Off I go!

It is 8:28 AM on the morning of October 6th. My incredible boyfriend and I just parted ways. In four hours or so, I will meet the other volunteers who I will be spending all my time with for the next three or so months. I just had a huge breakfast of pancakes and sausage and eggs because I probably won't be seeing the likes of that kind of breakfast food for a long long while. I'm already dressed in a "cool elementary school teacher" outfit for staging later on today. So now all I have to do is wait.
Thinking back on how this (very long) process has been for me and the myriad of places I imagined being placed in, I never thought Lesotho. Not even once. I fully expected to be in a Central or South American village speaking Spanish, or sweating it out over in West Africa. I imagined tropical islands surrounded by the bluest water and learning French in Algeria or Morocco. I worried about being placed in what I envision as the arctic Eastern Europe. But none of those places surfaced as a reality. Instead I'm flying to a teeny mountainous country surrounded by South Africa, where people speak Sesotho and wear blankets in the winter and ride horses in the highlands. I am continually amazed and impressed with the way life surprises us, always reminding me of how little control I actually have over the outcomes.
When I got my invitation to serve as a Primary English teacher in Lesotho, I read through all the descriptions about the job, the country and what the reality of living in Lesotho would be like very carefully. Winters would be frigid and summers hot, without indoor heating or ventilation to temper the reality of the outdoors. The people would be very poor and would be affected either directly or indirectly with HIV and AIDS. It would be mountainous. Cows are sacred. Honestly, my first inclination was to decline. Ask for a different location and wait a few months longer. Avoid living in a country with winter at all cost. But, almost immediately, these feelings were followed by an overwhelming and very present need to accept. The whole reason I chose to do the Peace Corps was to grow. To have the experience of living in another country for an extended period of time and to open myself up to all the personal growth that comes with new and challenging situations. So in the end, I saw my invitation as a divine offer to do exactly what I set out to do, winter and all.
I've gone through the mill of emotions over these last two years regarding this (insane) process. I've been sad, ecstatic, nervous, doubtful, relieved and overjoyed. But as I sit in my cozy living room writing this, all I feel is ready. Ready for the change, ready to move, ready to start a new job and meet new people and live in a new place and learn a new language. I'll miss everyone here in Philly and beyond dearly-I'm so incredibly blessed to have the support system and family tree that I do.
But it's time. Time to do what I've been talking about and angst-ing about for too long. It's time to go to Lesotho.

My next post will be from the Mountain Kingdom, in at least a month if not more, cuz I'm gonna be insanely busy for the next few months.

Peace and be well.