Tonight we’re celebrating our two-week anniversary. It will be interesting, the 11 of us crammed into a booth in the hip district of Louisville celebrating over “cokes and smokes…”

Two weeks and one day ago I arrived in Louisville with my car packed up to the ceiling with my most precious Earthly belongings. I got to town at 10 p.m. on a sultry night, made about 15 trips up the creaky wooden stairs to my large humidor of a room, then slept briefly in a sleeping bag on the hardwood floor. The next day I was off to Atlanta for Americorps training, and it was there I met the 10 other VISTAs (Volunteers In Service To America) who will be working in the Louisville area. We became almost instant friends – in the best of senses. There are no cliques, there’s no hidden animosity, no one’s the scapegoat, everyone has a very easygoing sense of humor. I realize that may be because it’s a certain type of person who chooses to enter Americorps. I realize it may also be because we’re all mostly between the ages of 22-24.

Since returning to Louisville from Atlanta, we’ve met up occasionally in varied permutations of the whole group. Last Friday 8 of the VISTAs came over to my place (which I share with 5 hairy men from Louisville and one woman from Iowa, who’s one of the VISTAs and lives in the basement). Tonight we’re meeting up at Café 360, a hookah bar and surprisingly good restaurant. I think it’s more of an excuse for us to get together as the whole group again than to actually…celebrate. Though hopefully this will start a trend of recognizing unusual chronological anniversaries – before we realize it, we’ll be celebrating our second and three-quarter month! I’m pushing to have that gathering at a karaoke bar.

So Americorps. VISTA is the only branch of Americorps that offers “indirect” service – meaning we don’t actually build the houses for Habitat or tutor the kids in after-school programs. Rather, we find the volunteers who’ll build the houses and tutor the kids. We write the grants to secure funding so that our respective programs can, well, continue to exist. We’re in charge of “building permanent infrastructure in nonprofit organizations to help them more effectively bring individuals and communities out of poverty.” (www.americorps.gov) Oh yeah, VISTA is also completely geared toward the eradication of poverty. I learned that during the Atlanta orientation, too.

I’m amazed at how many people don’t know what Americorps is. I guess I’ve been spoiled, spending the last five years in a liberal, progressive, socially-conscious haven. The line I use most often is, “It’s like a domestic version of the Peace Corps.” Other facts: It’s a one-year commitment. You essentially get to choose where you’ll be located, since the particular program you apply for is set in a particular city. You are a federal worker for that year…eep! Americorps (AC) doesn’t have employees, it has “volunteers.” Its volunteers don’t get paid – they get a stipend. And that stipend is exactly 105% of the poverty level in that particular area. VISTAs qualify for food stamps, and the vast majority of them are on food stamps. You’re allowed to serve up to three years in AC. After completing one year of service, each volunteer receives either an “Education Award” of approximately $4,500 which can only go toward paying off student loans or toward future education, or they can receive a cold, hard cash stipend of $1,200. I chose the former. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Americorps

So Louisville. I’ve heard people say “Eew, Louisville?” and I’ve heard people say “You’ll love Louisville!” Overall, it’s surprised me. It’s got the southern drawl, for sure. And anyone who knows what’s left and what’s right doesn’t pronounce it “Louey-ville.” (See photo.) But it also has this amazing proactive population that, several years ago, realized its grade school kids weren’t doing so hot (20% of the 96,000 kids in Louisville were reading below their grade level), and made very admirable bounds to correct that.

And that’s where I come in. Louisville, I learned, is a refugee relocation hub, and has a huge and growing population of Vietnamese, Bosnians, Cubans and Somalis, among other ethnic groups. (Who knew?!) I’m working with an after-school program established in 1999. It was started by a man from Viet Nam who realized that not only were many of the young Vietnamese students doing poorly in public and private schools, but a lot of the parents didn’t even know their kids were doing poorly. The program (which will remain nameless, since I discovered that googling its name turns up only 4 hits, one of which is this blog) has only had a VISTA position for the last two years, which has been held by a woman who made incredible connections in the Vietnamese community and made a name for the program for the first time. She knows every student who attends the program, and has won every grant she’s applied for. I’ve got big shoes to fill.

Oh, and the first day on the site, my co-worker, another VISTA, decided she wanted to switch programs. So I’m running this by myself for the time being.

It’s been hot here. I know, it’s been hot everywhere this summer. It’s also been hot here. Moving to town, unpacking, scouring this new city for furniture, starting a new bank account, starting a new job, waiting in line for food stamps, and taking the first steps toward researching grad schools has seemed twice as intense in this broiling bubble.

Traffic. Driving. I usually like the latter and dislike the former, but I’ve come to hate them both. This job requires one to have a car. I have a car, and I have the job. I sort of feel like a “grown-up” for…*gulp* commuting to work, but I’ve also come to feel like a complete tool. I hate commuting. I hate it. Every day I pass traffic accidents. Some days, like today, I get there before the paramedics do. Some days, like today, the accidents are still steaming in the middle of the road lanes, and I have to creep around them along with my fellow surprised commuters. Almost every day so far I’ve gotten into my steamy, blistering car and run the air conditioner simply for survival. Every day that I continue this below-minimum-wage job I suck up irreplaceable dinosaur juices and careen down the expressway with my fellow commuters. Could I take the bus or my bike to work? I could, except that I need to use my car at work, too. Networking is great in principle, except that it requires lots of dinosaur juice to make the connections between sites, and lots of flexibility not permitted by busses. I was hired to improve the sustainability of my program, yet every day I decrease the chance of sustainability of this planet.

But for that downside, there are plenty of upsides to this transition. For example, the first Friday of the month, Louisville hosts a Trolley Hop downtown. You can literally hop an old-school trolley and be carted from one art gallery to the next where, if you arrive early enough, you can enjoy fantastic art displays with snacks and wine. Last Friday, there was a display of “art cars” lining both sides of the street. (See photos.) The next day, as I took respite in a coffee shop from the locker room-like heat of my house and pitiful lack of Internet, every one of those art cars drove slowly by on the street outside, some tossing strings of beads to onlookers. Coolest parade ever.

This week, my supervisor is on a retreat, so I’ve been in and out of the school at odd times of the day, for odd durations. And I’ve taken whatever work I can to the local coffee shops. It also allows me ample time to *sigh* study for the GRE. But at least I have the anniversary to look forward to tonight. I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks. I can’t believe it’s only been two weeks.