Working in San Jose

There's no better way to start your first job in 8 months than to miss your plane and show up a day late. Yes, it's true. And here's the sad thing. I got to the airport two hours early. It was just the wrong airport. I was in Newport News, while my plane was boarding 30 miles away in Norfolk. When I realized my mistake, it was too late to catch Carole, the friend who'd just dropped me off. So I rushed around like a madwoman trying to figure out the quickest way to get there, finally calling my Williamsburg posse for assistance. They sent Mike, perhaps the brightest but not best choice, as he just moved to Virginia a month ago and had never been to the airport. It took him a while to find me, which was good, since in my panic I had left my laptop sitting at a curb, where it was promptly collected by the police. I spent a few minutes getting it back, and Mike met me curbside shortly after that. At this point, there was less than an hour before my plane was to take off, but we decided to take a stab at it. Mike's reasoning: "The only thing we'll lose is time, and tomorrow – they’ll make more." The radio promised 20-30 minutes of traffic going through the Hampton Roads tunnel, so we decided to try the “alternate route” over the Monitor-Merrimac. As it turns out, that adds about 40 miles to the trip. We made it to the airport exit about the time the gates were closing, so I called the airline and booked the earliest flight I could the next morning. The good news is this gave me the opportunity to celebrate Canada Day with my friends in Williamsburg. Then Jim, Mike, and I headed to the airport again around 4 the next morning.

I got to San Jose about 4 hours late for the first day of training. It was pretty intimidating walking into a room of 50 faculty advisors, where it seemed most people had already formed friendships. But everyone has been cool. I am pleasantly surprised at how accomplished and adventurous my coworkers are. There are at least two other former Peace Corps volunteers, one who served in Ukraine and another in Mongolia. The latter just returned last Thursday! We were joking yesterday about our pat responses for that same old question, “How was Peace Corps?” He has two answers. The first, for people he doesn’t know that well, is “It was cold and the food sucked.” For his closer friends, his response is, “I don’t really want to tell you, and you don’t really want to know.”

There is also a guy originally from Ghana, and I’ve enjoyed comparing Africa stories with him. It seems like the majority of people are teachers or have some extensive experience with it. That’s a little intimidating, as they seem to have lots of ideas on how to structure talks. The workload promises to be pretty intense, at least the first few days. We will be meeting with our groups of 25 students for a few hours each day, escorting them to talks and site visits, posting ourselves around to help students and keep an eye on them, and performing security checks every night at 11. Basically, we’ll have 15 hour days once the forum begins.

We are headquartered at the Fairmont Hotel in San Jose, probably the nicest place I’ve ever stayed. The luxury makes me a bit uncomfortable, and most of us are in no position to avail ourselves of it. I’ve been told that if we even move anything in the mini-bar, sensors will pick it up and charge us for it. $4.00 for a can of coke. The only affordable thing on the room service menu is the back page, which lists treats for the traveling pet. I wonder if the doggie pizza wedges are suitable for human consumption. I’ve also been told there’s something called an “intimacy kit” (condoms) available for a charge, and there’s a sign in the bathroom that says they’ll provide special containers for our syringes. What kind of place are they running here anyway? Do members of The Rolling Stones routinely stay here?

The bar scene here is a bit sketchy. In my first experience with the nightlife, I saw a prostitute and a transvestite in a matter of minutes. Then we went to the salsa club. I’d barely made it to the top of the stairs when an old man in a feathered cap grabbed me and said he wanted to dance. Luckily, I had Danielle there to protect me. She’s 6’3”, so you don’t want to mess with her. She pulled me away from him and announced, “She’s with me.” The man’s response was too vulgar to publish. Good times.

I now have two days off before the conference begins. It’s not really relaxing, since I have talks to prepare, plus I’ve decided to host an hour presentation on IT in developing countries. Another volunteer has asked to do it with me, so that should make me less nervous!