Training + eating

We started the morning with bagels and too much coffee with Trevor's dad and his wife, then drove up the street to visit the National Cathedral, where the docents wear hats fashioned of purple silk pillows.

After lunch, we said our last round of goodbyes and checked in for training, beginning with a long get-to-know-you exercise in which I got to tell everyone that I am a yoga teacher.

Of the 52 people in our group, I appear to be the second oldest one. PC has a push on to recruit more volunteers over 50. It may be working, but there sure aren't any baby boomers going to Zambia with us.

We've wrapped up the day as we have most days for the past six weeks: by eating as if there is no tomorrow. I hope I hate the food there, or people are going to have to start sending me my "fat" clothes.

We met a friendly Georgian waiter at the pizza place where we enjoyed calzones the size of our dog, and unleashed our one word of Russian on him. As a bonus, there is a Whole Foods three blocks up, complete with a three-row deli and lots of cheese samples.

The snow flurries and biting wind here make me glad we're not going to Eastern Europe, after all. Remind me of that when I start complaining about the heat, ok?