Heat, that the first thing I noticed as I walked out of the airport. Then the smells, then the sights, then the realization I truly am no longer in America. It hit me all at once, one enormous blast in the face. Now here I am one week later in a completely different climate, a different country and I don’t want to leave. I do not see much point in saying what we did or how I feel about Planting Hope, for that would reiterate much of what has been said in previous entries. I will however admit to a deep sense of frustration I want more. I feel an obligation to this community that I will never be able to fill, not if I lived a thousand lifetimes. I want to stay longer to do more. It has been made abundantly clear to me now why Beth Merrill started Planting Hope. By the standards of the US, these people have very little, far too little. Yet the level of which they are willing to share what they have consistently overwhelms me with each passing day. I have lived with these people for a week yet I feel as close to them as I do with some of my friends I have known in the US for years. I understand they are compensated for allowing me and other students to live with them, but as previously states they devote themselves with a vigor unheard of in the task of welcoming their students. I am the twentieth student my family has hosted so by now they know how to deal with Americans. They also have picked up a fair amount of English, especially my host brother Joander who has studied English. They understand a lot but they do not speak it. This brings us to the language barrier. It’s a pain but it is nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be. Honestly I think back to my days in wrestling, and I figure learning Spanish is similar to learning a new wrestling move, just repetition, repetition. I suppose I should also briefly go over what the NUVA team did today, which is not a lot. There was a problem with the hose we got for the ditch we were digging, which if successful, I am given to understand would have provided running water for a school in Ocalca. There was a lot of sitting, not enough working. On many occasions I have stopped and a chill has run down my spine at the beauty of the surrounding landscape. I then sigh and am a little saddened at the thought of the frozen tundra I will soon return to in Vermont. Tomorrow will be our final day in San Ramon marking the longest time I have stayed in another country since visiting Montreal at 17. I marvel at how quickly the time has passed here, and hope I have a way to keep in touch with my host family. That’s all I can think of to write about, so I guess this is my last entry. I better get some sleep. I don’t want to be tired for our own going away party tomorrow night.