Beginnings (T -1) [May 26]

A day before orientation and people are already arriving at my house. Having a big homestead, situated as it is cut into a hill in big, three-story brick and wood that we fixed up and continually refurbish, it is a large place for two people and two dogs, and still quite large when I come to visit. In as much, the parents are incredibly kind with their space, encouraging me to bring people in to share it (so long as I do the work). So, instead of requiring Bike & Builders, if they come early, to stay in a hotel or the airport, why shouldn't they come here to San Marco, in the shade of our big, front yard oak tree?

Keri comes days before and it is maddening how much we clean my room and square things away. Items from Europe aren't even packed yet. My mostly unpacked rucksack lays there in the open, folded clothes sitting in a basket, not their armoire, etceteras: things left out for a month in the haste and focus of fundraising and training. And now I have reached my goal, and now my dear friend hurriedly slaves with me to get everything ready before she heads off to her next thing, and leads a mission group to Jamaica soon after that.

There are eight people staying: Chris & Lizz from Virginia Beach (who are engaged to each other, and Chris used to be the mascot at UVA), Zack & Jenny from Kalamazoo, MI, Victoria & Allison, from CA and MI respectively, but met at Syracuse, then Scott (another Syracusite) and Christina from New Jersey who, like me, didn't know anybody. Christina comes first. I'm swinging by the airport looking awesome in a huge minivan and I can tell it is her by the huge bike box. She's never been away for this long, she tells me, and I feel bad because I have to dump her at home and double back to get the others, as there will be no more seats available. So I hastily draw her a map of San Marco and send her on an adventure, realizing I kind of look like a jerk, but there's not much else that can be done. And San Marco is a cool place.

Once everyone gets in my dad has taught Christina how to pick oranges from the tree and juice them. It's a novelty for everyone, I think, as it always is for me when I return here. There are beds and mattresses strewn all over the house to make room for people and Lizz's dad who has so graciously driven them down from Virginia. Scott wanders up to my church to get things notorized, Zack & Jenny are watching my Wholpin Magazine experimental films, and I'm dashing and packing while Lizz presides over the stove and dad ferries people to Publix and everyone is working together so that, when the momma returns (my momma), she who could be the most stressed simply gets to go with the flow and eat our food and relax. As expected, Sasha dashes this way and that, and Hank, old brown-dog man that he is, just chills.