was wondering, yes. There is a guy in the computer stall next to me who is committing a certain self-fulfilling deed, with the help of his computer.

And here I am. It really is like the National Geographic pictures. Bangladesh! Crazy, wonderful, sad, etc. Yes, I've gone off of toilet paper (not by choice) and eat with my hand. Just the right hand, cuz ya wipe with the left one. I'm learning the Bangla language every day and trying to soak up the culture.

For the next 3 months it's training, then we go out to our real assigned posts. I live with a host family of a mother (who insists that I call her mother, LIKE YA DO), father, and son. They all stare at me while I eat. It's fantastic. It really is like being a rock star here. Of course, there's the extreme poverty and harassment and dangers of being an American in a Muslim culture and there's a rat living under my bed and my hand smells like poo, but to me that sounds a bit like Cat Stevens meets Jim Morrison meets the guys from Def Leppard (thank you, VH1).

Looks like I'll have a lot of room to do theatre stuff in my town, once I go there. I'm stoked about that. Sounds like I can start a theatre group and watch local theatre all the time. They love the theatre. Granted, it's off off off off off off off off off off off off off off off off the coast of Broadway in a rubber dingy, but I think Peter Brook would probably be salivating over some of the stuff I'll get to see. Maybe. Maybe not salivating; he was a pretty clean guy.

One of the PC Volunteers is living with a host family who supports 9/11, ideologically. Spooky. Less than cool. But so goes it.

Time to go buy index cards and sign some autographs.