I spent a lot of alone time today. Don't get me wrong, I love alone time. There's nothing I loved more in my previous life than popping in a campy romcom, settling in on the couch with big, fluffy pillows and finishing off a pint of AmeriCone flavored Ben & Jerry's. I'm one of the few women I know to like being alone in a silent house. It's weird or whatever, but I don't care. Alone time is necessary for me to decompress.
Alone time in El Salvador is different. There is no ice cream, my pillow is stiff as bricks, and cheesy entertainment is hard to come by. Even if you close your door there's always a kid screaming or bass speakers thudthudthuding next door as a reminder that other people are being social so why aren't you? You can't relax, all your nerves stay bundled in a knot. It sucks. It's the kind of alone time that makes you feel lonely. And feeling lonely in the Peace Corps is bad news.
I was feeling lonely when I tried writing in my blog/journal. I guess I've been overwhelmed by the responsibility of keeping it updated. I get cranky if I haven't written for a while, but I'm cranky because I feel guilty for neglecting my lifeline to my friends and family.
And what a lifeline it is. I called my girlfriends last night. They were together sharing stories and gossip and most likely a glass of wine. I wanted to be there and not sitting in the street craning my neck to catch the cellphone signal. What's going on with me? Oh, you mean besides what's on my blog?
Nothing and everything. I can't fit every moment on here like how the puppy followed me into the latrine or it took me 11 hours to get to the gyno and back. But I do cover the important stuff, and that makes catching up go faster.
(Yeah guys, I'm aware I still talked the whole time. Boo!)
Tonight I called my parents because it had been a while. I gave them some updates, talked about what I ate for dinner and how I'm going to set up a PO box in my new town. Ya know, the normal stuff you talk about with your parents when you live in another country.
I know my dad shares the more appropriate stories and pictures with his students back home. If they want to get on his good side they have to ask him how I'm doing. I think it's great, and I hear the kids get a kick out of my malteada video.
The other day my dad visited my fourth grade teacher's classroom to give a talk about acceptance and shared some of my blog photos as examples of accepting other cultures. I doubt Miss Sipolt (who has since married but I'll always remember her as she was in 2000) ever thought that little Alex with her page boy haircut and choker necklaces would grow up to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It was a nice experience for the kids because 13 years ago I was in Miss Sipolt's fourth grade class just like them and now here I am saving the world! I mean, working to improve small business management practices.
This was just the kind of story I needed to hear to get out of the alone time slump. I'm glad I can use this blog as a tool to reconnect with Miss Sipolt, and my friends, and my grandma who checks everyday because I made it her only bookmark. My mom made me promise again to keep writing, even if I have to travel to get Internet.
Alright mom, you win. Where there's Internet, there will be blog posts.
