I love mornings, don't you? I am not much of a morning person, but I actually do love mornings here because they are quiet and I look forward to drinking my coffee. Some mornings here have not been all that pleasant though. For instance, one time I woke up to Meluda yelling gringa from afar and insisted I opened the door only to find that what she wanted was to give me rubber bands. (I have always dreaded waking up to alarms and anything other than my body's own clock). Today was just another noteworthy morning of a peace corps volunteer that I think speaks volumes. I met the day at about 7:30 a.m. and called over one of the girls to pick up some sugar for me on one of her errands. This apparently sent out the memo for every one under the age of 8 to come over. Chicha and Meluda immediately wanted to comb my hair and I let them only to be left with a comb mangled up in my mane without any point of departure. My 5-year-old stylists mistook my comb for a roller I think. There was no emergency exit for this comb or my hair. While kids colored on the floor, I lied in bed fearing an involuntary hair cut. I called over to a neighbor (18 year old friend who I am supposed to be an example for) to get my hair out of the mess I got it into. It didn't give. I was given no choice but to go to the scissors. Chop, chop, chop.
Not sure how anyone is going to take my charlas seriously after this one. It doesn't exactly scream sex ed. or environmental expert! nor does it shout out bachelor's degree! sometimes you just can't take life all that professionally. hair grows back, right?
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