So it was the Fourth of July. I was in Koror to get some schoolwork done. And they were throwing a big party at one of the ex-pat bars. It was a buffet with beer included, for $20. Normally that is a RIDICULOUS amount of Peace Corps money to spend on one evening. But, we thought … hey … it’s a holiday. And it’s OUR holiday! Let’s do it. So we paid our $20 and walked into a party that had very few Americans. Hmmm. Odd. But we rolled with it. We got a beer, a plate of food, followed by three plates of green salad. Green salad! Blessing of blessings! Fresh, beautiful vegetables! And then the free beer was tapped. Sigh. And since we’re Peace Corps, we didn’t have money to continue buying our beers since we calculated that into our buffet price. Thanks a lot all you non-American party-crashing beer guzzlers. Never mind the ones who are here doing service work without a salary.
The other fun part about being in Peace Corps that I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet, is that you can’t drive. So, that leaves us at a Fourth of July party with no cash left to enjoy ourselves and with no transportation to leave. And so we sat. And sat. And sat. Waiting for our ride. And we waited.
... and waited.
... and waited.
I’m not sure if I can describe how uncomfortable it was to sit there, except by giving you a quick anecdote. I mean, you have my description of awkwardness (at the same bar) from my previous post. But even when I was wearing a completely appropriate black dress, it didn’t make me any less uncomfortable.
At this party there was a band, there was dancing, there was cake and all sorts of merriment. When we went to refill our water glasses, we were standing behind a table full of ex-pat kids. (I think they were all Australian, and I'm sure none of them were older than ten.) And all four of the kids were sitting at the table playing video games on iPhones. I turned to the volunteer next to me and said, “Where ARE we?!” I’ve grown very accustomed to seeing kids climbing guava trees, battling each other with stick “swords,” riding bikes on dirt roads, playing basketball with deflated basketballs, and bursting into giggling fits on the back porch over God knows what. All of that is exactly how I remember my childhood (minus the guava) so it never seemed unnatural until I realized what “modern” children do for fun. There’s music! Food! Dance floor lighting! Your parents are letting you stay up late and you’re playing a video game?!?! What universe is this???
To make a long story short … the night went on and more inebriated ex-pats showed up and took to the dance floor. There were not only tank tops but also MINI-SKIRTS shakin’ it in my face and I had to change seats because I realized that my mouth was open and I was overtly starring at the debauchery with thinly veiled disgust written all over my face. And at the same time that you realize how your face looks to the rest of the world, you become self-aware of the incongruity between that and your inner monologue, which sounds something like this: Who AM I? One year ago I was doing that on a dance floor … and my skirt was probably shorter—but those leather boots I had were amazing. Damn, I wish I hadn’t given those away—wait—who AM I??? And … it continues, in circuitous fashion, for the rest of the night.
Eventually, our ride materialized and with a sigh of relief we headed out to the parking lot.
Halfway across the parking lot, someone hollered, “Hey! Next time you guys go out, you should drink more. You’ll have more fun!”
I laughed and hollered back, “Peace Corps budget!”
“I knew it!” He said, “I KNEW you guys were Peace Corps.” He came running over and said, “RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) from Vanuatu! Hug it up!”
So, after a brief introduction he said, “Listen, I saw the look on your face in there and I know exactly where you are right now. Don’t worry. It will pass.”
He was heading to the airport to catch his plane so he only had a couple minutes to talk, but they were INVALUABLE minutes. His advice was simple and I wish someone had said these things to me months and months ago.
First, he said that every country Peace Corps serves in has 2 or 3 major problems. Those problems vary by country, so it might be alcoholism, domestic violence, obesity, corruption, or a laundry list of other possibilities, but there are 2 or 3 doozies that every volunteer has to deal with. He said that at this point, I know what those things are and he imagines I’m facing them every single day. His point was that those 2 or 3 things are not really what any Peace Corps Volunteer signs up to do. You don’t sign up thinking, “Hooray! I’m going to go to Latin America to watch domestic violence and confront corruption every single day.” You don’t sign up thinking, “Excellent! I’m going to a country I’ve never heard of and that I certainly can’t spell, to witness incest and neglect every single day!” You sign up wanting to help initiate change and offer service. His advice was to set those 2-3 major issues aside and put everything into a more global perspective. He said, "You are working in a developing country and developing countries have these problems." He said that all of these problems are deep-rooted issues that will eventually change, but they aren’t problems that a Peace Corps Volunteer can change. “The quicker you can wrap your mind around that, and put it in the larger perspective,” he said, “the better off YOU will be.”
His other advice was exactly the right words at exactly the right time, for me. He said that re-adjusting to life in the U.S. is equally hard if not harder than adjusting to your Peace Corps country. He said it takes about one to one and a half years to re-acclimate and that the best way to ease that adjustment is to have a LOT of happy memories from Peace Corps. So his challenge was to figure out what “fun” means to me in Palau and do that thing EVERY DAY. He said it could be playing soccer with the kids, going swimming, reading in a hammock, eating bananas, fishing, whatever it is, just do it EVERY day.
It struck me as he said this, that I have NO idea what “fun” means to me in Palau. Not a clue. I’ve been so wrapped up in teaching, putting together a library, and organizing other secondary projects and 50th anniversary planning and a commemorative postage stamp and who knows what, that I haven’t even CONSIDERED that I should be having fun while I’m here. I spend all of my time going from “cage” to “cage” as we say. My house. The Peace Corps office. Our hotel room in Koror. And back. There’s very little in between. I just shuffle between cages. Stack of papers to grade at home. Need Internet time at the Peace Corps office. A movie in the hotel room. Back to lesson planning at home. Then to the Peace Corps office to submit a report. Make ramen in the hotel room. And repeat.
I think it’s all sound advice and I’m eternally grateful for the chance meeting. It really helped me rethink my outlook and my attitude toward this experience. And I hope it’s a sign of all the serendipitous Peace Corps encounters to come. Plus, I gotta be honest. I’m really looking forward to figuring out what “fun” means to me here.
Then again … when I think about it … I’m not sure that I knew what “fun” meant to me in the United States, either. How much “fun” was I having when I worked ridiculous hours and spent weekends catching up on chores and numbed myself with (delicious) trash television? Maybe it’s time to get back to the exhilaration of climbing a tree and bursting into giggling fits and letting your jaw hang open while you look at the stars.
I’m thinking this just might be The Lesson that I get to take home with me.
Here’s hoping.
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