And so that was Christmas...and 2011

As I sit here, in our kitchen that is now doubling as a bedroom, sweating a little less than usual, I’m listening to one of the best CD’s ever. It was a Christmas present that my one and only community mate, Jessicakes Simonetti, put together for me. The CD is a combination of songs that my family and friends, my chosen family, chose to send me for the Navidad season. This Christmas I felt something I’ve never felt before, a family oriented holiday without the family. Now, I have my Paraguayian family, and of course my sister from another mista, but still something was missing. Physically missing were home cooked meals with that special Italian lovin’, scarves and hats and inside out pajamas wishing for snow, and the shopping rush that begins Black Friday and is as chaotic as chaotic comes. But it was more than all that that left me feeling like no other Christmas before.  It was being surrounded by people embraced in their family’s love and cherishing each other that made me realize how much I missed my own crazy clan.  The phone calls and skype dates helped make me feel closer, but let the tears roll at the same time.  And through all of that ‘I won’t be home for Christmas’ muck, we made it work. We made it a Christmas I will never forget and a Christmas where I felt wrapped in a blanket of love. I will squeeze that blanket close when I need it most, because the people in my life are AWESOME. I am so blessed I could just scream. Eeehhhhhh! Jess and I exchanged our LOVE-filled presents under our handmade snowflakes, beside our paper fireplace and matching stockings and of course our 2 foot Christmas tree made of books and decorated in garland, shoelaces, bandanas, measuring tape, and post-its. In summation, it was a good Christmas; thanks Santa for sending that Christmas Spirit that comes no matter where you are.

In other news, Paraguay is in its ‘hotter’ season nowadays. We have been told there is hot and hotter here, and we understand what that means a little more now. Hot. Hot sweat dripping, water in the toilet steaming, sleeping in pools that you don’t want to be swimming in, everything is melting, praying for rain, can’t talk because it takes too much energy hot.  To think I was complaining about a big snow storm last year where I had to climb to work. To say life in Paraguay is nothing like I’ve ever experienced wouldn’t be giving it justice. Maybe this little list will help:

You know you are a volunteer in Paraguay when:

Your fellow volunteer screams in the shower, but you aren’t in a hurry to move because you think it is because of the thumb size ants in the bathroom. After continual screaming, you go to find out it is because she is standing in the shower all soaped up without water. The water went out and you just have to sit and wait it out until it comes back on again.

You have a, what seems to be, an ingrown hair in your armpit area. When it grows to be the size of an egg, you consult a doctor to find out it is a boil. When the egg pops, you are rushed, by foot, to the local free clinic. (Apparently, during this process, some gross puss ran down and got into another skin cell, allowing for a second boil two weeks later.) As you hold a tissue to your arm and wait to see the doctor, you are ushered in a hospital like room. You lay down on this bed, that has some blood stains on it and is covered by recycled plastic and notice the dead bugs and light bulbs being held to the lamps by band-aids.  As you convince yourself to stay because your arm feels like it is going to explode, a man comes in with a gash in the back of his head. Speaking drunken Guarani, he is held down by his daughter and the doctor, who was coming to work with you, but now tells you to wait a second while he sews up this man’s head right next to you.  This was an experience my friends. Eventually, I got my arm sliced open and the doctor did what he had to do, only to end with an injection in the tooshy, with no explanation. Only in Paraguay.  Currently on prescription for the second edition to this Boil 101, and yes my prescription was written out for aerosol deodorant, Lady Speed Stick to be specific. Here’s to hoping that sprays away my worries.

You are monitoring your chipa intake to once a week.

Putting up your mosquito nets takes all day and then when you try to go under the net and into bed, you feel like you are army crawling. You have only slept under the net once because it is such a hassle. Hence all the bites you have covering your body. Sacrifice.

You wear sweats one day and the next you cannot take your clothes off fast enough because you are sweating just thinking about taking your clothes off.

You are woken up at 8:30 on a Saturday, only to be made fun of for sleeping in, by your best friends, the retired sisters.

You go to pick up a package and end up sharing the cookies in the package with the ladies who work at the post office.  Oh and packages take longer to get here than it takes for a young mother cat to nurture kittens in her belly. Literally.

Your casita turns into Hotel Meow for the community cat who gets perturbed when you wake her up in the morning after she climbed in through a window and is sprawled out on your couch. You later find out that the vomit that you cleaned up throughout the house was her morning sickness because your number one cat client is pregnant.  Jump to a few weeks later, when both kittens couldn’t survive the Paraguayian heat and are no longer with us. RIP kittens.

You are genuinely excited when your Friday night consists of mascara under your eyes, a headband, and screaming, “Vamos Muchachos” at the screen of Paraguay vs. Ecuador game with fellow 70, 80, 90 yr old friends who happen to also be sisters of the Good Shepherd.

The regular pushing and shoving on the buses as now become normal, and you know how to perfectly squeeze 50 people on a school bus with 20 seats.

Other things that have become normal: sweating in your own sweat. Daily criticisms from the sisters, not our retired home girls. Having red dirt stained clothes. Dinner time at 8, bed time at 9, maybe 10 if we are feeling wild.   Teal, Aqua, Green color. You cannot go one day or one inch without seeing this teal, aqua color that Paraguay loves. It is the color of walls, houses, shirts, it is everywhere.  Being a Nanduti model, enough said.

I’m sure this list will only continue to grow, but for 2011 that’s that. Paraguay has given us laughs, cries, rice, bugs, bug bites, and four months worth of memories in 2011. For 2012, we are starting off in Chile and Argentina in Southern Patagonia, the end of the world! We are landing there on New Year’s Eve and planning on taking it from there for over two weeks, it is our summer vacation. It will be an experience, but what isn’t an experience? Happy New Year, make it a good one; there was a crazy rumor going around that this may be the last one. Eh, who listens to rumors anyway? (Adele)

Just love

Welcome Spirit, hey gurl heyyyyy!

Hello world outside of Paraguay! Sometimes I forget you are out there. It has been a while since the last blog and a good chunk of things have happened since then. We are now at the 3 month mark, one fourth of the way done.  Weird.  Since we last chatted, something big has happened for me.  Before we came down here, the great Julie, from mission to mission, mentioned to the group that something would happen when we were in our selected places. Something that was described to her as a ‘spirit catching up to the body.’ I finally understand what she is talking about. I think after some good time spent here, ups, downs, turn arounds, that I finally feel more grounded, more balanced, more me. The crazy Krystina spirit is arriving. Buenvenidos a Paraguay homegirl.  It is cozy here, I’m sure you will find your place.  Since then, things are making more sense. I want to soak everything I can out of this place. I feel blessed to have this opportunity. I miss my family, my friends, and my home like woah, but I am happy that they are living their own crazy lives and I get to be a part of if even from so far away. The FOMO (fear of missing out) that I was having for events at home, has now become a bit of FOMO for the things that I am missing out on within myself. I was too preoccupied to see the greatness, the opportunity, the light, and the life that is right in front of me.  I am not saying that I go around with a great big smile on my face and EVERYTHING is fantastic (because that would probably be more annoying to me), but I am saying that something has shifted and ‘I can see clearly now the rain has gone.’ Life continues to be life, moments continue to come that I want to scream, cry, kick some red dirt, but I am more understanding of those moments now and I let them sit and be and know that there is more to this experience than those not so happy times.

In other news, Jess and I went to Argentina last weekend. We have to cross the border every three months to renew our visa, which is kind of illegal, but we, along with our GSV family, decided to make the best of the border crossing trip. In short, it was AMAZING. We loved every moment of it.  Even the moment that we couldn’t cross the border and had to find a hotel in Paraguay, Hotel Tia Nancy, we made the best of. We spent our time in Puerto Iguazu, Argentina and went to see the great Iguazu waterfalls two full days in a row. It was breathtakingly beautiful.  It was just named one of the seven wonders of nature.  Some highlights: Jess and I walking through the jungle and ending at a natural pool that is made from a waterfall. We swam in the water and sat underneath the waterfall, incredible.  Seeing the main attraction, the devil’s throat, which I cannot even begin to describe here.  All I will say was we went there dry, left soaked, and just stared at this amazing sight that had a gentle, bright rainbow just sitting above it the entire time. It made me really want my dream of becoming a mermaid to come true so that I could swim under these falls and see what was going on down there. Beautiful. The next day, we took a boat ride under the falls. I’m not gonna lie, I was a little scared, but it was really cool. After that, we went to the San Martin Island and laid on the sand, surrounded by waterfalls. It made my precious Jersey Shore seem almost as lame as the show makes it look. (But it will always have a special place in my heart, duh) In summation, you should go check out the falls. Words and pictures do it no justice. Thanks Jon and Pete for sending Jess and I there, I am going to hold onto those beautiful, peaceful, fun moments in those times where I can’t seem to find any of that here.  (Although I’m probably not looking hard enough or in the right places).  Cataratas or bust!

Until next time, I will continue to make paper snowflakes and sing, or scream Jingle Bells to try and make it feel a little more like home for the holidays. I hope you are spreading cheer and finding your spirit wherever this universe as placed you. 

Just love.

They don´t call me County Krystina for no reason...

        Week 8.  Still put-puttin through here in Itaugua, Paraguay. I don’t know when I will stop counting the weeks, or if I will stop counting; but I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of counting a year lately. 52 weeks, more or less, is what this year is composed of for us. 52 weeks of Spanish speaking, empanada and chipa eating, sweaty, music blasting, sweeping, nanduti forming moments. If anything RENT has taught me, it has shown me the many-a-ways one can count a year. Some ideas of ways you can measure a year:  525,600 minutes, in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in stride, in love; just to name a few that miraculously popped in my head. (copyright RENT, duh) But seriously, I have been measuring my life in terms of one year increments for as long as I can remember. Kindergarten-one year, 1^st grade-one year, 2^nd  grade, all the way to 12^th grade; one year older, one year wiser, one year with more challenging work than the last. Then it was time for my beloved Scranton years. Freshmen year: measured in new friends, new experiences, new service opportunities, changes in home, and changes in perception. Sophomore year:  purple shirts, walks to an antique house on top of a hill, tears on a plan to Italy, Italian speaking moments, Italian drunken moments, and some cultural awareness. Junior year: starting with some disappointing counts but then chockfull of uncountable laughs, bright characters (Debbie included), and some 21^st birthdays, and some Mexican spirits that would forever change my life. Senior year: priceless. We’ll count that one in Genny Lights, smiles, and heart bangs. Then after some heartbreak and long hugs goodbye, it was on to my initial GSV year. A year measured by growth; spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally, socially, all of the ally’s. And now, to count in terms of one more year, here I am living out my 23^rd year of life in Paraguay. What?

        I don’t fully know how I will look back on this year of my life but there are different ways I count my time here. On paper, I’m counting in terms of weeks. 8 weeks down, so many more to go. In the hard moments, I’m counting in terms of moments I’m missing from my life back home, moments I could be involved in but I’m not, and  overall moments that make me ‘feel some type a way.’ In the good moments, life here is uncountable. Walks next to bright colorful flowers, Spanish conversations (that I more or less understand, but I am getting better! Ojala), silly, loud, sometimes obnoxious laughs with Jess, kind hearted people that surround us here, cumbia beats that are a-pumpin in the streets, and the overall pride and genuine nature of the people in Paraguay. So with all of that, why are there hard moments you ask? Because it is a year. Because I am human. Because I am still learning.

        Maybe it’s the AP Calculus nerd in me, maybe it’s the North American, maybe it’s me being human. I think my conscious mind wants to stop and ‘smell the roses’, but my unconscious mind is still jotting down numbers. If I wanted to I could count today in about 8 adjustments to my pony tail, hearing the words chipa about 5 times, carrying 1 mil Guarani, selling 2 hilos of thread to 1 artisana, having ‘profe’ been called out about 20 times in English class today (who would have thought that uncle and aunt were such hard words to learn?), 1 one hour siesta, about 8 sips of terere, 2 catcalls (an unusual low), 15 pages of a new book read, 1 glance down an entire isle of about 25 different types of mayonnaise, a family of 4 on 1 Moto and so one and so on. There will be thousands of more ponytail adjustments, chipa calling, Guarani carrying, hilo selling, profe hearing, napping, sipping, degrading, reading, looking, observing moments here. Tell that to the mathematician in my brain. One at a time. One foot in front of the other. One year.

        Through all of the counting, there have been unforgettable fun moments in these past few weeks, moments that are starting to make up this loca, weird, special year. Moments that allow my brain to shut off the calculator inside and just be.  Some helpful people in this cause have been the retired sisters that we have been staying with. The San Jose Sisters, are nothing short of characters. So gentle. So kind. So compassionate.  So characterliscious.  I feel like I’m living back in dorm life but replace young, college, spirited girls with older, religious, spirited in a different way Sisters of the Good Shepherd.  A snidbit into life with these gems- I had a toe nail infection problem back in Astoria, and thought it was better after a doctor prescribed me some meds and the pain went away. But that little booger came back and the sisters were not happy. After treating the toe with my own home remedy I like to call ‘ignore it and it will heal itself’, it was kind of out of control. One night, the sisters called a neighbor and asked her to come over and remove the infected nail part. It was not pretty. I’ll spare you the gross details, but as painful as it was for me; it seemed to be a night at the comedy show for everyone else around. I had one sister telling me they were going to cut my toe off, one sister trying to get me to breath, Jess recording the whole thing, and a four year old singing happy birthday to herself behind me. Ended the night with a nice pedicure and I am happy to report we are back to normal and I do not feel like I am walking with a shark biting my toe off anymore. Count a year in laughs, sisters, and infected toe nails-check.

       Melissa went home. Her one year experience is over and she is on to another year, this time with easy access to buffalo wings, reeses, and even LOGO channel if she so wishes. Speaking of my rainbow friends, Jess and I have visited the gayborhood of Paraguay. It is no NYC. It is something though. We got some information on some hot spots, and even saw some fierce men in drag yesterday.  A year without Rupaul; but I can still count this one in cheap wigs, sashaying hips, and dark lipliner. Hey gurl hey.

       In summation, a year is a year is a year. We count years in the only ways we know. We count them in heartbreaks, in connections, in moments. We count them through pictures, emails, wall posts, and blogs.  We count because we were taught how, because we feel it’s the only way. So I continue to count my life in one year increments, and continue to count this year in feelings, journal entries, Skype dates, reflections, cookies, nanduti and so much more. Cheers to a year unknown to me, to you and to all those parts of us that we are still trying to figure out.

Just love,

Krystina

 P.S: Shout out to RENT. Seasons change. Seasons come and go. Seasons represent a measurement of time, a feeling in the air. Seasons of love my friends.

How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love.

In truths that she learned or in times that he cried.

Celebrate and remember a year in life of friends.

You’ve got to remember the love.

No day but today.

P.P.S- We have a new Spanish teacher named Vivi. Spanish is improving. She is a rockstar.  Her smoke breaks and bright yellow shirts make me feel at home. To Vivi!

P.P.P.S- Jess’s blog has more detailed stories as only she can tell so well. Check her and her bad self out. www.jsimo.blogspot.com

P.P.P.P.S- What do all these letters mean anyway?

P.P.P.P.P.S- Love Rihanna’s new We Found Love.  Makes me feel all sort of goodness. 

If you're a strong female, you don't need permission

     Week 4. I don’t know if that is a lot of time or a little of time any more. But here we are. I have a new attitude, we’ll see how long this lasts, but I decided that I am going to find the positives, the moments of joy and the beauty that is seeping out of every moment, everything around here.  It has been a month full of EVERYTHING yet nothing at the same time. Weird.  I have always wanted to do this, and I AM DOING IT.  I have to give myself more credit, and stop being so egotistical/greedy/materialistic- overall bratty, which is a place that my mind often wonders to. So we’ll try this and see how it works. Paraguay, be warned.

     Since our last update, life has become more routine-and by that I mean the routine is no routine.  We wake up and have no idea what the day will bring. I kind of like it. Although, whenever we ‘plan’ to do something, it never happens because we have other places that we are supposed to be that we find out five minutes before we have to be there. Oh Paraguay.

     Jess and I just got back from a festival of San Miguel. We went with one of the artisanas, Rita, who is a character. On our way, we were standing on a corner waiting for the bus and a family invited us to sit with them and drink some terere. One of them knew Melissa, and that was all that was necessary. They pulled up chairs for us, and passed around the wamba.  Didn’t even exchange words, and yet we became friends. Love that community here. After, Jess and I got on the bus and we almost missed the church we were supposed to get off at because we were gabbing away; but Rita stopped the bus and got us off. We saw the chapel, sat under the shade (today was HOT, and it’s only Spring….), drank some strawberry juice and then moved to another shadey area. People just sat. A concept we really don’t have in the U.S. I have gotten used to the sitting and doing nothing, but at first I was wondering ,”Okay, What are we gonna do?” But today, we just sat. After a while of sitting, Rita got some food and we walked, a long walk, back to her house. She lives with her mom, uncle, and 83 year old Abuela, who only speaks Guarani.  As I was being attacked by flies, and sitting above chickens and roosters running into each other and my chair, we sat at ate some pollo, sopa, and arroz. Abuela thought I was 15. We sat there and Si-ed (Yes-ed) her, because we really had no idea what she was saying. After the girl chat, we walked back to the festival.  By that time, 2 ish, the party had started. People dancing, music pumping. After much observation and a few turned down invitations to dance, Rita convinced us to head into the center of the circle where the hip shaking was occurring. Also, before that, a guy bought us ice cream and sent it over-talk about the way to a girl’s heart.  We danced some polka, cumbia, and some soccer anthem songs. One reggeaton song same on and you know home girl did her thang. I don’t think they were ready for my jelly, so I toned it down a little. Oh Paraguay. Dancing under sunlight, drinking soda because the water was too hot at this point, and getting creepy eyes from surrounding men as Rita swats them away, livin the Paraguayian life.   We left, walked about an hour home, and here we are. Sunburnt and a bit tired, but getting ready for another long day tomorrow. We have to be at the Sisters house at 6 am tomorrow to go to the Good Shepherd prison to check that out. One of the Hermanas wants me to go with her often to teach the men how to make different types of bracelets. We shall see, remember, there are no plans here.

     Other updates… Spanish class has become a place that has turned into a nice, separate place where we get cookies and coffee. We always leave in a better mood then we enter with. My Spanish hasn’t become drastically better, but the class is definitely appreciated.

     Last weekend, we got to hang out with Cheryl, the first GSV in Paraguay, and her husband Jim, who served two years with the Peace Corps in Honduras. REALLY COOL PEOPLE. It was nice to speak English with fellow North Americans, and be in Ascunsion. They had some great points of advice, amazing stories, and a fun, spirit filled attitude that we soaked up.

     In addition to The Help readings that I act out, I am now reading Eat Pray Love. I am loving it. The Italian, the sense of adventure, the overall insight she offers, and the laughs that I have as I read it, is much appreciated.

     I have bites from bugs all over. Some are itchy and in the most inconvenient locations like on my knuckle.  Clever little insects.

     Jess and I made up a dance to a reggaeton song that was on a CD we found that has Lindsay Lohan on the cover.

     The first day of Spring was a big celebration here. Balloons, signs welcoming spring, streamers, and an empanada luncheon for the first day of the new season.  Why don’t we do this at home? Great reason to celebrate.

     I thought of being an at home vegetarian for a day. The day started with me opening a bag and seeing a chicken’s head and gobbler still attached. I was supposed to prepare the chicken for lunch. I closed the bag back up and put it back in the fridge. Then I ate the chicken when Claudia, the woman who has been helping us cook, handled the ‘dirty’ part. So much for that.

     I guess that is it for now. I should go look at my Spanish notes, but I shouldn’t plan. Someone may come in and tell me that I should be teaching an English class or attending a ceremony with the local farmers or something…both real scenarios. Sending tons of love, hugs, and reminders to find the beauty out there in this crazy world of ours.

Just love.

Bienvenidos a Paraguay!

     So here we are in Itaugua, (pronounced both Ita-gua or It-agua) Paraguay. Week two, whatever that means, because and I am pretty sure I have felt a year’s worth of feelings already. One minute I will be walking in my new community thinking, “Yea, I got this”  as I say Hola to passerbyers- then five minutes later, I habitually flush toilet paper down the toilet and clog our bathroom; which leaves me feeling frustrated, embarrassed, and wishing for plumbing I am used to.  My mind cannot grasp the concept of Jess and I living in this little neighboring house of las Hermanas del Buen Pastor for an entire year, but here we are, taking it moment by moment.

     Two weeks in and what a whirlwind! A positively, constantly spinning, yet sometimes still, colorful, beautiful mess of a whirlwind.  Through these rollercoaster of highs and lows, we have our new home that is nestled beside mango, avocado, star fruit, and mandarin trees. Jess and I share this humble abode with a fellow GSV who is about to complete her time in Itaugua, Melissa. She is extremely helpful from her fluency of Spanish to her extensive knowledge of the work we will be doing to the best cookies to buy.  The three of us are residing in our casita that is compromised of a kitchen, a bathroom (which contains a shower head, toilet, and sink in one common area), a room with a sink and washing machine (which is an interestingly different machine than that in which I am used to, but easier than scrub cleaning everything), a living room area (which also doubles as a home gym), and two bedrooms.  Jess and I, beds side by side, share one room where we have been watching movies, journaling, and reading both to ourselves and out loud to each other.  We have a little concrete porch area in which we sit and drink some mate or terere. For those who aren’t familiar with the Paraguayian culture, mate and terere are Paraguayian drinks that are EVERYWHERE. Recipe: Yerba tea leaves in a wampa cup, add water, hot for mate cold for terere, stick in your bombilla straw and enjoy. Sip and pass to your neighbor. It is a very communal part of the culture here. Speaking of neighbors, we live about thirty feet away from las Hermanas. They have been patient with our lack of knowledge of the Spanish language and very hospitable. They have given us a list of rules and are inquisitive about our lives and our whereabouts; it is going to be an interesting relationship full of patience and acceptance on all parts. Behind them, live retired sisters of the Good Shepherd. They are so sweet and we plan on hanging around them, chatting, watching some Spanish soap operas. We are one big family here in Itaugua, including the local cats and dogs that roam the area and the community of people that we work with, which is a five minute walk from our door. Everything is nice and cozy here.

     We are definitely still adjusting and figuring out where we stand in all of this. The language, for me, can be very frustrating at times. I just want to be able to speak eloquently and not constantly confuse Italian words for Spanish words. I realize it will be a process, but now I want to have full knowledge of the language and while I’m wishing, their native language of Guarani would be helpful as well, because that is often thrown around and then I am completely lost. Two days a week, we travel to the capitol, Asuncion, for language class, to help this ‘problem’. The only other students are under the age of ten, and they are learning English. (Maybe I can transfer to that class; I may do a little better) Jess and I are at different levels with the language, so our teacher doesn’t really know how to productively work with us- but I hope we will get things figured out. It is a challenge, but this is what I wanted…right? In order to get to class, we have to take two buses. Buses that barely stop for you to get on or off, that shove as many people in as possible, and will pull over whenever, wherever a request is made. And I thought subway traffic was bad. 

     Another learning process is in figuring out what work we will be doing. Our days start at 7am, (usually we go to bed by 10 or 11pm, which is totally not my style, but hey this year is all about challenging old ways and adapting to new J) and then we head to the center. The center has various different offices. Medical offices, psychologists, adult learning center, community development, pharmacy, translation, a school for girls to learn different trades and crafts; I cannot keep track of all the helpful community projects that las Hermanas run here. Everyone has been very welcoming and they are dedicated people who I look forward to working more closely with. The one office that we are concerned with now, although we can work in other areas in the future, is the fair trade business Tekojoja Kuna Rembiapope. This translates to work for the justice of women in Guarani. We work with different artisanas who bring in their nanduti lace pieces that we pay them for at a justly wage. From there, it is sold to various Good Shepherd stores throughout the world. I love seeing the women and their work and knowing that someone in Australia, or Italy, or the U.S is going to buy and use their work in their lives. It is a really cool concept and the work is beautiful.  I’m sure I will come home with mariposas, paz purses, headbands- the nanduti works.

     There are moments of homesickness, but having each other here is such a benefit. We are big goofballs and are making fun out of everything we can. Some examples: We toasted Reeses for as long as the bag lasted that my mom bought for the voyage. We work out in our little living room area and jump around blasting our North American music, smacking ourselves in the face with some resistance bands along the way. We read The Help out loud to each other, in different character accents. We celebrate the little things like our first showers, our first walk to the corner store for cookies, our first meal cooked all by ourselves (because we have had women come to our home to show us how to cook and clean), our first batch of terere- it’s the little stuff that counts, duh.

     In summation, life in Paraguay is Paraguayianlicious. The best is yet to come; well, that is what we have been told. Sending love and sunshine to all my loves back home and in the world wherever you may be.

Just love.

P.S- I still have to continue to fundraise to reach the goal of $4,000. If you are feeling finically generous, have some spare money, or meant to but forgot to before- you can STILL donate! Thank you so much to those who have donated, it is very much appreciated every day. 

To Donate online: www.gsvolunteers.org

Donate Tab and  please put Krystina Monetti in the comment box 

P.P.S- Today Melissa, Jess, and I were the only ones left on the bus when the bus driver decided to take a small break at his house and leave us on there with it running. Can't get that in the U.S people.