A very important part of my experience in Lesotho has been the companionship of other PCV's. I know that long ago when I was preparing to leave the US, I had a certain image in mind of the people I'd be training with; the stereotypical "hippie" was the extent of my imagination. But that was so long ago and it's so far from what I've found that it's actually hard to remember much more. Instead I'm here with an incredibly diverse, outrageous group of individuals. Some came fresh out of college, some are getting their masters while here, and some are in their 20's, 30's, 40's... even 60's. We've worked as teachers, lawyers, raft guides, college professors, psychiatrists, nannies, youth counselors, farmers, fire fighters and community organizers. I could easily road trip around the US now and stay with friends from one coast to the other. Our backgrounds, cultures, race, religion and reasons for joining PC are all different but because we're sharing the insane experience that is living and working in Lesotho, we're strongly bonded. The group of 20 that I arrived with - now down to 15 as we approach our COS - are obviously the "kids" that I'm closest with. Although being part of training the group that arrived a year after me has also brought me very close with those volunteers.

We share our daily adventures as well as our tears and successes. Nothing makes me laugh like hearing stories from friends when I see them at varying intervals. Pam just learned how to blow up grasshoppers from her neighbor kids. Caroline once tackled a guy who attempted to steal her cell phone. Robbie was attacked by a dog and nearly cut off his own finger trying to defend himself (ok, not so much funny as absurd - his new nickname, Puppy Chow, is quite cute, though). One (nameless) PCV's brief and awkward dating fiasco that ended with hilarious texts about love and destiny. Craig's "lap dance" on his first bus trip down from Semongkong. Kj's endless adventures crossing the river to her site. Another volunteer's drunken walk home that found him sleeping under a tree the next morning. Ro came to visit and saw a sheep accidentally released from a storage compartment under the bus - much to his fellow passengers' surprise. The guy who, instead of smacking students on the back of their hands with a stick as punishment (standard practice in schools here), had them move piles of rocks from one end of a field to another all day. An attempted robbery that ended embarrassingly for the mugger (this has been repeated throughout my two years). One person got a care package from a rather eccentric grandma that was nothing but horrendous blouses with padded shoulders mixed with loose peanut butter cookies (still edible, I checked).

We talk about things that - from what I can remember - are not polite social topics at home; the 10 day stomach "bug" (not the flue, a real bug) that had many of us using two buckets simultaneously was a favorite dinner conversation recently. Or who has the record for longest time without bathing/washing hair/shaving legs/seeing a full length mirror. The use of a cheese grater to remove foot callouses. Who has the nicest/nastiest pit latrine.

And the crazy, ridiculous questions and conversations we've all had with Basotho. From intelligent, mind-blowing political conversations like Merrill's a few days ago covering Obama, Malcom X, MLK and apartheid to someone's question: "I thought that all PCV's were American's here on parole from the states?" I've been asked what "all the blue space" is on a map and Andre has tried to answer the favorite question: "But how do I get a white woman?"

Not that it's always so light and fun(ny). Deaths, friends with HIV, teachers who don't care, frustrations at work, the Lesotho government, projects that fail, youths that give up, problems at home that we all feel so removed from and helpless about... but because we have this in common we can relate. We talk about men who say obscene things or people who demand handouts and maybe never resolve anything but find comfort in someone who simply gets it. And this, more than anything else, is why we're so close. We survive PC training together, we party together, we travel together, sleep on floors and cram into taxis, survive rats and thatch spiders and bad water and bucket baths and small children (ok, I survive them but I suppose some PCV's actually like kids to begin with).

So I'm spending tonight with 12 other PCV's to celebrate the arrival of 4 "newbies" to Maseru District. And I know I'll spend most of the time laughing.