Sweet Sweet Summer

It’s the eve before my big move to Spain, and as I sit here writing this I am overwhelmed with emotion. I am of course feeling all the standard feelings: excitement, nervousness, happy, sad, etc. etc. However one emotion that I wasn’t expecting to feel is appreciation. I find myself relishing in appreciation for this past summer. This summer healed me; it gave me exactly what I needed.  It’s funny; the universe always has a way of giving you exactly what you need when you need it. And apparently the doctor prescribed a good ol’ fashion dose of summertime fun and relaxation to heal everything up.

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

My life has began over, and indeed it started with this summer. I came back home in April broken, and exhausted, and yet somehow this summer has healed me. That first month I mostly spent sleeping, hiding out from everyone and everything.  However after that, after I regained my footing, I started to be able to enjoy life again. Enjoying the simple things of life in America with friends and family, and what better time does that happen than summer??

It’s a familiar story; we climb out of our cold isolated cocoons and give ourselves permission for a few brief, hot months to have fun. Bike riding, outdoor concerts, wine tasting, beach lazing, book reading, weddings, cook-outs, train riding, picnic in the park-ing, mai tai mixing, at-the-top-of-your-lungs-too-loud-singing: this is what the sweet, invincible summer looks like to me. This is what I have been doing, and its been one of the best summers. I feel rejuvenated, and as this summer comes to a close I feel that I am ready to move on to the new life summer has given me.

Family, friends, drinks, and sunsets. :-)

The Universe's Sledgehammer

“Everything happens for a reason”. I’m sure if you had a dime for every time you heard that you would be rich. And yet, there seems to be this unspoken understanding amongst people to respond in some sort of platonic and philosophical manner. Whether it’s a slight nod of the head, or a response like, “you’re absolutely right.” However sometimes in the heat of the situation it’s difficult to understand what that actual reason is.

We’re busy. I mean that in both a physical and mental way. Our day to day lives make us constantly on the go. We’re programmed from culture, society, personal experience, to “go, go, go.” In fact, not only do we pride ourselves on being multi-taskers, but a lot of times we are rewarded for it. The problem is we all become so busy that when the Universe is talking to us and sending us signs, we don’t always listen, and pay attention. So sometimes the Universe has to use extreme forces and bring out the figurative sledgehammer to get our attentions.

A couple of years ago I was in this car accident. However I think I should preface this story by going back a couple of days. I was going through this horrible break up that lasted WAYYY longer then it should have. (I was young what can I say?) And I’m not talking like a bad break up where you eat a pint of ice cream, cry yourself to sleep, and all is well a few days later. I’m talking like the mother of all bad break ups. The holy grail of heartwrenching, jaw dropping, oh my god I think I might die break up.  I was completely depleted, depressed, and had loss all hope. Finally one night the last straw had been set on the camels back and I had lost it. I got in my car and just drove all night. Crying, screaming at the Universe for putting me through what it had. There was absolutely no reason for the cruel and horrible torture I had been suffering. I wondered if the Universe had forgotten about me, wondered if the Universe even cared about me. Fast forward to a day in a half later, I got in a car accident. I was driving down the interstate, there was black ice, I was on a bridge, and there was a semi in front, next to, and behind me. I hit a patch of black ice and spun completely out of control. I had no way of regaining control of my car. I was just waiting to hit something or someone. I remember at one point my car had spun backwards into the next lane and I was staring dead at the truck driver who was next to me. Although at this point my front was facing his front as I was driving backwards. I’m sure it only lasted a few seconds, but I swear it felt longer and I could see the look in his eyes. I finally hit the guard rail on the side of the bridge. The car finally stopped. I was in utter shock. I was literally a couple feet from where the guardrail ended and the drop-off from the bridge was open. A few feet more and I would have gone off the bridge. I wasn’t hurt, not a scratch on me. Luckily, I didn’t hit anyone even though I was surrounded by all those trucks. And finally it hit me- My not so quiet conversation with the Universe less than the 48 before…  it was answering back. Hitting me, (and hard) with its sledgehammer. Telling me that I was not alone, and no I had not been forgotten. And if I’m being completely honest I feel that the Universe was telling me that I better have a little respect because my life could be taken at any moment if it so desired.

Did this accident happen for a reason? As crazy as it sounds, I believe it did. Because life is not some mere roll of the dice, but rather, a woven tapestry of experiences of great significance. Every event we have is important, from the most inspired and enlightened to the seemingly unexplainable, or incomprehensible. Unfortunately as humans we don’t really have a good perspective on the “big picture.”  Sure some are better at seeing it than others, but for the majority of us we have to practice, stop and really think about how everything is connected. If I wouldn’t have been in that accident right after my huge meltdown, I wouldn’t have known if the Universe was really there, and paying attention to what it was doing. That accident re-affirmed my belief, which in turn made me believe that what I was going through with my ex had a purpose. Years later, looking back I could tell you exactly what that purpose was, what I learned, and how better off I am for it. Sure it was hard, and it sucked, and yeah I could have lived without some parts. But overall, I needed all of it (the relationship, the grueling break-up, the accident) to all happen.  Because who knows what kind of person I would be today if all that didn’t happen?  It all happened for a reason.

You might be a little skeptical, which is okay, but think about this: by believing that everything happens for a reason you are consequently avoiding blaming others and yourself. Blaming yourself or someone else only makes the situation worse. It NEVER fixes the situation.

Imagine for a moment that you 100% believe everything does happen for a reason. No matter how big or what the problem is, it’s all for a purpose. Now how do you feel? For me, I feel calmer, lighter even, knowing that I am part of some bigger plan, the criticism, the negative emotions they are all diminishing. Try it, I think you will agree.

Look for those times in your life because everything will change. You will become stronger, more confident, and feel a greater connection to the Universe. Walking with a purpose to live the life of your dreams, all while knowing that everything does indeed happen for a reason.

The Road Less Travelled vs. The Road Not Taken

People always say, “Take the road less traveled”.  I’ve always used this as a sort of mantra for my life. Because when you think about it, why do people say this really? They say it because taking the road less traveled requires discipline, bravery, and strength.

 Scott Peck said it best when he said, “The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”
― M. Scott Peck

So in my mind to take the road that is travelled most is like depriving yourself of the opportunity for the truer answers and the finer moments. The being out of your comfort zone, the feelings of uncertainty, these are all necessities which can only be obtained when pushing you down that uneven, bumpy, road less traveled.

Then I remembered a poem that I read awhile back by Robert Frost called, “The Road Not Taken.”  It’s a famous poem for its “hooray for the future” interpretation. When people read it they can immediately relate by recognizing the “fork in the road of life” metaphor.  The crisis and decisions that are usually accompanied when someone feels they are at a fork in the road is symbolic to almost everyone. Because the choice of which road to take is a great connection between free will and fate. Now whether you believe in fate or not is your own prerogative. But for me personally I believe it’s a bit of both. I believe we have some choice in what our lives become because we wouldn’t be who we are otherwise. However in my past posts I talked about gut feelings and there is a part of me that thinks that those gut feelings is the universe way of guiding us toward our destined fate. But that’s a whole other topic so kind of going back to the poem…

 The author stands in the woods with two roads in front of him. In this poem there is no road less traveled. Both look equally the same. Neither is more travelled or less travelled then the other. Nonetheless, the speaker knows he needs to make a choice so he just takes one to travel down.  What I like about this poem is that the speaker knows he is going to question his decision later down the line, he will wonder what is on the other road, and he will question if he made the right choice or not. I find this to be so honest, and quite frankly, reality. How many times do you find yourself thinking, “is the grass really greener?” But the truth is in this poem there is no right path. Just the chosen path and the other path.  At the end of the poem the speaker is sighing. Not because of a wrong decision, but because of the decision itself. Because each decision he made is stacked and stacked upon themselves. Which consequently marks the passing of life. It’s the decisions he made in those particular moments that made his journey the way it was.  Hence, the poem’s theme being a nature of “seizing the day”.

So, the road less traveled or the road not taken?  I guess it’s kind of like the age old question, “is the glass half empty or half full?” When I originally started brainstorming about this post I was going to write about how I feel like I am constantly attempting to live a life that most people wouldn’t. But now I don’t think it’s about that. Now I think it’s about picking a road and just going. Because it’s not actually about the road it’s about the decisions you make while on that road. So rather than my mantra being “take the road less travelled”. I think I shall now change it to… carpe diem.

“The Road Not Travelled” By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

So Risk and Regret Walk Into A Bar....

When most people think about regret, it’s usually not about the stupid things they’ve said, or the questionable things they’ve done (teenage belly button piercing, I’m looking at you). The most difficult regret to make peace with is the regret for the things we did not try, say, or do-the risk we did not take. I’m sure everyone when reading this has one thing that immediately pops into their head. Whether, it’s standing up for yourself to someone, applying for a job, or making a difficult choice even though you knew it was the right one to make.  It’s a huge fear of mine, the non taken risks. I don’t ever want to look back, and think “what if?”  This is a topic I think about often, not because I have all this non-risking regret, but because there are so many things I want to do, and so many things I want to experience. So far I’ve been pretty good about doing them. I wouldn’t say I’m risk-averse, more like risk-prone. I don’t know if I was born this way, or my enormous fear of asking the ever elusive “what if?” has anything to do with it. Nonetheless, my magnetism for risk taking is what it is.  I do have to say that sometimes I question if I’ve pushed myself too much and gone too far. Like one day all the risks that I’ve taken to prevent myself from having regret will back fire and end up turning into regret within itself. I’ll think, “Why didn’t you just stay home and find a proper job? Why didn’t you stop moving around so much and find a nice boy to marry?” Marriage, a stable job, and a permanent address are all risks true, however not necessarily the right ones for me at this point in my life. It definitely would make more sense to my family and friends around me who don’t understand my choice of lifestyle. (No, grandma I’m not trying to put you in an early grave, and yes mom I know you’re not getting any older and would like to have grandchildren one day)  Yes, I might fail and staying home may have been the righter course.  And yes, maybe the certainty of a stable job would be a more appropriate choice for success. But then I remember- nothing is certain and failing is a necessity for growth. Things can fall apart for anyone, anywhere, at any time. And so back I go to my thinking that it’s just better to be my “risk-prone” self, making my “risk-prone” choices. That’s why I’ve decided to move to Spain in the beginning of August. Because I choose risks, and I choose uncertainty, and I choose failure. All while hoping for the occasional triumph and going after the best version of me that’s out there.  

Got A Gut Feeling???

If you have a gut feeling, you sense something about a person or a situation, without knowing why, but you're sure what you sense is true.  Whether it’s something bad or good, you have that sense, and you feel it deep in the pit of your stomach.  “Go with your gut,” is a popular phrase that people use when trying to figure out what to do. They say this because that gut feeling in the pit of your stomach is like a kind of sixth sense, an intuitive sixth sense that can’t steer you wrong. I know this to be true, and I know that most people believe this too. Then why is it so hard for some people to “go with their gut”? Is it because of fear? Or are they just so wrapped up in the hard facts, and things that they can see plain out? What type of person are you? Do you follow your intuitive sixth sense, or do you do everything in your power to work out the situation with common sense? 

                I re-made my blog from what it was when I first joined the Peace Corps to what it is now. I re-made it stating that I wanted to write about the happiness of being in Samoa rather than the hardships. I was so gun-ho on doing everything in my power to look at the positives and not dwell on the negatives. And that’s where I think I made the mistake. My first year, I was so far on the negative side of the spectrum it was hurting me. I decided the only way I was going to survive was to change, and make my second year more on the positive side. But then it turned into being so far on the positive side that it too was hurting me. And here’s what I learned... too much of one thing and one way of thinking is neither good nor realistic. In the end, you lose focus and can’t see what’s good for you anymore.  The truth is I was living in hell, and no matter which way I spun it, and no matter how hard I tried to find something positive about my situation, it was still a hot, horrible, hell. So then why even when I knew that I was living in hell, didn’t I do what I needed to do- do what was in my gut?  Let me tell you a bit about the hell I was under just so you have a better idea. My first year I lived in a small house with another Peace Corps Volunteer, Jenny, who’s village was next to mine.  Normally, Peace Corps does not allow for volunteers to live together, however because the house I was moving into wasn’t the safest PC thought it would be best if another volunteer lived there as well.  The house had its problems just like any other volunteers’. Of course we had bugs and rats, but they just mostly stayed in the kitchen which I just learned to live with. However, during that time Jenny and I had to deal with some bigger problems. For example, men were trying to break in, in the middle of the night, men were looking through our bedroom windows, and people were stealing things from outside our house.  Again, it was easier to live with because Jenny and I had each other, and we felt safe since it was the two of us.  However, when December came Jenny finished her service. So when I came back from Christmas break, I was coming back to the house alone. Truthfully I thought I would be fine. I had been living in my village for over a year and I knew most of the people.  However it wasn’t fine.  When I came home from Christmas break I came home to a huge hole in my ceiling from where someone broke in. About once or twice a week I had guys outside my house. The rats were no longer staying in JUST the kitchen, but rather my bedroom as well (I thought we had unspoken rule about that, but apparently not).  I woke up to a rat LITERALLY next to my head in my bed. That was the first time, it happened two more times after that.  It got so bad I wasn’t sleeping. I was so afraid of what was not only inside my house, but what was outside as well.  Looking back now I knew what the answer was to my problem deep down, but for some reason I was doing everything else instead. It was like I had this band-aid on and I was pulling it off and then re-applying it back on.   I went to the office numerous times seeing if they could help me find a solution.  They built me a better front door; I got outside lights installed, and was given a blow horn. (Didn’t do much)For awhile my principal stayed with me. When that wasn’t working I stayed with her at her house for awhile. I tried poison after poison, traps after traps. Nothing was working. It took a friend coming to stay with me for the night, and experience what I had been going through for months for it to hit me. She said that in all of her time in Samoa she had never experienced a night like that. That it was NOT OKAY the way I was living. I asked her what I should do. She gave me some ideas, her opinions. I was clearly torn, and she said, “What does your gut tell you?” My gut was not telling me, it was screaming at me to go home. As soon as I realized that, it was like everything made sense. My answer was there, and I knew what I had to do. So I went with my gut, and decided to take an ‘Interruption of Service’.  Sure I still had thoughts of, “Is this really what I should do? Maybe there is another solution?” But deep down in the pit of my stomach I knew the answer was no, I knew that I needed to come home.  So then why did I not follow my instinct earlier!? It could have saved me so much misery, and sleepless nights.   Truth be told I don’t know why I didn’t make this decision earlier. Maybe it was my pride, my stubbornness, or my undying determination to follow my new goal of “positivity”.  Whichever the case it kept me from doing what I should have done.  And as I sit here in my nice comfy room in the U.S (rat less, and creeper less) I know I made the right decision.  

So the next time you get that gut feeling remember it’s there for a reason. Believe in your intuition and have a little faith. And just maybe you’ll end up in a nice comfy place knowing you made the right decision too.

When In Samoa, Do As The Samoans Do

I had fleas. Yea, fleas like dogs and cats get. I’m sure every one of you reading  this is thinking two things: “Oh my god that is so gross”and“I didn’t know people could get fleas!” Yes, it is absolutely gross and apparently people can. Well, actually what had happened was the fleas were living in my foam mattress. They mostly come out at night and bite you all down your sides and under your arms.  This isn’t uncommon.  I know of a couple other PCVS who had the same problem. The only problem was how to get rid of them! I went to the Peace Corps nurse asking for tips on how to solve the issue. She said to put my mattress out in my yard and let it sit in the sun for a couple hours.  Even though she has dealt with many other PCVS who have had the same issue, and I’m sure knew what she was talking about, I didn’t really believe her. It is a regular practice for Samoans to lay things out in the sun. Dish towels, pillows, and mats (the mats are what Samoans sleep on) I’ve been told that doing this does kill whatever germs or bugs there are, but again I never believed it.  Nevertheless I was getting really desperate. The bites on my body were really getting to me and I could feel the fleas jumping all over me at night. I would wear long pants and  a long sleeve shirt to bed (even though I live in the tropics and its super hot at night).  I did it just to try and prevent the biting. It didn’t work. So I took my nurses advice and put my mattress out in the yard for about 4 hours. That was yesterday, and I am happy to report that after a night of sleeping in my new sunned mattress I have no new bites. J

(I have to say that is something to definitely be happy about. )

Name Change In Blog

So I’ve changed the title of my blog from Lindsey for Peace to Travels Towards Happiness. Let me explain. After a very VERY long first year in the Peace Corps, a wonderful trip home for the holidays, and the ambition to knock my second year out of the park, I have decided that the only way to get my blog going again is to switch it up a bit. I stopped writing posts a very long time ago. At first, it was because I was going through a very difficult time in my service (“the bottom of the rollercoaster” what people in the Peace Corps like to call it) and I didn’t think that anyone wanted to listen to me bitch and moan and complain.  So I decided to wait to write until I was a little higher on the rollercoaster. However, by the time that happened I had changed and didn’t really want to write about the things I had been writing about before. Talking about rats, Samoan food, or whatever, just didn’t seem pertinent anymore. I had been here long enough to where I was now calling Samoa “home” so talking about the oohs and aahhs just didn’t do it for me anymore.

                So when I got back to Samoa after my vacation I thought about what I did want to write about. And I decided that what I want to write about is happiness. I spent so much of my last year in emotions that were anything but happiness. Anyone who really knows me, knows that I am not the most positive person in the world. But it’s kind of funny because I think last year, a year of anything but happiness, taught be how crucial happiness really is.

                I should preface this whole thing by saying I have no intention of writing a “feely do good” kind of blog either. I just plan on writing about things in my life that are or maybe will one day lead to my grand life goal of true happiness. Because really, isn’t that what everyone wants? So as I am abroad now and have intentions of continuing to teach abroad; as I learn, experience, fall into, and grow throughout the days please stay tuned in my travels towards happiness. J

“Whether one believes in religion or not, whether one believes in this religion or that religion, the very purpose of our life is happiness, the very motion of our life is toward happiness.” –The Dali Lama

Here We Go Again!

Year 2. They say it’s a lot easier and goes by a lot faster than year 1. Since my year 2 is just starting, I’ll have to take their word for it. Not that I don’t believe them because I do. I was fortunate enough to be able to go home for Christmas this year. It was amazing to be home and kind of re-live my old life. Take hot showers, sleep in my old bed, hang out at my regular spots, etc. But as my trip ended, and I was getting ready to go home I thought back to how I felt the last time I was leaving for Samoa. The last time was the first time  I was going there and the word ‘nervous’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I remember having a range of emotions at any given moment that could, and most likely were, all over the emotional scale. But this time, this time I wasn’t nervous and wasn’t on an emotional rollercoaster ride. I knew what I was coming back to. I knew what to expect, and what people were going to be in my Samoan life.  That’s why I believe year 2 will be better than year 1. Last year I had to learn the language, and the fa’asamoa (Samoan way).  I walked on egg shells every day and with everyone. But now I know the language and I know the fa’asamoa. I’m more confident with day to day interactions and experiences as well as more confident in general. I know how to say no to people in a polite and respectful manner, and I know how to get my point across without being rude or stepping on any toes.

There are a lot of things that I have learned from my first year in the Peace Corps, mistakes that I have made, and expectations that just plain weren’t practical.   One of the biggest mistakes I made last year was setting expectations for something that I knew little to nothing about. Last year I had expectations of doing several projects in a certain amount of time (usually a short amount of time). It took a serious crash into a brick wall to realize that this was not the way to go about it all. For this year, my plan is to make no plans, and have no expectations. With this, I won’t have all the pressure and no brick walls to run into. 

I am excited for my year 2 of teaching. I will have all the same kids. I know their abilities and I know them as individuals. I am excited to bond with them more, and I’m excited to revise my lessons in a way that I know will work best for each of my kids.  I know I said before that I’m not making and plans or having any expectations for year 2, but I do have a goal for this year… my goal is to just accept things for what they are and how they come. Whether it’s bad or good I’m just going to accept it. 

Doing the splits

I keep having these dreams. Dreams where I’m trying so hard to wake up and I can’t. I know that I’m dreaming and I am aware of my body, but I can’t move. It’s like something from my dreams is trying to pull me back in. I don’t know why I keep having these dreams, nor do I know what it means. All I know is that its like I’m in two alternate universes, trying to get to one or the other, but I’m paralyzed. The feeling of wanting to move, and not being able to, is the worse feeling in the world. No one around to give you a push no one even around who knows your in trouble. This morning I woke up put on a pot of coffee, did my stretches, and got ready for the day while listening to music. The same routine I’ve done for years. It comes natural to me. It’s what I do, who I am. This afternoon I taught my students, ate lunch with the fellow teachers and listened while they spoke in a different language. I wore my pulotasi and ate food I’ve never had until coming here. This is not what I usually do, nor is it who I am.  Nevertheless I do it all because here is where I am. This evening I watched a regular favorite movie of mine. While later talking to my Samoan neighbors, and washed my clothes in a bucket. I made my favorite pasta dish for dinner on a 2 burner hot plate. Not usually what I cook my food on, but it is now. Everyday of every moment I am between two worlds. One foot in the land of me, tradition, routines, familiarities, likes and dislikes. And the other foot in the circus land.  Confusion, unfamiliarity’s, and craziness.  In a place where I have no tradition and I must like everything (for appearances). One foot in each world. Worlds so different and so far away from each other it’s like I’m doing the splits. Tonight I’ll read my book and write in my journal. I’ll listen to Norah Jones or Michael Buble before going to sleep (because that’s what I always do.) But when I get into bed I’ll make sure my mosquito net is completely around the bed and I’ll go to sleep on my piece of foam. Every moment of every day. Two worlds. And now this has all caught up to me. These splits that I’m doing are now in my dreams as well the paralyzing feeling I have while trying to come from dream land to reality. It’s the same paralyzing feeling I feel each day. Wanting to go to my land of tradition, familiarity, and routines. While not being able to leave the confusion, and unfamiliarity.  Each one slightly pulling, but having the same amount of strength in a game of tug a war. Frankly, I don’t know what to do. I’ve thought about giving up one or the other. Leave Samoa and go home, or completely transform myself to anything but my old self. But the truth is I believe if I did that I would be unhappy. Feel like I quit and lost myself. So again, I don’t know what to do. All I do know  though is this. I’m paralyzed and I have an itch that I just can’t scratch.

Fairy Tales

As children we were all told fairy tales. Fairy tales filled with hopes and dreams coming true, and happy endings time after time. The shoe fits Cinderella. Snow White wakes up with a kiss. The frog turns into a prince. They all live happily ever after.  As a child you think this can and will be your life too. You think if Pinocchio can wish upon a star than so can I. So you wish upon your birthday cakes, throw coins into fountains, and wish on fallen eyelashes. Just hoping for your dreams to come true. That you will have your perfect happy ending. Then you grow up, and realize something… who ever came up with the saying, “Happily ever after,” should have his ass kicked-so so hard.

Because fairy tale stories are not reality. Because the reality is there are no magic mirrors, or fairy godmothers, and there is no prince on a big white horse coming to your rescue. Just us, alone.  In our stories we are both the hero and the villain. We can be the fairy godmother or the wicked witch of the west. What I am faced with right now is the constant battle of which side is going to out win. For the longest time I’ve been living in this fairy tale of what life could be like here. But now I am coming to the realization of what Samoan life actually is as to oppose of what I thought it would be.  I have been hit with reality, and reality hurts. So that is why I haven’t posted anything in awhile because like everything- things that go up, must come down. For the past 6 months I’ve been either on a high or coasting along. But this past month has been one of the harder months I’ve had in a long time. I don’t want to complain or use this blog to vent. (Or at least try not to) But the reality is that just because I’m living in a place with beaches and sunshine does not mean my life is all - beaches and sunshine. I think that it is important for me for you all to know that. That the weather and environment, and the excitement of my supposed “adventure” is not as its all cracked up to be. But anyways I just wanted to let everyone know why I haven’t been updating. I’ve been a pretty rough place lately and I didn’t want a bunch of negative postings.  So sorry for the absence.  When the shock of my reality becomes less painful, I will be back here to fill you all in.

A morning surprise

I woke up one morning and went into my kitchen to find brand newborn rat babies on my kitchen floor. (Killing rat babies was morally harder for me to do than full grown rats)

My Peace Corps House

The view from my backyard

The front of my house

living area and kitchen

my bedroom

Back view of my house

The faleo'o next to my house

Sports Day

In a previous post I wrote that this week is the last week of school for Term 1.  On Thursday we had Sports Day. From talking to other volunteers their schools are doing other type of events. Such as Culture Day, English Day, and Book Day. Most schools do all of the events throughout the year it just depends on the principal and teachers what day they want to do first. As for my school we decided on Sports Day. I arrived at school Thursday morning to find the students their bright and early and ready to go.  There were two teams, the red team and the white team. Each with players from grades 1-8.  There were many events. There was: the flag race, coconut gathering, eating contest, ball throw, ball roll, and tug of war.  The day was a huge success. Both teachers and students had a lot of fun. Some of the parents and older sibilings came to help out and watch all the races. It was a pretty good day.

The Red Team

The White Team

The Flag Race

Coconut Gathering Competition

Food Eating Contest

Ball Rolling Contest

Barefoot and playing

Tug A War Contest

Mother's Day in Samoa

Mother’s Day, a highly celebrated holiday here in Samoa. So much that everyone gets the following Monday off from school. For me, the forecast for this day started a week before. It all started when I was at the monthly meeting of Mother’s in the church congregation. No I am not a mother but this is just one of the many odd things I do to integrate myself into the community. Anyways, I was sitting in the meeting with all the elderly women of the church. They all talk while I pretend like I’m listening and understand what is going on. Finally the faletua, (Pastor’s wife), also the president of the committee looked over at me and told me that the group was going to be performing a dance during church next Sunday for Mother’s Day. She said that I too would perform the dance. Well you don’t argue with the faletua because then you would for sure be displeasing god, so I put on a smile and nodded my head complying with her. We were to have dance practice a few times that week prior to church on Sunday. I spent the next few days worrying myself about this dance. I knew that during that dance I would be the one everyone was staring at, even though there were going to be 12 other women up there. I called my host mother the night before the first dance practice to ask her what time I needed to be there. She said that I didn’t need to go because I was not  a mother. “Obviously I’m not a mother,” I thought to myself. I sighed with relief and was jumping up and down on the inside, but managed to keep cool while still on the phone with my host mom. Before we hung up she said that she wanted me to come over for measurements because she was making me a puletasi for Mother’s Day. Pulatasi’s are the standard wardrobe for women to wear. You wear them to church, work, any kind of professional/respectful place.  The next day I went over there to give her my measurements. She was making me an all white puletasi. White puletasi’s are always worn to church. No matter the congregation. Methodists, Catholics, EFKS, they all wear white. The women also wear these big white hats as well. They remind me of the hats women used to wear (or maybe still do) to the derby.  During the week I decided to get my host mother a gift for mother’s day. I went into Apia on Friday, and I was shocked at what I saw.  The main strip of Apia was packed with tents where people were selling all sorts of things. Kind of like a flea market. All the tents had everything from pulatasi’s to jewelry to plants.  I was relieved because I knew these new tents were going to make shopping for a gift a lot easier than I had expected. I ended up getting a pair of yellow flower earrings and a matching ……. Saturday night I got a call from my host mother saying that I needed to come over before church so I could try on my puletasi to see if it fit. Why I was trying it on a half hour before church was besides me. Its not like any major adjustments would have been able to be made if they needed to be. Nevertheless I did what I was told.  Luckily the new church appropriate, all white puletasi turned out great, and no adjustments were made. The Mother’s Day church service ran an extra hour and a half later than normal. The women’s committee read passages from the bible instead of only the pastor reading.  At the end of the service all the women from the committee went up to the front of the church. They sang a song, but no dance. I was very confused, and when I asked later why they didn’t do the dance. My host mom said that they never ended up having practices. I can’t say that I was very surprised.  Because one of the many things I’ve learned is that here, things usually do not go according to plan. All in all, a one day holiday turned into a nice three day weekend, and one eventful week.

The Month of May

The month of May has always been a busy month for me. This year is no exception. All the events are still happening, but this year I’m just not there for them.  In my month of May I have Mother’s Day, my dad’s birthday, my sister’s birthday, college graduation of friends, and the beginning of summer fun. I’ve always been the person to make a big deal out of special events. I can’t help it, it’s just something that I love. So the fact that my dad is turning 60 and my sister is turning 20 , the fact that 2 of my very close friends are graduating college hurts me that I can’t be there. Not only does it hurt, but it also makes me feel extremely guilty.  I’m sure some people think that’s crazy, but I don’t. these are my people, and you’re supposed to be there for your people. So because I can’t be there, and sending any type of gift is out of the question (considering sending a package to the States costs an arm and a leg) I can only resort to one thing. Giving them a shout out here. So here it goes…

To Mom: Happy Mother’s Day! I hope you relaxed and enjoyed the day. I love you so much, and miss you terribly.

To Dad: Happy Birthday! I truly wish I could be there to celebrate your birthday with you. I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but to me it is. You do so much for the family and you deserve a day to celebrate only you. I love you, and think about you every day.

To Kristin: Happy 20^th Brithday! You are no longer a teenager. I remember when you were all excited to become a teenager. Have a great birthday, and don’t get in too much trouble! J

To Xiomara: Congratulations on Graduating!  You and I have been friends since the 5^th grade and now we are both out in the real world….god help us.  However I know  you are going to do fantastic things with your life.

To Dave: Congratulations on your graduation! I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you. But you finally made it and I am so very proud of you.  You have really come a long way.      

   

Let It Be

It’s the last week of Term 1. In other words nothing is really going on. Both students and teachers are checked out. Ready and counting down the days for break.  Students sit around day dreaming and playing while teachers are coming in late and dismissing early. Not really an uncommon practice here, however I must say it can be frustrating.   Granted I too am thinking about this marvelous three week break I have, but my trained teacher ways are refusing for me to check out completely.  All my training has taught me to prevent everything that is typical for Samoan schools. Don’t leave students unattended, only give assignments that have a purpose, make sure their engaged. These are things that have been drilled in my head from day one. However here it’s so not the case. For my class in particular my students are done with their tests, and I have no new material to teach them until after break.  I was going to give them their end of Term 1 exam¸ but my principal informed me that I had to wait until after break to give my test for some reasons regarding district policy.  So I’ve been stuck, not knowing what to teach, and not wanting to teach anything of great value because I know they would just forget it over the next month of break. I looked around at the other teachers who were not worrying about what to do with their students or about what was going on in their classrooms and I couldn’t help but think how much easier that would be.  Truthfully it’s amazing to me how easily one can settle and take on other people’s habits around you. For example, when all the teachers are sitting around talking while their classes are left unattended, leaving early and or giving busy work. I am not proud of this, but I have been guilty on all charges. Certainly not as often as the other teachers, but nevertheless I’ve done it. After days and days of getting closer to break I’ve been watching the productivity level hit an all time low. I decided I would not be a part of that anymore. I decided I was not going to let the contagious feeling of being unmotivated get me. That’s why I chose to make this last week, music week. First song I decided to teach my kids… Let It Be, by The Beatles. I felt this song suited my new attitude perfectly. The kids loved the song and they really got into it. Teaching songs to my students really helps with their pronunciation as well as becoming comfortable speaking English. So even though both students and teachers are checking themselves out, I’m going to do what I need to do and remember one thing… Let. It. Be. 

A Week of First’s

This week has been a week of first’s for me. It all started one evening when I was laying in bed,  and having a really hard time falling asleep. I was hot, people were yelling outside my bedroom, and I had a headache. I started to feel down in the dumps. I was thinking about everything that I had gone through these past 6 months, and wondering if I had even changed in the slightest bit. I didn’t feel different, and to my knowledge I was still acting the same way I had back home. To be honest this made me a little upset. I didn’t join the Peace Corps to be the same person! I joined to grow and change in every way possible. Needless to say when I did finally fall asleep I went to sleep a bit angry/depressed. During the night I awoke to this rustling sound. At first I shrugged it off, because lets face it “rustling sounds” are quite common and fankly you're better off not knowing what is making the sound. I fell back asleep. However  I awoke again to that same rustling sound. Again I went back to sleep. Finally the third time when I woke up I got up to see what was making this obnoxious noise. It was pitch dark, and the only light I had was this really small flashlight. I realized the noise was coming from this plastic bag I had on my table. I threw something at it, hoping that whatever was in there would run out and go away. It didn’t. It was stuck, whatever it was. I finally got closer to the bag and tried inspecting what was inside with my small flashlight. At first I thought it was a cockroach however after closer inspection I realized that it most definitely was not a cockroach. It was a rat. The rat had gotten itself stuck inside the plastic bag. Without even thinking, I grabbed a nearby water bottle and started beating the rat to death. I didn’t stop until I knew it was dead. Afterwards I grabbed the bag and threw it away, and when I was getting back into bed it hit me... what I had actually just done. Then I realized, that I have changed! Because there isabsolutely no way I would have even been in the same room with a rat, let alone have smashed it to death with a water bottle pre-Peace Corps. So killing a rat with my own hands…yup definitely a first. A few days later I was laying in bed and felt this crazing shaking. I jumped out of bed, and freaking out a bit. I ran out and was telling a fellow PC volunteer, “There’s a rat under my bed!” ( I must have still been thinking about a few nights before J) She said, “Lindsey there is no rat under your bed, that was an earthquake.” An earthquake!? I was certain it was a rat, but she convinced me that it was most definitely not. It was an earthquake. I have never felt an earthquake before in my life so I had no idea! Another first to put in the book!

So now it’s the end of the week, and looking back I am taking back my previous thoughts of not changing. Although I do not think I have made any drastic changes (at least yet) I do think that I am slowly, very slowly changing. Probably with each of these “first’s” I might even be changing a little bit more. Here are some more first’s that I have had while being here.

·                                    Taking a bucket bath

·                                    Sleeping with spiders and roaches

·                                    Eaten a fish with its head still attached

·                                    Let a stranger sit on my lap

·                                    Accidently Cussed at someone when I was only trying to ask for a bowel (in Samoan)

·                                    Listened to food being killed hours before I ate it

·                                    Killed my own food

·                                    De-gutted a chicken

·                                    Jumped off from the top of a waterfall

·                                    Swimming in the ocean while fully clothed

·                                    Washed my clothes in a bucket

·                                    Been sunburned in less than 5 minutes

With a year and a half left to go I am sure I will have sooo many more firsts. Here’s hoping to them being good!

A Bathroom, Kitchen, and a View of the Sea

After 6 months I have finally FINALLY moved into my own house. The best part is a kitchen and a bathroom that is inside the house. They seem like such common and basic things, but here they are a huge deal! Most bathrooms you see in Samoa are outhouses. To find a bathroom that is inside is like living in a lap of luxury. My room is great because it is more spacious than any other room I have ever had. Aside from my house’s great amenities, it also has another great aspect to it…the location. My house is about a minute walk from my school which is great considering the 25 minute walk I was doing before. But that’s not even the best part, probably the most idyllic aspect is it being right on the water. I have a killer view of the ocean. Every morning I wake up to the sound of the ocean, and waves hitting up against a cliff of rocks. My morning routine goes like this: wake up, boil a pot of water, get dressed, make coffee, make breakfast, sit out back and enjoy my view while having a cup of coffee and eating.  Its amazing, and it never fails, every morning I always think, ‘god this is my life. How did I get here?’ Then as I’m finishing my coffee my kids are starting to walk to school. They stop by my house, greet me with Good Mornings, and we walk to school together.

Home Sweet Home

Living with a host family has always been my biggest concern. I knew before coming here that this was going to be one of the greater challenges I was going to have to face. During my training I stayed with a host family, in which I’ll say….wasn’t the best. Then I moved out to my actual village.  I was always promised my own place, but the house wasn’t built yet so I had to stay with another host family during the meantime.  My second host family ended up being amazing, and I have grown pretty close with them. I feel extremely close with this family, which is a good thing considering what it could have been. Nevertheless, I still wanted my own place. I have lived on my own for the past four years and have grown accustomed to the freedom. Living with a host family however gives you zero independence. Week after week, and month after month I have been patiently waiting for the village to start building my house, but nothing. Finally, four months later the wheels started turning. My house was being built. However, then an unusual circumstance came into play and the house that was being built for me was no longer the house I was going to be living in. My housing situation as of right now is nothing less than bitter sweet. On the sweet side I have this amazing house right on the water. I also will have a roommate, another Peace Corps Volunteer who is a year ahead of me. Peace Corps Volunteers living together is almost unheard of, but like I said, unusual circumstances. The bitter side is that the original house being built for me was on my family’s compound, which was going to allow me more independence, but still a connection with the family. Now moving into this new house I will no longer have that connection. This is rough because being connected to a Samoan family is a great way of integrating into the village. Breaking the news to my host family that I was no longer going to be living with them was extremely hard, and they did not take it well. So as of right now I have a lot of mixed emotions. I’m excited for moving into my own house, but sad that I will not be living with my family anymore.  I guess what this means is that I’m going to have to make extra more of an effort of spending time with the family, and integrating into the village.