When I decided to join the Peace Corps, I experienced a lot of anxiety about many things: moving to another country, being separated from my partner for more than two years, living in a tropical climate without air conditioning, needing to speak another language fluently, missing friends and family, and eventually integrating into a small community as – quite possibly – the only foreigner many residents have ever met.
But the issue that brought me the most angst was the prospect of living with a host family. As a 53-year old woman who has lived alone or with a partner for three decades, I value my independence. The thought of giving up so much autonomy and privacy was extremely difficult to accept, but I had no choice if I wanted to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer in Colombia, due to safety and security issues. I worried that my host family might be devoutly religious, or might have young children – both of which I am basically allergic to.
As it turns out, my apprehension was unfounded. From the first moment of meeting my host parents, I felt perfectly at home. Alexandra and Angel welcomed me warmly and helped me get settled into my private room, which features a comfortable double bed, a table and chair, a nightstand, a fan, and a screen on the window. Within an hour of arriving, Angel and I were enjoying a cold beer together. Despite the fact that we are all close to the same age, they treat me like the daughter they’ve never had.
Angel, age 56, is retired. Alexandra, 46, is a teacher/tutor who helps local school children with their homework before and after school. Their 23-year-old son, Eiker, is a chemistry teacher at a local high school and a Master’s student at a University in Barranquilla, which is located an hour North of my 20,000 person host community. His brother, 20-year-old Angel, studies architecture at a University in Barranquilla. No one in the household speaks English fluently, though they have studied it a bit in school.
Alexandra is a fantastic cook and homemaker with an infectious smile and quick sense of humor. Angel is a gentle soul who looks after my safety, as well as the six other volunteers-in-training who live here in Ponedera. (Thirty-some cohorts are distributed among four local communities in Atlántico.) Angel takes after his father, exuding quiet confidence.
Eiker is the comedian of the family, constantly cracking jokes and finding fun things to do with me and my fellow volunteer aspirants. (We won’t be official volunteers until we are sworn in, after successfully completing 11 weeks of intensive training in language, culture, and technical job training.) He has introduced us to his friends, taken us out for happy hour and to a discotheque, hosted a movie night in the living room (The Princess Bride/La Princesa Prometida – in Spanish, with Spanish subtitles), joined us for a beginner dance class (Salsa), and served as our chaperone for a community-wide dance party, where we practiced our new Salsa skills, mangled the Merengue, and learned a little bit about Champete, Cumbia, and Reggaeton. I haven’t danced that much in years, and I’ve got the sore muscles (and hangover) to prove it.
Living with my host family is a sheer delight, for which I am extremely grateful. It makes it a lot easier to accept all the help they give me – from feeding me three meals a day, making sure I am dressed appropriately before I leave the house, checking in with me regularly to ensure I get home safely from every outing, and helping me with my still insufficient but rapidly improving Spanish language skills. As one of my fellow volunteers-in-training, Han, pointed out, “We are completely dependent on our host families for everything. Honestly, I don’t even know what kind of fruit juice I’m drinking during meals.”
Now that I know how fantastic my host family is, I am already dreading the day – a few months from now – when I must leave Ponedera to begin my two year assignment in another community, possibly in the Andean region. I will miss them madly and may not have many opportunities to visit with them. For now, I am focusing my anxiety on other challenges, including the new vocabulary we are encountering here in the Coastal region. I am learning to use “adios” as a greeting, “menudo” for small bills, and “embuste” rather than “mentira” to point out a lie.
Please note: Any opinions or views expressed in this blog post are mine and mine alone. They do not represent the views of the Peace Corps.