Something to piss you off early in the morning.

This was sent to me by  John Dwyer ( Who is off in Egypt doing good.

It is a blog called: Budget Travel by

Budget Travel is Andy Graham a perpetual traveler of 12 years and 88 countries. All the secrets of budget travel explained by a travel insider.

Andy writes:

I have met many Peace Corps Volunteers, and about three directors of country organizations, they are easy to find, and difficult people to talk with, normally full of political correctness. Except strangely all the volunteers in Ethiopia, an exceptional bunch.

You can normally find Peace Crops Volunteers the most popular bars in any city; this is where they hang out. Francesca was going to meet two or three other Volunteers at the White House Bar here in Ho, Ghana.

Peace Corps Volunteers are supposed to spend the first month or two at their city, and not go visit other Peace Corps volunteers. In reality, the Peace Corps Volunteer seems to spend their whole time touring to other cities to hang out with other volunteers. There are special Hotels where they cluster, and you can search for “Peace Corps Hotel” and you will find them. They tend to stay away from the Home office of the country, so they are not caught.

How many Ghana volunteers dropped out?
As best I understand, about 25 percent of the volunteers drop out, she said something like 2 of the 75 in her group, now if she is only six months in, there is another year and a half for these kids to drop out. (I have only met one PC Volunteer over 25 years old in my life, note, the are also paid, and live nice.)

I used to ask them tons of questions about what they were doing, what was their expertise, and I have stopped that, I just get angry. The main requirement in my opinion to volunteer is that you are a college graduate, there are no skills needed, somehow being a college graduate and under 25 makes you qualified to teach “Technical Skills.”

Remember the Peace Corp Mission
1. Providing technical assistance
2. Helping people outside the United States to understand U.S. culture.
3. Helping Americans understand the cultures of other countries.

Peace Corps is one of the finest Volunteer Organizations on the planet, and anyone that finishes their two years needs a pat on the back. I do not care if they spend the whole two years drinking with other Volunteers as is normal, I do not care if they ever go or stay in their assigned village, where it would be difficult to find one. What they did is have their butts “in country.” They are immerse in Ghana, they are continually trying to make a little USA inside of Ghana as do all tourist, but you cannot deny them, they spend two years “in country.”

You cannot spend that much time in a country and not learn something to take home of value, after about one year they have the rose colored glasses removed, and they accept a country for what it is, and not what they read in a book. They start out delusional and return home jaded, about the same as me, I now avoid White people, in Africa, as they cling to other Volunteers.

Mission One of Peace Corps
99 percent of Volunteers do not have enough experience to explain anything to anyone, and are too weak willed to thrive in the Alpha Male and Alpha Female under-developed countries. What the girls do is find a boyfriend and this is their protectors, always on the sly.

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  • Sounds to me like he got slighted by a female PCV, probably because he was too “Alpha Male” (which stands for: Always Looking for Pussy to Hone A$$hole Macho Attitude Louder and Elaborately) Pardon my French, hehe!

  • Mishelle’s comment reminded me of an incident on the Mexican Yucatan-

    The glass sliding doors whooshed open and we felt a blast of air conditioning as we stepped in. For chump change, we treated ourselves to hotdogs, hamburgers, French fries, and soft drinks. Two attractive young ladies dressed in bikinis sat just opposite us and at a third table sat what we used to call in Arizona an honest to God Hippie Dippie. A young man for me, maybe thirty years old, he might not have had a haircut nor combed it since Anson entered the first grade. His hair looked like some kind of wild bird’s nest. His clothing matched. He wore his last twenty meals on his shorts and ripped t-shirt. He kept an unusually neat face though, braiding his beard at the chin into a four inch long worm-like thing. Anson and Zeke ate while looking his way.

    “Don’t stare,” I whispered.

    “He looks weird,” said Anson.

    The Hippie-Dippie wiped mustard from his mouth on the back of his hand and walked over to the young pretty girls dressed in bikinis. There was a soft, inaudible exchange and the Hippie-Dippie left.

    “Loser,” said Zeke.

    “Nah, the girls are probably Italian,” said Anson.

    “He needs to learn to wash his clothes,” I said and on a lark cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted, “Are you Italian?”

    One of the two girls looked up. “No, Israeli.”

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