August 8, 2007

An old update

Wrote this awhile ago...issues arised...like getting it approved and just waited a bit before now. Here's the old update. Lot more has happened but enjoy:

Explanation of Change



I really wanted to have a well-kept and updated blog for all to see. So people could understand the true nature of being a Peace Corps Trainee/Volunteer. I know by reading through blogs I felt a sense of connection to the individual. I wept when they struggled, I laughed at their jokes. I felt the pain that they experienced just by reading. I wanted that connection to run through with this blog. Sadly it's hard to keep a blog updated when getting to the internet is so rough. Fortunately now that I am at site I know where the internet cafes are. I just have to have them checked before I can really send them off to be viewed by everyone.



So I promise to try and keep life here updated and kept in perspective.



A brief update from the last time I wrote. Life got harder. I think that's an understatement really. Where did I last leave off? Oh! With the Fascist and cheese. After that event I remembered being just…sad. It hit me that I wanted to share the story in person with my friends, to see their faces, and enjoy the humor with them. And it hit me that I felt so disconnected with my group. Three females PCTs, female language instructor, and female technical instructor. I felt more alone at that moment then I have ever experienced in my lifetime. I wanted to quit. I was fully packed. I didn't tell anyone in my group that I was going to leave. All that was left was the phone call after the service that day. What stopped me? A conversation.



I sat down with one of my group mates and let out my frustration. That I indeed felt so by myself and alone. They told me that they were hurt and that I was their best friend there. It put everything into perspective. I had finally cracked and she had put me right. Not by beating me down or giving me a guilt trip. But making me realize that I was a moron and to see life in front of me.



I unpacked.



Time came and went with language, technical, and finally came site placement. A quick description for those that are in the "what is my friend doing here?" realm of thought. Those interested in the Peace Corps will undoubtedly know what I mean. All of Group 32 gathered for lunch and then the waiting game. As we crammed into the conference hall a brief lecture was given that some of us would be instantly crushed by our placements and some would be overjoyed. But that our placement would indeed need us to make things happen. At this point a much simpler version of the accounts: each regional manager gave the title of the work site, the location, and who was invited to it. A poor man's The Price of Right really.



After the event some were all smiles, myself included. And some…not so much. The next day we left for site visits. On return from site we all experienced what I like to call as "too much time in a hole" or a lot of sessions that were far from helpful. Then it was back to the world we knew it, our training site. At this point I can say that training came to a speeding and hurtling end. Language lessons were harder, summer camp took our energy, and the thought of packing and leaving scared us all.



Nothing can really describe what I'm about to say. Only those that have experienced it or will one day experience it will know what I mean. Leaving training site is the most daunting, challenging, and frightful experience you can imagine. It is the process of leaving a newly established comfort zone for the opportunity to wallow in the unknown. The mere thought of leaving is exciting and befuddling. I can seldom count the nights I worried about that day. It was worse than I could imagine.



After several days of unjoyous times in sessions we were off. Off to what we all didn't know. We just knew it was us, by ourselves, that led the way. Being dropped off in the beginning of training was difficult, worrisome, and overall scary. This was worse. We had no English speaker there. No American retelling stories about who they voted for in 2004 or what they used to buy at American Eagle. Nothing awaited us. No back up. No helping hand. Just you. You in a foreign land, foreign food, and two years. It still haunts me.



In America I would drive the 15 minutes to a friends apartment just to hang out for an hour or so. When I heard that a friend was coming up an hour by bus to see my site I walked a good 45 minutes just to see them. My knee and ankle have taken the toll of seeing friends, and its worth it. Tears swell up just hearing an English phrase. Your heart skips a beat when someone knows a bit of English. It's a hardship one can barely imagine. No matter where you live in this country, you feel the loneliness, the boredom, depression, and that deep desire to be wanted and felt for in some way. It's an overwhelming feeling. I read about it, I thought about it, and now I live it.



Countdown



Home is where the heart is. I heard this before. I never fully understood it. I took stabs at it in college when going to my parent's home for holiday breaks. Here I am. In another country and I've no idea where home is.



Is it in Indiana where my parents live? Is it in Florida where my friend wants me to live? Is it here in the "Florence of the east"? I don't know. But I can tell you that it's not with my host family.



Host families are a special breed in humanity. They take in someone that can't speak their language all that well, helps them, guides them, and watches them grow into some awkward human that slightly understands their culture.



I'm fortunate this time around to see my host father, who attempts to be a Mr. Mom when no female is around. At one interval, last week, I had hurt my knee from an exceptionally large amount of walking in dress shoes. Upon hearing this he came in my room with some cream and rubbed my knee. Most. Awkward. Experience.

With my host sister is the remnants of the 80's in America. I mean this with deep pride in my generation, though it doesn't sound like it. She has the appearance that she will be watching Rainbow Bright on Saturday. I like it. One aspect about where I live is that I am well aware of the luxuries I am allowed to "endure". Their house is far bigger than my parents house, they have a sauna, and a guard dog that I've lovingly nicknamed Harry. Truth be told I can't pronounce the dog's name at all and Harry sounds close, and yes it's a she. Although I have these luxuries available they are also a hindrance. For me to leave the house requires a lot of effort. Someone to unlock the doors, put up the dog, turn off the alarm, and open the gate. So what's the countdown for? An apartment.



It's a coveted thing by PCVs to have their own place. Their own time to eat, what to eat, when to sleep, where to go, etc. I eagerly await such experience.



Human Frogger



I grew up with Nintendo, Sega Genesis, Playstation, etc. But the first gaming system my family had was the Intellivision. Which truth be told had one game I liked, Masters of the Universe. But my best friend's family had an Atari.



One afternoon I was at his house and he had to leave with his mom for some reason. So I sat in his bedroom playing Frogger. People came and went out of the house and I made little to no noise and went unnoticed. Finally he returned, which surprised his dad that I was there, and saw me still playing. The first comment out of my mouth was "I can't get the damn frog across the road".



Why's that story important?



For me to exist in my host site I must play Human Frogger. Unfortunately it's with my life and there are no resets. This is a certain downside to my time here. To go to the center, school, meet someone, etc., I must cross the street that contains cars, trucks, motorbikes, tramvies (think trolleys), mashrukas, autobuses, buses, delivery trucks, etc. It is a hassle that bears down on you on the bad days, like today. It rains, I've no umbrella, and nearly got hit by three vehicles. Normally that'd freak someone out but today was a good day, only three. Other volunteers that experience this when they visit ask me how I deal and my only response is "you just do". Plus other volunteers here have grown quite used to it and know exactly which street to take because it has less traffic. I'm working on that one.

1 comment:

Pamela__83 said...

WONDERFUL POST!

I understand that you've had a lack of internet, but I surely do appreciate you posting your little insights.

I miss them! :)