Meeting my host family

Exchange year in PA
White house

My first house in the US

Last time, I stopped at the point where my program coordinator Lea picked me up at the airport after what seemed like an hour-long wait to me. I don’t remember who the girl that was with her was. Anyway, Lea drove me to a parking lot in some town (I’m assuming it was somewhere in the vicinity of Uniontown, PA), where my host mother Esther was to pick me up.

I am now getting into a dangerous zone where my experiences intertwine with those of other people. I’ll try my best to respect their privacy and present a balanced view of things, revealing only as much as is necessary for telling my story. In any case, dear people who were around me during my FLEX year, if I hurt your feelings in any way – let me know and I’ll edit my entries.

My host mother was a red-haired middle-aged woman. Her looks involuntary struck me as homely, but I quickly suppressed the feeling. She drove me to what was to become my home in Carmichaels, PA.

I think it was evening when we arrived. My host mother occupied the first floor of her house, the second one being rented out to tenants. The girl from the upstairs family would become my friend for the time I was in that town. I saw the white fluffy rugs on the floor, saw the big bed, a crucifix and a cabinet, but no desk in my room. I believe I went to sleep pretty soon that evening as I had not slept during my 20-hour flight.

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4 thoughts on “Meeting my host family

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