Groceries, people, internship

Sister Bernard took me grocery shopping this evening at a store called Hi Lo, and it had fewer American items than the TruValu store where I shopped a couple of days ago. I still have trouble converting currency and knowing what is simply too expensive. For example, “local minced beef” is TT$69.99/kg. I am planning to make taco soup (my favorite recipe) for the sisters, and the beef is required, so I got it. I don’t know if it will be worth the money, but I’m at a loss as to what to make instead. Even back home cooking is a rare thing for me … Oh, I could not find a packet of Ranch dressing mix, which was just weird. I got more Coke, of course, to which Sister Bernard said, “You Americans and your Coke.” She has no idea. I explained to her that I used to collect Coca-Cola signs and other memorabilia and decorate my bedroom with it when I was a teenager, and she just looked at me strangely and laughed. The first bottle I had here caused me some distress, because the recipe is different -- actual sugar instead of corn syrup. But it’s going down fine right now. My air conditioner in my room is a bit moody, so I’m a little warm. The cold coke is fervently appreciated. I don’t think I’ve even laid eyes on a Pepsi, now that I think about it. I wonder if they have that here.

Meanwhile, everyone keeps calling me “Miss.” I’m so Southern that this is strange to my ears. I’m very much accustomed to being “Ma’am.” Also on the language front, I have learned a new Trini phrase. If you tell someone, “you’re too fast,” it means “stop poking your nose into my business.” My hearing is terrible, and the Caribbean accents here are sometimes difficult for me to understand. So I ask for repeats, sometimes for spellings even, just to make sure I’m following along.

Mandella, one of the boys in my house, invited me to go to MovieTown tomorrow when the kids have their outing. I’d love to, but I have this internship thing to see to. It made me happy to be asked though. The kids start the new school year next week. This Saturday is Independence Day, and I’m told we have a perfect view of the fireworks from St. Dominic’s. There is a parade and other festivities, but I am not sure if we will attend. I’ve been warned that traffic is a nightmare on the holiday, and based on my experience so far, I don’t know if I want to brave the streets when they’re worse.

As to the reason I’m really here, the internship … Today was my first day, and I met with Petra, the new psychologist. She just graduated and has been assigned to work here for a year. The government paid for her education, and she has to do service as repayment. So she has been here three weeks and is still learning the lay of the land. I think she and I will work together a good bit. To get me up to speed on the treatment approach here, I am reading a couple of books. The first is Common Sense Parenting; the other is the Child Trauma Handbook. I was so engrossed in my studies that I missed lunch completely. About 3:30 p.m. my stomach grumbled, bringing me back to the real world for a bit. That’s when I went up to the sisters’ kitchen and had some leftover stew, watched NCIS with Sister Bernard, and made plans to go to the grocery this evening. I appreciate her taking me. I’m always on the road in my little box, so not having the independence will be strange. I hate asking for help, so requesting taxi service here and there will be hard on me. But the sisters have assured me they are happy to take me wherever I need to go. They just don’t understand that I want to go EVERYWHERE. I hate to impose.

Sister Arlene, my supervisor, and I will iron out the specifics of what I’ll be doing in a week or so, she said. For now I’m learning the intricacies of what’s done here, and she is exploring my skills and interests and matching them to the home’s needs. I will report in when I have a clearer picture of my duties.