homecoming

No one can say what its going to be like. Its called a transition and a readjustment time period. I left a place I called home and still sometimes do. I left a job I put my existence into. I let it define me and give me meaning and purpose. Towards the end I realized I was most proud of my relationships and would miss them the most. I had a chance to go back 2 months or so after I left and when I came back to Florida, I was even sadder than the first time. I came back the first time optimistic, looking forward to a change and happy to have a chance to make up for lost time. I overwhelmed myself with errand running, Christmas shopping, cookie making, and being readily available for all who call. While filling my days I emptied my energy and found myself, on my second return, feeling more out of place. Going back to my site so close to leaving was great to see my students have their end of the year party, all grown up and ready for their summer and the rest of what awaits in life.  All my hugs were filled with love and appreciation that filled a void I didn’t realize I had. This void was the absence of certainty, surefootedness, and understanding, things I haven’t found yet on my own again in the states. Few ask about it, fewer understand. My past two years weren’t just a job oversees where I contributed time and work to the greater force of good for some people. It was two years of discovery of the process and time and rhythm. It was a connection to something real, like hiking a mountain and lying on a rock face soaking in the sun. It is a slow heartbreak when I came home and realized none of that matters, “that’s not how we do things here”, and that I can’t talk about it because it requires full attention and empathy and intrigue and things no one has time for. Its personal, it was my light I was cultivating and a vision for myself I built. The struggle to not loose it means letting go of what I thought would happen and let what will happen, happen. I will find it again, my surefootedness, my accomplishment, my purpose, and it will happen how it always does, when I stay true to myself.

Writer's block

Clearly I have not been very good these past few months at writing things of importance. Writing has become a real lackluster attempt at communicating my thoughts and ideas, probably cause I've had few of either to write about. That being said, it makes me sad that I don't even want to reread the stuff I've written lately. Its objective and drawn out and lacks feeling. So what should I write about?

I could write about leaving I suppose. My time left pales in the amount of time I have spent here. In one month, I will be in another country, most likely Colombia if all goes according to plan. I will have left my crappy couch bed, my plastic kitchen set, some moldy clothes, my mountain view and a life I have fully participated in designing for the last 2 years. There's not much more to write about, right?

And why don’t I have emotions? Well I do, or else I wouldn’t have cried in front of 50+ people at our opening day event for our green classroom. But why every time I look up and see blue sky behind misty mountain rain clouds, do I feel like I can take a deep breathe? And why is it that every flair up of nostalgic reflection is met with a wall of fire extinguishers that leave the notion soggy and unappealing? 

Part of it is probably that I am in full blown logistics mode, every activity from now until November 22 is still up in the air, including how I’m going to get Maggie home to my mom. Logistics mode is dangerous. It means that I will stay busy until the moment I planned not to be and then reflection mode, with all it’s pent up potential energy floods and overwhelms me, and I end up a wrung out and exhausted.

Part of it is probably because while there were plenty of hours I spent doing nothing of real significance, I don’t regret the hours I spent stressed out about actually doing things. I’ve tried and failed and tried again a different way a few months later with different people, which still often failed. I set out with some big ideas in the beginning; murals, camps, park renovation or something infrastructural...to name a few. And to my surprise and delight, my counterparts and I got pretty far on a few of those goals. But the beauty in the projects is that they started as great ways to foster youth empowerment and had potential for sustainability. And now, as I write up my laundry list of acronym reports, the only thing I really care about is the relationships that came out of the projects. They where just the excuse in order to better get to know the people I worked with; the students, the moms, the teachers and the staff. Without the projects I wouldn't get multiple warm hugs from girls asking if I can take them to the states in my suitcase, or a gift from a young boy who's mom tells me he's genuinely sad I'm leaving. These relationships are priceless and the most important thing I can take with me. It’s hard to be sad when I feel I’ve made it to where I ultimately wanted to be; I am part of this community, and they are part of me. 

This is home to me. It’s my second home, and by home I mean the place I find my self. Even when I’m not, I’m learning something. By now it’s second nature to assume I’m detrás el palo, ignorant of how things work around here. It was a struggle for the first year or so to know I hadn't found my niche. I wasn't good at anything, and even speaking the appropriate language was a struggle. I can't say now I'm any better, but it’s the only thing I know. I’ve been through many changes in my life and new beginnings. This experience has taken me apart like a puzzle, away from everything comfortable, and put me back together piece by piece; adding new pieces and not so subtly, leaving more room to grow than I ever thought I was capable of. With the feared “unknown” as my constant companion, I can finally accept and appreciate the patience it takes to not worry about what will be and I can almost feel excited to see how it will all turn out.
I guess writing about why I can't write is better than nothing at all.

Ordinary hours

June 10, 2015

Ever want to know what goes on in the mind of a Peace Corps volunteer? Lots of radio silence for the most part, only to be interrupted by self realizations and loud thunderous frustration and chaos. At least that’s what happens in my head. Days keep flying by and so much of what happens here feels small. So when a friend says, Marlee take a step back…look at the big picture, it takes a minute or a whole day to refocus. Every day begins and ends and starts again with the sun. On the mornings I have to get up early and take mags out, I can see the sunrise over the mountains from my host moms porch. It’s always beautiful, and on days after day long rains, the sky is especially stunning. I struggle to keep a hold of that peace that comes with eyes full of the days light and lungs full of fresh clean air, when the little stresses chip away at the solitude it creates every day. Thankfully, having Maggie in my life forces me outside more for better and worse ( who really wants to go outside in the rain, not even Maggie). But still the mountain of to-do’s and weekly responsibilities pile up and free time is spent cleaning, making cookie dough 100 different ways or melting into the couch watching the omnipresent companion, Netflix. I have to be honest, I thought I’d read more and start growing my own tea (or at least keeping some type of plant alive), I thought I’d do yoga more, reach out to friends and family more. But turns out life here is like life anywhere else, routines and responsibilities and some how time slips by, ordinary hours turn into unremarkable days and then 2^nd graders are 4^th graders and I’m a month away from my third consecutive birthday in this country.

Days like today make me appreciate it all though. Today my big picture was painted by my friends, who reminded me that while we all have great expectations, nothing, nowhere and never turns out exactly how we plan, but if you try hard, it still turns out. Today started with a budget crisis and a dream being crushed. The budget crisis was partially an oversight on my end and partially we didn’t get the same amount we had proposed in our grant ( didn’t catch that part til later today). The dream being crushed was the one where I use this green classroom project with individual classroom projects as a foundation for a thesis, which despite having come up with and planned the model for the last 9 months, I only have less than 4 to make it sustainable, which, if going to grad school taught me anything, its that it won't happen in real life.

Still though, as I went to talk to Miriam about something mundane, my crisis came out instead. But she let me cry through my dream crushing, gave me an exceptional hug and parted with a piece of her coveted chocolate. Thinking of it later made me smile, I will miss having Miriam around, to know what I’m trying to say, finish my sentences and care about me like she does, she’s pretty wonderful. And as luck would have it, my friends were also very supportive. They talked me down from panic mode to damn near full acceptance. My budget crisis has options, sucky but not a dead end. And my project, while hoping to see it through more, I may only get to plant the seed (even Miriam says so) and it’s up to everyone else to do with it what they will. I have, however, dared to dream big and accomplished a lot with my time here. The rain water tank will hopefully save the school money on water bills each year which can then be used for other things, and at very least the compost pile will serve as a permanent project option for future generations of little kiddies. Everything else is indeed a small ripple in a big pond and that’s really ok.

It’s a humbling job, being a volunteer. I’ve never not left a volunteer position without having experienced varying levels of disappointment and had something seemingly small turn everything around for me. A phone call, piece of chocolate, origami frogs, some kid telling me to wait while going to buy another bag of chips just to give me the toy inside on his birthday, someone saying how much I must miss my family, a hug, so many hugs; the underappreciated cure for sadness. These are the little gifts I will take with me and what make this place so special to me, the people, my friends, other volunteers, my work, adventures. All the little things add up and soon little ripples turn into deep waves.

May the fourth be with you

Today is more or less the 5 month mark for our groups official count down. Manuel is leaving for law school, then we have our close of service conference, which will be our last official time together. It will mark our 2 years in service and will hopefully wrap up our feelings and resumes in a nice package to send us back into the world.

I recently had my bestest friends come visit, which honestly I didn’t believe would happen til their feet touched the ground, not for lack of wanting or trying but because life has a way of piling up responsibilities we have to deal with before we get to the fun side of things. Anyway, they landed 12 hours atrasada, because the volcano Turrialba wasn’t cooperating and a handful of flights were canceled. So they spent the day being tourist in their own town before actually landing in San Jose at 1230am, technically the next day. Just to be clear, my best friends both have husbands and children (all of whom I love dearly) so we haven’t had time with just us in over four years so this trip was our time. We were us, in pure form; laughing, singing, making fun of each other, and snuggling in as many beds as we could. I was reminded of just how perfect friendships like ours are.  I remembered just how much it means to have friends who are better described as sisters because you fight and make fun of each other, but love them so much and would do anything for them without even thinking twice about it. The fact that they came meant our worlds aren’t ever too far apart that we can’t make time for each other, which meant the world to me.

After their trip, I returned to a half normal week, put in some snuggle time with mags and before I knew it was off again, this time to see fellow volunteers and to run a 5K out in Guanacaste I had signed up for months ago, thinking it would help motivate me to run more….which every minute leading up to the race, it had failed to do. But as it turned out a good number of volunteers had signed up and we got to run it together. 630 am came quick but once we got around the other runners and the music started, we were in it to win it…or at least finish it. The race itself was at Playa Flamingo which was a beautiful beach that looked more like a harbor and as we ran passed the nestled in boats, the sky got brighter and the air got hotter, waaay hotter, but we were determined.  When the finished line came up, we took off using all the reserves we had spared and if I didn’t feel like I was about to pass out I would have been smiling ear to ear. We were greeted by early finishers and some other great cheerleaders at the end and then took advantage of cheap bottomless mimosas at a restaurant nearby. 

We had stayed the night before in Tamarindo, which is a more built up beach, full of tourists, surfers, and retirees…it looked just like west palm beach. We woofed down left over pizza from our “carb loading” the night before then took advantage for the couple hours we had before the bus to catch some sun. Our plan from there was to go to our friends’ site only a little further south. Passing through Nicoya is interesting because no place is too far from the beach but it almost looks like Pennsylvania with its rolling hills. Our friends’ site was beautiful and peaceful, a half hour away from the city and a half hour from the beach in the middle of a valley…almost too perfect. We rested and watched fireflies as we went to sleep and woke up to have pinto and coffee (tea) outside in the early morning air. Being a half hour away from one of the most talked about beaches in CR, we again took advantage of our location and spent the day in Samara, the “Manuel Antonio of Nicoya”. 

I realized how much I miss beaches but also that I’m grateful to like in the mountains so I can appreciate the fleeting moments I get at some of the most beautiful beaches around. After some more pizza it was time to head home. We had a little layover in Nicoya and had some coffee for our long ride ahead. We had de pie tickets but we got lucky to score one seat that Ramona and I switched off and on til we got to San Ramon.

Home again home again, it was such a great weekend accomplishing so many things and we were only gone 3 days. The ease of travel and seeing these friends is something I will miss, along with many other things. It’s hard to imagine that in 5 short months it will have come to a close, this one thing that has singlehandedly dragged me through some of the most challenging experiences I’ve ever had and delivered me to such a level of confidence in myself and understanding of life that is hard to express in words. It all brings to mind quotes that reflect the sentiment that the most meaningful and deepest life lessons are wrought from some of the hardest and lowest points you experience.

I have returned to my house full of gratitude, to have such wonderful friends here and at home, to have accomplished most of what I set out to do, and for all the experiences that taught me all I have learned up to this point in my life. 

It gives me hope.... (April 2015)

It gives me hope that my neighbor with the machete tied around his waist and campo hat thinks animals are to be taken of, even his cows. And that Maggie likes him.

It gives me hope that in San Jose I saw a police officer usher a man in a wheelchair across a street and when he was thanked, he said con gusto, because it wasn’t part of the job, it was a genuine act of kindness.

It gives me hope that when the wind blows, sometimes I can feel the beach.

It gives me hope when my phone rings and it’s a friend calling to connect.  

It gives me hope that I laugh more these days, whether its because I can make jokes and be silly in Spanish or because Maggie makes really funny faces and sounds; I guess it doesn't really matter why. 

It gives me hope that I am not forgotten, that I still have visitors, mail, and Matt, and people excited for my return home.

It gives me great hope that I get to travel with some of my greatest friends I’ve made here in Peace Corps when our service is up and that we will see countries together, speak our Costa Rican Spanish in Bolivia, learn a trade in Argentina, and process our time as PCVs together before returning state side.  

It gives me hope that I am not alone, that I am still next door to my host family, that I am busy some days and not so busy other days, that Kim and I talk about going to Disney and Target when she gets to come to the states.

It gives me hope that my time here is ending, it shows that time does in fact move and that I will too, so will everyone here once I’m gone.

It gives me hope that when I’ve spent hours in my head, thinking about what to pack, sell, give away and to who, and how my last months will be spent, that when the wind blows, I still exist, I am still here.

I have not changed out of my pajamas yet, its 1:45 pm, and at this point it useless to try and go anywhere. My day has not been a complete wash though. I should also mention it’s a Tuesday. Today my accomplishments include not only breakfasting and lunching, but I made vegetable soup stock and tomato sauce, of which I made with pasta for lunch. I finished reading a book and made my bed. I haven’t had a day like this since I got back from Nicaragua, and even in Nicaragua there was always something to do, because no one goes on vacation to sit around in their jams doing nothing…. Maybe they do but that was not our fate.

Firstly, I’d like to make note of the very short amount of time we have left for service. 8 Months from now, I will not be in Costa Rica but rather, hopefully, Colombia, with three very dear friends on our way, sort of haphazardly through South America. Talking with my friends here (read family) I realize how hard it will be to leave them, because just it coming up in conversation I immediately want to change topic. Deña and her daughters and adorable English speaking grandson; Kim, Amanda, her mom, dad and brother (who strangely enough looks like Chappy) and all our cooking/ baking adventures; Miriam and her husband Ivan and Ignacio, their perpetually adorable 13 year old son, and their house with 100 fish and an instant feeling of comfort when you walk in, and workouts with Miriam and her sister that make us laugh and cry in pain, but always come back for more; both of my host families, so very wonderful to me, that have accepted me and my weirdness, entirely and without question. I hope I never have to know what its like to not have them around. Even my roommate who puts washing machines in my “room” and without fail leaves me coffee in a disheveled kitchen every morning, is my family here. I don’t just have friends, I have people who have welcomed me into their homes and made me part of their conversations and celebrations. I have a sinking feeling that these next months will be full of days where I feel exceptionally proud to be here followed by days of sadness when I face the coming end.

Six months ago, I wasn’t able to see why anyone would extend; two years seemed like a reasonable amount of time for trial and error community development. But then this year, I am part of things, not just as a helper but an integral part in the execution of projects, my opinion is sought out and considered. My counterparts are my friends, who have seen me, whether they knew it or not, through some of the hardest days of my life and consequently a lot of my growing up. Even if extending to the end of the year is a viable option, it would just waylay the inevitable, this is not where all my family lives, not where I’ll make money and be with a boyfriend who has waited patiently by my side (figuratively) until I come home.

But what heartbreak to have two homes and know you can only live in one. 

I know this country like I know my own. I’ve been border to border and coast to coast and spend many an hour listlessly staring off in awe of its beautiful and extreme terrains. I know bus stops and farmers at farmers markets, as I should since I’ve lived here, really lived here for almost 20 months. Shortly after finally feeling like I’m not an outsider, like I have a place here, I have to get ready to leave it.

Its not like I didn’t know this was coming, I have been planning my departure and next steps for months now, down to considering what I’m selling, giving away and to who and what I’ll be throwing out. I also know I handle inevitable painful separations like pulling off a band-aid the wrong way, slowly and feeling everything. And I knew this would happen the same way. So I guessed surprised is at least one emotion I can say I don’t feel. 

So today I stayed in my pajamas all day, mostly because I have no real assignment today and I’ve been wanting to make tomato sauce before all the tomatoes I had went bad. Change will happen, I will leave, and life will go on without me here just like everywhere I’ve ever left. The sadness is not necessarily in this fact but in the fear that I’ll loose the touch with the connections I have made, knowing I won’t be next door for my host sister when she has “girly questions”, forgetting what it’s like to stand on my host moms front porch and watch the stars, or the sunset, or the neighbors blowing up giant fireworks 40 feet away. I’m sad that time erases the little things that hold your days together, the feeling of adventure living in another country, learning  new language and the look on people’s faces that  say “it’s ok I get what you mean, stop struggling”. I’m even sad to part with my beloved silence and time all to myself, to cook or clean or watch the same 30 movies over and over again, or write or read without feeling like I’m just wasting time, but rather purposefully spending it.

 There are many things to miss since I’ve nestled into my community probably more so than any other place I’ve lived in, as a way to feel part of it so far away from what was familiar. Maybe that’s what makes Peace Corps such the adventure. We land in the middle of the unknown and grab onto as much as we can to ground us again. Hardly is there such unknown in our culture and country that we are desperate to bring or create meaning in our lives, so that when we leave, we leave part of our soul there. But here we stand, holding onto meaning until it’s time to move on as all things do. 

may the road rise to meet you.... wait no that's too fast

Jan 16^th , half way through the first month of the last years in Peace Corps.

I feel like time stamping everything. They’ve started to feel more and more precious, these moments. In an attempt to keep sane I still spend way too much time watching “tv”, sleeping, being in my jams, being alone, and not speaking Spanish. I knew this month would be a lull in that which I call my job here. It has also given me the time to see the velocity of life on the downhill of this journey. I can’t slow it down, everyday, it’s like someone cranks the speed dial, just nudges it, so that none of us hear the click. But sure as anything it ticks.

My family is both more important and more annoying. My time alone is both more necessary and more of a cop out. My progress on my degree is both accomplished and disheartening.

I always knew I wouldn’t be here forever but now the light, as they say, at the end of this dark tunnel is in sight. It shines the future and predicts the oncoming change. When I look at my feet I keep pace, but when I look up again, I’ve gone leaps and bounds forward, unaccounted for. How am I supposed to be in the moment when I have to plan the future and reflect on paper my entire experience? There is no next year, there is no “next time” or any “I still have a long time, no se precupe”.

Until school starts these themes are blinding and when it does start I’ll be too busy looking at my feet, calculating my remaining steps and before I know it that light will have found its way to me, with panic and calmness it will shine in everything around me.

We return, for these final months, to the undulating tides of emotion that plague the nature of change and uncertainty, much like the beginning; holding on to the past, excited for the future and never quite ready for goodbye.