I didn't even realize until a few days ago, that today marks the one year anniversary of my COS from Peace Corps and Cape Verde. So it seems appropriate on that note, for me to "officially" close down this blog. Of course, since my last post was at the end of April, it's not like I've been posting on a regular basis or anything. I kept this blog open beyond my return to the U.S. so that I could try to reflect and think though some of my time in Cape Verde. But I'm such a creature of my environment and all of those skills in introspection and reflection that I felt like I had gained while idling away my time in Mosteiros, seem to have disappeared upon my return.

I'm sure I've changed in some ways, but I can't quite pin it down and put it into words. I think a lot about Cape Verde, and have even dreamed about it. I wanted to maintain strong connections to Cape Verde, but that never really materialized, and now, it would seem (perhaps only strange and alien to me) a bit difficult to recreate those bonds. I've done a decent job keeping in touch with my fellow RPCVs, and trying to keep up with the news from Cape Verde, but beyond that, my time there continues to fade into the fog, replaced by my more recent history here in the U.S.

So, this is it. This last year has passed faster that I could ever imagine and though some things have radically changed in my life, other things have unfortunately stayed the same. If I could travel back in time and relive those two years there, even if I couldn't change one thing about it, I would do it in an instant.

Thanks for reading! Fika fixi!

The biggest party each year on Fogo would have to be Sao Filipe's municipal festival, which culminates on 1 May. My first year on Fogo, I still remember hanging out with Darney O'Malley and Louis XVI, who was visiting from Senegal. My second year, I had a bit more fun, since I had a slightly better idea as to what was going on. I also actually knew some of the musicians by then, so I could actually enjoy the music.

However, I have just gotten word about this year's performers, and have to admit, I'm a bit floored. This year, all the way from Brazil, is Banda Calypso. I was just in shock when I heard about it this morning. This is big. This is huge. This is probably one of the biggest musical acts to ever hit CV (and for sure it's the largest to ever hit Fogo). From what I've been hearing, it's just insane in the streets. Most of the island is probably in Sao Filipe, and boatloads of people from other islands have been arriving the past few days.

I am just amazed that they agreed to come. I cannot even imagine how much money the Camara must be spending to have brought them here. I cannot imagine how many people are in Sao Filipe right now. Where are they all going to sleep?

I say all of this not even liking Banda Calypso. I know hardly anyone reads this blog anymore, but is there anyone out there who is actually knowledgeable about Brazilian pop culture? I would be really interested in hearing exactly how popular they are in Brazil. Having seem some of their performances, I've never been impressed (with one exception, I like Pra te Esquecer , and especially the Cape Verdean passada remake). And to be honest, if you watch that video, you probably won't be that impressed either. But whatever, I love that frickin' song.

So hearing about all of the chaos, just made me want all the more to be back there. Odd how I still have such strong feelings about it.

So, when I sit down to do the math, I've passed through four different airports twelve separate times in the past eight days. Last weekend, I went back to Mpls to celebrate My Friend (Who's Father is a Priest)'s birthday. It was the big 3-0 for her, so, of course, that one has got to be celebrated in style. A bunch of other RPCVs from CV were able to fly in, or meet up in Mpls, and so that made it extra special. Earmuffs pointed out what makes getting together with other RPCVs such a treat is that we have that shared depth and history from our PC time, and that the history links us together in a unique way. So it was a good time to catch up and just chill out, away from whatever other stresses we're all facing.

After that weekend, I thought I was done traveling for a while. Unfortunately, my mother than gave me a ring a day or two later and let me know that my grandfather had died. So, upon hearing this news, I had to run around purchasing some last minute plane tickets, some new luggage, and a tie, for my trek to Racine. The funny this is when I flew to Mpls, I passed through Chicago, using American. Then, this time, when I went to Chicago with Northwest, I was routed through Detroit. Somewhat annoying, I say. But anyways, I made it back to the Midwest, and was reunited with my mother's side of the family, who I don't think I've seen in about eight years.

The wake and funeral were all very simple (family only) and he was put into the mausoleum which he had already purchased years ago. Going back to Wisc, I realized I'm actually a lot closer to my father's side of the family, which is something I guess I never really thought of.

So now I'm back in D.C., exhausted, contemplative, and wanting to bury my head in the sand. But instead, work is going to be picking up in the next month or so, as we approach our annual conference. Then, I agreed to run a booth for them at the UUA's General Assembly, so that means I'm committing myself to being there at least until the start of July. It's down in Florida, so I'll be sure to take some extra days down there once it's all over, and just sit in the sun (if I'm lucky).

Last week, I ran down to Chinatown for the rice cooker that I decided to buy Pretty in Purple for her birthday (in addition to a few other things). The route I ran took me through Logan Circle, which is where I used to live. Though I'm liking my place up here in Columbia Heights, when I was running through my old neighborhood, I felt this pang. A pang of sorrow that I no longer lived in that neighborhood, and that I hadn't fully explored it when I had the chance to.

I just realized then part of what I've been dealing with since coming back from CV is a profound sense of loss. Though your identity changes a bit when you're so immersed in a foreign environment, I always knew that I was still American, which was something in the long term that would never really change. No matter how much pop culture and news I missed, or how many nice amenities I longed for, and no matter how much I wanted to fit into my community, there was something that separated me from the people at my site. Something, as hard as I tried, I knew I would never really lose. Even if I took on some surface attributes and attitudes of CVians (and I did), nothing would never change the fact that I was an American, and that I would eventually return to the U.S. to reclaim it. Heck, if I wanted it bad enough, I could just call Praia and tell them I wanted to go home right away.

But it's not the same here, now that I am back. I cannot simply call someone and be back in CV in 24 hours. America was like a fantasy that I knew I would become reacquainted with, CV is dream that fades slowly away in my mind with every passing day.

Everything that I had gained, everything I had created, everything I had eked out over the course of two years, pretty much ended the day I took that cab out of Mosteiros. No matter how many photos I have (about 6,000) or how many little trinkets that I kept (all stored in a box, though I've placed some panu de terra out for people to admire), or even if I keep up with people from my site (I IM with a few), the truth of the matter is, that I've lost it all. Everything that I had, and everything that I was for those two years. I cannot reclaim it like I would reclaim my "Americaness."

I can accept the idea of lost youth, or acknowledge the fact that as I grow older, I will change and evolve. But CV was something different. That moment I got into the cab, and I drove away, everything became lost, everything started to fade away.

And yes, I say all of this, nor forgetting or dismissing the misery (yes, misery) that I faced while there. But you know what? It was my misery. I embrace it like I embraced every joyful moment that I had on my little pile of dirt in the Atlantic.

When most people ask me about my time in PC, my first instinct is to say that it was tough for me, and start listing out reasons. The other day in the office (yes, for the love of Allah, I am employed again, back with the not-so-evil-empire I ran into a RPCV who had served in the Congo, decades ago. He asked me how my time in CV was, and I had to suppress the urge to say "it sucked and it was tough." Why? Because there was someone else in the room, someone else who (though no fault of her own) would just have taken my words at face value and just possibly left it at that.

I guess I don't even bother to try anymore when it comes to explaining about my time there. I have perfected my stump speech on the matter, and most people are satisfied by it. The depth of emotions is sometimes even too confusing for me to properly sort out, but I just know trying to explain it to an outsider is almost pointless.

Being back has been a struggle in many ways. Though my life has considerably brightened in the past month and a half or so, the illumination also makes me realize what there is in me that's left to face. When I was much more disgruntled, it was easy for me to hide all of my problems and issues behind that. But now, it's no longer an excuse.

So, I can admit it. I lost it all. Every single bit of it. Every artifact I have left from CV only helps to slightly reinforce the ever fading dream of my life there.

Looking forward is never difficult. It's letting go of what you've lost that's the tough part.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, the big news from inside the Beltway this past week is the fact that a new Target has opened up, less than a 10 minute walk from my house. This is the first Target that is in the District proper, and the first one (as far as I'm concerned) that it fully Metro accessible. And did I mention it's a 10 minute walk from my house? It's part of the largest mall that is opening up in the city. Of course, by most standards, it's still going to be a small mall, but again, for D.C., that doesn't have a lot of big box retail, it's a big step. Though what gentrification has already done to this neighborhood and what it will continue to do isn't something I'm totally comfortable with, it's going to be damn convenient to have it nearby.

I went into it on the first day it opened, it looking around at everyone around me, it reminded me of when one of the Chinese loja's opened up in Mosteiros, with people almost walking around in a daze, looking at all of this new crap that they could buy. I've always disliked the excess of consumerism, but I sometimes still have to remind myself that people aren't always buying crap that they don't need.

I also took a little trip outside of the Beltway (only the third time I've ventured into the Virgina that exists outside of the little bubble on the Potomac) and visited Monkey Bar. He's been up to D.C. various times when other RPCVs are around, so I figured it was time to return the favor and see what life is like down in southern Virgina. And it was a bit scary.

I saw a real live girl with a mullet. I went to a chain restaurant, ordered a "nuclear burger" and when I got the receipt, saw that they had spelled it as "nuuclear burger" which I found amazingly funny. We went out to a bar one night where the DJ was playing music off of iTunes. And when they were playing music from the late 80s and early 90s, they weren't playing it in a nostalgic, "gee, remember when this music was popular?" way. No, they were playing it in the sense of, "hey, this is some great music, ain't it?" At that bar, I saw a girl hit another girl over the head with a bottle. The bouncers, who were diligent in checking IDs, seemed not to care what went on in the bar, as long as you were over 21.

So, it was a good weekend overall. Good to just hang out with Monkey Bar and chill out and not do anything. Hanging with people who were in CV with me, I don't feel an urge to have to do anything with them. We can just sit and chill, and it's all good.

Going down there this weekend also helped me realize that I'm in some kind of funk. It's not exactly a depression or anything, but just a somewhat total loss of direction and sense of purpose. I have so many options in life right now, but cannot seem to pick which path I specifically want to take. So, it's good to figure out that I'm some kind of funk, now I just need a shovel to dig myself out of it.

Today marks my six month anniversary of my COS from CV. I can hardly believe it. I was hanging out with Some Girl last night (who COSed with me from CV) and it was just kind a shock that to think, six months ago at this time, I was hanging out with some random Senegal PCVs that I had met, getting ready for my plane ride to the Middle East.

I don't feel like I have totally decompressed from my time in CV. I COSed, went to the Mideast for a month, hung out in NYC for a few days, spent a day in Philly, couchsurfed in DC for about a month, hid in my father's basement for another month, and then moved back to DC and started my job a week later.

So now, those 14 weeks are over. I stopped mooching off of Traumatize and finally got room in heart of Columbia Heights (feel free to come by for a visit, I still don't have a bed yet, but otherwise, it's all good) and am living with two RPCVs, who both have connections with my fellow Volunteers in CV. So, it's a small PC world, even though we're spread out all over the developing world.

When I think about CV, it's still a complete contradiction. I loved it, I hated it. I wanna go back, I don't think I could visit. The other day, when I was on my third phone call, trying to order checks, I hung up in frustration and for a second, really wanted to be back in CV, where things were so much fucking simpler, and I didn't have to deal with routing numbers and address changes, and whatever else they could throw at me. Of course, when I really thought about it, things wouldn't necessarily have been simpler over there, since it's not like there is an absence of paperwork in the developing world.

It's same when looking at race. My "racial consciousnesses" has been raised after two years of being called "chines" and getting odd looks when I tell people I am American. I never really appreciated the power of ethnicity when living in the U.S., and I've become slightly more cynical about the state of race relations in the U.S., especially as everyone goes on about the dreams of becoming more and more "post-racial." I appreciated the bluntness of CVians about what they thought I was, even though it could also drive me into the most pissy of moods.

I cannot put words to why something that could drive me into a rage would also be so refreshing. For all of the bias and baggage that came with their views, I also know they were being utterly open and honest with what they thought about me. Here is America there are just so many more layers of fake-ery when it comes to race, but people seem to favor politeness (and the dishonesty that may come with it) over the rudeness that can come with being true to how you feel.

So I miss CV, but it's becoming like a dim dream. It's probably changed me in more ways than any other experience in my life, but I haven't truly even begun to process it all. I hope this time off (when I will be slowly searching for a job, and possibly doing some volunteer work) will give me some time to reflect, to really try and come to some better idea for what it all meant.

My first step in this process was finally uploading the rest of my photos on to my flickr.com account. Of course, these final few photos were from the Middle East, but it just brings things full circle for me. So, check em out!

I really do mean to post to this blog more than twice a month, especially since I have so many PC-type things that I actually can talk about here, but for one reason or another, my Internet access has been limited to my working hours, and these last few weeks at work have been a bitch.

But today, finally, the magazine has been put to bed and sent to the printers. We get back the bluelines (proofs) next week and then after that I'm basically done. I'll be in the office until next Friday, and then I'm free again. It'll have been 14 weeks at this job, filling in as the editor of the magazine goes off an contributes to the furtherance of the human species.

There is a bunch of stuff that I wanted to catch up on, that maybe I'll finally be able to get to on this blog. However, I first have to figure out if my new place has Internet. Yes, when you do the math, since my return to the U.S in September, I've couch-surfed with eight people in nine different houses/apartments. This move this weekend will be my third since November. As far as I can tell, though, it'll be more permanent than the rest since I'm paying rent and I don't foresee myself needing to continually throw myself on the mercy of my friends. Of course, as some have pointed out to me, isn't it a bit odd that I would start dishing out rent checks the week before my job is over? And yes, that is a good point. But what are you gonna do?

More, later. Hopefully not too much later.

I really would like to think this is some sort of joke, but I have this feeling that it isn't. Though I haven't had a chance to read the actual report, the idea that CV is one of the leaders in the pack when it comes to electronic governance just makes me want to roll my eyes. Considering the low level of computer penetration and use, I can't really see them leading in anything when it came to computers. But hey, maybe I should start sending my friends back issues of Wired!

I know it has been eons since I was last in Cape Verde, but just for a sense of finality, I will post the book reviews of the last two books that I read while there.

All The King’s Men by Robert Penn Warren

Warren’s writing style was annoying, and really took a lot of pages to get into. But I kept with it, because I heard it was such a good book. And it was good, but probably could have been shorter if some of the descriptive language was cut out. I am not sure how much it helped out with creating atmosphere, since it just made me want to put the book down.

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

So now it’s a movie, eh? Though I don’t recall seeing anything by Sean Penn in a long time, I am sure that he will keep to the spirit of the book. I don’t know why, but I am sure that he will. The book itself was only moderately interesting. Or maybe because I was so anxious about leaving, I just needed something, anything, to distract me from the thought of leaving.

Great, now every book that I read while in country should be noted in this blog.

In other news, three recent events in my life have reminded me how small the world is (or how everything converges in Washington D.C.)

First, I was at a PC job fair looking around, and soon I found myself standing next to a RPCV from Benin who I had ran into when me and Some Girl were in Cotonou. She was interested in talking with us because she and a COSing friend of hers were planning to go to CV for holiday and we were able to fill them in on all to see and do. But yes, the Benin RPCV is now living here in D.C., so we’ll probably hang out some time next year and catch up.

Second, speaking of Some Girl, what are the chances that someone will move out here from the Midwest, and end up getting a studio apartment in same floor and building as my cousin, his wife and their kid? Well, it’s happened here so now it means more friends in D.C., and more reasons to make my way over to that tiny corner of northern Virginia.

Thirdly, because of my esteemed (hah hah) work position right now, I was invited to Reason magazine’s Very Special, Very Secular Christmas with Christopher Hitchens. The odd thing is that I went to the thing pretty sure I wouldn’t know anyone, and then left after reacquainting myself with this atheist who I used to do field organizing stuff with back in the day, and well as recognizing several people who I knew from my days on the libertarian fringe in D.C. (alright, I was actually just playing poker and going to parties at their house). But still. It just seems like a small world to me.

I won't lie, I really don't feel all that bad for Gillian Gibbons, the teacher from the UK who is going to spend fifteen days in jail for letting her class name a teddy bear Muhammad. Why do I not feel that bad for her? First off, because she's only getting fifteen days in jail, when the other options included quite a few lashes with the whip, and up to six months in jail.

I also don't feel that bad about her because, well, shouldn't she have known a bit better? Did she not realize which country she was living and teaching in? Or was she so wrapped up in her expat world that she forget where she was at? I'm not saying that she needed to fast for Ramadan or wear a headscarf. But wasn't she aware of how cultural considerations play out differently in Sudan?

I still keep meaning to talk about the difference between the way that PC tells people to integrate with cultures, as opposed to a more Humanist view. I will try to put something out about that next week, because it's still something that I give a fair amount of thought to.

Last week, I hung out with the Best Volunteer in Mosteiros, who lived in my fair village about 10 years ago. Though he’s not much older than me (he joined PC right out of university), his time in Mosteiros differed from mine because of what sounds like the absolute lack of things to do there. To think that I used to complain about the nothing that goes on in Igreja, but when I hear his stories…

But alas, he survived living in Mosteiros considering the road to Bila was not complete, there were hardly any fresh vegetables, no video rental place, no Internet access and hardly any deportees. There were hardly any Chinese there either, though he got mistaken for it a lot, which I can totally understand.

Thinking about his time there, I wonder how something as simple as the lack of Chinese people would have changed my experience. Would it have been better or worse for me if there were only Chinese people in Praia, and what people would see on the TV? Or would that have made me even weirder in the eyes of CVians?

He told me that it took him about a year back to readjust, and that it’s normal to feel weird for a while. To be honest, I don’t know how I feel. Even though I have been lazing around the States for like two months before I took up my current job, I still feel like I haven’t had much time to really sit and think. All the time I’ve been back, has been me trying to react and readapt to life here in the States, getting used to friends again, and processing my time over there. But not a lot of time or my brainpower has really been devoted to me in the present, me just sitting here.

So, I am hoping to go to Boston and Brockton in the spring. I hear now that Lady N has made her way to America. I’m interested to see that! The feeling I had before I left was that she was going to marry an Adventist on this side of the ocean, and then start living the high life over here. So we shall see.

This opinion piece sums up what I was thinking when I first heard about Oprah's school.

The other day I got a free invite to preview a new documentary that is coming out, called War Dance, which tells the story of three kids in northern Uganda who go to a school that is taking part in a national music competition. This is, of course, set with the backdrop of the war with the LRA. It was an interesting topic, and of course, seeing Africa, made me compare everything to my time in the CV.

Grass huts? No. Nutty rebels kidnapping kids and forcing them to do terrible acts? No. Loud wailing and crying when thinking about the death of a loved one? Check. Almost genetic ability of the children to dance? Check.

Though the filmmakers were clearly serious about the topic, I also felt there was still an aspect of fetishization of The African Child present. It's not something I can really put into words, but just the way the camera lingered on some shots, or the angle taken. I was also a bit less moved by the scene where one of the kid's is at her father's grave site and crying and screaming her eyes out. CVians have this magical ability to start and stop crying on cue; this isn't to say that the emotions are any less sincere, but showing grief is also a symbol, and a bit of a performance. When a Western sees this, considering how repressed we try to be with public outpourings of grief, they will probably be very moved, but I've become a bit desensitized to it over time, after seeing it so much in CV.

Watching the documentary also made me romanticize Africa once again and made me yearn a bit more about my time in CV, which I always find funny, since when I was there, all I could do was yearn to be back in America.

But here I am, trying to readjust to work and life here in the States. I think I will survive this 14 week job at the AHA as the guest editor, but I am really needing to decide if I want to try to find work in the States or if I should only be focusing on international jobs. More later.

Last night a CV American friend of mine who I had met in Mosteiros called to let me know that he made a last minute decision to go back to CV for a week, in order to surprise his parents. I immediately became jealous and wanted to go back with him. Then I ended up dreaming that I had gone back to Mosteiros, and the only big change I could remember was that Vida Nova had been taken over by another Chinese family and that their service very much sucked. Ha, so much for what I dream about when thinking about Mosteiros!

But really, talking with him made get a bit homesick for Cape Verde, which I always find amusing, since I was always ready to go. I am now feeling really bad about all the others in CV that I have meant to call but never got around to it. I was planning to call people last weekend, but both SIDA Ka Ten Kura and Monkey Bar were in town, and we hung out with No Pun Intended (or imposed ourselves into her life, depending on how you look at it). So, it was a CV weekend, with no CVians involved.

So this is my second day at work, and I am thinking that after two years in PC followed by about two months of doing nothing, my brain is not prepared to adjust to the working world's environment. I am already supposed to be working on an article for the upcoming issues, but am in some sort of brain freeze. I realized that other than blogging and really random journaling, I really haven't been writing at all these past two years. I hope it's like riding a bike, and that I will get back into the swing of things as the days go on.

So I am finally back in D.C. after a month of chillin' in the Midwest. Nothing makes you feel like you're 12 years old again to move back into your father's basement, and start digging through all of the old boxes of crap that you have. I tossed a lot of stuff out that I once considered sentimental, but now really has no value to me. Tossed it out, or decided to take it back with me to D.C. for actual use.

The number of my friends in Mpls always seems to ebb and flow. When I left for PC, the majority of my friends seemed to be in the D.C. area, with a few pockets of people still hanging around the Twin Cities. But now that I'm back, due to the people I met in PC, (along with the wonders of Facebook and other online social networking sites) it feels like I know a lot more people in the Land of Collapsing Bridges than I used to.

The biggest highlight was probably the weekend up at the Geek's and Sugarlips. My Friend (Whose Father is a Priest), her man, and Some Girl also made the trek up and we spent the weekend playing cards, drinking, and seeing the (few) sights that the Leech Lake area has to offer. It was like a little mini PC reunion, and it was probably when I was at my most comfortable when I was back home.

The intensity of my time in CV is still something I am trying to sort through, and ever since coming back, it feels a bit more comfortable to be with RPCVs, because they can relate about the last two years without any troubles. With all of my other friends, though I have loved seeing them and catching up, it always feels like there is a little gap because there is nothing that I can say that can really explain the last two years of my life. I was there and it happened and no matter what I say or what pictures I show, it will never really encompass it. I don't mean to say that I don't want to tell people about my life there, but I always get a bit frustrated when wanting to articulate it. How can I sum up everything that I saw and learned, into a way that others are really going to understand?

I remember when I was stewing in my room in Mosteiros, thinking that I must avoid the pitfall that I was sure would come, of me romanticizing my time in CV, of forgetting everything hard that I faced, only remembering the good times. And of course, it's happening. I was at a bar with SIDA Ka Ten Kura and No Pun Intended last night, and me and the former both agreed we'd go back to CV in about three minutes. Life was so much simpler (for me) back there. And not just because PC took care of a lot of your fundamental life issues, like a job or housing. The life there is just more tranquil. Of course, I also say that as rich Westerner who really didn't have to worry about money, even if I was living there on my own means. So many hardships that CVians have to face, I never really had to worry about.

Maybe it's not that life was simpler for me there, but that the hardship and challenges that I faced were of a different nature. Still tough, but more interesting and involved than was seems to pass for hardship in this country.

I am such a creature of my environment because it feels like many of the bad habits I thought I would have dropped by now, have come back in full force, now that I'm surrounded by all of this crap I don't really need, but cannot seems to live without. I lived without television for two years and it wasn't really a big deal, but now that it's here, it's something I have to force myself to turn off in order to focus on whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing.

You know that town in Tenn. that is only getting three hours of water a day? The town that has to truck in water from the next city over. You know what I have to say to them! Shut the hell up! I don't feel bad for you at all. I'm sure you waste too much water as it is! Maybe I'll feel sorry for you when you're forced to go carry some water on the top of your heads, or have your donkey take it up the trail for you! But as long as you sit in your houses, whining about the lack of water, and waiting for the fire truck to haul in water for you, you can go screw yourselves! If you think that your lives are now filled with hardship, you're truly deluding yourselves.

And now that I've had my say about that, I'll try to get around to posting an actual update.

I finally got around to calling CV once, earlier last week. I was told that I "sounded weird" which I am sure is due to the fact that I haven't spoken Kriolu for months now so my mouth is out of practice. But anyway, I actually have a list of people to call there, but am finding it hard to drudge up the will to call them. After this first conversation, I am worried that I won't have a lot to say, and will sound silly on the phone.

Being in Wisc at my mother's has been pretty relaxing and somewhat introspective. There is no TV here, so I am actually reading and thinking. I started "The Village of Waiting," which, even though Packer was in Togo back in the early 80s, a lot of the things he went through and things that he felt, also applied to me in CV. So, good to know I don't have to write my own book about my time in PC, I can just refer people to his!

I wish I had read a bunch of books by RPCVs about their time in PC before I went to CV. It would have been an interesting perspective shift, to have heard their stories before I had been a part of it all, and then to reread them once I had lived through it.

I feel a bit more certain now about the idea of going to Taiwan for a spell, in order to improve my Chinese. I find it funny that going to Africa would make me more interested about Asia, especially considering before PC, I had no real interest in the latter. And right now, I am not even sure if I really am interested, or if I just find it the easy way out. But my time in CV has made me more aware of issues surrounding race, identity and society, and it's made me think a lot more what it means to be Asian in a White society.

My time in CV has also made me more paranoid about being in America, and now I assume whenever someone hears me speaking in Chinese, they assume that I am some FOB immigrant here to do dishes. Of course, is it just that I've become paranoid after getting stared at for two years, or is it just that I'm more aware of all of this for the first time????

I won't lie. Last night when Buttons called me and left a voicemail said that she wanted to hear all about my time in CV, I froze and didn't call her back. I really do want to talk to her, since it has been so long, but the idea of talking about CV, even to a Returned PCV, made me a bit nervous. I just didn't want to deal with it right then. Earmuffs was actually telling me that she had her friend stop introducing her as someone who had come back from PC, and instead just as someone who was back in the States after being overseas for a while, because she hated trying to explain everything about CV. I guess I kinda feel the same way.

On the one hand, I'm a but surprised by the fact that some of the people I have been hanging with, haven't really asked me about my time in CV, or what I did, or what I experienced. But on the other hand, when people do ask me about my time there, I feel like I kind of slip into encyclopedia mode, because I can never just talk about CV, without having to explain everything, since nothing really makes sense without context.

I guess it's just one of those weird things that makes readjustment so fun!

Yes, as you are reading above, this means I have moved back to Minnesota for the month. I just got in yesterday afternoon and the first thing we all did was go out to a Chinese buffet for dinner. So, I think my family is already trying to fatten me up again.

In the room my father set up for me, he had the photos that I had sent him. The one on top was me and Tonizinho. I don't know was it that, or the fact that I was back at the place I most closely associate as home (considering my last month or two of wandering and couch surfing) but I dreamt about Mosteiros last night. For the first time that I can remember. I don't remember many of the details, but I was there (possibly for the documentary) and I was feeling unprepared to be there. The exact same way that I felt when I was in Mosteiros, and dreamt about leaving.

Finally now that I am in MN, I will also be getting a calling card, and finally calling some people back there, so we will see how that goes. I have been writing some people in Kriolu, so I don't think I have totally lost it, but I am sure once again, I will sound like a retard when I am talking with people.

My last few days in D.C. were also a blast from the past, since I was at the Atheist Alliance International conference hotel, and ran into some people from the movement that I haven't really thought about or anything for the past two years. So, that kinda brought me back to the world that I used to inhabit. I got into a small argument with some of the people there about development in Africa, since I now take a dim view of education as some sort of cure all answer to things. I know on paper, it sounds really good to say that education is the solution and can cure all ills, but I am not sure how true that really is. A lot of the kids in Mosteiros didn't really bother with graduating from high school one way or another, and I could hardly blame them for that.

When they were talking, I really realized that they had no idea what they were talking about, since (at least from my pov) they probably hadn't spent more than tourist time in any part of the developing world, so they really didn't know what education could or couldn't do for anyone there. Then it made me think about all of the opinions that I have about things that I really have no idea about, and that maybe I should shut up more.

When I was on the plane from DC to Mpls, I ran into a guy with a Togo shirt, so I started talking with him, and it turns out that he had actually be a TOT Trainer and language instructor for PC/Togo for four years! So, he is now at VT getting his PhD. Ah, how small the PC world really is...

Now I've been in D.C. for like two weeks. I spent a relaxing week over at Cash Money's place, watching DVDs, and generally being useless. It was great! I went grocery shopping for the first time, and I could not believe the size of some of the onions or tomatos. They looked like mutant freaks that escaped from a lab! Totally abnormal and kinda disgusting. Of course, I still ended up buying one of each, but I was afraid they were going to jump out of the bag and eat me, as we were walking home.

Sitting there, watching Law and Order reruns on whichever cable network, I think my ability to suspend disbelief has died by a level or two. I kept thinking "it's more complex than that!" and other things that did not allow me to enjoy the show. I am hoping this is only a temporary condition, which will die as I watch more American entertainment.

I also watched the entire Firefly TV series, about 3/4ths of the first season of Battlestar Galactica, and saw Loose Change, the conspiracy-theory documentary about Sept 11th. I only went into the city once when I was out there, and actually came here (here being the RPCV career center at the regional recuriting office in NoVa, where there are computers, job boards and everything else that would make you think that someone in the PC Universe -- i'm not sure exactly who -- cares for us).

Waiting for me at No Pun Intended's house -- which is where I am staying for a few days -- is the first season of Lost, which I hear is good. So, tomorrow, when I plan to do nothing in the City of Falls Church, I will try to get though the entire season. And then the next day, I will be spending a delightful day with Monkey Bar, who will be up in town, for a PC event.

I am getting more and more excited to head back to the Twin Cities (no, not because of my father) but because of my friends there. Earmuffs moved there a while ago and should have her place set up by the time I get back! So, it'll be cool to chill with her and other RPCVs that are around. I was talking with her on the phone the other day, and found out she had reached the same conclusions that I had, which is that Americans are unable to control their kids. It was so nice to see that we had both reached the same conclusion after out time in CV.

Well, it is my plan to visit the Embassy of Cape Verde later today, so we will see how that goes. I hear there are possibly quite a few CVians here, so we will see if I can get the hookup through them!

So now I am in the suburbs, after spending a delightful half a week in the city. The 'burbs have its advantages and disadvantages of course. For the first time since arriving in the States, I have a bedroom I can use for a few days, that is private. So I can finally empty out my hiking backpack and repack it, after the security people at El Al tore through it.

Finally, I thought, I would go buy a cell phone today. Of course, it didn't happen. By the time I finally made it to the bus stop, I had just missed the bus and the next one wouldn't be coming for an hour. Then, as I was trying to decide if I should take the bus going the other way to the mall, that bus pulled up across the street, and then drove away as I just started at it.

I think I have this need to get up and go out everyday, this being because for the past month, that is basically what I have been doing. I don't actually want to get up and go out, but something still makes me do it. And then when I don't accomplish it, I feel like crap, and just go home and want to mope at my inability to successfully nagivate my way through modern Western society.

I really want to talk to friends on the phone, but I really do not have the will to get a cell phone. I think I am dealing with a bit of post service depression, or difficulty in adjusting or something. Everything in this country just seems really impossible to do. Gah!

- I have noticed a lot more homeless people on the street than before. I am not sure if it's because I am just noticing them more, or if it's actually because there are more homeless people now. This reminds me of when I was in Philly last week and there was this guy sitting in front of a building. He was asking for change, and I didn't want to give him any, but I had a small bottle of water that I hadn't opended and probably wasn't going to be drinking from, so I offered it to him. First he flinched, because he must have thought I was going to hit him with it. Then he actually refused the bottle of water! He pointed to his cup of pop! So, I know there are homeless people and people suffering here, but really, even in CV, if someone has a house and whatnot, if you gave them this water, they would never have refused it. How poor are you if you're actually refusing stuff?

- I had a little get together last night at Fox and Hounds for people. Some of my very closest friends showed up, which was nice, but not a lot of other people came. I think I choose a bad weekend, where there was a lot of other stuff going on. So, I had told people that I would be there till late, but no one was showing up, so I ended up bouncing a bit early, and then this morning I woke up to an email telling me that three friends had come, and where the heck was I? So, whoops, I really feel like an ass now. This is alongside being a bit sad that I didn't get to see a lot of people. Not that I won't see them, since I'm moving back here, but, I dunno, it would have been nice to have seen a big group of people all at once. But whatever.

- It also kinda sucked since the night before, I ended up drinking an entire bottle of long island iced tea mix, with the predictable results. So, this restricted me from drinking too much last night, since I was still feelin' a bit off from the night before.

- Going into PC, I quickly learned that what I expected has nothing to do with the reality of the situation on the ground. The same should apply for when I leave, but it seems that I have not learned this lesson. I finally got the will today to go buy a cell phone, and walked all the way from Adams Morgan to 12th and E, just to find out that the T Mobile store is closed. So, I am moving out to the 'burbs today, and that will make coming into the city harded, but I am hoping that my will does not fail me now, and lets me get this taken care of.

- I honestly think I just want to sit around and read. Well, actually, I do want to see friends, but it just seems so difficult to do anything.

- Yeah, now that I think about it, I am pretty sure I don't want to do anything that requires me to leave the house of the friend that I am staying at. I am not sure if this is a residual from CV, or just me trying to adjust to life here.

-- Yeah, that thing about seeing so many Asians in the streets was only a NYC thing. I spent a day in Philly and now am in D.C., and I am not seeing as many as I did.

-- Before PC, I wasn't too much into having kids. Once I went to CV, I changed my mind. I think I know why. I think American kids are bad mannered. When I was in Philly, I was in this used bookstore, and there was this kid, maybe 4 or 5, with his mom. He kept whining, "Mommie" and running around and making noise and whatnot. And it was really annoying. And again, just like with the woman I shared a row on the plane with, I wondered why she couldn't control her kid. I mean, in CV, kids are invisible. Many times, I found it quite funny when an adult was walking through the main square in front of the police station, and they would intersect with a child. They would move the kid aside without even looking at him and go on their way. And the kid wouldn't protest, or anything. Kids just know their place, and it's not to be annoying. Maybe I didn't want kids here because I thought all of the ones I saw were annoying. But now I know I can raise them in the CV style, so I am less worried.

-- When I was in Philly, I walked into a mall, and got so anxious and nervous, I had to walk right out. I find that odd, because I went into two malls in Tel Aviv, and it didn't really bother me. But for some reason, when I went into the mall here, I just felt really uncomfortable and needed to leave.

-- I think the only way I am dealing with going into big stores, is by virtue of the fact that I am ignoring most of what is there. I mean, there are so many things to see and choose from, I just try to ignore most of them and just find what I am looking for. Of course, in a bookstore, this is hopeless, so I pretty much have been entering into bookstores, walking around and looking and random things and then leaving. I can't stand in one place for long and really look at anything.

-- I just washed my clothes and dryed them in my friend's machines! Amazing!!!

-- Though I have been flushing my toilet paper down the toilet, I am still not comfortable with this, and am worried that it will clog up the system.

-- There are a lot of people here with baby strollers. This is one of the first things I noticed when walking the streets of NYC. A lot of women (and a few men) with strollers. No one seems to hold their kids in the street.

-- I can read all of the street signs, and overhear and understand people's conversations, without even trying to. Very abnormal.

-- There are a lot of Asians on the streets. A lot. I don't know why it's odd for me, but it is. I mean, when I was in Praia, I would see Asians on the street all of the time. But, here, they are everywhere. And they all speak American-accented English! The first day I was out on the street, I wanted to stop all of them and ask where they were from. But then I restrained myself.

-- White people have a lot of different hair colors. And their skin tones are all slightly different.

-- When, for example, I walk down Lexington Av, and I see all of the stores, I kinda think, "ok, so these are all of the stores that are here on the upper east side" and then am a bit shocked when I go down another street, and there are even more stores. I'm still used to one main street having everything. But not here, I guess.

-- It is still so wonderous that you can just turn the faucet one direction, and hot water will come out of it.

-- I used Google Earth for the first time the other day. Simply amazing.

-- No one stares at me in the streets. I can walk down one and be totally ignored! Bliss!!!

-- The level of customer service in this country is just amazing.

-- I am unclear if you don't have a cell phone or landline here, how do you make a phone call? Are there anymore public telephones? And why are cell phones so complicated here? I just want one that makes and recieves phone calls, and can send text messages. Everything else is a waste of my time.

--The Internet goes so fast here.

When I was on the bus from JFK to The Campus Observer's apartment, and I could understand everything I was seeing in the streets that we were passing through, I realized one of the things that makes PC so tough -- and so rewarding. By doing PC, you give up control and understanding of your surroundings. For two years, you have to unlearn everything you had contextually understood about the world around you (this is what a house looks like, that is an off-ramp, there is a strip mall, etc, etc), and adapt to the understanding of a different culture. This is not easy -- and despite the view of PC as a bunch of hippies or humantarians -- you have to be hard (and a little bit nutty) in order to even be willing to take up the challenge, let alone survive it.

So, when I was in Jerusalem, I took the opportunity to visit the West Bank on two occasions. The first time, I went with an older South African lady to Bethlehem and we saw the Church of the Nativity, which is the church they built over the supposed location of the big J.C.'s birth. The church itself was not that interesting, and neither was the town, because even though it is in the West Bank, most of the Palestinians are Christian, and it is also basically a tourist trap with guides and others annoying you. Of course, since the West Bank doesn't really have an economy of anything, you can understand why they'd be pressing pretty hard to get your Shekels.

You can take a Arab bus from East Jerusalem -- to what some call the Security Fence, and others call the Apartheid Wall -- which basically seals off the West Bank. Once you get to the checkpoint, you get off the bus, go through Israeli security and then take a cab from the other side of the wall to the town center. Bethlehem, being a popular spot for Christians, made getting through pretty easy, I only had to flash my passport at the guard and she waved me through.

After walking around the church and one of their town squares, we decided to save some money and walk back to the checkpoint. Of course, we got lost. After getting various directions, we made it to the Security Fence/Apartheid Wall, but we were still confused because we couldn't find the actual checkpoint. Though annoying, this was also a good opportunity for me to snap many photos of the graffiti on the Palestinian side, which I will soon be loading up to my flickr account for all to see.

Going to Bethlehem was kinda like a test for me, because I wanted to see how much trouble it was to go into the West Bank. It wasn't a big hassle, so later in the week, I took a trip to Ramallah, the administrative capital of Fatah (and technically the PA, I guess). I was mainly going to go see Yasser Arafat's grave. Curiosity had gotten the better of me, because whatever you want to say about that man's politics and history, I will always remember watching his funeral on television and just seeing the masses of people, totally overcome by emotion by his death and not being afraid to show it. I mean, I think people died at his funeral. I think it was also around the same time that Ronald Reagan died, and I was on the streets when his caisson passed by. I distinctly remember if I were dead, which kind of funeral I would prefer, and it wasn't the solemn and dignified one that I took a small part in.

I was told by people at my hostel that there would be no problem in going to Ramallah, but even so, I was surprised when the bus just crossed through one of the checkpoints without even stopping. So, I got out in some random bus station in Ramallah, having no real clue where I was. After walking around a bit, trying very hard to look like a silly Japanese tourist, I found some Fatah security force people, and after shouting "Arafat!" a few times, they understood what I wanted, and pointed me in the right direction.

So, I walked over to his still-to-be completed mausoleum and snapped a few photos. Though it is said that Ramallah is a cultural center for the West Bank, I didn't really get that feeling, and after walking around a few more streets, and getting lost on the way to the bus station, I headed back to Jerusalem.

Even on the way back, considering this was a bus going from the West Bank into Jerusalem, I found security to be somewhat lax. Some of the people on the bus, for reasons I was not totally sure about, had to get off and go into the checkpoint, but a few others, (I think we all were using our passports for IDs) could just sit on the bus, and we flashed them to the Israeli security when they came on to check. But it didn't seem like they did much of a job scanning the bus or anything, so it seems like it would have been possible for people to smuggle stuff onto it. But I guess not. Or (as I am sure there was) there was probably a lot more going on than I was able to see.

That morning, I had actually gone first to the Temple Mount, where the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa Mosque are also located. After passing through security -- and taking in the dirty looks of the Israeli guards -- I walked around and snapped some photos of an unimpressive plot of land that two major world religions are ready to fight and die over. So I kept snapping photos, since who knows, in a few years, it all may look kinda different.

So, I wasn't too in love with the Old City of Jerusalem, because it really is small compared to the Old City in Damascus, which I found a lot more fun and interesting. I also kinda got conned by a "guide" in the Muslim Quarter, so I wasn't too happy about it, and didn't feel like spending too much time there. But really, it was like a pale shadow compared to Damascus. Same with East Jerusalem.

So, after about half a week of sleeping on a roof by Jafa Gate, I packed up my stuff and headed down to Tel Aviv. I spent a night at a house of a friend of Graduated FROM College, who lives in a town outside of Tel Aviv. It was kinda unexpected since I had said that I wanted to see his town -- because I wanted to try to get a feel for what normal Israelis live like -- and I ended up getting an invitation to his house. It wasn't until I had met Simply Jews that I learned that he and Graduated FROM College had never met before and they only had contact online via their blogs. So for a minute I worried if this was all too weird, but then I decided if he was willing to put me up in his house, I shouldn't worry about it too much.

I had a good time, Simply Jews and his wife showed me around a bit of town, and we had some nice Asian food for dinner. I was able to take a warm shower, sleep in a nice room with AC and even wash some of my clothes! So even though I was so close to going back to the States, having that one night not being in a hotel was very nice.

Then it was on to Tel Aviv, which, really, is like Little America. Other than the signs in Hebrew, you really could mistake it for a town on a coast. So I walked around there for a about a day and a half, saw the sights, almost bought some Iraqi money, chilled out, and thought about home.

Then the big day came, and I arrived at the airport five hours ahead of schedule. When I went to El Al to confirm my tickets, they told me three hours. However, considering the three hours it took for me to get into the country -- along with Simply Jew's warning that from what he has heard, some people have more trouble when leaving the country than when entering -- I decided that it would be better for me to go even earlier, in case the border people wanted to threaten to check my email again.

Though I did get searched extra carefully, and had to answer a bunch of inane questions -- where do you get your money for travel? do you have any proof of your Peace Corps work? you don't have a visa from Morocco? did you meet people in these other countries? -- it only took an hour. After the lady had gone through my bag, she asked me if I wanted to pack it all back, and I snapped at her that I wasn't the one who unpacked it all. It wasn't until I had gotten to NYC that I realized they had also broken the little case that holds my pin drive. Good thing I didn't realize it then, or I would have gotten really pissy with them.

I just find it strange and disappointing that I as an American had no real issues getting in and out of Lebanon and Syria, the latter being branded a state sponsor of terrorism by the U.S., yet when trying to enter and exit Israel, I -- a citizen of a nation that is, according to the Jerusalem Post, a "natural ally of the State of Israel" -- am considered a security threat and required to undergo extra screening.

So once I get onto the plane and take my seat, this lady and her kid comes up to claim their window and middle seat. She starts complaining that she wants to sit on the aisle seat, since she will have to get up with her kid a lot. Well, lady, they why didn't you request that at the ticket counter? I really don't want to be stuck in the window with her and her kid in the way, so I decline to switch seats, and the flight attendants cannot find other people to switch.

Then the kid starts screaming and crying, he is probably like five. And the mother doesn't really seem to be doing anything about it to shut the kid up. So for the first half an hour the kid is just wailing and she is just talking to him or whatever, and letting him go on. I really wanted to tell her that people who can't control their children shouldn't be having any, but I don't think spoke any English, so I didn't bother.

The kid finally shuts up and there is some peace and quiet. The plane ride, despite being 10 hours, passed quickly for me. I watched parts of Oceans 13 about four different times, and caught parts of other random movies. For the last hour or so of the flight, the kid is totally awake, and causing havoc in his seat, and again it just amazed me that the mother was doing nothing about it.

So, I try to ignore them and think about the fact that I am, after two years, landing in America. JFK is the airport that we flew out of two years ago, so it kinda felt like it was coming full circle. We landed and I made it through customs and immigration very easily, which was good, since I was worried I would get the Israeli treatment and asked more pointless questions. However, these border people seem to be more on top of their game and let me through with no problems.

So here I am in NYC for a few days, chilling out with The Campus Observer, before heading down to D.C. I have already had many thoughts about readjusting back to life in the States, but I will save that for another post.