Somethin' More Than Ordinary

The past week or so leading up to my departure from Vava’u has been a whirlwind of goodbyes, celebrations, and lots and lots of dancing. Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year, I mean it’s like Christmas except you get to dress up as anything you want and not just angels and the Virgin Mary, you still get awesome candy, hang out with those you love (with better drinks than eggnog), and you don’t have to worry about presents because it’s Santa’s day off and he’s dressed like Rambo, and Jesus came as George W. because if the son of god doesn’t have a sense of humor then what is there left in this world?

Halloween…is…awesome, and this year it happened to be the first installment of ‘going away good times.’

Last year I was the worlds’ #1 Mom: Mother Nature, and this year I was…wait for it…a Starving Artist. Yep, pretty great, as you can see from the picture. The sign actually worked too, people were happy to contribute to the cause…I’ll have to remind myself to do this one again. Others had excellent costumes as well, and I’m not talking about the people who go straight to pirate gear, I mean come on guys! You’re on a South Pacific island and you think a billion others haven’t thought to dress as Black Beard or Captain Hook already? Seriously, get your game faces on.

I think we ladies who live out in villages might have a little more time and energy on our hands at times to put into things such as AMAZING Halloween get ups. Saskia was a Cereal Killer, AHHHH! Get it? It’s cool, and should be straight forward enough, but loads of people looked at her like she simply can’t think outside the box, or in this case the cereal box. Well Saskia, if I were Captain Crunch I would have pissed myself if I saw you in a dark ally…Jenny went native going as a legendary Tongan bird goddess, this costume took considerable thought and effort, so we know she’s no bird brain…budumbump.

If I haven’t said it before, let me tell you that Tongan celebrations are anything but ordinary. The teachers, parents, and students from my village put on an epic good-bye celebration for me this week. We gathered at the town hall and I was showered with gifts and food, but most impressive were the songs and dances that the students did. I have been working with class 6 to learn Doe a Deer from the Sound of Music, plus a couple of Christmas songs that we sang for the parents, but then I was surprised when they all came together and sang So Long, Farewell with a coordinated dance and another song that was written especially for me. I was pretty hard not to get emotional with all of that positive energy.

You can actually see a portion of the festivities at the video link I’ve posted. Steve has created short videos for many returning volunteers to share with their friends and family back home, and I asked him to do the same for me. One thing that I’ve wished during my time here as been that my family and friends could see Vava’u, see my school, and just know my life here outside of what I write, so I’m excited to have a little taste to share. Feel free to check it out if you want: http://vimeo.com/7411761

There’s something liberating about packing up your life and moving on. Honestly it’s my favorite part of moving, sorting through everything you’ve collected for years and deciding what goes with you, what goes to someone else, and what simply goes in the trash. At the end of the process I look around me and see how much, or how little, I’m escaping with. Over the years the goal as been to get out with as little as possible too, most especially now!
You know, I remember thinking two years ago “Man, I can’t believe I have two more years” and then it was “Man, I can’t believe I have another year.” In fact, there were times when I was counting the months away, willing them to go by more quickly…while right under my nose days and weeks were going by at the speed of light! Here I am, with less than a handful of weeks away from taking my leave, and I’m writing down departing words. It’s surreal to say the least.

It’s impossible to put into words 2 years worth of reflection and farewells, at least for me, someone who is known for her long-winded voicemails, and explanations that lack clarity most of the time; always orbiting around a point but failing to reach it as quickly as others might. So I won’t try to explain in detail how I’m going to miss life here and the people I’ve gotten to know, because I absolutely am not capable of a clear and concise explanation, but rather just say what comes to mind.

First, I don’t need to say that I will miss Tonga, or my village, or the people in it. I don’t need to say it, because it should be painfully obvious! I’ve explained more than once how this love/hate relationship has ultimately brought satisfaction and growth to my life. I can only hope that my presence has had as much of a positive affect on others. That’s that, now I want to focus on other facets of this experience.

I’m going to miss having endless amount of time, time to read, time write, time to think…I’m going to miss the other volunteers and palangis that I’ve gotten to know here. The friendships that have been developed here are unique in how we have met one another, unique in the problems we’ve shared and faced together, and unique in a way that only they can begin to understand this part of your life.

To those friends, I truly hope I see you all again, but until then…

To the volunteers who I first met over 2 years ago in Los Angeles at something called ‘staging,’ where Group 73 heard more of this place called Tonga that was waiting for us, to all of you I say it was a pleasure to meet you. We don’t have the 33 we started off with, but that doesn’t mean that all 33 didn’t contribute something positive. I know I can give an example for every single person I met in LA two years ago of something positive they did in their time here, and I think that’s saying something without having to go into detail for all 33. Out of Group 73 it is I, Steve and James left in Vava’u.

Steve, your work with business development has been inspiring and you have probably affected more people’s lives as one volunteer as others put together. You have always had an open door, open mind, and offered unfathomable patience when trying to help me with electronics. To say the very least, thanks, and I look forward to surfing tree tops with you in Australia.

James, you provide social stimulation wherever you go. Whether it is through conversation, music, dinners, you have provided us all social escapes from whatever world we live in on our own here. That’s invaluable here.

Amy, oh Amy, probably the youngest friend I have but from the day I met you, you have been the one who has continued to educate and enlighten me in living life. Maybe one day I can catch up to you.

Mikala…I’m not going to write anything because we probably already talked about it on the phone today. Enough said.

Emily, it is absolutely hilarious how opposite we are in so many areas of religion, relationships, and the like, yet I love talking you about it all because you are confident enough in yourself and your beliefs that you don’t need to be defensive or validated when you say you love the chase.

Saskia, I leave you with the responsibility to bake with love for those you bake for, as we learned from Nesi: Love makes it taste better. I can’t put into words what your friendship this past year has meant to me...BUT I can put it into song, and it goes like this:

Do you know the Muffin Van?
the Muffin Van, the Muffin Van.
Do you know the Muffin Van?
It’s driven by me!

Jenny, keep dancing because you are absolutely impressive with your moves from 3008 while the rest of us are 2000 and late…

Chad and Katie, the dynamic duo, you two have continued to amaze me with your commitment to your village and the work you’ve done, have some fun your last year.

Scott…bless it all you need to learn how to cook, you won’t regret it or starve for that matter. But it’s always reassuring to have you around if one wants to test out a new recipe, and it be appreciated.

Group 75, I won’t meet you unfortunately, but as that may seem like devastating news...there is still light at the end of the tunnel. Let me assure you that there will be good, bad, and ugly moments during your time here, but take advantage of having the people I’ve mentioned above around. Take everything in stride, stay away from mayonnaise based foods on hot days, drink lots of water, and good luck.

So that’s it. This is the last note, blog, or whatever you want to call them, that I will write in Tonga. But not fret my friends and readers, I like writing about the goings on in this life…I’m sure I’ll continue to enlighten you on life post Tonga. So what’s going on after this? Well much is still in question, things get pretty blurry after the New Year, but when I fly from Tonga I’ll go the south island of New Zealand, then to Australia, I’ll spend a week in California, and fly back to the Carolinas December 13th.

I’ve applied to graduate school, Peace Corps extension programs, and even a job or two…but it’s still just as likely I don’t do any of them, find myself a corner in the world where I can dance around baking cakes and cookies all day. Whatever’s fine.

All the Cheap and Sugary Philosophies

It’s funny how you can become so used to the things the way they are, you just presume them to be as they should be. It happens all the time; it could be that you’ve had apple pie one way your entire life. Your beloved mother always used canned apples and frozen pie crust and cool whip to top it off, and that of course is apple pie right? But then one day someone says “Hey, you should try my apple pie,” and you do. Your mind is blown away, they’ve used real granny smith apples, cinnamon, nutmeg, and the crust is buttery and flakey, and you say, “This is apple pie? I thought it was something completely different.” Then you realize that you want your apple pies from now on to be more like this, this is actually how you want apple pie to taste. No one is insulting your mother’s pie; she thinks it’s supposed to be the way she makes it, like you thought too.

I was getting ready to go for a run yesterday and I took a look at my headphones, and they looked rough. I had a spare that I have been saving for an emergency, and wanted to keep them new until it was in fact an emergency. Now that I only have 2 weeks left in Tonga I figure nothing too bad can go wrong. I open the new headphones and off I go. I am absolutely astounded by the difference I hear! The clarity in the sound, the feel of bass, old songs actually sound new again, absolutely amazing; but the fact that I didn’t know what I was missing was unbelievable.

In case you haven’t put it together, I’m not simply writing about apple pies and headphones, I just really like food analogies. I do talk about some silly shit sometimes, but there is rhyme and reason to this. These two examples are on a small scale to what I imagine people feel when they get out of bad relationships and find out that there are better ones, or hating a job only to realize that you like the work just not the place you’re working, and so on. Pretty obvious stuff…but not really, if it were that obvious then it would be obvious at the time…not after the fact, and you wouldn’t have to taste new apple pie in order to realize that the apple pie you were used to had lack luster, you would already know. But we don’t already know, and we have to constantly open ourselves to new persons, places, and things in order to appreciate what we think we know and what we learn.

That’s why a lot of people travel, choose to live abroad, or join programs like Peace Corps, they’re looking for new apple pies, or want to hear their music a little better. Or maybe it’s just me, could be…but I still say that as soon as someone says “This is apple pie, this is absolutely what it’s supposed to taste like, and I’ll never need to taste another apple pie again,” then that is the moment that they are screwed because you’ll either get stuck with a crappy recipe, or never know how awesome someone else’s pie is.

What’s my point? Isn’t it obvious? EAT LOTS OF PIE!

Damn This Traffic Jam

What will I miss? Well…lots of things. I mean I won’t miss chasing rats out of my house, I won’t miss being the novelty in town, and I certainly won’t being told that I am getting old and should consider getting married soon or resign to jump off the nearest cliff (I’m paraphrasing of course). What will I miss then?

I will miss my dog. I’ve probably mentioned before that I love my dog, but really I forget sometimes until I’m reminded. The other morning I went for a run and on my way back into the village I past a kid from my school who called out to me “Noni, kuli mate a koe,” translation: your dog is dead. Confused by his news because as he told me with a smile on his face, I questioned him and he stuck with the original story that my dog was dead, she was hit by a car.

I sprinted the rest of the way to my house, thinking of all the crappiness about to go down, and water collecting in my eyes. I didn’t see her on the road, and as I came closer to my house I saw her lying next to it in a shaded area, and I thought of how she must have just had the energy to go home one last time. I stopped in front of my fence because I wasn’t prepared to see what happens to a dog when assaulted by a car, but I still called her name and to my surprise…she raised her head. Not only that, she got up and started walking towards me! I ran up to her, and she to me, and I analyzed every inch of her…perfectly fine. I was so relieved and happy that Sini was okay, and I cried and cried…I was that damn happy.

It has really been awkward and confusing to me in the past when people have treated their pets as people. Of course I’ve loved my pets, taken care of them, and not mistreated them, but in Tonga it has been hard to relate to someone who considers themselves the surrogate mother of a collie. But the joke’s one me, I honestly don’t know what I would do if Sini died right now. I know she will die eventually, as everything does, but I want to leave this place knowing she’s alive, healthy, and likely to live a long happy life. One can’t leave a place with such happy thoughts if the dog is hit by a car a month before you go. I don’t know if the kid was mistaken or if he just has a malicious sense of humor, but I do know that there is no doubt in my mind that I will miss this dog.

I will miss having the most sincere appreciation of simple things in life. I set out two years ago with a goal to gain a new sense of gratitude of what life has to offer; though I was not a complete ingrate, I know I was taking a great deal for granted. Example: Having the privilege to enjoy food as not only a means of survival, but in taste, presentation, available in a variety of cuisine, and one can have what you want at any given time if you’d really like it. I feel that many people here eat and eat and eat, but don’t really care about variety in taste or quality of the food.

I ate dinner at Saskia’s house, another volunteer, the other evening. We spent the afternoon preparing whole wheat pita bread, babaganoush, hummus, tabouli, and the star of the show! Falafal. Both of us were filled with so much happiness looking at our full plates, that all we could do was smile and giggle like two kids who just met Mickey Mouse. Saskia was so excited that in her haste she broke her fork in half, but never mind because the fork is an unnecessary middleman anyway and I’m not completely sure why we bothered with them in the first place. Seriously, when was the last time you had tears in your eyes because you were so happy with the food you were eating and the pride you felt that you made it happen.

It’s not only hard to go through the process of making specialty dishes here, considering the lack of resources, but when you do go through the trouble to make a great dinner happen you want to share it with other people who will appreciate it in the same way that you do. There are few things worse to me than spending a great deal of time, money, and energy into making a dish I’ve been homesick for and not having someone to share it with, or even worse sharing it with a Tongan neighbor who turns their nose up at the lack of pig fat and root crop…lame.

The next few weeks I’m sure will be full of reminiscent thoughts and lists of “will and will not miss.” I could tell you about how I’ll miss the simplicity of life here, with the lack of street lights and traffic jams, but I won’t bore you with the obvious. And of course we all know that whenever something ends there is a beginning, then another end, and so on, so I don’t need to advise you on what it means to me to end the Peace Corps experience and move on to life post Tonga. What I write isn’t meant to enlighten you on what you may already know; I just want to tell you about the destruction of irrelevant eating utensils and how awesome my dog is.

Peace Out

People leave this place. Volunteers leave before the end of their service, I’ve seen it happen more than what I was really expecting. It can be a touchy subject; everyone has different reasons, some that you can relate to and some that you can’t. I’ve heard some pretty critical things said about those that do leave before, but deciding to end your Peace Corps service early isn’t like desertion in the military and honestly anyone should be free to quite if they are truly unhappy doing anything. There’s a lot of emphasis on not ‘being a quitter’ from some people and how it shows character if you don’t quit. True, but seriously, what does it really mean if you quit or not? Afterwards, when it is all said and done, then nothing…it’s not going to matter to anyone else, just you.

A couple of months ago I was in Tongatapu and I was talking to our Medical Officer; she’s a wonderful lady with a sweet and kind disposition and I enjoy any chance to see her. We were chatting about how my group’s service is almost over and how many have left out of 33 people. It was then that she said she was so proud of me for making it this far, and she knows that I’m not going to quit now. But during our pre-service training almost 2 years ago she and many others apparently, had picked me to be one of the ones to leave early. “I was sure you would leave within 6 months of getting to your site” she said, and it still sounds sweet coming from her, as she has that ability. She’s happy she was wrong of course.

I’m not really offended, they’ve been doing this for a long time, and they’ve met hundreds of volunteers, and seen plenty of them leave. Of course they’re going to start picking up on who they think is going to go and who’ll stay, naturally. I guess I didn’t realize I put off those quitter vibes though…not that I didn’t think about it. But I didn’t not quit because I don’t want people to think I’m a quitter…who cares. You shouldn’t not quit for the sake of not quitting, you have to find some sliver of happiness in what you’re doing, otherwise you’re not doing anyone else a favor by ‘sticking it out.’ Because if you’re miserable and act as such, then you’re not known as the quitter, but known as the miserable asshole who everyone wishes would quit. Besides, the worst that can happen as a result of deciding to quit or not quit is that you are wrong…and there’s no harm in being wrong you know, in fact, to me its common ground (that’s from a song, and a good one at that).

No, personally I stayed because looking back on the past two years I realize that I’ve had a relationship with Tonga, one of those rollercoaster ones too, not one of those cute couples that make goo goo eyes at each other and give Eskimo kisses in public. We’re not like that, mine and Tonga’s relationship has been intense, emotional, and extreme.

There were times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it and I’ve said, you know what Tonga…that’s it, we’re done. But it’s hard to stay mad at Tonga. Despite any flaws, Tonga makes me laugh, makes me dance, and even after a tough week Tonga remembers that I love sunny days, crystal waters, pineapples that taste like candy, and juicy mangos that taste like happiness…and Tonga unconditionally provides it all for me, and that’s what love is about.

But even though I’ve grown to appreciate and respect Tonga, it’s almost time to move on. November is just around the corner, and on the 12th day I will fly to New Zealand, then move on to Australia, and on and on. It’s not a vacation I won’t be returning to my faithful island this time.

Tonga, I realize now that I love you, but I’m not in-love with you…it’s not you, it’s me…I’m just not ready to settle down…here. Breaking up is hard sometimes but needed, there comes a time when you just need to see other countries, you understand don’t you Tonga? Who knows, maybe we’ll reunite one day. Maybe I’ll have my love affairs with other places and realize what I’m missing and come back…

And I know Tonga will take me back because that’s just what Tonga does.

How the Grinch Stole Church

Read by Boris Karloff

It was five o’clock, in the land without time, the cat in the hat was killing a rat,
And it was too early for the sun to shine.

It is now the time that the bells start ringing, drums start beating,
And people will inevitably start their singing.

In a small house, in a small room, and in a small bed,
The Grinch heard all the noise interrupting the dreams inside her head.

Oh, her hair turned green and her eyes turned red, “Not again,” she grumbled, mumbled, and said.

The Grinch kicked, jumped, and stomped from her bed, turned on the light and listened…

She listened to the Wesleyan church bells ringing, the Church of Tonga drums beating, and the people singing, singing, SINGING.

The clatters were clatting, the mothers were chatting. The bugles were bugling, and bangers were banging…the bumpers were bumping, and bangles were bangling!

“Oh how I hate this noise, noise, noise,” The Grinch would seethe as she plugged her ears and grinded her teeth. “If there was only some way to stop all this NOISE, NOISE, NOISE!”

And then the Grinch had a thought…a terrible, wonderfully dreadful thought. “I could make the noise stop,” she said…

And a horrible grin came over her face as she looked down at her loyal dog,
Who always kept a happy smile in the same place.

“I could hide their ringers and dingers…throw away their clangers and bangers…break their thumpers and bumpers…” she said in delight, with a happy thought of sleeping through the night.

But what happened in the midst of all her ponder? Why didn’t she act on her idea you wonder?

Well the Grinch wasn’t always this harsh and filled with exasperation,
Perhaps it just came with sleep deprivation…

As the Grinch stood there thinking…a small light started rising outside her small house
she peeked at the small light outside her small door…a small light rising up and not sinking to the floor.

It became bigger and larger, and as the sun grew…the noise lowered and the Grinch new
that being bitter, sour, and plain nasty all around, would be much worse than any loud noise or sound.

Right then her green hair faded and her eyes were less red,
And she no longer wanted to pilfer holy noise makers, but decided to make breakfast instead.

All's Fair in Love and Brownies

I’ve mentioned before that when it comes to romance, dating, or simply meeting people of the opposite sex—it’s certainly different here. I have shared the humorous, along with the horrendous stories with you in the past, and have kept some to myself, and today I will share more stories and thoughts…just for shits and giggles. I also think it’s relative to the whole matter of committing to live under these circumstances.

For a few months out of the year here in Vava’u, the days get a little shorter, cooler, and more populated with tourists and non-Tongans, otherwise known as Palangi’s. Whether by cruise ships, planes, or other boats, they make it here to our quiet home and for the most part we volunteers are waiting with open arms and excitement for new faces. We don’t even know how excited we are until we walk into our usual weekend destinations and…BEHOLD! What the sea hast brought to thee!

They have come from all over! They’ve appeared from Australia, moseyed from New Zealand, Guten tag Germany! Hola, Spain! And it wouldn’t be a party without our North American brethren Canada, or as my friend Tom would say, “America’s hat.” Anyway…the point is that this year has proven to be more enjoyable than last season that brought in such memorable characters as Captain Rufi (refer back to ‘Seasoned Single’ if need be) sigh...I still giggle a little out loud at the thought that he could actually be successful with the bedding of someone.

The tide has brought in a great crowd indeed; my senses have been overloaded at times, men from all over the world surround us with their sun weathered, physically fit bodies, and adventurous attitudes that I absolutely love to see. Oh, and I’m not saying I spend my time ogling, chasing, or pursuing any them. When? How? And where could I do that? I can go out on a Friday night and pretend I won’t hear about it later, but it’s difficult. Sometimes I won’t see the random person from my village watching me walking down the street scandalously talking to a…wait for it…a guy…because 26 year old women have no business talking to someone without an escort.

Nope, for the most part, I and the other volunteer ladies behave as if we’re being watched. Ever get that feeling? That you’re being watched? Here, it is absolutely a valid feeling to have; you are getting that feeling because you are, in most cases, absolutely being watched. But I want to stay on a positive path here, let us move away from the bummer factors, and keep going.

Friday nights are exciting, we don’t have school, church, or anything to worry about the next day. It’s our time, it’s our moment, and it’s what anyone might look forward to after a long week. I and a couple of other ladies take this opportunity to de-Tonganize, bring out the clean clothes mo’oni (true), and put on some eye-liner. I’m aware that there’s probably a hole in my dress, maybe a stain of sorts from the previous owner, who also apparently had cantaloupes to my apples considering how loose the dress is top-side. My “town shoes” are the cherry atop this fashion sundae: hot pink slippers with the Japanese version of ‘Bratz’ on the soles. Nevertheless, I’m clean and feel pretty anyway.

Even when we see all the well groomed, new fashion clad women who also came in with the tide to remind us that we might be behind the times, we still rock it. You know why, would you like to know why, why it doesn’t matter that we don’t have the shiny new clothes, and the sleek maintained hair of these other ladies…I’ll tell you…we just don’t care. We’re too tired to care. We’re too excited to care. We’ve spent months and years living here, we don’t have running water, or maybe lack electricity, or may have to crap outside on a daily bases…yes we are awesome, bad-asses, and god bless it…we look great despite it. Let’s hear you say that Prim n’ Proper Polly.

So back to what I was saying, yes you meet great characters here, plus the not so great, but that’s everywhere. New Zealand sends us some really cool people, very warm and fun-loving, and they like to dance…guys, if you dance it’s a plus and you don’t have to be good, it’s fun for everyone whether it’s pretty or not. There was a guy from Spain, named GAS-PAR (I’m not responsible for any misspellings of names), and maybe it’s because I don’t encounter this often, but every now and then, some guys have what I call the putty effect, where you have actually been turned into putty in his hands, and sometimes you don’t even see it coming…okay well let me tell you the story:

So there I was…mindin’ my own…just chatting it up with my new found friends and future crew to Fiji, and here was this moderately handsome Spaniard, small build, doesn’t particularly stand out amongst others…until. As we’re all talking late into the night, he looks over to the only female sitting at this round table of testosterone (yours truly) and says in his heavy accent, “Ah, why are we talking, ah when we could be dancing” and gets up, takes my hand, and we’re dancing, just like that. Well, he was dancing and probably very well, I’m sure I looked unsightly in comparison, but I’d had enough wine to make a solid effort. And there you have it…putty effect…damn you GASPARRRRR…no really it was fun.

And that’s the great thing about being here, you can just have fun, no worries, be happy. I like keeping that tone. But then you come across people who try to throw a wrench in the works. They come in and use this opportunity of being ‘away from it all’ to not only escape the world they left, but actually embellish, or change facts about themselves…I guess the better term would be “lying.” This is crazy to me, why lie? Why come to this island and instead of taking this perfect opportunity to be EXACTLY who you are, you choose to do the opposite. That’s silly. Do I have an example in mind? I always do, don’t I? So there I was…

I meet a guy in a bar, looks normal enough, so I say hi. We get to chatting, seems like we have a few things in common, he’s nice, blah blah blah…we all know how these things go. Fast forward through the rest of the very innocent evening and I am walked back safely to where I sleep when I stay in town. Okay, good-night’s are given, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to see this guy again, who knows when he’s leaving. Next morning I wake up, my lady friends wake up too, and while I bake our traditional Saturday morning muffins we chat about the evening before. Turns out he may have a fiancé…what the f…why do people do this? I know it’s not really my business, but I’m single, I can do what I want, if you’re not single, don’t act single…it’s offensive. So later on when I’m on my way out of town, I actually run into said guy, on his way to see me he says…Go on. He had a good time, blah blah blah. I’m not one to bring up gossip, soooo. He says, “Let’s get lunch next time you come into town.” I think why not, maybe there was a misunderstanding; I’ll get the truth I’m sure. Fast forward…

Lunch, good lunch…fish curry. We chat, for like 2 or 3 hours, and here it comes…wait for it… “Yeah, I have a friend coming in a couple of weeks and she’s flying in from the states” And ladies and gentlemen, there it is. I get you man, this where you say “Yes, indeed I have a girlfriend, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da, it was really nice to meet you.” But when I say, “Sounds like more than a friendship if she’s coming all the way out here to see you.” See, I gave him an out, a chance at redemption…and he didn’t take it. “No, we’re just friends.” Alright, I’m not particularly stupid, there’s something off here. So, I’ll cut to the chase…after one or two more encounters of relentless efforts at hitting on me, but being forced to get to know me and my loathing of dishonesty, he comes clean, professing his undying love even, for this girl who is coming to see him. I let him know that he’s very lucky to have someone willing to be with him, let alone come all the way out here to see a man who’s trying get into the pants of the locals.

Want to know something even better? This makes a jerk, a really special kind of jerk. The next several times we meet, he’s very hurt and perturbed because I apparently have been giving off vibes that I don’t want to be his friend, despite the fact that I do still talk to him and treat him like a person, more than what should be expected of me. I mainly do this because somehow he manages to keep pretty good company despite himself, and I still like those guys. Listen people, and this is directed to guys and ladies alike because both can be equally shitty in this matter, if you want to be cheaters, liars, etc…that of course is your business, but do not expect people to think you’re cool, don’t expect them to still want to be your friend, be prepared to accept that, and move on. One of my biggest irritations in this life has been those people who not only treat people like shit, but then try to turn it around to somehow make it seem as if it’s that other person’s fault or inadequacy. Everybody does stupid things sometimes, but this was premeditated stupidity, and when we do stupid things in life we learn from it, and sometimes the lesson is that people won’t like you or want to be your friend. Sunrise, sunset.

Like I said, this is a happy life here, it’s all about peace, love, and brownies as far as I’m concerned…hang-ups and bull-shit are not welcome.

I’m not going to end on that sour note either, because there are those people who are actually loving life as is, not acting any different than what they are. Those are the people you wish you could get to know better, had a little more time with rather than just a month or so out of a season. They’ll leave this paradise that we call home and go back to their realty. You might even ask, or maybe just quietly ponder the possibility or likelihood of seeing each other again. Most people , regardless of how optimistic they may be, concede to ‘no.’ The romantic in me never wants to say no, I like to say…you never know; ‘improbable’- yes, ‘unlikely’- sure, but ‘impossible’- I don’t think a lot of things are impossible. Yet many people blindly accept that awful word ‘impossible’ as fact, what a silly thing. And what do you do? You put on Lynard Skynard – ‘Free Bird’ or Tom Petty’s- ‘Free Fallin’ to make it seem all better.

Life's Menu

My friends with often comment on my tendency to take a little more time and consideration when ordering food at a restaurant. Sometimes I like to make a change here and there…ask if I can get a salad in place of fries or something. If you talk to Steve, he’ll often come up with elaborate and exaggerated stories of my indecisiveness, so will Abi, Tom, Janis, you know what…it’s best just to not ask.

Anyway, yes, sometimes I’m known to fluster a little with too many choices on my plate…ha, ‘plate’ get it? With the end of my service around the corner, we have our Close of Service conference next week, and it seems that the possibilities are endless post Peace Corps. Choices are great, awesome even, you always want them, but when they keep piling up…ugh everything looks good…


Life’s Menu


Main Courses Price

Graduate School DEBT
Served with a Masters in Writing and accomplishment

* Peace Corps Response $0
Live in another country and a short term commitment

Modern Day Nomad Market Price
Served with a Caesar Salad

Write a Memoir Wut ya got?
Comes with a side of pretentiousness

**Muffin Van Who knows?
Move to New Zealand, buy a cheap van, install an oven, and
hit the road with mobile baked goods

Peace Corps in America live in U.S.
Get a job you hippie

* may cause indigestion, upset stomach, or malaria hysteria
** spicy

(Please note that all prices and menu items are subject to change. A 15% gratuity charge is added for government and plus 5% for God)


So I’m sitting there looking at the menu, I’m getting anxious because I forgot to look up the menu online before going to the restaurant. All of my friends have ordered already after skipping me…twice. I’ve asked if I can substitute this for that, and have asked everyone else what they’re getting. I finally look at the waitress with my decision, when she casually mentions the Specials Board that I didn’t see on the way in. Everyone looks at me with a “Please don’t, don’t you do it…” plea on their faces. I sigh…and get up from the table.