Flight of the Phoenix

It's a frigid 97 degrees.


And it is the coolest it's been in Phoenix since we arrived on Thursday. But don't worry, it's supposed to reach 111 later tomorrow during the day, several degrees hotter than hell. We'll most likely be spending yet another day inside with the pleasant comforts of our air conditioner, praying to God that somebody else brings us food so we can avoid cooking for ourselves just one more night.

I have a bug bite that has swollen to the size of a bruise on the top of my right thigh. Yet, I'm pretty sure it's not a scorpion sting (the one thing in Phoenix I fear more than 100+ temperatures) because I have not died yet, but I'll keep you posted.

Me and my fellow casamates are finally settled into Casa Truth (aka Casa Sojo, aka Casa Sojourner Truth, aka Casa Supremo). After an intense round of late-summer cleaning, we have all successfully placed our respective articles of clothing in closets and dressers — minus the boys, whose clothes are still mostly strewn across the floor in the master bedroom, which is characterized by glow-in-the-dark stars that dot the ceiling and a master bathroom that is painted a refreshing shade of pink. The boys are ecstatic, obviously.

But I've already gotten ahead of myself.
First, a brief flashback to San Jose and Aptos, California...

I landed at the newly completed Terminal B (it only took you 5 years, congrats San Jose!) at 11:30 a.m. last Saturday and started the awkward first introductions with fellow volunteers for JVC (that's the Jesuit Volunteer Corp for those new to the game) at about 12:30.

After cramming 36 JVs and all of their luggage, most bags weighing more than or dangerously close to the 50 lb weight limit for checked bags, onto a school bus, we started the trek up the 17 towards Aptos.

The next few days are a blur — a misty fog (literally, what's up with all the summer haze, Santa Cruz?) of ice breakers, people from the East Coast who think Northern California is going to be warm all year round, small group discussions, a girl screaming in the middle of the night from night terrors, little sleep (partly due to said girl), and a lot of information being thrown at us. But in the end, we survived orientation and each of us set out for a year of service in our respective cities on Thursday.

With most of the 12 of the 15 JVC houses (accounting for about 70 of the 85 volunteers) in the Southwest region located primarily in LA, San Francisco, and Sacramento, the three houses in Arizona are the outcasts of the region. As a result, we were given the opportunity to choose between flying and driving to Phoenix. Having just made the drive in July from Santa Clara to Denver in Arnoldette, my 1991 BMW whose old-car quarks outnumber its horsepower, I wasn't eager to repeat the 15 hour drive. Me and six other JVs opted for the friendly skies, while Krystle, Greg and Scott were crazy enough to want to drive.

For those of us who chose to fly, we found ourselves with a lot of time on our hands.

Everybody was out of the retreat center by 11 a.m., with Arizona JVs drawing the short straw yet again and having to clean up. But our flight didn't leave until 4:30 p.m., so we found ourselves in San Jose with a surplus of time to kill. So we did the only thing any rational person would do — we went to In-N-Out. Many East Coasers who were in California for the first time were also In-N-Out virgins, which needed to be remedied immediately. A few double-doubles later and we found ourselves still killing a couple of hours in the newly completed San Jose terminal. I'll admit, it's a pretty epic building. I highly recommend it, if you have the means.

But alas, finally we set foot on a plane... and then landed a short hour later in Ontario for our brief layover.

We finally made it to Phoenix at 8 p.m., having been beat home by those crazy kids who decided to drive straight through from San Jose. Earlier in the day, Nora, our program coordinator, informed us that we would have a ride waiting for us when we arrived at the airport. One of the placements we would be working with was scheduled to pick us up in a 15 person van, big enough to accomodate 7 people and their luggage. Walking past security, we were surprised to find a woman from a different placement who was there to give a ride to two of us... and ONLY two of us. The 8 others were SOL. Luckily another woman arrived a couple minutes later to give another two of us a ride... and ONLY two of us. By those calculations, three of us were still screwed. In the end, one more driver met us at baggage claim several minutes later. And, you guessed it, he was there to pick up two of us... and ONLY two of us. Luckily, he was kind enough to give the lone straggler a ride as well.

Finally, the moment arrived — the second when we would be able to see the house we would be living in for the next year of our lives. There are two JVC houses in Phoenix, each with 5 people. The boys are in the minority in both our house and in Casa Bart (aka Casa Phoenix One). In each house, the girls out number the boys 3 to 2. The houses are about 1.5 miles and a 5 minute taxi ride apart, unless you're our taxi driver from last night, who "accidentally" got lost in Phoenix's easy grid system and added another 5 minutes and 2 bucks to our taxi bill.

We walked into the house to find brightly painted walls and a fresh lasagna waiting for us. The lasagna was a gift from one of our generous support people, who cooked us dinner for our first night in the house. The brightly colored walls seem to be the gift of the 2003-04 group of girls that lived in the house. These girls had a talent for picking fun colors, but NOT a talent for painting (pictures will be up soon to illustrate this point). We also found desk chairs strangely stacked ontop of book shelves and floor lamps lying on our couches, the direct result of the floors being replaced after last year's tenants left last week.

We inaugurated the year with a fun get together at our house with Casa Bart. And, when Casa Bart went to start their recently donated car at 1 a.m. (also from one of our placements) to get home, everything turned on except for the engine. Radio, air conditioner, lights, everything. No engine. They ended up taking a taxi home.

The next day, Casa Bart and Casa Truth actually WERE picked up by a 15 person van and given a tour of the city. We were driven past our placements so we would know how to get to them come Monday.

There is no way on earth I'll remember how to get to Central Arizona Shelter Services on Monday morning. But I can tell you that the art museum is just down the street from the ball park... if that counts for anything.

Anyways, when we were picked up in the morning, the driver told us we would be treated to lunch, much to our delight (like I said, we're holding out on this cooking thing). He asked us to make a group choice to decide between Mexican food and sandwiches. Fist to five (inside joke, I'll explain later), we all went with the Mexican option, eager to try some authentic local cuisine.


We went to Baja Fresh.


I'm still secretly hoping that our next encounter with "authentic Mexican food" results in our arrival at Chipotle. Don't tell my casa mates that I passed along this anecdote. I've been complaining for the past two day and they're sick of me still bringing it up.

Anyways, last night concluded with an epic inauguration of Casa Bart's year — an inauguration that I will admit out did the party the night before at Casa Truth.

Much of today was spent in recovery from said party. Another large part of the day was devoted to our first ever Agenda Meeting, in which we decided a schedule for the house chores. Most of today was spent, however, in cleaning. Casa Truth, although newly minted in name (the artist formerly known as Casa Sojo), has a long history with JVC, which includes a lot of JVs leaving a lot of junk behind because they could not fit it in their luggage once they returned home. We spent most of today sorting through some of the strangest objects I've ever seen.

Not only did we stumble upon prom dresses from the 1970s, but we also found a frame with several photos of a little girl in braces who is an absolute stranger to all of us (and probably most of the JVs in the past few years).

Naturally, she is now keeping guard over our living room.