Second day

So since I've been here, I've had a few funny stories.
1. Riding to the duplex where we're staying while in town, I noticed an uncomfortable poke in my back. It was like a pole hidden in the seat. I was careful about it but the roads in PNG aren't exactly smooth. Soon a large rut caused me to come slightly out of my seat and firmly into it, falling hard on the metal pole. A gasp of pain. "Are you all rigt, Vahey?" a fellow intern asks. Trying to blink back the instant watering of my eyes, I hoarsely reply, "I'm not bleeding... i think." I slid over, almost on top of the person sitting next to me to clear the pole. From then on I made sure I wasn't sitting in that seat.

2. 3am. My first night in PNG. I awake because nature calls. I walk to the bathroom and flip the switch. Crazy strobe lighting begins. Never fully illuminated either so still really dark. I look around for any unwelcome wildlife and see none. Things went smoothly. But! Have you ever tried to flush an australian toilet at 3 am while under the inflence of jet lag and under a strobing light? There's no handle! After a few desperate attempts of feeling for a handle that wasn't there, I noticed a button on the top. At this time I did what one should always do when discovering a mysterious button: I pushed it. What did it do? No idea. It was 3am and very dark. But it did something involving water. So I pushed it again and hoped for the best before going to pass out once more until 6 am.

3.8am. Second morning in PNG. I walked over to my commorades, who were attempting to chase a rooster across the yard (but then they found out that it was a chicken and trying to lay eggs for breakfast), on my way to them I noticed a large and ugly toad in the dog's food bowl. "katie" I called. As she walked over, I contemplated reaching out and grabbing the toad. Just as I went to bend down. Katie came up and said "Oh yeah, that's poisonous." I straightened up.

4.8pm. Second evening. Dinner at the house of some missionaries. As we walk in, on of the dogs nuzzles up against one of the interns skirts, pulling it up. Awkward, I thought, so I reach down to hold down my skirt. It was then, not when I left the house, nor when I got in the car, nor the whole car ride over, nor when I got out of the car, but when I was walking into the house with nationals inside that I realized that I was not where a skirt but my mid-thigh shorts. Mid-thigh. Appropriate you'd think! I mean, I wouldn't get written up for wearing them at MACU. But in PNG, where the thigh if the part of the body men lust after, this is not ok. Lindy was stupified. The missionary man jestingly told me to go to my room as he sent me to the back and pulled out one of his wife's laplap's. Lindy assured me that this would become one of those tales that started out "some there was this one intern" and ended with "now dont you all do that"
Good times