Chapter 2: Arriving in Paradise

I met another Peace Corps volunteer on the flight, and we fast became friends. Jon was also a runner, and we were about the same size. (I’d later learn he was 135 pounds.) The experience departing Pago Pago in American Samoa for Faleolo in Samoa was fascinating: they privately weighed each passenger. We left customs and entered a tropical paradise: I felt like I really scored! Our next 12 weeks would be downtown with a host family before we were sent to the country with another family.

I learned that Jon and I would be in the same apartment block, and would have host families that were friends. (Apparently this was quite typical.) My host family was super friendly! They had a daughter my age, and both parents were just so kind. We’d share breakfast and dinner, and I’d be on my own for lunch. The first morning I tried going for a run, but a) everyone looked at me like I was truly insane, and b) the traffic nearly killed me not to mention the heat and humidity. Figuring I could get back into shape when I was back in the country I decided it was better to just do the exercises my host family did: Wii Fit every couple days. My language classes were across the street next to a restaurant called Phat Burger. All the Peace Corps volunteers shared lunch there—and joked about how no one ever lost weight on assignment. Most of the other volunteers were guys just out of college, and it was hard watching them drink beer at lunch when I was not sure I could because I was just 18. (I’d later learn it was ok, as long I was not too drunk.) By the time training was over I was excited to go to the country---and most of my US clothes were a bit snug because I was now a little more than 150 pounds and not the only one adjusting to this new culture.

Before heading out I saw Jon in a bathing suit: I could have sworn he had abs when he arrived. Most of our compatriots were already looking a little chubby tbh. Anywhow, It was fun hanging out with my fellow volunteers in town, but looked forward to actually beginning work. As a woman I'd been assigned a family with two other ladies about my age, and assigned a culturally appropriate saraong. At first trying it on felt a little weird, but honestly my jeans shorts were getting tight so why not have a little more air for breathing space? I was told that I could wear sandals, but in most villages people went barefoot because it was more comfortable. Made sense to me because that was how my family grew up.

On our last night we had a party, and I got a bit drunk. Then we went to a restaurant and I had an epic binge: a full pound burger, large fries, and a milkshake helped soak up the alcohol. (And a frozen pizza when I was home helped too.) The next morning I packed up my bags wearing a tank top t-shirt where you could still see the little food baby; my host mother walked by and smiled and told me I'd be a great fit with the culture in the village. I had no idea what she meant at the time, but guess you'll have to read more...