Goodbye, El Salvador

I left El Salvador.

I spent the past 30 minutes deciding how I should write that out, but now is not the time to be crafty or funny. I think simply is the best way to tell the world that my experience is over, done, terminated. 

It might come as a bit of a shock for my blog followers. Sorry. I've really been avoiding this. My blog has been with me from the start and ending it feels like the final nail in the coffin. I hate that I'm writing this even now, but I want to tell you all what happened and why I decided to leave. 

The month of March was particularly brutal in El Salvador. It was also a devastating month for my community. While we are no strangers to violence, the events of March proved to be different. There was a definite change in how the community saw itself and how we interacted. As if the people of my community haven't suffered enough from the lifelong effects of the internal war, now they're caught up in the "modern" gang wars. 

Simply put, in March there was another security incident that was closer to home (literally, down the street from my house) and more devastating to the community. I use the word devastating again because that's truly what it was. We slid on the scale from "We have occasional incidents" to "Don't leave your house." 

The chambre was outrageous as to why it happened or how it happened, but everyone could agree on one thing: the community just isn't what it used to be. People feel helpless. Really though, once the gangs move in to a community there isn't much you can do, except keep your kids in the house and pay up if you're asked to. 

It's fairly easy to identify gang violence: Was it a brutal murder? Yes. Was the victim innocent? Yes. Did the events of the murder manipulate or intimidate regular community members? Yes. Did it happen in broad daylight? Yes. Will the police help or give you information? No. 

I brushed on the incident in a blog post, believe it or not. That parade was so poignant. It'll stay in my memory for a long time. But the truth is, I didn't understand how the incident was affecting me until a few weeks after. I went through a lot of feelings, and multiple times throughout the day I would flip on how I dealt with the new reality of my situation. I knew the gangs would most likely not target me, because the gangs in El Salvador don't target random people. Their victims are usually family members of rival gangs, businesses that don't pay la renta, or people who stand up to them. I would know I was on their radar if they asked to do something or pay, and no one ever did so I'd feel fine for a while. But then I couldn't be certain that I wouldn't see one of my students' bodies on the side of the road walking home from the cancha, and I'd feel anxious and scared. I didn't realize it at the time, but I spent five straight days in my home after the incident. I knew that home was safe, and if I just stayed at home I would be fine. I planned my financial education and English classes for the last five months of my service at the school so that I would potentially only leave the house on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The school is across the street from my house. 

I had a bit of a breakdown in the following weeks. My fellow PCVs, who were concerned albeit annoying, kept asking me questions like if I felt safe in my community or what our safety and security officer was doing for me. I didn't have answers for them and that made me even more frustrated with the situation. I'M the one who has to deal with this, so why don't I have any answers!? It all kept coming back to the line, what is the line? When will Peace Corps tell me that the violence in my community has crossed the line? 

I found out the hard way that there is no line. Every PCV has their own line, and we crossed my line in March. I was going crazy. My subconscious was talking to me, but I didn't want to listen. I'd hear a mango fall in the middle of the night and my mind instantly would go to "Were those footsteps? Who is it? Why is there someone outside my window?" But it was just an overripe mango. 

I talked it over with my Project Manager (actually, I sobbed while she talked) and I came to the conclusion that it was my time to go. I really, REALLY did not want to be the one to make that decision, but ultimately I did. I didn't want to leave, clearly the past 22 months proved that I could integrate and live in El Salvador, but I also couldn't stay in my community. Sure I could have lived as a hermit for the next five months, but who knows what would be left of me when it came time to COS in October? Because there was so few months left in my service I wasn't offered a site change, but I was too many months out to Early COS. I was left with the dreaded early termination exit. Yeah, I was a little peeved how that went down. I didn't want to leave, but I also couldn't go on living in my site and keep my wits about me. I took the best option available to me, and that happened to be ET. Now that I've had some time to reflect, I know that the ET distinction won't mean jack squat in one year, 5 years, 10 years time and I ultimately made the right decision for me. 

I originally asked for 2 weeks to say my goodbyes, because I always feared there being an incident that would pull me out quickly. We settled on one week, but I realized that even a week was too much time. My first night back in site after meeting with my PM I heard noises outside my window and my subconscious immediately triggered bad things. I spent a solid 45 minutes straining my ears to figure out why there was a person outside my window at 2:00 am. In the morning I found it it wasn't a person at all. The horse got loose and was eating the mangoes. It's embarrassing, but kind of shows you where my mind was at. Those damn mangoes... 

And what's worse is that I wasn't alone. My host family and people all around me were scared, too. The difference between me and the next guy is that he is surrounded by all his family and friends. Even though I love my host family, I was ultimately alone. On my last night in site my host family and I were watching a movie when we heard three loud blasts. All it took was one look between my eldest host cousin and her uncle, and she got her brothers and sisters up and left the house. We don't know what those blasts are, but we don't want to find out either, so the best thing to do is lock yourself in your house. I knew in that moment that I was doing the right thing for me. 

I'm grateful I had the privilege to leave that situation. 

I spent a week in San Sal filling out paperwork and doing final medical appointments. On my last day  of service, April 23, 2015, I rang the "Close of Service" bell. I had hoped I'd ring it with my COED13s after the full 27 months, but you know, my service didn't go as planned. Come to think of it nothing really happened like I thought it would, but I don't regret a thing. I wouldn't change a single moment of my PC service because then it wouldn't be my service. I can't imagine PC without strict security rules, or my ridiculous ADESCO, or even amoebas. I didn't pick El Salvador, but I'm glad I ended up there. I can honestly say I integrated into Salvadoran culture, maybe even more so than if everything was smooth and secure. I can hear the crotchety placement officers of Peace Corps past ringing in my ears, "If you aren't flexible then you won't make a good Peace Corps Volunteer." 

Well, I think I was a good PCV. And now my service is over.

Peace Corps is not for hippies

I used to get really annoyed when people called me a hippie for wanting to join the Peace Corps. Yeah right. Like a real hippie could stay in one place for two full years and complete monitoring and evaluation reports. It just goes to show how little people actually know about the Peace Corps.

I now live with more rules, regulations, policies, and expectations than ever before. 

The tail end of February wasn't the best. I slid into a slump in the post-fair emptiness that was my schedule. I spared you all the sad blog posts, because I've written sad blog posts before and people don't really get it. It's hard to make sense of crushing loneliness in so many words, and make it entertaining to boot.

Valentine's Day, a day I don't normally care for in the US, just seemed to amplify my loneliness. Buying tons of internet saldo didn't help the situation either as everyone was too busy with their loved ones to Skype.

Then I found out that the mayor running for reelection in my pueblo used a photo of me and two other PCVs in his campaign propaganda without my permission.  I have no idea how he got the photo, but I was pretty damn pissed off. Obviously, it's a big fat NO for a volunteer to support a political party. It diminishes my credibility and violates the relationship with Peace Corps. And to add insult to injury he calls us "tourists."

So many things wrong with this.

I know this particular man isn't above staging photo ops, but I felt like this warranted some kind of retribution. I wish my supervisors could have called him to explain that this isn't ok. Send an email? A text? Common! Nothing ended up happening and I'm left denying rumors that I voted for the mayor (or that I'm swaying the vote somehow). Fortunately all that died down when he didn't win. Guess the gringos didn't do you any favors, bub.

Adding to the general crappiness of the month, my host mom's mom is sick. I really like this lady and I feel terrible that she's in pain. I went to visit her with my host mom who, despite having nine other brothers and sisters, is the only one to care for her. I figured it'd be nice to brighten her day, but I couldn't do anything to make her feel better and her groans of pain were almost too much to bare. It felt eerily familiar to watch a daughter care for her sick parent, and I had to get out of there. I stayed the appropriate three hours then caught the first bus heading back to site.

Throughout this slump I had something I was looking forward to, keeping me going during the "total lack of control" days. Kai, my trainee friend from San Antonio, was making it back to El Salvador! It was just me, Maria and Kai back when we first got here and we quickly came to rely on each other. I was so excited to see him in person because social media and Skype could never capture his personality. A bunch of us made plans to avoid the elections (which I was especially trying to do since my house served as headquarters for the local FLMN chapter and, well, Touristgate...) and spend standfast weekend at the beach with our friend Kai.

Standfast, like I explained last year, basically means you can't travel or leave where you're at typically due to elections or earthquakes. So that could mean 3 days in site or... 3 days at the beach? They've been drilling it into our heads for the better part of a year that it's better to text Whereabouts whenever you're out of site than to be scared about taking too many nights out of site (we get 3 nights off a month). I think it makes sense. Better safe than screwed. I and the other PCVs took this "text whereabouts" campaign verbatim and planned to bunker down at the beach, follow the transportation policy by taking the PC micro, and allow one more night at the beach to avoid travel over the standfast.

Then all hell broke loose and we were politely informed by senior staff that if we were to carry out this trip we would be administratively separated. Read: kicked out. Over one more night at the beach.

Now I should probably get this out there to avoid confusion: I understand why we have safety and security policies, I abide by them, and I generally approve of their existence. I don't feel angry with PCES staff (anymore) and I can see why they felt the need to come down hard on this policy. (In fact, this post describes how much I like staff members and our 3 night policy. This is my attempt at being neutral on this.)

But why was the policy enforced this time? I thought our texts to Whereabouts were more or less private? Why did senior staff have to vote whether or not to even enforce this policy? Why aren't our policies uniformly enforced?! Is it really a policy to administratively separate a PCV who spends one more night out of site a month? What happened to all that bonding that took place at the Staff/PCV retreat? Aren't these kinds of oversights and mixed messages the reason we needed a retreat to begin with?!

As you can see, I have a lot of questions and I don't think they'll be answered. This bothers me. Even though the average blog reader might not care about policy distinction, it feels very important to me. I've been in El Salvador for 586 days and I've followed the rules and tried my damnedest to live up to the core expectations. It's a shame that this weekend, which I so sorely needed, was taken from me last minute. It's a bigger shame that I don't feel like I can trust staff.

So with all my newfound alone time I wrote this blog post. Why, though? The fight was beaten out of me, literally, years ago. I know PC is a huge government agency just like any other, and like any other they're bogged down by policies and regulations which sometimes are executed and sometimes lost in translation. Being a PCV puts you at the bottom of the agency totem pole, and you just gotta deal with it. There's no point in fighting. You're not going to "win."

Remember when I told you to take the application power into your hands and ask about the prospective PC country's safety and security policies, program indicators, transportation policy, etc? It's because these things will heavily influence your life for two years. Like... when you want to see your friend at the beach but you can't. If you value independence, do you think you could live with the housing policy or implement the program goals? Do you? DO YOU!?

I guess I just want to tell my story. I want to cite true examples from my PC experience and share them with the world. In my way, I'm trying to correct the ridiculous notion that Peace Corps is for hippies.

Because what hippie would really put up with all of this?

"Part of my debt repaid"

I want to give a shout out to my PCV friend Rachel who recently published a wonderful blog post. Rachel just participated in the GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp that I'm supremely jealous of. As PCVs do, Rachel had some post-camp reflections about the state of El Salvador, women, and the purpose of Peace Corps.

There's a part in Rachel's post where she talks about why she chose to serve in the Peace Corps. She mentions her childhood and the boundless activities, sports, and educational opportunities she had. Our childhoods are remarkably similar, even down to the saxophone lessons and swim practice. (Though, I must admit, Rachel is much smarter and challenged herself academically way more!)

Rachel captures a true and beautiful reason for coming to a country like El Salvador where these opportunities for children are virtually nonexistent:

Peace Corps is, in some small way, part of my debt repaid. I want to be that camp counselor, that sports coach, that arts and crafts guru, and that teacher for the kids in my community that opened my mind, taught me about myself and about the world, and motivated me to make something of myself when I was a kid.

This message resonates so greatly with me. Throughout my service I've been trying to explain exactly why it was that I wanted to do this. I've given pathetically vague answers like, "I just wanted to have the experience" or "I wanted to give back." But now that I've been in it for what feels like a very long time, I'm starting to realize that what I thought of PC before applying and what I think now are completely different. I can't even recognize the person who wrote my letter of intent to serve. She seems so wildly hopeful to the point of being downright naive. She sounds impractical, a little calculated, and self-serving in such a condescending way. And yes, we're talking about someone who wants to serve in the Peace Corps.

I realize now that the indicators and objectives just aren't my thing. Especially not in a place that needs hope more than anything else. That's where I believe our place is as Peace Corps Volunteers- sharing joy and spreading some hope. I never thought I would be teaching an art class before I came to ES, but it's turned out to be the best part of my service. I'm so proud and genuinely impressed by my kids, and Leo has become a great working partner.

It's not what I expected when I applied 3 years ago, but deep down it's what I wanted to do. Like Rachel, I feel like in some small way I'm paying back, or dare I say, paying forward the love and generosity I was given as a child.

So thanks everyone. You've done more good than you'll ever know.

Please read Rachel's amazing blog post here.

10,000 views!

My Hard Corps Life just passed 10,000 page views!

Thank you so much to my friends and family who are interested in what I'm doing over here in El Salvador. I truly love this experience- the good days and even the lonely nights. I'm learning so much more than I ever thought I would. I'm going to come back to the USA feeling like a rock star!

Annnnd thank you to all the perspective PCVs who are finding my blog in their Google searches and keep coming back! You guys are ahead of the curve by finding real life experiences from PCVs in the campo. Thanks for reading!

Girls just want to have fun

It's been a whirlwind kind of week. First I throw myself a grand birthday party, which was fun and all, but ate a significant portion of my living allowance. I also did an interview with NPR about how I'm a huge nerd and I spend my downtime swinging in a hammock eating mangos and listening to podcasts. Then I FINALLY got approved to start my capstone research i.e. I got the kick in the butt I needed to hunker down and get this master's degree in the bag. I took it upon myself to start a housing project, because let's face it, I just want to build Otinia a new house. And to top it all off I got my $2,354 grant approved to buy art supplies and teach gender equality workshops. I'm so happy we get to expand the class but I'm also freaking out over how exactly to present the issue of sexism to a room of children.

It's all so very Peace Corps that you spend months on end just mulling about your room then BAM! Here's a million projects and a big important deadline. Just like that!

I had a little interruption when Clemencia sneak attack recruited me to invite women to yet another taller. Now, I've already walked the entire community, solita, inviting women to a sewing taller that never happened. I did not want to do that again, especially with all the new projects on my plate. But things turned desperate when she told me that they've actually already been approved to host the taller and that it starts in, oh, 3 days. She just needed women to commit to the 6 hours/day, 5 days/week program, and she thought I would be just the person to do it with her.

And so I went. I think the fact that we already had 21 sewing machines coming made it easier for me to sell to the women on the long workday away from the home.

Something interesting happened on the first day of the taller last Wednesday. I was impressed that the majority of the women kept their word and showed up to the taller. The instructor is a sweet older woman named Conchi, and I decided immediately that I liked her tough love approach to the time commitment. I was really caught off guard, however, when a woman was barred from participating in the sewing class. Why? Because she'd learned too much already.

INSAFORP, the NGO that gives the taller, has a rule that you can't participate in the same taller twice and you can't go to more than 2 or 3 overall. The idea being that these talleres are designed to provide specialized training to women, thus creating incoming generating activities in the community. If you don't start a business after the taller, you must be lazy or not willing to commit. Therefore, stop draining our resources and be gone!

But who, WHO I ask you, teaches the women how to start a business? How to keep track of costs and gains? Who teaches them about marketing or customer service? Whooooo?!

Not to mention that in order to learn something new, like sewing or cosmetology, you have to organize at least 20 women to make it worthwhile for an NGO to teach you. And so what they're suggesting is to flood the market with 20 women who can sew clothes or 20 women who can paint nails. Even if a woman does beat the odds and starts a business, she's got 19 other competitors living right next door!

So who then is supposed to be teaching business development in rural El Salvador? Answer: Peace Corps Volunteers. More specifically, COED Volunteers. But obviously we do not number great enough to reach every woman who has ever participated in a taller ever. (Fact check: there are 14 COED PCVs currently serving in El Salvador, but ~14 more will swear-in at the end of the month.) That's just foolish.

I do get frustrated as a PCV when I find out that there has already been sewing, cooking, bread making, cosmetology and school uniform making workshops that have cycled through my community, sometimes more than twice. Everything has been done! But there are no women who continued with what they learned to start a business. I have an opportunity here to teach entrepreneurship, but something else crops up in the back of my mind.

We don't have community colleges, summer camps, park districts or senior centers here in El Salvador. If you want to learn something you have to organize those 20 women and beg an NGO to come to you. And since many women stop going to school around the 7th grade, these workshops might be the only chance they get to try something new. In the US, it's so easy to sign up for a class. My grandma does Tai-Chi and chair yoga, and I think it's wonderful! It's the land of opportunity!

What's so wrong with wanting to learn something? Shouldn't we encourage these women to open their minds and challenge themselves? How dare you say this woman has "learned too much?" Has it literally become a bad thing to participate too much? I see both sides of the story, but sheesh. Even in the campo girls just want to have fun.

First day! Glad they showed up!

The sewing machines all ready to go. 

My eldest host sister, Mina. I filled out her application because she cannot read or write. They needed to put all their identifying info on the app. Mina thinks I'm camera happy. 

The Stigma

June is the never ending month. I'm ready to get June 2014 done and over with because it's been the hardest time of my service. At the 11 month mark, I've had a lot of "Do I really want to do this for another 16 months" thoughts running through my head. Everything hit me hard and suddenly. Host family troubles, work troubles, trouble all around the country, and an overwhelming dose of culturesickness. I've had mini-melt downs before, but this time was certainly more intense. It seemed to me that if I was going to ET, it'd be now. RIGHT now. The stars were aligned and I had some serious decisions to be making.

I spent a lot of time reading blog posts from PCVs who Early Terminated. Why did they do it? How far along did they make it? Did they make the right choice? How do you KNOW it's the right choice? They all seem like fairly well-adjusted and happy people. Would I be happy if I left El Salvador and my PC family behind?

I checked out the PC manual on Early Termination and I couldn't get over the wording:

"A resignation is a decision made by a V/T that he/she no longer wishes to continue in Peace Corps service." 

No longer wishes. It comes down to the whims of my wishes whether or not to continue with service? The thing is I wish for running water, but I don't always get it. I wish for community partners to collaborate with me, but most of the time that's a bad idea. And I wish that the gangs in El Salvador would stop killing people, but that one isn't being granted either.

Early Termination is what happens when you've used up all your wishes and still, nothing changes.

Given the year of wishes I've made, do I still wish to continue with Peace Corps service? Well, yeah. I do. It's been my goal to be an RPCV for a long time. I didn't take the decision to apply lightly. I had to defend myself to a lot of people, mostly family members, that this is a worthwhile experience and the Peace Corps is a positive force for good. I've even had to convince myself at times that the small relationships I'm making in El Salvador are powerful and inspiring. (For the record- they are.) I've put a lot of time and effort into getting myself here, I definitely don't wish to quit before my service is served.

The truth of the matter is that Early Terminating is stigmatized in the Peace Corps world. It's a quiet, underbelly kind of stigma that no one really talks about but everyone knows. Don't get me wrong- no one, especially not a fellow PCV, would criticize someone's decision to ET. Only you know what's best for you, stigma be damned.

But for obsessive achievaholics like myself, the shame of leaving early is always pulsing in the back of my mind. It takes up the majority of the right column in my ET pro/con list, often disguised in different forms. Disappointment that I couldn’t “make it" and Won’t feel like a real RPCV are just two examples.

If I really wanted to go home, I would've been on a plane within days. PC staff is ready with support and a plane ticket to any PCV who makes the call. No judgement, no last ditch efforts to get you to stay. Just a ticket home.

After multiple pro/con lists, long distance calls, and panic attacks, I made the decision to stay. I thought it was weird that out of all those blogs that showed up in the Google search "Peace Corps Volunteer Early Termination," not a single one was from a PCV who seriously considered Early Terminating but stayed. I want to add this post into the mix. Ask me in 16 months if I think I made the right choice.

Maybe we don't talk about it, the stigma of ETing, because after you decide to stay things get a lot better. I mean, common guys, we have a graph about this. They don't call it the "Mid-Service Crisis" for nothin'. I feel like that's a cop out, though. Not talking about ETing just contributes to the sense of "false advertising" that trails the Peace Corps.

The entire month of June sure felt like a crisis, but in 5, 10, 50 years when I look back on this time it won't be because of my total breakdown. Nah, that part sucked. Instead, I'll look back on the great turning point of my service.

My diary/work journal. I keep general notes on every day of my service. I looked back and loved this entry so much. It's totally cool to talk to your future/past self right? 

Back in Action!

When you're living and working in a developing nation, sometimes things work really well and other times they don't work at all. Ex: my internet modem. Luckily I just needed to take it in to the big city to get reset to factory settings, and now I'm back in blogy business! Good thing, too- I think my mother is going to have a conniption if I don't get some updates posted soon.

It's been a little over a month since I posted, and yes, a whole lot has happened. The most important thing that's happened is that I went home.

Let me rephrase that- I went HOME! My short visit to Texas was great, but it wasn't home. I was in the USA a grand total of 6 days, 2 days of traveling and 2 days back in BloNo to walk in my master's graduation. Me and my cousin Christi graduated together for undergrad at ISU, and it was too good an opportunity to celebrate again (even though I have a ways to go on the thesis part). So, thanks to my plane ticket patron, I headed home to experience all my favorite things and spend time with family and friends.

First meal back in the Houston airport. It's like I was transported back to my freshmen 15 days... 

How I know I'm home. 

Obviously, I need to get my Louie's breadsticks fix!

So goooood. 

We had a girls lunch with my cousin and grandma too. I loved it!

I talked to my sister's high school Spanish class about Salvadoran culture and learning Spanish via immersion. They were great and I had a lot of fun! Hey Mr. Corzo's class! 

Why are all my pictures of food? Portillo's hotdog because Chicago. 

My dad's pizza. I craved this all. the. time.

I got my mom a hammock from the hammock guy in my municipality. I think she likes it!

Pizza heaven. 

Me and my dad, the two mastas!

Miss you girls!

Graduation round 2!

My favorite pic of us. 

Our proudest accomplishment? Brewe-has. 

I tried to cram as much family time in as possible when I was home. I got to see my grandma every day to my delight. My goal was to not be too too busy and just enjoy being home. I think I accomplished that!

I also saw my sister play in two lacrosse games. She did great! The first one was on the way home from the airport and I nearly froze to death in 50 degrees. The second one was a balmy 80s. Chicago weather- some things never change! 

On that note, not a whole lot was different. I was really happy about that, too. One of my biggest fears about being in PC is that I'll come home and everyone I know will be different and I won't recognize anything. I feel better after being home, like my batteries are recharged. I'm nearing the 1-year in country mark and getting closer to being home permanently every day. 

An open letter to the new PCVs

A fundamental part of the Peace Corps experience is integrating into your host culture. Ya know, really get in there and talk, dress, eat, sleep, interact, and celebrate just like the people in your community. Integrating into la cultura Salvadoreña may require you to wear long pants in 100 degree weather, drink coffee and eat pan dulce because you were offered it, and wake up with your siblings at 5 a.m. because that's when the house is the loudest. Everyone has some growing pains in the beginning, but you learn how to adapt. Eventually you will refer to your site as "home" and drop the "host" when talking about your familia anfitriona.

The quest for total integration is never ending, but it's the little victories that make the journey worthwhile. Some might take a "trial and error" approach to integration while others fall back on monkey-see-monkey-do. Most of us end up doing both. It's how we learn to love atol chuco and to look every passing human in the eye and say "¡Salud, que le vaya bien!"

Total integration for a PCV is comparable to a practicing Buddhist reaching nirvana. Just look at this definition from the well-trusted academic source, Wikipedia:

Nirvana... refers to the event or process of the extinction of the fires of attachment (raga), aversion (dvesha) and ignorance (moha or avidya). In the Buddhist view, when these fires are extinguished, suffering (dukkha) comes to an end, and one is released from the cycle of rebirth (samsara). [Emphasis added.] 

If you want to integrate, you gotta put out the fires of your attachment to deep dish pizza, aversion or anger you feel when carefully planned meetings go awry, and ignorance you experience regarding culto or velas. Only then will you stop suffering from awkward sideways glances and the crushing sense of being completely alone. You'll be released from the cycle of integration and will simply be integrated. Om, nirvana!

Yeah... total integration sounds nice.

In the meantime, keep making mistakes. Try the enchiladas, go to a wedding. Pass the rainy season by drinking coffee with your neighbors and remember to keep an open mind. Call your fellow PCVs when you have a funny story or when you feel like crying. Help each other get through the first few months. They are the hardest and most rewarding of your service. When the going gets tough, sit yourself down and repeat this mantra, proven to help you reach total integration: "I got this. I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer. I can do anything."

Because you really, truly can.

Welcome to PCES!

Happy Peace Corps Day!

On this day 53 years ago John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps. All over the world and back home in the US, Peace Corps staff and Volunteers celebrate March 1st as Peace Corps Day. I've never worked for an organization that has it's own holiday. I think it's pretty cool. 

Today I'm starting my 6th month as a Peace Corps Volunteer. That makes 9 months in-country. I'm a little astonished at how quickly the time flew by. As much as I miss bacon and hot showers, I hope the time doesn't go by too fast. I love being a PCV and I don't want it to end. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I applied to Peace Corps because I wanted to be a PCV. If that seems simple, it's because it is. PCVs are a special breed of people. There is no other organization that does what we do and lives how we live. It's challenging, and it's awesome. I'm awesome. I'm a PCV. 

I'd be more modest, but it's Peace Corps Day and I'm a PCV. So let me reflect on how great it is to be a Volunteer. Little by little, I'm becoming fluent in another language. I'm bringing new projects into a rural community- projects that will better the lives of community members and open them up to more opportunities. I have so many amazing friends, both unique Peace Corps Volunteers and host country nationals. I'm learning to be more patient and to think critically when things don't go as planned (and things rarely go as planned). I'm integrating into a new culture, taking on new customs and eating food I never knew existed. I'm living a completely different life, and how many people can say they've done that? I'm a new person, really. I even changed my name to fit in. It was so damn hard in the beginning, but the Peace Corps wouldn't be the Peace Corps if it was comfortable or easy. 

Oh, and did I mention that I'll have a master's degree in a few months? An even smaller number of PCVs are Master's International students as well. It is not easy to write your thesis from under a mosquito net, combating the scorpions and mentally blocking out the screeching roosters. But it's doable. And I'm getting it done, one page at a time. 

To be honest, I haven't done much to celebrate today. I woke up, hand-washed my clothes, make some coffee, played hide-and-seek with the kids. I chatted with my host dad and then I swept the dirt from my room. It's hot today, about 100 degrees. I'm sitting here drenched in sweat, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm a PCV after all, and just being here is awesome. 

The Peace Corps Wormhole

At the risk of jumping the shark on my PC blog, here is what they don't tell you about Peace Corps. I'm gonna explain this the only way I know how- with scifi. 

Peace Corps service functions as a wormhole. Not to be confused with blackholes or buttholes, a wormhole is described by this nerdy website as

"a theoretical passage through space-time that could create shortcuts for long journeys across the universe. Wormholes are predicted by the theory of general relativity. But be wary: wormholes bring with them the dangers of sudden collapse, high radiation and dangerous contact with exotic matter."

It all starts like this- you're so proud to get your official PC invitation. Finally months if not years of applications and medical appointments pay off and you begin the intensely emotional process of detaching yourself from your current life. Everyone goes about this differently, but based on my unscientific case study of our COED 2013 group the future PCV's final months in America boil down to overindulgence in comfort food and stocking up on that special brand of soap you use. You say your goodbyes, whisper outlandish promises to your significant other, and pay your credit card bills. This is it, hunny. We're going in!

If this was a low-budget scifi film our spaceship would be slowly approaching a blueish swirly thing that looks kinda like this:

Oooooo, hyperspace.

We're sucked in to the wormhole, lured to the edge with promises of life-changing experiences and a great résumé builder. You get to Pre-Service Training and suddenly you lose all personal control over your life. You don't get to decide what you do during the day, what you eat for lunch, when you go to bed. You're at the mercy of the training manager and your new host family. And everything is different: the food, climate, language, customs, safety procedures. Bathing is even different. You struggle to communicate basic things like "Please, don't put that moldy bag in with my nice clothes!" You get diarrhea more than a couple times. You break down crying when you hear 'One More Night' by Phil Collins because your mom likes Phil Collins and the fact that no one here knows what he's even saying makes you feel lonely. You're so damn lonely.

You experience all these low times with equal parts happiness. It's exhausting to sob on the phone with your best friend, convinced you'll never be loved like Gerry loves Holly in P.S. I Love You, then the next day you have an amazing dance party with your fellow PCT's and make plans to go to the beach. The acting director visits your country and you cry some more, but this time you're filled with purpose and resolve.

Scientific "tubey part" 

Swear-in. Move to site. Meet some people and climb a mountain. We're in the tubey part of the wormhole, the part where you get all integrated into the host community, and you start to think "Woo, the PC wormhole is great! What a perfect shortcut through the turbulent post-graduation downward spiral into a desk job! It's gonna spit me out into my dream job! I have a higher calling because I'm learning Spanish!"

But the PC wormhole shortcut  is dangerous. Where, exactly, will it spit you out? The question isn't where, constable, but when.

Blorgons! Just go with me on this one, OK?

Fast forward a few months into service. Life is different. Peace Corps is said to change people, gain more patience and appreciation of this and that. But you're still you, right? The wormhole is just transporting you through the boring stuff, but it's not changing your fundamental building blocks?

Well, let's see. You listen to Alanis Morissette unironically. You've watched every episode of the recent NBC comedies. You read hundreds of pages of George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones in one sitting. You keep peanut butter hidden in your room. You miss fluoride in your water supply and deli meat in your supermarket. You can't remember which bug bites you put the hydrocortisone cream on last, so you just slather it on like lotion. Your diet has gone to hell. Your shoes are covered in cow crap. You spend 3 hours writing one blog post. The highlight of your week is talking to your parents.

None of these things are necessarily bad. It's just that your idea of a "good time" changes. And reflecting on how different the "good times" are now makes you feel weird, like suspended in time. But only two years and you'll be back to your American life- strip malls, parking tickets and all.

The sudden collapse? Spending days on end alone in your room because you feel like you can't be yourself here, not like you were before. The culture is too conservative, you're not confident in the new language. You just want to share a cheeseburger and beer with your best friend.

Chewie, are we ever gonna get home? 

High radiation? You start to get sick of spending time with yourself. Symptoms include boredom, anger, apathy, and guilt. This kind of radiation doesn't create super powers.

And dangerous contact with exotic matter? You might think this is amoebas or other diarrhea inducing creatures, but you'd be wrong. The PCV's most dangerous threat is the person they become in the two-year long wormhole.

You see, Peace Corps service breaks you down to your most basic self. People here think of you as the gringa with silly nerd glasses, 6th in a line of other PCV gringos to come to their village and, ultimately, leave.

You start seeing yourself as a one-dimensional stranger, and it's scary. You forget what you used to do for fun or what you'd talk about with other people. Ya know, before the biggest news you had was that the papusa lady upped her prices. Three for a dollar? Gimme a break!

You don't like the wormhole anymore. You don't completely understand what's happening to you, but you want to go back to your old life, back to what makes sense and what's comfortable.

They don't tell you about this stuff. Sure, they say "PC isn't for everyone. You have to be a really strong person to make it." But they don't tell you why it's so hard. Why it really sucks sometimes.

I hope this wormhole spits me out put-back-together and whole. I don't even care where or when. I just wanna feel whole.