Writing here today from the Purple House Hostel in the city of David. It's strange coming into town, everything is so different. There's a bunch of shiny artificial surfaces, and artificial temperatures, and information coming at me from all directions. In a way it's a relief because it's what I grew up with, but it's also overwhelming. I've never been one for cities though.

Have I told you about my house? I'm very excited. After I finish up my homestay with the three different families here, I'll be renting a house from the teacher Melida. It's right next to the school, next door to Felix and Senia's house. It's made of arm-thick sticks placed upright to make the walls, one room. The roof is made of tin and extends out to cover an outdoor porch. The floor is hard clay. I think I'm going to divide it to make a bedroom, put up bookshelves, and figure out a good place to store clothes, and another good place to store food and do my cooking. There's a table carved out of a stump that I'll paint a checkers board on. And I'm going to pipe water into the yard for washing and showering. There's a lot of work. I have more plans for the yard though. It's big and full of trees. I'm cutting down the less useful ones to open space for the mango, avocado, breadfruit, and lemon trees that are already growing. And I've planted bell pepper and chile bushes that will hopefully grow up happy. And I have passion fruit vines just sprouting that I hope can be convinced to wrap themselves all around the yard. And I'm going to build a little corral or just let my chickens have the run of the place. I've never had a house before. It's exciting.

A few days ago I was visiting Ofelina and Rufino and their family. Ofelina asked me suddenly if I'm a Christian and then if I could pray for a sick child. So she led me into a room where her niece was nursing a tiny baby, too young to have a name yet. He was very sick, labored breath and weak-looking. Ofelina placed a cup of cloudy liquid in my hand and told me to bless it and then place a little bit on the baby's lips. Some sort of homemade medicine. They told me that they had been to the doctor, but preferred not to use commercially-available medicines because they don't work on the local curses. I'm worried about the baby. He looked really, really sick and won't be receiving much medical care. I'll be sure to let you know how he does.

There's some hard, sad things here and those are probably easy to explain. I just wish it were easier for me to describe the beautiful and joyful things that balance it out. Even if you could just hear the people laugh, the way they make fun of me, the way they teach me things like a child. Did I tell you that my name means "little one"? They tease me on and on for not knowing some obscure detail to country life and are still laughing as they show me how. And they take care of me to make sure I'm not in over my head, cause I'm just a little one.

I've been thinking of you, homesick at times. It comes out in old folk ballads I sing when it's raining and the kids say I'm ulire, sad. But it's alright because I'll see you all soon.

Hope everyone is healthy and happy.