Letting Go

Hey friends, readers, country(wo)men: In short, to be brief, all things concluded, this is my official notice that I'm bringing this blog to an end.

The other day, I was called out for the fact that all my stories start with, "When I was in Colombia..." A thing I've tried hard not to happen. (Even if it doesn't seem like it, I swear!)

It's been a crazy couple years +. It's been fun using this to keep in contact with ya'll. If you happen to be super interested in stories of Bolvian robberies, the salt flats, Lake Titicaca, Inca Trail treks, my next steps as a grad student...just ask :)

Good luck to ya'll still in Colombia and those yet to come. Maybe I"ll catch you on the flip side!

TQM

You know you haven't assimilated yet when...

So... turns out that I'm not done giving you updates about my current life.

The average observer would probably find it very unexciting at this point, unless troubleshooting configuration issues for a highly specific sort of software is especially your thing...but you know what?  Moments make the day, and I'm still getting some thrills out of mine.

Which is good. Because, well, I'm not ready to let go. So even though to all/most/some appearances I may be leading a regular life, the behind-the-scenes is still a little nuts.

Unless you've lived abroad in a tropical/Latin American/Peace Corps situation, some or all of my top five moments of "You Know You Haven't Reassimilated Yet When..." of the last week might sound a little crazy. But here goes.

You know you haven't assimilated when you find yourself...

1) Judging people for wearing loose jeans. 
Don't get me wrong, I'm super into loose clothing. It's just that loose jeans are NOT a thing on the Caribbean coast. You see, the idea there is that no matter your size, jeans should be worn so tight that the act of donning them involves its own sort of pogo-stick workout, where each jump equals about another inch of gained ground on the fabric-covering-flesh front. I knew a Volunteer whose host mother literally swiped her jeans so she could "take them in," and make them properly tight.

I actually went to great lengths to avoid this fashion in Colombia, and certainly don't wear my own jeans tight now...but I now find myself watching people walk by in loose jeans and shaking my head, envisioning the disapproving stares of the coastal community. How are you supposed to dance in those? You can't even see your hips!

2) Getting super excited about toilet paper
The other day, I went to the bathroom at work. I looked down and saw there were two EMPTY rolls in the container. I panicked. This was not a drip-dry situation. And then, I looked again. There above those two rolls...WERE TWO MORE FULL ROLLS of toilet paper. I was looking at a FOUR ROLL DISPENSER. This is genius. GENIUS!  Such foresight! That smile stayed on my face all day.

3) Keeping a drawer-ful of used plastic ziplocs
There's nothing wrong with reusing a plastic bag. NOTHING! I doubt there are many people who would disagree with me...but I guess the day will come when I, too, think it's weird that I have kept all the zippy plastic bags that I brought back with me from Colombia. That I first acquired in the US, 2+ years ago. They're still good! I'm sure I'll pack up my life again sometime in the not-too-far-away future, and those holes can always be duck taped...

4) Only taking one shower a week
I debated whether I should put this. Because, I guess, even I know that's maybe not just weird...but a little wrong.

I should be very clear: If my host family knew I did this, they would disown me! On the coast of Colombia, 1-2 showers a day are REQUIRED. If a shower hasn't happened, you are NOT fit for company. When the water goes out, you find water to bathe with or you don't leave the house.

It's just, well, I'm not sweating anymore. Not at work, not getting to work, not coming home, not sleeping...not even working out. It's cold 'round these parts!!!  So unless I see dirt, or start to smell myself, I'm pretty sure I'm clean. Yeah. That IS how it works, right?

 5) Thinking that living with your parents at age 25 is totally normal
The pre-Peace Corps me is shrieking at this statement. I'm learning to figure out when to suppress her, though, and this is one of those times.

 I have very logical reasons for living with my parents, including saving money for graduate school, the fact that we work for the same organization, and that I'm planning to stay in the area for less than a year. Beyond that, I'm actually enjoying it.

I would never have lived with my parents again, had I not been in the Peace Corps. But I would probably have missed getting to know them as an adult (oof that word adult was pretty hard to type. DENIAL! But I am. I am!). Anyway, phone calls just don't do that sort of relationship justice. Our work schedule means we actually don't see each other all that much, but it's been cool to hang out for dinner, cooking, whatever. Of course we still have our fights...but that's just what Italian families do!

And they have a sofa. That's pretty cool, too.





I'm not going to lie, in some ways it makes me happy when I have these moments. I like to remember how I lived in Colombia but not put it on a pedestal; to remember to not take things for granted; to weigh all the pros and cons while I work on my next-next future plans.

I've been working in my cubicle for three weeks, now. Sometimes, it's a little scary how "normal" I find it. Right down to remembering all these random things about the software I work with now, that I also worked with over two years ago. I mean, this is totally arcane knowledge, completely useless in any life that doesn't involve the software. So on the one hand it's like, BRAIN, dude, didn't you have a better use for all that space? And on the other, well, makes the job a lot easier. Even if it is disconcerting.

Anyhoo. There are things I think about that are more important than toilet paper. Like cultural values, and sustainability, and the fact that I've spent the last four years of my life "figuring out" what I want to do next, and that I'm closer to it but I still don't totally know and it requires some things to fall into place I'm still waiting to hear about, and that the clock is ticking and that being happy means finding something to do in life not just as a place-holder, but one that can be enjoyed for what it is and how I engage with it, rather than just the resulting benefits it brings now or in the future.

Also about grammar. I do think about grammar. Occasionally. :) Happy Friday!

Back in Oosa

The pronunciation of the USA as "Oosa" always made me giggle kind of a lot. It's a thing in South America, since "U" has only a "ooo" sound like in the word "woot." Oosa is, along with many other things, something I can no longer use, or even talk about with people around me without it needing a whole lot of explanation and leave people wondering where that five dollar bill is.

I wrote a GoGirl post about some aspects of re-adjusting.

http://www.travelgogirl.com/blog/2014/01/16/a-few-of-the-strangest-things-on-readjustment-to-us-life/

Just to set the background, I've been back in the US for two weeks now, and had been planning on putting something together to close this blog out, but I'm going to delay it a bit by promising some updates on my South American travels. They were prettttty amazing.

In other news, this is the first time I've updated this blog in the US. I'm sitting in a wool sweater and coat in my parents' house in Texas, because if I'm wearing fewer than three winter layers I'm chilly. No, there's no polar vortex hitting us.

Anyway, let's suffice it to say that my current life is lots less adventure-blog-worthy. I spent nine hours today sitting on my butt in a cubicle at my interesting if pedestrian job as an analyst in a healthcare institution.

In the coming weeks, I may do some recipe posting, and try and wrap up some other loose ends. 'Cause in many ways, it's hard to let go. In other ways...well, let me just say that the carpet I'm currently sitting on? It's pretty fantastic.

close of service and beyond

Hey friends, this is a bit overdue...

Up on gogirl, the short version of cos aka close of service aka an account of my last day in colombia...before I found out my wallet had been stolen two hours before I was due to leave, that is...but that's another story...

The link at:

http://www.travelgogirl.com/blog/2013/12/19/close-of-service-goodbye-peace-corps-colombia/

Since I'm currently backpacking in Bolivia/Peru, I'll leave it at that for now... But si dios quiere and the arroyo dont rise, Il be back stateside in austin, tx new years eve!

 Happy holidays!

Three Days Left = Poetry

In three days, I'll COS. That stands for "Close of Service"--perhaps one of the fastest-learned acronyms of all, since it is the last day of your Peace Corps service . I have...all the emotions.

So before I leave Peace Corps and my personal coolness factor drops by a corresponding couple hundred percent, I shall share a poem. (Disclaimer: I don't oft write poetry...but I may be better at poetry than at packing. Which is saying a lot. My cat, who's having a field day in the disaster zone that is my room, would happily agree. Anyway, I'll do pretty much anything other than pack. Including write poetry and share :) )

First the poem, then pictures of some goodbyes, and also of Zanycat! A fair trade if I do say so myself.

 Poem: Goodnight, Peace Corps Colombia (riffing on Goodnight, Moon)

Goodnight, Peace Corps Colombia

...Goodnight, Peace Corps
Goodnight community rich and poor
Goodnight crazy buses
and all-day traffic rushes
Goodnight los Scouts
and constant shouts
Goodnight blazing sun
and streets too hot to run,
Goodnight cotton skirts
and a life-time of firsts,
Goodnight juice on street corners
and veggie-store owners
Goodnight humidity that smothers
Goodnight host parents, sisters, brothers,
Goodnight friends and students too
And my bus, "The big green Zoo"
Goodnight blaring speakers
and all of my co-teachers
Goodnight cat
goodnight hat
goodnight sandals and goodnight bat
Goodnight Spanish and friendly peoples
And tall churches and their steeples
Goodnight Santa Marta, Cartagena
Goodnight Barranquilla and life sin pena
Goodnight Volunteers and all the staff
Goodnight adult teachers class
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight smog
Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere

GOODBYES (are really, really hard to say)

Last day with my eighth graders

Goodbye dinner with my first host family

Last Scouts de Colombia meeting.
With Luisa and Leidy, the students who first got me involved

 

Last Sunday lunch with my current host family, Yamile and Luis 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 ZANY 

I'm just looking I swear!

Applying to grad school is hard work

Bags are more fun to play under than pack in

Packing day is like Christmas!...for Zany

If I look cute will it make you less stressed?

Porcupines eat pumpkin too!

You should all know that there are other animals who enjoy pumpkin as much as I do. Probably people, too.

http://www.edisproduction.de/2013/10/30/adorable-talking-porcupine-loves-pumpkin/

You are probably less interested in the fact that my cooking of the last few weeks has pretty much been relegated to roasting pumpkin for pumpkin puree so I can make Thanksgiving-appropriate desserts...all. month. long.

That said, since I'm having fun...I wrote about it at GoGirl!  (Wondering how to take pumpkin pie global? Guess no longer!) http://www.travelgogirl.com/blog/2013/11/21/pumpkin-pie-thanksgiving-abroad/

Needless to say, I'm a bit wistful about the fact I'll be missing my third stateside Thanksgiving in a row...but hey, on New Years Eve I'll touch down in the US as an Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. My parents tell me we can turn back the clock and do it all again.

Meanwhile, less than two weeks left as a Peace Corps Volunteer...then comes backpacking through Bolivia and Peru...and then, the US. Life is crazy sometimes, you know?

Cumbia everywhere

Well, it's November. That means, it's almost Carnaval!

Even as stores, houses, and buildings are filling up with Christmas paraphernalia from the floors to the rafters, Carnaval groups have started practicing. For Carnaval. Which happens in March.

And so comes the resurgence of Cumbia, a type of music/dance I've had a mixed relationships with ever since my very first Carnaval and reign as "Princess" at my school, where I cumbia'd, dressed in the traditional dresses, in front of like, a thousand people...numerous times.  (I may have mentioned a few times that in spite of living for two years in the land of Shakira, my hips aren't yet truthful...)

Anyway, coastal Colombia claims to have "invented" Cumbia, and whether or not that's true, here it is showing up on NPR!

So here's some Cumbia from around the world. The very first track sounds very much like what Cumbia sounds like here...although we like to incorporate a particularly piercing reed flute into the mix as well.

I got excited, and thought that I'd share. Fun quick listen!

http://www.npr.org/2013/11/10/244132028/cumbia-the-music-that-moves-latin-america

Where dreams go to change

I haven’t been writing much lately. To be honest, I’ve been avoiding reflection of any kind. Reading, listening to podcasts, watching all the episodes of Arrow Season 1 (oh the abs!)…anything to avoid deep thinking. 

Why? In 5 weeks, Peace Corps Colombia for Emily comes to an end. Post-PC becomes a reality. After two years of Peace Corps here-and-now, the idea of Post-PC is just a lil too weird to be comfortable.

I’m not going to go off on too many of the many ways I’ve changed, or how see the world. (Or at least not yet?) But as Close of Service preparations ramp up—from writing my Description of Service that will be stored in the Library of Congress FOREVER, to dropping off an obscene amount of stool samples at the local lab—I’ve thought about some of the bigger things.

One giant thing that’s different in my life is that, as I get ready for Post-PC I’m putting aside a love of my life – creative writing – in favor of doing other things. And this is big. All my life, my life choices have revolved to some degree or another around working on my novel.  I’ve struggled to balance career vs creative writing vs doing something worthwhile vs doing something for me vs personal values, etc… I always thought that at some point in my life, I’d fight my way into a top-tier MFA program, write a novel that would change the world, and teach writing to other aspiring writers. This, because creative writing and writing workshops are things that I love, love, love. I’ve always had the goal of writing a novel. I never wanted to be that person who was always “writing on a novel” and gave it up.

I’m here to say that I’m contentedly working on applications for graduate school—for international communication. 

The reasons I’m doing this—and not as a second choice, but a first—come from experiences I’ve had working in Barranquilla, Colombia. I’m pretty excited about it (fingers crossed I get in!). The point is, one PC service later, the changes in my life goals are huge. It’s not that I’m going to stop writing my novel. It’s just that I’ve decided it’s not the only life goal I have that matters. So, this is big.

But here’s the deal. As I come up to the end of Peace Corps, in some ways I feel totally different. How different from two years in any other part of the world, though? Who knows. And I’m realizing that even if my life goals are different, Peace Corps hasn't actually haven’t changed me. Not fundamentally.

Anyway, I guess this post was spurred by the fact we’re preparing for the swearing-in of the latest bunch of volunteers. As we prep activities, the training director handed me something I’d written two years ago. It was how I’d measure the success and challenges of the years to come. One sentence I wrote stunned me. I said,

“…I expect that each month I will set goals that will change, develop, modify, and realign with reality as it continuously manifests itself—and my ability to constantly and consistently reevaluate will also measure the ways in which I will succeed and measure my success in these years.”

See, the thing is, I’ve thought about how each month, everything was different, and I’d learned to deal with it in new ways and reevaluate accordingly. However, I thought that realization was something I’d learned over the last two years. Turns out, I’d been expecting it (even if I didn’t quite get it). What shocked me was that on some level, I’d been able to predict that. So if I'd done that from the start, maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought I have, for better or for worse.

So here’s my (slightly Arrow-inspired) revelation: That ultimately, I am my own crucible, no matter what experiences I decide to put myself through. The things I choose to do help shape me. However, consciously or not, I’m the one who’s been choosing, through a series of small and big decisions and reactions, the ways in which they do.  Ta da! Maybe not, really, so startling a thought. Still, it's been on my mind the last few days. 

My hopeful take on this: that the end of Peace Corps doesn’t mean at all the end to seeking out meaningful experiences and applying them to my future. Peace Corps ended up a space where I could do a lot of thinking about this. And my dreams have changed because of it. Me, intrinsically? Maybe not so much. Except for my deep and abiding appreciation of air conditioning…

 Five more weeks of Peace Corps left…off we go!

Happy Halloween, from me and Zany.

Cats! And castration!

My last month has been hectic. Included in this: cutting off the balls of my cat! It was long overdue. It went surprisingly well, and I wrote a bit about it here!

http://www.travelgogirl.com/blog/2013/10/17/veterinarian-visits-abroad/

I can tell you more later...also, Zany is pretty wonderful, and let me just tell you that his new trick includes managing to launch himself ONTO MY HEAD from halfway across the room. Without claws! It's fantastic. And adorable. Zanycat is the BEST.

There was also a week when I had fellow volunteer Jessica's cat Diego - who is also Zany's brother! And got him castrated as well. (Fun side note: Jessica told everyone that it was ME who cut off their balls. And everyone believed her. Not sure what that says about me and/or my cat? But there it is(

Some pictures below:

Diego and Zany destroying my room. In the cutest way possible. 

They're so pretty!

Jessica made THE BEST cat toy ever, where she sewed straws together into an almost-God's eye.
Better than catnip. Seriously.

(Everything is different) the second time around

Today, I went back to Colombo Norte. Colombo Norte is a building I first stepped into mid-October of 2011. It is the building in which I spent my first 10 weeks in Colombia as a Trainee, learning Stuff and Things like Spanish and also teaching methods, in order to prepare for my PCV service.

This time, I arrived at Colombo as part of the PC training team.

For a variety of reasons, what will be my main project for the final 3 months of my service recently switched from co-teaching, to filling a different sort of role--kind of like that of a traditional third-year volunteer. This role includes being a member of the PC Colombia technical training team.

As we pulled into the parking lot of Colombo Norte, I was remembering what it was like to be sitting up at the lunch tables, watching the training team pull in. My old trainer/new co-worker turned to me--"Bring back good memories?"

"Definitely memories," I said, joking. "I wouldn't necessarily say good."

He took that in stride and we walked inside. "Just think," he said. "You're going to be a part of someone's memories now." He took another step, and then turned back--"Not necessarily good ones," he added slyly.

That got me thinking. I certainly didn't take it personally. See, the thing is, training is a really, really weird time. It marks a lot of transitions. It also involves a lot of 8:00-5:00 classes and group time and cafeteria lunch. It is not unlike high school, if high school came along with hour-long crowded city bus rides and complete cultural dislocation 24/7. Maybe still a lot like high school? Except a whole lot harder, because, well, you know that sweet taste of independence we all loved so much when we left for college at age 18? Yeah. It's totally and completely gone. And it won't be back, really, throughout your entire time here.

What you trade it in for, though, is something crazy and wacky and intense and unique and hopefully worth it.

Either way, it all starts with Training.

If anyone from the new group, CII-5, is reading this, then here's what I have to say to you:

You just started training. You will exist in a very strange bubble for 10 weeks. You'll sit in tiny chair-desks in crowded rooms being lectured on some things you already knew and many things you didn't, and all the while you'll be chafing at the reins to get to your next step: Peace Corps Service.

People will comfort you by saying to trust the process, and this is the easy part and you should enjoy it, but it's cold comfort because you came to serve in Peace Corps: you want real adventure and true challenges and you want them now!

You will swim along anyway, because you're good at being challenged in many different ways, and you trust yourself to be flexible, or else how'd you think you'd be able to do this in the first place? Keeping that trust in yourself to be capable will help. However, know that although the fishbowl gets old pretty quick, it's there to stay. (Word to the wise: It will be a long time until you are comfortable and settled. A really, really long time.)

So here's the deal: in this strange time of your life, you will be broken down. You will assess and examine parts of yourself you never thought would garner a second glance. You will prepare for something that can't really be prepared for, only experienced, and when you get into the next stages it might be a long while before you realize the importance of all you really learned or be able to pick out the significance of the lessons you were learning even while you thought you'd never get to the "really" important ones.

You'll suck it up because it's part of the experience, and you'll love it and you'll fight it and you'll make new best friends and wish no one existed and then you'll love all your fellow PCVs, even the ones you at first found unlovable, incredibly dearly.

And then you will be left with yourself. Or really, the pieces of you--the things about yourself that changed due to circumstance and also your own will. You'll realize that nothing quite fits together the way it used to.

And that's okay.

Just remember, when you go to rebuild, that  if you end up with something that's totally different from before, it's maybe closer to what it should be. Don't fall into the comparison trap: this is an individual voyage. And no matter how it seems, there are no wrong answers.

On Not going on vacation -

Things that were supposed to happen this weekend/coming week:

• A weekend visit from Abby
• A double cat castration
• A final vacation to Minca

Short story: none of this happened. 

Long story: 

There's some interesting stuff happening in Colombia these days. If you follow international news, you've probably seen it--protests by farmers and truckers and miners throughout the interior. They're striking over lack of benefit pay and the fact that the free trade agreement with US and Canada makes the market untenable for things like milk and potatoes. The strikes have become violent in the interior--a few dead and hundreds injured, with SWAT-like teams in with tanks and water canons and rubber bullets, and the campesinos attacking police with rocks, and looting, etc. They've been going on now for almost two weeks, exacerbated by things like President Santos at first trying to claim there was no strike... and the fact that everyone is striking at once. They sent in troops to the capital on Saturday. An indefinite teachers strike scheduled to happen in a week and a half. 

As for the current strikes, you can view some excellent pictures, videos and stories at these links, although all tell a slightly different story:

• http://www.vanguardia.com/actualidad/colombia/222201-el-tal-paro-agrario-no-existe-presidente-santos (in Spanish, but the headline says, President says the agriculture strike doesn't exist)
• http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2013/08/30/217350446/colombia-deploys-troops-to-quell-protests
• http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-23903099
• http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/30/world/americas/colombia-protests/
• http://www.eltiempo.com/noticias/protestas-y-manifestaciones (from the capital's newspaper)

As for how this has affected daily life, it's not too present other than rising ag product prices. We've seen some small disturbances on the roads with transportation protests and a few very small protests in Cartagena, but nothing else close to us. Still, Peace Corps has forbidden us from traveling between the cities on the coast. 

On an Emily-level, this was disheartening because I'd planned out my LAST vacation this coming week. Since we're strongly encouraged not to take vacation after our COS conference (which is in TWO weeks), and because of my upcoming work schedule (more on that later), I'd scheduled a week in the woods in my very favorite easily-reachable locale, Minca. No such luck. So, no woodland cures will be had by yours truly for the insanity that city living visits on me. Sigh. 

What to do when bffs are stranded in other cities and Minca is unreachable?? Get cats castrated! My kittycat Zany and his brother were long overdue for ball-removal. I picked Diego, Zany's brother up from his house and we went to the vet. Except, Zany had managed to get diarrhea. So, only Diego has been stripped of his manhood so far. He's behaving very well considering I have to shove meds down his throat twice a day and slather his not-balls in antibiotic cream!

More on cat castration and vet stuff in general later, in case you, too have a cat to take care of abroad!

So finally, I turn to my last resort of sanity-inducers: making easy but delicious food. Friend Kendra came over to help with the kitties and we did a curry carrot soup last night, and I made peach french toast this morning. What's that, you want the recipes? Sure, included below!

Curried Carrot Soup

Ingredients: 

-medium white onion

-red bell pepper

-chipotle pepper

-4 big ole carrots

-2 cubes bullion

-1/2-1 c milk (depending on how creamy you like it)

-2 inches ginger

-4 cloves garlic

-1-3 tsps of: black pepper, chili powder, red curry powder, garam masala (adjust according to how intense you like your spices)

-1 tsp turmeric

Directions: chop onion, peppers, ginger and garlic and sautee together. Cut up carrots into coins. When onion and peppers are soft, add carrots and spices. Cover with water, add bullion and bring to a boil. boil until the carrots are soft, about 15-20 minutes. Blend with immersion blender if you're awesome enough to have one...a regular one if not :P. Add milk to taste, and mix. Serve - really tasty with bread and mozzarella cheese side!

Peach french toast to share:

-6 slices brown bread

-1 cup peach yogurt

-2 eggs

-pinch of salt, a shake of nutmeg, cloves, chili powder

-honey and powdered sugar

-beat together yogurt, eggs, and spices. Soak the bread in the mix. Fry, then sprinkle with a bit of sugar and drizzle with honey. Enjoy!

Providence Island: your next happy place

For all those interested in a coral reef/tropical beaches/aqua ocean/green mountains/culturally interesting/tri-lingual getaway: look no further!


I wrote about Providence Island  (the island paradise I got to live and work on for a month courtesy of the Colombian Ministry of Education) right here: Go Girl Article on Providence Island

Check it out!

Great Expectations: Part 1

There was a time when I held great expectations for my Peace Corps service. I'm not here to say they aren't being fulfilled. Instead, I want to talk a little bit about how the definition of "great" has changed over the last 22 months of service.

I wrote a post about low expectations a long, long time ago. It was impassioned and justified and logical and naïve. It came from a day during training when we were told to "lower our expectations" in order to survive. I hated the idea. It turned into a joke for all the PCVs: 'what, you thought we'd get something done at this meeting? Lower your expectations!'

The other week, I was walking past a restaurant on a city corner. Banners hung from every corner and window advertising the sale of my favorite, although difficult to find, food - a bean soup called guandúl. I glanced at the banners and immediately, reflexively, thought to myself, 'nah, I don't believe they have it.' Not until later did I have to laugh at myself for thinking this - but I still didn't think that the restaurant necessarily had the soup.

Lowering my expectations has become a double edged sword. In some ways, it protects me. As a PCV -maybe due to the  public, foreign, outside-comfort-zones sort of life we generally lead/work we often do - life reactions tend to be a bit exaggerated. On bad days, tiny setbacks can cause reactions tantamount to a breakdown.

Say I'd gone to that restaurant on a bad day thinking to cheer myself up with guandúl. My 22 months of experience here tells me that despite the signs, there's a decent chance they won't have the soup.  And then what would happen? I'll be sad times a hundred, because it would have been a long sweaty walk to get there with no reward. TEARS!

Then again, if I go and there IS guandúl, how awesome would that be to a) have a great lunch on a bad day and b)know there's a slightly out-of-the-way restaurant that might actually reliably carry my favorite local food? And yet, months later, I haven't had the inclination to try.

Low expectations means that when the local airline I'm flying tells me that my flight is delayed 7 hours, it's okay. What, I thought my flight would be on time?! When school is canceled and the lessons I planned for dashed for the third time that week - well, why would I ever assume we'd have class anyway? I didn't expect it, so I had a contingency plan in place, whether that's go get ice cream(!) Or, head to the office to do some other work.

This attitude might seem a bit cynical. It can be detrimental, too--for instance, it can definitely lower my motivation to do work (since there probably won't be class, is it even worth it to plan?). Perhaps I've missed opportunities because of it.

But here's the deal. Beyond allowing for day-to-day mental survival (not always a small thing), there's this really cool effect of having low expectations: It means that the little things are wonderful. It means that when the owner of my favorite veggie restaurant gives me a free cookie, it makes my day. When a Colombian friend calls to say hi and check in and spends almost 10 minutes on the phone with me (no one uses phone minutes here!) it makes that day plus a few. When I stepped off the plane in Providence and heard birds singing, I almost cried for the joy of it. When lessons at school go well or there's  a productive meeting with my teachers, that means the week was a good one.

And when something big goes well, something that I drew upon my previous months of learning and experience to complete - a girls camp, say, or a month in Providence - well, I'm Godzilla-sized with happiness.  I can taste it even now.

There's nothing like going through an extended period of living outside your comfort zone to see where the Things That Matter versus Things That Don't Matters shake out. In part two of this I'll tell you all about my personal toddler-style "how I know what I really care about" barometer…

Although in some ways I'm looking forward to when my current life of crazy contrast gets on a bit more of an even keel (hey, COS), I hope that I'm still able to find so much joy in the small things - that a small gift from a stranger is invaluable. That seeing a wide blue sky brings bubbles of joy. That a kind conversation with someone makes me smile fit to burst.  That hard-earned accomplishments are truly seen as life milestones.

I have to believe that in four months when I step off this rollercoaster called PCV service, I'll have learned not just invaluable lessons about who I am, what I want to do with my life, and  that I've done some sort of significant work here - but that I will remember to treasure the small things, and cling to them - and remember to be that person who gives these moments to others, too. Because you never know what expectations they had for that day, either.

Top of the Peak: Makin' it

Marooned for a Month: Providence Island Immersion

Hello friends!

When I say I've been trying for a long time to get out this post, it's the truth! I'll spare you the reasons it took so long, but one big one - internet speed - is worth mentioning because for that reason, the pictures below are in absolutely no order. 

So, here goes - 

I spent a lot of last month on the very small and very beautiful Colombian island, Providence. I'm planning to write up the island itself for my column over at travelgogirl.com (With a Side of Salsa) that will be published in the next few weeks so I won't repeat...but there's a 2 picture limit there and that's just sad!

Did I mention I was on a very beautiful island? I'm not sure that's a strong enough statement. (See pictures below.)

But first: What was I doing on said island?

Every year, the National Ministry of Education runs an immersion program for English teachers with a relatively low level of English. The idea is to get them from a B1 (early intermediate) to a B2 (late intermediate) on the European Framework scale. Teachers from all over the country apply. They also submit a proposal for a community project they'll do on return. 

Then, they're sent to Providence and San Andres - two very small and very gorgeous islands off the coast of Nicaragua. (You might have heard about them from the recent maritime rights dispute, or because of Providence's unique black mountain-dwelling crabs). Providence and San Andres have a unique history, including Baptists, pirates, and Spanish settlement that have left them with a totally unique culture - including a whole mess of English, Spanish, and Creole languages all coexisting. The islands may be Colombian, but they are a world apart from the Colombia that I or even the other Colombian mainlanders had experienced before. (more on that in my upcoming column!) 

The teachers live with local families for a month learning English and interacting with the natives. For many of them, it's the first time they've ever left their families. While it was a little humorous to hear middle-aged men talk in all serious about how they missed their moms, their comments were also refreshing; turns out, even other Colombians, too, sometimes struggle living away from their families in the homes of other Colombians.  (While I live with an absolutely wonderful host family, it's definitely a major challenge of PCV life, in general)

I digress! Back to the immersion and my role: this year for the first time, Peace Corps volunteers (myself and three others) went as part of the teaching contingent to add a methodology component to the lessons. It was a challenge that we rose to with our 21 months of in-country experience, from last-minute planning to complete flexibility and a whole lot of forging ahead through the unknown. A paradise both for the amazing environment as well as wonderful people - islanders and Colombian teachers both - it was definitely a life highlight. 

Randomly ordered pictures and captions below--

The three lovely local tutors who taught the English classes for 4 hours a day

We were really excited to get our first Peace Corps buttons. PC Colombia represent!

Sunset on Southwest Beach, our closest beach at a 3 minute walk.

Crab Cay, the tiny Cay paradise that's part of MacBean's Lagoon - a national park made up of mango mangroves and lots of ocean

The water is so teal because the island is surrounded by the world's 3rd largest barrier reef

No better place to nap on earth 

We taught groups of 20 teachers at a time. Side note: While mainland Colombia loves their plastic beach chairs (from classrooms to room furniture to social event necessities), the islands do it right! These plastic chairs had PLASTIC DESKS attached

On Santa Catalina--it is a tiny island attached by bridge to Providence. I'm not sure if its few inhabitants get counted into the 5,000 tally of Providence islanders, but the start of the path to Captain Morgan's buried treasure starts here!

Ron Don is a local "stew." From left to right: giant flour dumpling, yucca, ñame,  fish, plaintain. Boil all these starches (and one white protein) in coconut milk and you've got a plate of the tastiest carbs you'll ever find

One Saturday "cultural event" we climbed "Peak" with our teachers: it's the highest point on the island. Even though we started at high noon, we all made it!

Local dances combine renaissance waltzes and polkas with Caribbean music and rhythm. With their stuffy european roots still highly present, most are even possible for a gringo to learn

There is some kind of giant gene on the island. Was interesting to feel nice and short again, as opposed to my 5 feet towering over to many of the locals in my Barranquilla life

This is the plane that takes you from San Andres to Providence. The doors have gaps in them. The first and perhaps last time I can boast of actually feeling the clouds...

The one road that circles the island gives two amazing and dichotomous views. Here, looking inward

"Lovers Lane" - the bridge that connects Santa Catalina to Providence island.

One of the docks on Santa Catalina: Providence island through the trees

Many mornings I ran to this lookout point and watched the sunrise

Called a "flaming tree" in Creole

On Saturdays they race horses on Southwest beach. Since we had class all Saturday, I contented myself with watching them work out every morning. A dip into the ocean cooled them off after their hot gallops

The houses in Providence are made of wood! European traditions are long-lasting, even if the wood isn't always.

Jessica breaking down "The Giving Tree." Our teacher/Giving Tree decided no, he didn't really want to give up all his apples!

Nothing like the Ministry of Education sending in their video crew for the final ceremony to make us feel like a celebrities

Old Town - the center of Providence

Pigtail and Beans: I thought I'd be super adventurous and try the local pigtail (the hotdog shape buried under beans). Not only is it as bad as it sounds, but I found out later that it's imported from Canada! It's served in lots of local dishes, but couldn't help feeling the joke was on me...

More of a local food success was "Crab Toes" as they're called in Creole - pincers sauteed in garlic and butter. The ultimate finger food!

The backdrop of my new personal happy place

So much blue everywhere. Didn't even need a snorkeling mask, the water's so clear

Our teachers were the kindest students I've ever had the pleasure to teach

On top of Peak

Fellow volunteer Jessica and lovely island decorations (the iguanas and electric blue lizards were even cooler in real life)

By the end of the trip, I'd almost gotten used to seeing dinner-plate-sized purple/blue/black crabs scuttling away through the woods and rocks

The island had a number of wonderful benches with lots of different shapes and colors. This says, "Free Time: Think, Dream, Read." (And it says it in English on the other side!) I say, OKAY. 

Learning local dances

The center's tiny plaza was a perfect place to take post-post-lunch-icecream naps

The downtown boasts TWO tiny grocery stores. Peanut butter here sells for like, half the price! 

Up the road by the Baptist Church to INFOTEP classrooms we go...

A walkway in the center

handpainted map of the island of Providence. If you look real close you can see the names of the barrios and such

Traditional instruments for the traditional music included horse jaw rasps

Also mandolins

On the road, just another beautiful sight

One of our fabulous classes outside the training center

This shameless animal followed us everywhere--including somehow getting onto our 2nd floor balcony one night!

A perfect day for a family trip to the beach