Peace Corps Journals

Sunday Sendoff

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-10 05:13:00

If there was ever a day that perplexed me in Samoa, it was Sunday. From my first weeks in the country, it had always proved to be a day that was both anticipated with excitement, yet dreaded like the plague. It was anticipated for the down time it provided: Samoa shuts down on Sundays, and thus everybody slows down, including me. It was a great day to write letters, catch up on reading, or just take a nap. As I came to know the kids better, many of them would wander up to my house in the afternoons to visit and hang out.

But on the other hand, I never felt completely comfortable with Sunday. In the beginning when I was homesick, it meant a whole day of sitting around, thinking of how much I wanted to be at home. Sundays also seemed to always be the hottest day of the week, but maybe I just never slowed down enough on the other days to realize how hot the rest of the week was. Nonetheless, Sunday was hot, and since it was mostly spent in the house, it meant a lot of sweating!

My last Sunday in Samoa was on December 11, 2011. The morning arrived like every other Sunday, with the smell of smoke in the air as every family prepared their umu (oven) for their Sunday toanai —the big feast followed by church service. Looking down over my village, the sight of thick smoke often made me wonder if there wasn’t a huge plume of smoke visible over all of Samoa from outer space. It was like a whole country sending up distress signals to someone from above.

After I had gotten dressed, I began walking over to the Catholic Church. I walked past my neighbor’s house and just like every week before, they asked me the rhetorical question, “Are you going to church?” Samoans always state the obvious, not to be flip, but just as their way of making small talk. I continued down the steep hill into the village as I noticed all the kids in their Sunday best. I came to love that walk over to the church. When I was homesick, I had started the tradition of humming my favorite church hymns on my way over, and this stuck as part of my Sunday ritual, even until that last Sunday. Since the mass at the Catholic Church was always in Samoan, I guess it was my way of offering up some songs in English.

I climbed up the steep cement steps to the threshold of the church and did a 90 degree turn to my right to look out over that beautiful ocean, for I anticipated that the following week, the scenery would be completely different. It grabbed a hold of me, and I sat down out front for a few minutes to take in the sights, sounds and emotions. A few minutes later I walked in and took my regular seat on the left side of pews, next to the older lady who always wore the “Samoa” barrette in her hair. A couple of my students from school who are altar boys came over and sat on the other side of me. They didn’t even say a word to me—they just looked at me with a smile of reassurance, and we both knew what the other was thinking—this was it!

Church began, and I tried my best to soak in the last hymns sung in their beautiful language. Although I didn’t understand all the verses, it never mattered. Music is a universal language.

The priest began the mass with the usual opening, but then took a moment to recognize me and remind the congregation that it was my last Sunday with them. Throughout the whole mass he included me in the prayers and made me feel welcomed, just as he had made me feel each and every week I was there. As church continued, I had to hold back tears, trying not to think of everything that was going to change, but instead just focusing on being with these people on that particular day.

In Samoa, it is always tradition for the priest, and other senior elders of the church to receive a flower ula (lei/necklace) just before the start of the Eucharistic prayer. For many weeks, I had received an ula as well, and my final Sunday was no different, when one of the ladies walked over and draped it over my shoulders.

At the end of church, the priest took a moment to speak about my two years in their village, and give a thank you to me. His thanks ended with an applause by the entire congregation. I had always felt a part of their faith community, and most especially on that last day.

Following church, I was invited to a huge feast that had been prepared by several families in the village. It was attended by all the women from the church committee, as well as all the matai (high chiefs) from the church, and of course Fr. Mikaele, our priest. I had heard a few rumors about the party for me in the days leading up to it, but I had no idea it was going to be as formal and elaborate as it was.

When I arrived at the open fale (house) and saw all the woven mats placed precisely around the perimeter, I knew we were going to have an Ava Ceremony. Ava Ceremonies are given on formal occasions for meetings of matai, or when welcoming or saying goodbye to someone in the village. In fact, my first ceremony was with all my other Peace Corps Volunteers, just a few hours after we arrived in the country back in 2009. On this Sunday in December, I was having my last.

I was invited to sit in the highest place of honor, where the priest normally would sit. Two years ago that all would have felt so uncomfortable, but on this occasion, I felt like one of them!

Soon after the Ava Ceremony had finished, the women started shuffling around outside the fale and I knew the food was about to arrive. The priest and myself were served first, with several plates of food placed before us. It was one of the biggest meals I had seen in Samoa. There was fish, lobster, chicken soup, chicken curry, fried chicken, hot dogs, pig and corn beef. There were bananas, breadfruit, taro, and palusami (made from the coconut milk and delicious). As soon as all of us were served, the prayer was said and then the women came to sit in front of us as they fanned our food to keep the flies away.

After our meal, I was given the chance to say a few words to everyone gathered. I began my remarks by addressing everyone present in order of their “ranking,” similar to how we would welcome the guest of honor first, at our ceremonies and gatherings. I gave them all thanks for welcoming me into their village, lives and church for the past two years. I thanked them for their prayers and told them they would be in mine. I never prepared any of my words ahead of time, but my language skills seemed to flow well in that moment while I was in the spotlight. After I had finished, one of their high chiefs gave a final thank you.

The afternoon kept me just as busy as the morning had. I attended afternoon church service at the other church in my village. Although I hadn’t attended that church as much, I was still very close to the pastor and his wife, and of course all the people who made up the congregation. After that service, I was again invited for a meal! By this time my stomach was stretching to its limits, but I ate quite a bit, knowing much of this food I may never eat again. The meal was followed by another round of thank you speeches from the high chiefs of that church, and another thank you by me.

The evening was spent walking through the village, while visiting more families and kids. That night, I did the majority of my packing to prepare to leave my house later in the week, but as I did, I was thinking back on that day I had lived. There I had been, a 27 year old, eating with high chiefs from a Pacific Island country, speaking their language, wearing their clothes, sitting in their highest place of honor. The following week I was going to be Joe Shmoe, but on that day, my last Sunday in Samoa, I had enjoyed feeling a bit like royalty.

The reflection of coconut trees in muddy water on my walk to church.

Men from the church, presenting pigs to the priest and high chiefs at the end of our meal.

With the pastor and high chiefs from the other church in my village.

Wearing my ula, which I had been given at church on my last Sunday in Samoa.

The Cruise: Table Talk

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Peace Corps and Beyond

2012-02-09 13:21:00

The highlight of many cruises is dinner time. It is not necessarily the food you look forward to, but who your table partners, mostly retired couples, may be. There seems to be an uneasy and suspicious aura as two guys from Minnesota and Peace Corps, traveling together on a cruise, are seated at the table.

To break the silence, the first question is indubitably, "Where are you from?". The answer to which is usually enough to get you to the appetizer and engender the sympathy for Minnesotans by those who have retired to warmer climes. Wives are permitted to speak during this part of the meal and reinforce their decision to be living in state governed by air-conditioning and no income taxes. If the couple is from Canada, which half seem to be, they remain mute.

The next totally male question is "What do you do or did?" which usually establishes the male pecking order. But when faced with recently serving in the Peace Corps, anarchy takes hold of the conversation as the established table protocol breaks down. It is the time for the main entree and opens up a deeper level of dialog, wives included.

Two southern couples traveling together show a particular interest in our Peace Corps experience. They stop me a few days later in the dining room and console me for being a hero serving our country in such a dangerous place as "Somolia". I reassure them that I am a hero, but the place is Samoa.

Then there are the four retired school teachers from McAllen, Texas who seem to be in a perpetual state of travel. Cruises too numerous to remember, all 50 states covered, and detailed descriptions of Minnesota unknown even to Minnesotans are part of their journeys with still three of the twelve presidential libraries to see. They usually travel by car, some sleeping while others drive, retelling the same jokes and singing the same songs, not even stopping stopping on Sunday, since church is held in the car. They sing the hymns, but skip the sermon.

Other table conversations cover politics, football, shopping, and comparison of meals on other cruise lines. The talk is gentile and civil at dessert, with everyone aware they are never to meet again ashore.

Hook Ups

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-09 06:13:00

It was 10:30 p.m. on a Wednesday night. My bedtime. I’d turned out the light, put in my earplugs and was in bed with Mr. Kindle, reading by the light of my headlamp.

Music was blasting from the house ten feet away where my brothers and their friends have been drinking for the last several hours. I was surprised to hear a knock at my door.

I yelled out “What?”

“Are you asleep?” asked one of my brothers.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Oh. Sorry to bother you. Can we talk to you?”

I pulled on a robe and opened the door. There was my oldest brother. He just looked at me. I looked back and asked what he wanted. He mumbled. Then silence. Then he said something in Samoan to someone standing to one side of the door. If my host parents and other, sober family members hadn’t been within hollering distance I would have been totally creeped out. As it was, I was just annoyed.

For several minutes we went through a “What do you want?” “No, nothing, sorry.” exchange, but they weren’t moving. Finally my brother explained that his friend wanted to talk to me. He liked me. Dear God, it was a drunken guy in his 20’s. Ready to date the palagi in her 60’s. They finally decided that now was perhaps not the best time for a first date. Ya think?

Earlier this evening, I’d heard the guys talking about “the palagi”. Annoying but I’m used to having people talk about me even when they know I can hear and understand them. I didn’t pay much attention to them.

Now, I can hear them talking loudly, drunkenly again about me. I’m getting the gist that my brother is trying to convince his buddy that tomorrow is the better time to approach me again. Yeah, he’ll have a much better shot then.

After reading for awhile, I put on a sleep mask, tucked my earplugs in more firmly and turned out my headlamp. I eventually dozed off.

I was having a wonderful dream that involved eating cheese while taking a hot shower when I heard something. There was something scratching at the screen of my window. I just laid in the dark, watching and listening. The music was gone although the lights were still on. I watched a large shadow move from the window on the side of my house to the window in the front. More scratching. Then a soft knock at the door.

I called out “What?”

A man’s voice asked in Samoan for me to open the door. This may be how dating happens in Samoa, but you’re dealing with a palagi now, bucko. The door is not opening. He slurred a few more things in Samoan and then, in perfect English, asked if he could come in so we could “be together.”

I could have said no thank you but I was too sleepy and freaked out for that. Instead, in Samoan I told him to stop it and go away. Much like I would if he’d been a cheeky school boy. Thankfully, he left.

I don’t think I totally ruined his evening because after I checked my watch (it was 12:30 a.m.) I heard voices and commotion. Seems the partiers were hungry. Since pizza delivery isn’t an option here, they were building a fire to boil some taro. Better than boiling up some palagi.

I was wide awake and pissed. All of this was happening with my family present. The same family who’d promised to protect me and had warned everyone in the village to stay away from my house.

I finally fell back to sleep. In the morning I considered making a lot of noise to get even with the partiers but didn’t. Just quietly hung my laundry and swept my house. My host mother came by and I asked if she knew about the men coming to my house. She didn’t know. She was really unhappy and hadn’t gone ten steps back toward her house when she was yelling for the son who’d brought his buddy to my door in the first place. She assured me that it won’t happen again. I believe her.

The really odd thing is that my wanna-be-beau is 21, according to someone in my family. He knows I’m 61.

I like to think I’m a fairly smart, adventurous, funny and sensitive woman, with a lot to offer to a man. I’m not delusional, though. I’m no MILF. It is rare that I’m alone with a man here that I’m not propositioned. Sometimes very directly and more graphically than is at all appealing. Age and marital status do not seem to be a consideration. I’ve been hit on by men who have just introduced me to their wives. I was hit on by a cab driver who was taking me to a hotel because the PC doctor determined I was too sick to go back to Savaii. The hacking, coughing, fever and phlegm were not a turn off to that would-be Romeo.

After the incident, I was chatting with one of my Samoan friends, a married woman. I asked if she got hit on all the time or if it was just because I’m a palagi. She explained that it was just the way many men here are. They take a shot. Sometimes they get lucky.

The Body Project

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2012-02-09 01:00:00

The Body Project – Joan Jacobs Brumberg

The Body Project is a historical analysis of how the body of the American girl has transformed over the past century with the changing social mores from the repressive Victorian era to the largely uninhibited 1990s. Brumberg, a feminist historian, analyzes how the evolving concepts of sexuality and beauty impacted the female identity as a girl encountered adolescence. She traces various aspects of the body and adolescence, focusing mainly on menarche, notions of physical beauty, and the concept of “sexual activity” and how they added to the various “body projects” for adolescent girls over the past century.

Brumberg bases her book on scholarly research and excerpts from girls’ diaries and journals over the past century. This combination allows the reader to see the impact of social changes on the individual psyche. I found it very interesting to see how systemic changes, such as medical definitions, lead to new behaviors and treatment for girls. For example, while acne has never been a life-threatening disease, it was never taken seriously until WWII and later military engagements. Since acne more often affected girls than boys, doctors made no special effort to treat it, but as it increased in severity for men serving in tropical military locations, causing scarring and infections that interfered with their service, doctors began to more aggressively address this skin problem. I also found it quite interesting how bodies became more associated with specific products that, in the past, had been marketed only for adult women, but began marketing toward a specific “junior” audience as the age of adolescence decreased. Additionally, the evolution in what products were available, and how widely available they were, was something I had never really thought about before.

Throughout her analysis, Brumberg keeps track of the social movements at play over the course of the past century, but she acknowledges in her conclusion that her analysis applies mainly to middle-class white girls. Brumberg argues that neither the Victorian attitudes nor the latest sexual revolution is an obvious improvement over the other, and she points out the value and shortcomings of both eras. While the Victorian era was constituted of very modest ideas that treated girls as asexual beings, it had a built in support structure in terms of protective and nurturing female relationships. Girls today may have more freedom and more choice concerning every aspect of their body, but they lack advice and direction from role models that can lead to more informed actions. Her argument is worth considering as we move ever forward in pursuit of freedom and equality.

Daily Commute in the Rainy Season in Samoa

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Karen and Dave in Samoa

2012-02-08 18:34:14

Every morning my host family picks me up and brings me to work. By the time the van/truck gets to me, there are already about 9 people in the vehicle. We stop along the way toApiato pick up a few … Continue reading →

Rain!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-08 05:00:00

Plans for the ark are currently on hold. I’m very happy to report that after a mostly-rainy day, it is now just breezy and overcast. There appears to be a storm brewing on the horizon but that’s typical for this time of day. It is the rainy season, after all.

My thoughts are with the people, especially the PCVs, of Vanuatu. The cyclone that veered away from us and just gave us lots of rain and some heavy winds is heading to them. According to the Australian radio station I listen to, they’re expecting 140 kph winds and quite a bit of damage. NGOs in Vanuatu and Australia are gearing up to be prepared. Over 100 residents have been evacuated. I don’t know if that includes the volunteers.

I’ve been in 4 hurricanes. That was in a sturdy house with lots of emergency personnel nearby. Still scared the bejeebers out of me. Until you’ve witnessed 90 mph winds and had to go out in them to lower the level of your pool to keep it from overflowing into the house, it’s hard to understand how intense it is. Let’s pray that this cyclone and any others coming are more bark than bite and do minimal damage.

For me, my roof repairs seem to have done the trick and my kitchen floor is now almost dry. Life is good. I hope the folks in Vanuatu are saying the same thing tomorrow.

Handling Loneliness and Annoyances

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-08 05:08:00

FYI, Lew is a new volunteer serving in Macedonia. He’s been stalking my blog (in a good way) since he started the PC application process. I did the same thing to a few people as I was waiting and trying to get mentally prepared.

In response to my recent post asking if anyone wanted to hear about anything in particular, Lew wrote “…write about how you cope with the annoyances and the lonely times that come your way.”

First, how I deal with annoyances. Not well, unfortunately. Mostly I get cranky, bitchy, impatient and just plain testy. I’ve never dealt well with annoyances or people I find annoying. That’s a character flaw that I thought my PC experience might help me with.

I’m not sure why I thought that leaving all the comforts of home where I found annoyances so, well, annoying, that I dreamed that when I was sweaty, covered in flies and bug bites and doing laundry in a bucket that I’d cope so much better. I was trying to channel Mother Theresa, I suppose. Personally, I bet that for all the good work she did, she had the occasional human moment when things got to her. At least I hope she did, since her situation was ever so much harder than mine and when I get cranky over small annoyances I feel like a failure.

I do work on coping better. Every day. I try to look at the upside or at least the funny side of things.

I worked on a heinous project once. It was the most stressful, exhausting work I’ve ever done. Lucrative but horrible. At the end of each day (usually around midnight) the project manager asked us for the funniest moment of the day. In our exhausted, cranky states we each offered up tidbits. Most of the humor was very dark. It got us through the day, though, because when something absolutely ludicrous was happening we could step back to store it as a possible winner in that night’s “funniest moment” contest.

I try to do the same thing. What’s the humor in this? How can I turn this from annoying into fun? “Ha! You may be really pissing me off but you’re fodder for my blog, you big poopyhead!”

I’ve preached for years that life is all about choice. I can choose to react to a situation by getting annoyed or I can look at the upside. Have to wait in the rain for an hour for a bus? What a great time to practice my Samoan and meet some new people. That’s what I try to do. Unfortunately, sometimes before I consciously make a decision to be Sally Sunshine, my natural instinct causes me to just hunker down and feel sorry for myself.

When that happens, I try to forgive myself. I also ask others to forgive me. A huge difference in cultures between the USA and Samoa is the view on apologies. Samoans apologize for everything. Actually, sometimes it can get annoying. I’ve been told I needed to apologize for something that I had no part in, just observed. “Wah? Huh? Me? Apologize? For what? I didn’t DO anything!”

Like many Americans, I have a very well developed sense of fairness. What is right and what is wrong. If something is not my fault I’d rather eat a plate full of cold, greasy tinned corned beef than say “I’m sorry.” I’ve learned that saying I’m sorry, quickly and as sincerely as possible can help smooth things over. “I’m so sorry my foot was right where you wanted to drop that 50 lb. box of corned beef. Let me just move my bloody stump for you.” Okay, I’m not quite as sarcastic when I say it, but just thinking it that way makes me chuckle and gets me over the annoyance. Plus, it usually generates a return apology which mollifies my sense of fairness.

I also count to ten, count my blessings and try to think how lucky I am. Yes, I am waiting an hour in the rain but at least I don’t have to hoof it 10 miles home. Sooner or later the bus will come. And luckily, since I’m a natural beauty, I look splendid soaking wet. I also try to mentally exaggerate whatever I’m annoyed with, sort of like the adult version of “If you want something to cry about, I’ll give you something!” I think of how much worse it could possibly be until I feel so ridiculous about being annoyed I have to laugh.

Moving on to loneliness. I enjoy time alone. That’s actually a bit of an understatement. I almost married a man once who commented on my extraordinary need for “space”, both physical and psychic. It’s ironic that I was sent to a culture who finds being alone not just unpleasant but downright creepy. I’ve been asked to sit at the bus stop with a teacher so she didn’t have to sit alone for ten minutes. She didn’t want to talk, just didn’t want to be alone. You know, there, in the sunshine on the beach.

One of the things that has helped me enormously is packages from friends and strangers. Going to the post office and seeing a box or letter with my name on it is a treat. Getting home and ripping it open is like Christmas. And the gifts keep on giving. This week I’ve used a pocket pack of tissues and hand sanitizer from one friend. I just took a shower with lavender soap from another friend. She also sent some great cookies from Trader Joe that I’ve been enjoying with my tea each evening. And dinner last night, which turned into leftovers shared with my teachers for lunch, featured dehydrated green chiles sent from an RPCV who served in Samoa.

Every time I use something that someone sent me, it reminds me of them and fills me with the warmth of their positive energy and love. That holds loneliness at bay and reduces the size of most annoyances.

I love to read and would rather spend time with a bad book than a boring person. I enjoy putzing around my house. I spend quite a bit of time cooking and planning meals. I play with the dog. When I’m feeling down I find a baby or some kids to play with. Or a baby anything – puppy, kitten, pig. They all brighten my spirits.

I’ve found here (much like at home) I’m loneliest when I’m with other people. For example, yesterday my teachers decided to stay after school to share some rice and sardines. I was ready to head out but it would have been rude. So I ate a bit of food, even though I wasn’t hungry. I sat patiently as they talked and laughed and ignored me. It made me lonely and sad. The teachers don’t understand that. To them, I’m in the room so I’m part of the “family”. They forget that when they go into full-on K language at full speed my language skills can’t keep up. I don’t blame them. They’re stuck with me for 2 years and they’re usually patient about making sure I have a clue what’s going on but sometimes they just want to relax and talk and laugh without having to play interpreter. But it still makes me feel lonely.

Sometimes even when I do understand what is being said I feel lonely because our views on the world can be so different. Samoan humor is very different than American humor. We are at opposite ends of the politically correct spectrum. I want people to get my jokes. I want people to say things I find funny and not hurtful. It feels lonely when I feel like there’s all of them and … and then there’s me.

When I first arrived I frequently felt lonely after calling home. Ironic, eh? Instead of being comforting, it made me want to hop on the next plane. That’s eased as time has passed. I still miss the people I love, but this is home now, too.

I’ve described what makes me feel lonely. How do I cope? I assume good intent. They are not blocking me out. It’s just what happens when there’s a language/culture barrier. I promise myself a good cry later, when I’m alone. I think about all the times when we’ve laughed together at things we all understand and that hit everyone’s funny bone the right way.

I recently read in a PCV blog some words of wisdom. I wish I could remember the name of the volunteer. I’m going to do a bad job of paraphrasing, but basically what he said was that after a year he’d accomplished what he came to do – have an adventure, learn a new language, experience another culture, see a new part of the world. He was ready to go home. But he signed on for two years and the second year is when he’s serving.

I feel very much the same. I feel like I’ve gotten what I came for. But it’s not time to go, I promised to serve in the Peace Corps for two years. I didn’t sign up for a vacation or be catered to or have a walk in the park. Sometimes, annoyances and loneliness are part of the price of serving. For me, they’re a very small price, given all I’ve received. And heck, I had annoyances and loneliness at times at home, too. At least here I’ve got the most beautiful view on earth to enjoy while I whine to myself.

2012: The Year of Flash Mobs and Slip-n-Slides

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Live in the Sunshine, Swim in the Sea, Drink the Wild Air: Surviving Samoa

2012-02-08 01:21:00

As my second and senior year of the Peace Corps starts, I have now experienced roughly fifteen months of Samoan culture. At this point, any good volunteer starts to think, How can I share American culture a little more? The answer comes like a lightning bolt when rain or a dance club is involved.

Twenty mile per hour winds, a pounding rain, and an open porch can only lead to one thing at a Peace Corps volunteer’s house in Samoa. You guessed it: a makeshift, but ever-pleasing Slip-n-Slide**. A sudden and unrelenting rain forced three of my year seven students to take refuge under my porch yesterday afternoon. The fact that they were already soaked didn’t deter them from trying to prevent any further drenching. Ina, Lumepa, Josephine, and I quickly realized that the puddles forming around the edges of my porch were creating a river headed straight for my bedroom door. Most Samoan fales come equipped with stylish blue tarps that can be pulled down to block such river tributaries from forming. We decided to pull mine down. However, my blue Samoan tarp inexperience led to a slight malfunction. Instead of carefully unrolling the tarp which has a piece of lumber nailed to the bottom to hold it down, I just let the tarp drop, causing the wood to rip out of the tarp. The three girls looked at me for a second; their expressions said one of two things: “Wow, Sema, that was dumb,” or, “Oh no, we’re going to get sasa-ed [hit].” My laughter, while outwardly expressing bemusement, was really masking the universal thought for such situations: “Shit.” After jerry-rigging the tarp to stay down with large rocks, the girls discovered that they could run and slide on my soaked porch. You could call it Samoan ice skating. After slipping and sliding around on my plastic-wood ground covering (pisikoas, you know the fake flooring I’m talking about), the girls quickly realized that the falling that is inherent in such a game isn’t so conducive to non-bruised knees. And of course, that’s when the rain stopped and the wind ripped the tarps from under the rocks, which only led me to put the tarp up as quickly as I had taken it down, thus bringing to an end a moment of good ol’ dangerous fun.

I now implore shower-singers and dancers-in-the-dark the world over, what is a Peace Corps volunteer to do during breaks in our Mid-Service Conference except learn a dance called The Wobble? Part of this dance could be likened to a gorilla swinging its lanky arms behind its back. And why wouldn’t we want to do such an ungraceful move in front of numerous Samoans? The answer escapes me. Clearly the new Club X would be the perfect place to perform our monkey-like maneuver. Friday night came and Club X was calling. That’s right Samoa, well, those of you who caught a glimpse of choreography out of the corner of your alcohol-influenced eye and were entertained enough to watch, you just witnessed a flash mob danced by some very coordinated, sweaty white people.

Whether it’s at a night club with semi-inebriated Samoans, some of whom tried to join in with moves of their own, or on my flooded porch, we here at Peace Corps Samoa take every opportunity to share American culture. Any volunteer would now ask, “Can I put this on my VRF?” **

* For the Slip-n-Slide deprived, this probably overpriced but cheaply manufactured toy is simply a glorified piece of plastic (or trash bag) that is laid on the ground and covered in water. Children, teens, and overzealous fathers then proceed to run onto and semi-gracefully slide the length of the garbage bag, ahem, Slip-n-Slide.

**The VRF, or volunteer report form, is a universal fa’alavelave that every Peace Corps fills out to record what activities you have done in recent months. It also helps volunteers feel like they’re accomplishing something.

I Choose the Bright Side

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-07 17:52:00

The rain has continued. Unrelenting, all night. The wind has stopped, which is great. But the rain has not. The 2x4’s in my kitchen ceiling are now so saturated, I can’t put a pan to catch the drips. They drip the length of the room. There were large puddles all over the floor when I woke up. What ceiling I do have has begun to ripple and bow from water weight. Just a matter of time until it soaks through and collapses. It’s currently furry with mold.

My clothes have been languishing in a bucket of soapy water for two days. I need to do something about that or they’ll be moldy, too. And to top off my morning, as I sat down on my bed to type this, one of the damn wooden slats that make up my bed, fell to the floor, leaving a gap where my butt usually resides. Clearly a message that it was tired of my big ass.

I can either focus on the water torture and go to school in a pissy mood or I can choose the bright side. Even though the sun is nowhere in sight, I know there is a bright side. So here we go.

I don’t have to wonder where my dog is. I can smell him coming. Wet dog smell is universal.

It’s cooler when it rains. I didn’t use my fan at all last night.

I can be even less concerned than usual about my hair before school, since it will be wet by the time I get there. I read an old magazine last night that a friend gave me for school (to use for pictures). They said the tousled look is in. Just let your hair air dry (that could be an issue), then tousle with your fingers. My style is in.

All this moisture HAS to be good for my dry, wrinkly skin. I should look dewy fresh and only 22 by the time this rain is done.

It could be snow.

Soon, I may be able to fish from my front porch.

I have an indoor bathroom. I have to walk across a damp floor to get to it, but I don’t get rained on in the process. Dripped on but not rained on.

My bed isn’t permanently broken, just a pain in the neck to get the board back in place and my family will cheerfully help.

The wind is gone and my roof didn’t blow to Kansas.

I get to teach today. Up until now, it’s been preparing the rooms, teachers planning/drinking tea and doing attendance stuff. Today I get to do an actual lesson.

The rain, oddly, still seems to be holding the mosquitoes at bay. I would think just the opposite but am not going to question a miracle of nature that works in my favor.

Last, but not least. It will stop. Sooner or later. Or, I’ll have to learn what a cubit is and build an ark. There will be chickens and pigs and dogs and cats and geckos and…the ants and spiders better know how to swim.

Thanks!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-07 06:03:00

I enjoy writing this blog. It’s cathartic for me and since I find myself wildly humorous, I laugh a lot while I write. Sometimes I write some really sarcastic and nasty stuff which I erase. Still makes me feel better to get it out.

It’s a treat when someone comments on one of my posts. Or when I look at the stats and am amazed to see how little there is to do in the United States that people are taking the time to read about my very routine life here in Samoa. It makes me smile to know that somebody is out there reading. Cheering me on, or just waiting to see if I’ll go over the edge and kill somebody with a coconut. (It could happen, some days.)

If there are things you want to hear more (or less) about, just let me know. Thanks for reading. And for sharing Samoa with me.

Exciting Shower

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-07 06:05:00

The other night I was following my typical evening routine. Skin a piece of chicken and throw the skin to the dogs and the leg/thigh into a frying pan to start cooking. Then into the shower. Hardly worth writing about but that night was a bit more exciting than usual.

It was a hot, humid evening and the cold water felt good. I’d just soaped myself up when the water stopped. Hmm, what’s a soapy, naked palagi to do? Usually when the water stops it’s because the pipe is broken. Most often by a pig or member of my family stepping on the pipe, which is more exposed than buried.

Several of my brothers and their friends were making a fire for the saka and the umu and just generally chilling. All within about ten feet of my shower. I could yell to get their attention. I thought I heard the sound of gushing water just outside my bathroom, so assumed that’s where the pipe was broken. Maybe they’d notice?

I stood there, dripping suds and trying to figure out how to say “Hey, the pipe broke and I have no water and I’m in the middle of my shower.” As I stood there thinking about the best plan of action, I heard laughing and some commotion next to my shower wall. Then the water came back on. I yelled my thanks and they laughed some more.

I finished my shower and as I turned off the water, something exploded. Near my head. I ducked for cover. Luckily I didn’t scream because it only took me a second to realize that one of the enormous ripe breadfruit had fallen onto the tin roof about a foot over my head. I heard it roll off the roof and splat on the ground.

There is a saying here that you can never die of starvation in Samoa because food falls on your head here. So true.

For anyone interested in my meals, dinner that night was mashed potatoes (actually 1 small potato, mashed) and the chicken quarter cooked in a non-stick pan with carrot slices and some orange marmalade. Easy and tasty. If I’d known the breadfruit was getting ready to fall I could have had that instead of the potato.

The Rain, The Rain

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa There Are Rocks In My River

2012-02-07 06:15:00

A shot of our new church in Lu'ua - about a ten minute walk from my house. One of the nicest churches I've seen in Samoa. I was early - there were about 100 people at the service.

I went to church on Sunday. I walked there and back in sunshine and sweat. The phrase “sweating like a whore in church" came to mind but seems inappropriate, me living a sort of nun-like existence. Anyway, not a breeze stirring. Within a couple of hours, though, the rains came. And continued. Monday it rained. Monday afternoon heavy winds joined the downpours.

Last night was the worst weather I’ve seen since I arrived in Samoa. I have 10 windows in my house. 9 in the main room and a small one in the bathroom. Three of the windows have no glass. The remaining have jalousie windows. I can easily explain why they are no longer used in Florida, where they used to be very popular. They leak. Air and water. You can “close” them, but they never close all the way so when wind is blowing the rain sideways, it comes in the house.

The rain not only came in through the windows, it came in by the bucketful from the leaky roof. I put a soup pot under the largest leak and had to empty it every half hour or so. I decided to just enjoy the cooler air and let the water come in, since there wasn’t much I could do about it anyway. I curled up on my bed with my laptop and the complete DVD pack of a season of Grey’s Anatomy. I was going to McImagine I was with McDreamy in Seattle.

My curtains were blowing sideways into the room, which was no big deal until it was time for bed. The head of my bed lies under two windows. Every time the curtains blew in, they rubbed against me. I’m not an idiot, so I got up and tied them into a knot to keep them from blowing on me. That worked swell until the knots blew out because of the force of the wind. Then they’d blow against me again.

Since I discovered signs the other day that a new rat has taken up residence and has been hanging out near my bed, every time a curtain would brush up against me, I awoke thinking “Rat! Giant ass rat rubbing up against my face!” Then I’d realize it was just the curtain and would try to relax back into sleep.

The biggest sleep disturber, though, was the sound of banging coming from my bathroom. I went in and stood there, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Then I saw the roof move. Now, I’m no engineer, but I think it’s probably not a good thing to have your tin roof flapping like it’s waving goodbye.

I realized the problem was that they had not put nails to hold the roof in place close enough to the walls, so whenever a gust of wind got under it, it flapped. And in flapping, was beginning to pull out the existing nails.

I thought about that for a minute and then crawled back into bed. Then I lay there for awhile, brushing the curtains off of me, considering what I’d do if the roof blew off. I didn’t come up with any great ideas so I just rolled off and went back to sleep.

Now it’s Tuesday night and it’s still raining, but there’s minimal wind and the rain is just a shower not a freaking waterfall. My brother came over and climbed onto the roof to hammer in some more nails. I’m hoping we’re good to go. I still am not sure what I’d do if the roof blows off. I suspect there would be tears involved and a lot of swearing.

My New Fale

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-06 15:51:00

Fale

For two years I lived with a Samoan family…and as many crazy stories I have to share about them, I am sure they have equally as many to tell about me. I loved living with them because they made my life so simple and easy. Food was almost always taken care of, the house was always cleaned (or in the process of being so) and there was always people to talk to. It was real enjoyable.

Now, I am living on my own (until I can get a lock on the door to my bedroom and then I will have a few roommates). It is a big house and like all big houses it has a lot of upkeep. It is nice in some ways to be on my own again, but there is sometimes not enough hours in the day to get everything done. There aren’t doorknobs on most of the doors, allowing you sometimes to get locked inside a room….A huge problem if you are there by yourself. Also, mosquitoes swarm into my room, even though there is mosquito wiring on the windows….because I can’t shut my door and there is not mosquito wiring on the other windows. One of the bathrooms currently doesn’t have water for the toilet. The electricity runs on cash power, in which you put money on the meter to let the electricity run, and when your money runs out, your power also runs out. And because of having a full size refrigerator, my money goes quickly! I haven’t been there a week and have already run out of power twice! (The first day and again today.) The box to check and see how much power I have left is so high up that I have to climb on the windowsill to check it.

The other difficult problem I am having is that I loved half of my stuff into my new house the day I arrived, but because the Peace Corps office hours and my office hours conflict with each other, I have been unable to retrieve my boxes.

But the worst of my problems is in my kitchen. I currently have a giant slip and slide there….and no one can figure out while. Each day it looks as if several gallons of water have been spilled on the floor and as many times as I try to mop it up, more and more water shows up. It seems strange because it is coming from under the carpet (not real carpet, Samoan carpet!) I have had so many days of sliding around almost falling.

With all of these problems to start off, it makes me miss having a nice stable family.

Fale

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-06 15:56:00

Fale

With all of these problems to start off, it makes me miss having a nice stable family.

This is it

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Southern Skies

2012-02-03 00:53:00

Another year begins…

I went to afternoon church the other week. That was unusual because I haven’t been to afternoon church for at least 6 months. Although the interminable Sunday afternoons can sometimes feel like “the long, dark tea-time of the soul” (thank you Douglas Adams), I really enjoy having that time entirely to myself.
This time, church was a special occasion. It marked the beginning of the school year. The tradition is for students to wear their school uniform, and the pastor says a special blessing for them and reminds them of their duties and whatnot as students in the upcoming year. I didn’t catch most of it because my Samoan isn’t up to it, but I got the gist.

However, I was surprised at how I felt. I went to the afternoon service out of a sense of obligation; I went to the service marking the beginning of the school year because I am a teacher at the school, but when I got there, I felt connected. I am a part of this routine, this ritual. Moreover, I’m ready for it. I know what is coming this year. I don’t even remember this service from last year, except that a bunch of kids were in pink and green, and the older kids were in shades of blue. This year, it mattered. Of course not all the students from my school were there, and not all the students at church were from my school (I don’t teach at the secondary school), but I felt so proud of my students. I want them to begin the new school year with a fresh outlook, a positive attitude, and the belief that they are improving themselves by trying their hardest at school. I also felt horribly sentimental and on the verge of tears at one point because – as many people in my village have already pointed out to me – this is my last year. This is the last year I can hope to pass something on to my students. This is the last year I can hope to make them love reading as much as I do. This is the last time I will lead my students into their new endeavors and ideas at school – or really the first year I will lead them at school because I didn’t know what I was doing last year. And then I’m gone. I won’t be at that church service next year. 26 months was unfathomable, but 10 months…is nothing. This is it.

Brida

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2012-02-03 00:51:00

Brida – Paulo Coelho

Brida is the story of one woman’s search for magic – for meaning in life, to find a way to love others, and how to relate to the world. Set in Ireland (read the introduction – I’m not sure if this is a true story or not), Brida tells us about the spiritual journey of the main character, Brida. She sets out looking for a path to follow. She finds the Tradition of the Sun, which in turn leads her to the Tradition of the Moon, commonly known as witchcraft. As she learns the secrets of the tarot, practices ceremonies and ritual dances, and learns to listen to her soul in an effort to awaken her Gift, Brida struggles with the difficulties of trying to pursue one path in light of vague lessons and a personal desire to remain free to choose any path. The story culminates with her Initiation into the Tradition of the Moon. She learns to combine both male power (the Tradition of the Sun) and female transformation (the Tradition of the Moon) into Wisdom that helps her to understand that we can’t understand the world.

Brida is a great story in places, but it didn’t grab me like The Alchemist. Personally, I think the idea of magic and tarot cards and rituals are fun, but I have a hard time accepting them as reality. While I can relate to her story – especially the part about not wanting to limit herself to one path when there are so many other potential paths to take – I never really felt connected to the story the way that I did with The Alchemist. Brida goes through personal struggles, deals with disappointment, and has difficulty making decisions – everything from normal life that people can always relate to – but I was never really grabbed by a sense of pathos. I never got pulled into the story. I can relate to her, but I couldn’t relate to the book. What is the shape of the overall story? What is her primary struggle and why do I want her to overcome her challenges? There was too much emphasis on the magic and the rituals, and not enough information about Brida’s life, so I felt it lacked direction and connection. However, Paulo Coelho is still an amazing author, and it was a fairly quick read, so I would still recommend it if you find it lying around somewhere.

Coral Reef Academy

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-03 02:58:00

Coral Reef Academy

You seem them around town, and can be amazed at what these kids can do. The Coral Reef Academy is a program for “troubled” children in the US, in which they come to Samoa to learn coping mechanisms. Hearing what they are, first gave me the impression of ulavale, horrible teenagers, but it is far from the truth. The children that attend school there always put their best foot forward and show the best mannerisms.

Today, they came to visit my school, and put on such a nice musical performance. It was wonderful, because they brought a piece of their own cultures, which showed the children the diversity that lives in America. It was truly beautiful as all of the Coral Reef kids were of different races. Most of the people here think that if you come from America you are white and it is nice that they are able to go around showcasing the cultural diversity in the United States. They also shared some of the different musical styles in the US, and even had the children from my school join in with them.

Without them realizing it, they are helping the Peace Corps out tremendously with our goals of showing Samoans what the people in the United States are like. Fa’afetai Coral Reef!

Famous

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-03 02:58:00

Truly Famous

Yesterday while meeting up with some of my Samoan friends, I learned that my friend’s brother had watched me on the news. I usually talk in English to my Apia friends because that is basically all I knew when I met them. It was really funny because his brother was impressed that I knew the language, and was understandable from my interview. It was nice for my more English speaking friends to see what I can do. (It would have been nice to have a television to watch it on….)

Also he told me that before the dateline change, my friends from group 82 and I (and some from 81 and 79) had our picture in the paper. It was about how Samoa was switching from the last sunset in the world to the first sunrise in the world. The picture was us in Falealupo enjoying the last sunset of 2009.

My mission is to see if I can still find a copy of the article.

Malaga+falavelave=vacation

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-02 16:59:00

Malaga+falavelave=vacation

I left Colorado on a snowy Sunday morning. It was weird to see snow, since the previous day I was walking around in just a t-shirt, since it was so warm. I was ready for my four flights and day and a half of traveling so I can arrive on my new island in Samoa.

My first flight left without a problem and I landed in Salt Lake City, which also had their mountains covered in snow. I waited for my flight, and when the flight was supposed to board, we were notified about a problem. The maintenance crew was onboard fixing something and they said they had to wait for a part to come in from Atlanta. We were delayed by a few hours. The good news was that I would be able to watch some of the NFL playoff game on TV (They switched off CNN news for it!), but the bad news was I was going to miss my connecting flight in Hawaii.

The problem with heading to this area, is there are not many flights a week. To get to American Samoa there are only two flights a week. Sunday and Thursday. I was told that while I waited for the next flight I would be put up in a hotel in Waikiki Beach. So my falavelave allowed me to have a little mini vacation in Hawaii.

I tried to make the most of my time there, since it isn’t everyday that you are FORCED to vacation in Hawaii. I did everything I possibly could fit in during that time period. I went to the USS Arizona, which is always an interesting place with a great museum. The following day I decided to scuba dive and explored a shipwreck. The shipwreck was awesome as we were able to swim through the inside of the ship. There were also the friendliest turtles on the ship. They just swam right next to our shoulders and hung out with us. After diving, I decided there was still plenty of time to do something else, so I went to the zoo. The Honolulu Zoo is pretty nice, but my highlight there was spending time with the goats in the children’s petting zoo. The following day I awoke before sunrise to hike Diamond Head. Diamond Head is a beautiful hike that was carved into the mountain, making the ground completely uneven and rocky. I should have been smart and brought my flashlight, but for some reason I went against my better judgment. It was fun having the stars to guide me as I hiked the trail. It was beautiful at the top and the sunrise was nice. Afterwards, instead of resting in my nice, comfortable hotel room, I went to Sea Life Park. At Sea Life Park, besides having amazing aquatic life, they have the world’s only wholphin. The wholphin’s dad was a 2,000 pound killer whale and the mom was an ordinary dolphin. They created a huge 900 pound wholphin. She looks like a normal dolphin, just much bigger and stronger. The dolphins and the wholpin seem friendly and are extremely talented in basketball. I also got to spend time with my cousin whom I barely see because of geographical reasons.

When my flight was finally ready to take off, I was “adopted” by a Samoan family, who had me stay with them the entire time at the airport. When I got on the plane, I was fortunate enough to get two seats to myself…My adopted family saw this, and the little 8 year old girl decided to join me…and talk to me for the entire 5 ½ hour flight. I went through customs with my new family but said my goodbyes as we parted ways..me to another hotel, and them to their family’s house. That flight was such a great experience as I got to review my Samoan and met so many friendly people. A had many offers for rides while I was there.

The following day I was off again. Back through customs, I was ready to arrive in Samoa. Although I left on Friday, I arrived in Samoa on Saturday. It was strange how one short half hour flight is the difference between a work day and the weekend.

Although I am in a new setting, it is nice to be back to the country that has provided me with a nice home for the past 2+years. It’s good to be back.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-02-02 03:40:00

New Office

Switching jobs can always be an interesting and rough period.

Where in the last I would stare at the lush green plantations, now I have a view of the mountains (and a parking lot.)

In my old school, it sometimes was so quiet you can hear the mice and other creatures hiding; now I have the Samoan Police Brass Band practicing all of the time next to me.

In my old workplace, the hours were laxed, and people ALWAYS lied about their hours to show that they arrived early and stayed late. Now it is a strict 9-5 job (until next week when school starts…)

In my old workplace someone would take a half day every other Wednesday to go to the bank for all of the staff members, now the bank is a ten minute walk (or less depending on your bank).

In my old workplace, food was provided, and eating was often more important than teaching. Now, it is rare for someone to break for lunch.

This city job is pretty different from rural working.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Kyle!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Words from the South Pacific

2012-01-31 04:46:00

Let’s begin this with a pop quiz: Which of the following is not a typical Samoan name given to a boy? A.) Fale B.) Alofa C.) Fatu D.) Kyle

And since you all answered D.) that leaves me with this story to tell: I arrived in my village to begin my service on December 9, 2009. The very next day, there was a baby boy born in my village, and I found out that same evening that the mother had named him Kyle. I never fully appreciated what that meant at the time, but as the two years progressed, it started to become clearer.

Samoans give from their hearts. Kyle’s mother, naming her son after me, gave a gift from her heart, and a sign of respect towards me, as a new member of their community who had arrived to work within their village. As the two years passed, Kyle was a measure of my time in Samoa, as I was able to watch him grow. To tell myself I was going to live in a Samoan village for two years was an abstract concept. To watch a child grow during that same amount of time, served as something concrete.

And so the time passed…we had pictures together along the way, and I came to know their family better. As my last week in Samoa approached, Kyle’s mom came to me and invited me to join them for Kyle’s 2nd birthday celebration. It was Saturday, December 10th! Considering most Samoans don’t do much for their birthday celebration, I was so happy to see that Kyle’s dad went to town that morning to buy a birthday cake for his son. We also had a big spread of food to enjoy, before getting to dig into the cake! I had made Kyle a birthday card, and was sure to get some pictures of us together, some of which I later printed off and gave to his parents.

Now that I’ve left Samoa, I feel even more honored, to have a small child on the other side of the world, who was named after me. It’s another one of those lasting connections which will remain with me and that country I love so much. Perhaps Kyle will be able to look at those pictures when he’s older, and hear the story about a Peace Corps Volunteer who arrived in his village the day before he was born. And someday when I go back to visit my village, I hope to meet Kyle again, and remember the day his life began.

Kyle getting ready to blow out the candles on his birthday cake!

Kyle was warming up to me quite a bit on the day of his birthday, running over to me and wanting to sit near me. Here he even stood still for a picture.

Kyle and his dad.

Superstar

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-01-31 03:24:00

Superstar

About two weeks ago I was on the jumbotron at a Nuggets game. It was really exciting, not only because I won an awesome prize and got to be courtside to see how tall the players really were, but it is always cool to see your face somewhere else.

Last week I was on TV (Altitude), since I was at the location where they were filming the fans for the Nuggets away game against the Knicks. (Are you sensing my Nuggets pride yet?)

I just finished being interviewed by TV3 about my current job assignment. The interview was conducted in English, and was pretty intimidating since I am still brand new to the job. Afterwards they asked if I wanted to try the interview in Samoan, they told me it is okay if it is broken Samoan with incorrect grammar. After the first question about my job, the rest of the questions were about learning the language and how I plan to use it in the future.

I am a complete superstar, who knows where you will see my face next? Maybe a movie?

Back to Work

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-01-31 03:24:00

Back to Work

Wow this feels strange….after a month and a half of just looking for things to do, here I am back to work feeling overwhelmed!

I just started at my new job at Samoan Victims Support Group and I can already see how challenging of a year it is going to be. My job title is the Home School Coordinator. I knew it would be a lot of work, but after one day, I feel like I jumped into the deep end and I hope I can tread water long enough to survive!

The school is basically for foster children who live in a shelter behind my house. Last year was the first year of the school, and it struggled, but it made it by. Like most schools in Samoa, sometimes there were teachers, but more often than not the older students watched the younger students. There was no curriculum and volunteer teachers came in to teach whatever they felt like. Often the entire school was placed together for lessons. Primary through College level learning the same thing….

There is one full time teacher under me, and I have put her to work to help me try and devise a curriculum. I am going to piece together a curriculum for math(s), English, Social Science, Basic Science, Art, Physical Education, Technology and Library Education. The other teacher will do Christian Education and Samoan. After spending waaaaaaaay too much time on the internet, I have a guide on how I plan to do some of the curriculum and am just hoping that I can get the first week (or few) planned out before the start of school on Monday!

I wasn’t thrown into the wild completely….we did receive a “curriculum” of some math worksheet, English tests and biblical stories.

It is Tuesday and we decided to give a test to place the students into the multilevel, multi-ability classes. I have finished my sections of the English and Math for the two primary classes, and have a math test for the college level, and now I am just waiting for the other teacher the Samoan section of her tests. In addition by Friday, I was told to interview each student to help guide their placement.

Yesterday we decided on a school schedule, as we are adding two additional hours to the school day from previous years.

We are making progress…slowly but surely….I am just hoping I can keep my head above water long enough to pull it off!

Trip to New Zealand

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Karen and Dave in Samoa

2012-01-29 21:48:34

Now that we are back from our vacation in New Zealand and have finished despidering our house, we have some time to make a few posts on our vacation. We started out in Auckland. We went to The Loving House … Continue reading →

Last Place in the World

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa No I Didn't Use Spellcheck

2012-01-27 16:20:00

Greetings from the westernmost place on Earth...American Samoa. It has been a long trip back to Samoa, since I left on Sunday, and although I leave in just a few short hours back to Samoa on a half hour flight, I won't arrive until Saturday. This is do to many factors...The first getting to Samoa is much harder than a year ago when there was a nonstop flight from Los Angeles. I had to take four flights to get to the mainland, and 4 flights to get back to Samoa. On Sunday while I was waiting for my flight in Salt Lake City, Utah (I never realized how beautiful those mountains are...it is a perfect view right outside the airport.) my plane broke. It had maintenance issues and while we awaited a new part, many of us were scrambling around to figure out our connecting flights. Most people were just heading to other Hawaiian islands, which is easy as there are many flights out a day, and I think I was the only exception. "You know there aren't many flights to PaGo PaGo" the airline attendant told me as I chuckled with the hard emphasis on the G's. The next flight was not until Thursday, so I would have to wait it out in Honolulu until then (what a hard task!).
Hawaii was full of adventure. I packed so much into those four days that I made it really worthwhile. I went to the USS Arizona, scuba dove a ship wreck, went to the zoo to visit the lion from Denver (and hang out with goats in the petting zoo), sunrise hike up Diamond Head, and a trip to Sea Life Park (where I got to see the only wholphin in the world-Mom was a dolphin and Dad was a Killer whale which made a gigantic dolphin weighing 900 pounds.), and hung out with my cousin who for geographical reasons, I barely ever see. I also continued on my quest to eat America and eat everything I can possibly....which was so delicious!
Thursday came, and upon arriving at the airport, I was thrilled to see so many happy Samoan faces. (Not to say that Hawaii isn't full of them as well!) I got myself adopted into a family, and when no one was sitting next to me on my flight, a little girl name Katie decided best friends sit together. Katie talked to me the entire trip, quizzing me on my Samoan and telling me about EVERYTHING! It was really cute how the father was always waiting for me to catch up so we can do everything together, even going through customs.
Thursday night, I recieved my last treat of airconditioning and hot water in a hotel in Tutuila (American Samoa), and today, Friday, I travel back to Western Samoa.
As you probably know, while I was away Samoa decided to skip a day (Dec. 29th) and go into the future by moving the international date line. Fridays are good days to skip as you go directly into the weekend. I am glad I can follow their advice and go straight into Saturday.
It will be nice to be back in Apia, and I am really looking forward to the next year.
Let the adventures begin!

The Comparative Life

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Southern Skies

2012-01-25 02:33:00

I am not a competitive person. I refuse to play sports with or against the competitive team. I refuse to play games to see who will win. I only like competitions when they are ridiculous, the outcome doesn’t matter, and nobody talks about it as soon as it is finished. Competition takes all the fun out of any activity. However, I do live a very comparative life. I am always checking out who is doing what, how well they are doing it, and making sure that I am doing better than anybody else. This probably explains a lot about my grades and why group projects frustrate me so much, but it can be absolutely detrimental in Peace Corps.

Before I came to Samoa, I asked the few people I knew currently serving in Peace Corps what their experience was like so I would have an idea of what to expect. The gist of all the answers I got back was “I can’t really explain it – everybody is different.” I understand that completely now. Every time I see another PCV, I always have a million stories to tell because even though we are all rural primary school teachers in Samoa, my life is so vastly different from what any other PCV in Samoa is experiencing that I always have news. It is really great to share stories because I usually get new ideas from other PCVs every time I talk to them. I also take comfort in the fact that other people are struggling with parts of their PC service, and feel so lucky that I don’t rats that invade my room and bite the skin off my toes at night (that happened to another PCV), I don’t have a principal who threatens to get rid of me because I interfere with corporal punishment at school (that happened to another PCV), and I don’t have to eat pisupo (canned corned beef) on a regular basis (whereas some other PCVs do get it on a regular basis). But mostly, I don’t like to talk about PC life with other PCVs because I can’t help but feel that everyone else is doing so much better than me.

Nothing cements that feeling better than coming straight off a long vacation into a mid-service conference full of lesson planning, reading strategies, and…success stories. Success stories from other PCVs make me want to hide in a deep, dark cave on the other side of the world, and even that might not be far enough away to protect me from feeling inadequate. I live a perfectly wonderful, effective, helpful PC life as long as I don’t talk to anybody else about it. But as soon as I hear what other people are doing, all those great things I think I may have achieved lose their luster. However, I’ve also noticed that other PCVs feel this way too. Great, but not even marginally helpful to pull me out of that fifty feet of crap beneath rock bottom.

Whereas this effect was particularly devastating at our training last year, I seem to have more of a buffer to it this year. I think this is due to a lot of things. Some mix of feeling more confident in my achievements, seeing the progress of my students over the course of the year, seeing how much I am a part of my village, how much I can talk to other people in Samoan, etc., etc. – everything has improved over the course of a year. I think the most important part though is that Peace Corps has been a huge lesson in focusing only on what you are doing and not concerning yourself with what other people are (or are not) doing. I learned this at school because it does me no good to get frustrated when all my teachers show up an hour and a half after me, but still sign in saying they got there ten minutes after I did. I also learned this because some people are better at teaching drama to their students so they can put together a play for the whole school at the end of the term. I haven’t taught high school drama for a couple of years. I don’t have that experience. I’m not great at making other people do what I want them to do, I’m not great at playing rugby (I haven’t even tried, actually), and I’m not great at swimming. I like sitting on the beach, I like reading books, and I like as much conversation as I can handle (sometimes that is a lot, sometimes that is very little). There are too many things in the world beyond our control – basically everything. I’m learning not to concern myself with it so much, and as a result, I’m not as upset by it. I wish I had learned this earlier, but with my comparative nature, I think this is one of those things that I can only learn by blunt and brutal force. It seems to be working.

Hotel Babylon

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2012-01-25 02:35:00

Hotel Babylon – Imogen-Edward Jones and Anonymous

Hotel Babylon is over a decade of behind-the-scenes gossip, scandal, and excitement in the luxury hotels of London squeezed into one 24-hour shift. Set in the fictional Hotel Babylon with some name changes to protect privacy, everything else in the book, we are assured, is completely true.

Hotel Babylon is told by a man working the reception desk. As the reader, we help check-out all the guests – inspecting all their bills – answer phone calls from mad hotel guests, scan the crowd for goods dealers who supply the hotel with black market wine and caviar, and keep track of anything that could potentially harm the reputation of the hotel – whether it’s prostitutes, homeless people, drunks, or angry guests. We also get to hear the back story of the VIP customers who routinely drop as much in tips as they spend on a night at the hotel, or are so regular at the hotel that it is hardly a shock when they die in their room. We learn the difference between the chambermaids and the house cleaners, why the head chef always acts crazy, and how hotels finally manage to sell all those ridiculously expensive wines that have been sitting in storage for years. Basically, the more money you spend, the more you can get away with, and this book documents all the scandal.
This book is a record of the entire day, and because it is ten years condensed into a 24-hour shift, we see how the dynamic of the hotel changes from day to night. It reads like a journal, and moves quickly from one topic to the next. Whether it is relaying stories of celebrities behaving badly or reporting actual incidents from the hotel, we get it all, and it just keeps coming. It is highly entertaining, often unexpected, and quite a ridiculous look at how people behave so differently when they are away from home and think they have no limits.

My Tribute to Year 8

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Words from the South Pacific

2012-01-24 05:42:00

My last picture with year 8, after
their prize giving--Dec. 2, 2011.
As I believe I've said in the past, year 8 and I had a unique relationship over the past two years. When we first started our journey together in February of 2010, I was still reaching for the reigns on teaching in a foreign country and they were perhaps still grappling at how to respond to a tall white guy who wore glasses and called himself their teacher. But nevertheless, we made it through the challenges and growing pains of the beginning and quickly came to love our time together. I spent the most time with those 8 students during my teaching assignment at the primary school. I am so grateful for their smiles, persistence and patience as we traveled together each and every day.

Looking back now, it's hard to believe that they were all strangers in the beginning--so much so that I was forced to take their pictures that first week of school with them holding their names in front of them, so I could study their faces. Now they are people I will remember for the rest of my life.

As one of my going away gifts to them, I printed those first pictures of them, which most of them had long forgotten about. I will share them now with you, so you can see how they have grown, comparing them to their current pictures from 2011! I'll also take this opportunity to share a little bit about what I'll remember about each of them! Congratulations to Year 8!

Penina

Penina was like the mother of the room. She was looking out for others along the way--including helping them cheat on a couple occassions. Of all the kids, I think she shows the most signs of wanting to become a teacher someday.

Salote

Salote was the one I could always count on to answer a question I had asked, or to offer to come up to the board to write out an answer. She's a great reader as well.

Christopher

Christopher was one of my weaker students, but the amount he grew during our time together was so amazing to see. This kid never gave up, and he fought hard each and every day--with a smile on his face!

Luisa

Luisa was my steady worker who I always could count on. If I needed to trust someone with a certain task, she was the one I'd ask.

Saulo

Saulo was my translator in times of need. He also made a great aid, helping the slower learners after he was finished with his work--a very gifted student.

Neueli

Neueli was the one who kept my spirits high on a bad day. He always came bouncing into my room every morning with a smile on his face and wasn't afraid to give me a hug.

Perise

Perise arrived a term late in 2010, having moved from American Samoa, so I didn't get an early picture of her. She was my librarian. Anytime I needed the books organized, or supplies from the library, she was my go-to person.

PRIZE GIVING PICTURES

In a previous blog I posted on December 3, 2011, I wrote about this year’s prize giving ceremony at my school. However, at the time I wasn’t able to post any pictures from that special day, so I wanted to take this opportunity to tie up that loose end. I’ll post the pictures below with a short description about each one. Again, prize giving is the last day of school for Samoan students where they receive their awards for the school year. This year I found myself holding back emotions as I knew that day was the official end of my work at the school. We had a great celebration, and the kids were as happy as ever!

The evening before prize giving all the year 7 and 8 kids came up to the school to decorate and clean for the event. Here the kids are placing palms around the outside posts of the school for decoration.

The national flower of Samoa, the Teuila, was used for decoration at the school. All the kids were responsible for bringing a few to help with the cause!

The kids are seated and ready for the program to begin. They were told by the principal to have their school uniforms clean for the special day. Notice that the boys and girls are seated separately.

The mayor of the village was asked by the principal to help pass out the awards to some of the kids.

After prize giving with teachers, principal and school committee members.

With teachers, Letaulau and Maria after prize giving.

Not only one of my year 8 students, Saulo was also my personal Samoan tutor, and more importantly, one of my best friends in the village. Here we are together with his gift to me, which his father made and he was so proud of!

The candy necklaces I received from students and parents during prize giving.

Shipping Out

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Peace Corps and Beyond

2012-01-23 11:33:00

January 23, 2012

This Thursday, an fellow Samoan Peace Corps Volunteer, John, and I begin our trip from Fort Lauderdale to the various Caribbean ports and Panama Canal aboard the Holland-American ship, Zuiderdam. John is an old U.S. Navy salt with lots of sailing and sailboat experience, but never has gone to the Panama Canal. Me? Well, why not? There may even be some good stories to put on this blog.

Mary, not very comfortable at sea, is going with some friends to celebrate their mutual friend's 60th in Seattle.

when the music dies you'll be the first one the villagers kill

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa <"}}}><

2012-01-22 20:16:00

i've come up with this really amazing ability to channel my old friends into my current existence. i take people like dan and brad and all the great conversations i've had within my tribe back home and sometimes when i'm pushing through my own questions i see them in my head and i simply keep my ears open for their ideas.

sometimes old conversations come back to me in beautiful flashbacks to my life back when i was a younger me. i remember sitting on my kitchen floor with some friends asking what we were meant to do in this world. my friends were and are great people with great potentiality and i was always humbled by them. i have friends whose purpose is to preserve the world so we may not doom our species; its true. i have friends who can write in the way that we can only narrate in our heads. not surprisingly it was in these moments that i first fortified my plans to become a teacher; one who believes they may not be able to save the world alone yet they can teach others.

and i have asked, 'is it better to inspire or to be inspired?'

some of my conversations are no longer in english. this presents a unique problem/opportunity to begin anew in an almost child-like fashion. learning turkish began as a means of ordering food without being laughed at and has thus progressed into a functioning and usable force in my life. it allowed me to travel the norther and far south east as a resident instead of a foreigner. now it puts me at the same table as those who have much to say about this country. as many curves as my life has taken it has swerved me into a house that is lived in and frequented by many persian folk as well as many kurdish people too.

as i've said i'll have no opinion (or at least a speakable one) so long as i can't vote in this country and this puts me in the position of being a completely neutral set of ears and a mouth only to ask questions. i have to admit thought that i never saw things like this coming six years ago when i sat on the kitchen floor of the trumbul house. it makes me wonder how far away my head will be when i come back home again and if people will be at all interested.

when i first landed here i came in search of a home. i was nearing the end of a year i had spent touching a handful of different continents that would end at a new years eve party on the rooftops of cairo (but thats another story). i could get into details about what took me here but its no different than the other bits of interwound web that fashions our lives in every other instance. soon enough i found a home and i unpacked my bags at long last.

and now i look at alice, my faithful backpack friend, and i think about where she is taking me next. i'm about to set off on a multi-national, multi-continental voyage into the slightly known and complete unknown yet i'm not that concerned; its not like i haven't done this before.

i love this city though and i love this country. i love the people and i love the streets i walk on. in that same love i know i'll come back and begin a new chapter but for now i'm reading maps from a different corner of the forest.

learning another language is cool but being more than functional in three is a blessing and a sign of dedication. i'm excited. i'm moving to south america and i'm passing a few old loves on the way in the form of ancient temples and nicaraguan flor de cana. i'm keeping centered and staying in tune because if i do...

...well i'll finally get my dream of seeing an end to this world :)

Into the Wild

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2012-01-22 20:07:00

Into the Wild – John Krakauer

Into the Wild details the account of Chris McCandless, a college graduate who donated his entire savings to Oxfam, burned the remains of his cash, and took to hitchhiking around the States before he was found dead in Alaska. For two years after finishing college, McCandless tramped around the US, camping, occasionally picking up odd jobs, and meeting other vagabonds. He never stayed in one place for more than two months, although there were a few locations he returned to multiple times. Influenced by Tolstoy and Thoreau, McCandless adopted an ascetic lifestyle, shunning mainstream US culture and beliefs. He was drawn to the wilderness, and told everyone he met that he was planning a grand adventure in the wilds of Alaska. He adopted the name Alexander Supertramp during his travels, but used both names intermittently. After years of hitchhiking, McCandless finally made it up to Alaska, and set out on what he thought was a remote trail to live off the land for a few weeks during the Alaskan spring and summer. Through some mistake or accident, it is thought that McCandless starved to death, and he was found dead at his camp site by some other hikers a few weeks later.

John Krakauer is an excellent writer. He is quickly making it to my list of favorite authors. His pieces are very thorough, well-researched, and always gripping. He paints pictures with his words, and though sometimes I could complain that his descriptions are too detailed, that rarely ever happens. His story about McCandless mostly pieces together his travels before he went to Alaska. McCandless kept a terse journal and had no other communication while he was in Alaska, so one can only speculate about what happened. From interviews and letters, Krakauer retells McCandless’ journeys and his relationships. Krakauer also compares McCandless to other infamous weirdos/hippies/vagabonds who wandered into Alaska and perished, and even tells his own story of stupidity on Alaskan mountains. In the book, Krakauer makes the argument that McCandless was not just another stupid hippie on a trip to lose American society and find himself in the Alaskan wilds, and his reasoning is fairly convincing. Again, it is speculation at most, but it is nice to hear someone give McCandless credit amidst all the accusations of stupidity.

Actually, I am guilty of calling McCandless stupid, reckless, and unprepared. I watched the movie before I read the book, and I thought McCandless was rather callous and selfish in the movie. The book tells a different story. While the movie focuses on McCandless as he drifts towards Alaska, the book brings in his relationships. By talking to the people McCandless met, Krakauer brings in another dimension to the story. I still think McCandless was rather cold in his relationships – he seemed to view the wild not quite as a replacement for human relationships, but as a source of contemplation and understanding that he couldn’t achieve through interactions with others. The wilderness had a higher priority on his list of relationships than other people. He seemed most focused on completing his own plans and not letting others interrupt or deter him. The question is, does that make him cold and self-centered, or does it make him determined and independent? It’s open for interpretation. The whole story is open for interpretation as most of it is speculation. It’s an excellent story, and one of the first I’ve read that I can’t really compare to the movie because it seems like they are different stories – or at least different perspectives on the same story.

The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2012-01-22 20:09:00

The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Life, the Universe and Everything, So Long and Thanks for All the Fish, and Mostly Harmless

In the first five books (I discovered in Australia that there is now a sixth book out) of a three-book series (yes, it’s a three-book series – read the introduction), Adams crafts multiple universes where everything is so illogical, or blatantly obvious, that anything is possible. You MUST read these books. I read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by itself, but the rest of them I read together in the compiled format of The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. As a result, I always read them assuming it was one continuous story, but this time, I read them with the intention of seeing each book separately, and I liked them much more. Which is saying something because I already love these books.

The stories follow Arthur Dent, from Earth, Ford Prefect, from a planet near Betelgeuse, Tricia McMillan/Trillian, from Earth, and the first few include Marvin the Paranoid Android and the antics of the galactic president, Zaphod Beeblebrox, also from a planet near Betelgeuse. The series starts off with a bang, literally, as the Earth is demolished to construct a hyperspace bypass. Afterwards, our heroes wander the galaxy for a few stories, accidentally getting themselves out of disastrous and deadly serious situations, eating steak from a cow that asks to be eaten, and saving the universe on multiple occasions. Everything happens haphazardly, with much miscommunication and misunderstanding, and although it seems that the characters blunder around blindly, they always end up in the right place. Eventually, Arthur returns to Earth, Ford returns to wandering, and Tricia/Trillian takes up another career. They all reconvene in a parallel universe in the fifth installment, and plenty of excitement ensues.

Adams is spectacular. His characters are amazingly crafted, and his writing in general is brilliant. He has sharp satire, biting wit, and the physics of his science fictional universes makes perfect sense (as far as I can follow it, that is). His metaphors are so completely unpredictable (“the yellow constructor ships hung in the air exactly the way that bricks don’t”) or his reasoning so blatantly obvious (“the trick to learning how to fly is learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss”) that his universe makes perfect sense even if it doesn’t seem possible. In that way it reminds me of Catch-22 – so perfectly argued with illogic that you can’t make a competent comeback. Adams also creates a world so fantastic that it almost compares to Harry Potter – and that is ridiculously high praise coming from me. Read these books. They are entertaining, unexpected, and will make you laugh out loud.

cycles of the moon

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa <"}}}><

2012-01-21 17:07:00

whereas the sun cycles in patterns aligned to the rotation of plants, we follow cycles akin to that of the moon; perhaps thats why you and i cross paths in the way that we do.

everything in its right place

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa <"}}}><

2012-01-16 12:58:00

life is an open-ended book with blank pages. perhaps the most interesting thing about this book is that it writes itself in whichever style the author chooses and it leaves no room for a sequel. i'm so tickled by this fact that i often tend to indulge in the limitless possibilities of life only to see what would happen next. sometimes i want to shake people and urge them to realize how many opportunities are out there both good and bad. i'm actually a fan of a little trouble once in a while because it keeps things interesting.

what happens in this life in no coincidence.

we are colorful people and it baffles me that we leave room for things in our life that hold us back. perhaps the greatest setback of all would be 'fear'. i dont have time for fear. sure i'm afraid but i dont let it bother me. if we all acted out of fear alone we'd never leave our house; and its a nice day today :)

Heal the World

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Words from the South Pacific

2012-01-17 05:06:00

Last January when I started my second year as a teacher, I made the point of hanging a world map in my classroom. I knew by doing so, the kids would be able to dream a little bit larger than they had before. They might ask questions and wonder about other continents, countries and cultures. The map led me to develop our theme for the entire school year, “We are the World.” That theme idea came about from the popular song with the same name, by Michael Jackson. It often plays on the radio in Samoa, and the kids have always loved it.

However, I also knew of another Michael Jackson song which I can remember fondly from my own childhood, “Heal the World.” Riding in the car at an early age, I remember listening to it on a cassette tape which got played over and over again. This past school year I decided that it went nicely with our theme, and hoped that in teaching it to the kids, they might be able to carry a new memory with them, about our time together.

In late September I decided to begin teaching my year 7 and 8 students the song. Each week I would have them work on learning a new portion of the song, which I had written on large sheets of newsprint, as well as on a piece of paper I had made and photo copied for them.

At one point during our song rehearsals, I made the decision to choreograph a dance for the song which I would teach to them. Singing and dancing are both a huge part of the Samoan culture, although I hadn’t utilized it as much in my classroom as I would had liked to over the past two years. So this final project gave me a chance to step out of my regular comfort zone and really leave a gift for these kids to remember.

In November they were getting familiar with most of the words, and it was time to start teaching them the dance. Each night I would listen to the song over and over again on my i-pod and rack my brain on different dance moves I could create for the song. The following day I would take it to the kids and have them practice the dance with me. There were definitely moments of frustration as I tried to keep them focused. I kept reminding myself that their excitement was in large part due to the fact that they don’t always get the opportunity to do activities like this with their other Samoan teachers, and that they were really enjoying this new opportunity.

I would always get a smile on my face after teaching a particular dance move where I heard kids saying in Samoan, how cool the dance was. They laughed, argued, and made up several times throughout the two months of our project. It was a great opportunity to have them work together as a team, especially requiring them to break their own insecurities in terms of girls interacting with boys and vice versa. For example, Samoan kids will normally sit with members of their own sex; the boys on one side of the room, and the girls on the other. So when asking a girl to shake hands with a boy during our song, I first got a lot of resistance, but over time was glad to see that they got past that and worked well together.

One night while laying in my bed listening to the song on my i-pod, I realized that we needed some props to go along with the dance. I got the idea to make a huge globe to hold up, and smaller ones for the kids to use. On a weekend trip to the capital I went dumpster diving for old cardboard boxes and found some great ones to use. Once back in the village I traced a globe and used left over paints from my house to make the water and soil with blue and green paint. In class one day I had the kids draw their own smaller globes which were incorporated into the dance.

Although this was my project, I wanted to include the other teachers who had always been supportive of my activities in the past. I went to them and explained our work on the song. I told them that I’d like to record it to show to friends and family back home. They were all on board and eager to help. They had the girls make flower headbands for the day of the filming, and had the guys wear flowers in their hair too (not uncommon for boys in Samoa for special occasions).

In late November we were finally ready for the big performance. The kids came to school that morning with a lot of excitement. It was a beautiful sunny day (during the rainy season) and we began the taping. I had also taught them “He’s got the Whole World in His Hands,” and we also sang “We are the World, with the teachers assigning Saulo to be Michael Jackson and stand out in front with a fake microphone. The kids loved every minute of it.

With the ocean as their back drop and a beautiful mountain to their side, they sang and danced with smiles on their faces. As I was filming I could see my fellow teachers were enjoying the moment just as much, and I was hopeful that I had passed something onto them as well. All the younger kids from all the other grades sat quietly alongside the school and watched on. I think all of us, teachers and students alike, got chills at some point during that day, as we saw all our hard work come to fulfillment.

In the end, I was so thankful I took the leap of faith and taught them the song and dance. I later found out that not only had the song touched them, but the younger kids who hadn’t even sung or danced to it. Several evenings I would be walking through the village and hear a five or six year old singing the song with near perfect English. So many of the kids from years 7 and 8 came up and told me in our final days together that they would sing that song after I left Samoa and it would remind them of me. Now that I’ve left Samoa, and am reflecting back on our time together, I now realize that whenever I hear the song, I will be thinking of them!

Feel free the watch the video of one of our rehearsals for "We are the World." Due to the large size of the video file for "Heal the World," I am unable to load that video to this space.

Kids ready for first note of song!

The flowers looked great that day.

"Make a little space...to make a better place."

The boys and the girls finally got over their "fear" of holding hands!

Christopher, although one of my weaker students, had his moment to shine and did an awesome job!!

The smaller globes worked out well and they never fought over who got which one!

Great work, kids!

One of my teachers, Maria, acting as D.J.

All of us together after a very hot day out in the sun. We were all ready to head for shade!

In the classroom with our globes, standing in front of the "We are the World" bulletin board.

Saulo acting as Michael Jackson for our singing of "We are the World."

MLK Day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Peace Corps and Beyond

2012-01-17 11:53:00

January 16, 2012
Today I took a number of foreign exchange students, mostly Muslims, to an MLK event sponsored by the Minneapolis Park Board at Powderhorn Park Community Center, located in one of the most multi-cultural areas of the city. I asked them if they had ever heard of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in their native countries and what they knew about him. I also asked the students to be observant of the attendees and to see who sat with whom at the tables.

All the students had heard of Dr. King in their native countries, many had listened to his "I Have a Dream" speech and were aware of his efforts to help black people. They observed the people at the event were mostly white and that blacks tended to sit together.

The Community Center was filled with people and a free meal of fried chicken, collared greens, corn bread, rolls, rice and beans was served to the hundreds in attendance. The program consisted of an African drummer, hip-hop dancers, a folk singer, an Aztec dance group, a gospel group, and Powderhorn Park's drum corps. The performances were excellent. The only program reference to Dr. King was a question to the audience as to how old Dr. King would be today (83), answered by one older person, and for the entire audience to shout, "Happy Birthday, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr".

After the program I gathered the students to recap the event and give my thoughts on what Dr. King meant to me. I said that Dr. King's achievements were not through political office, but through non-violent means of raising people's awareness of injustices done to others and being able to organize people who shared his vision of inequality.

On my way home, it struck me that MLK Day may have become a chance for some to talk about togetherness, free food, entertainment, or a day off from school to go on a long weekend trip. As for Dr. King's "Dream", it seemed more of a dream than ever before.

The Crescendo

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Words from the South Pacific

2012-01-15 06:14:00

My time in Samoa is finished. The ending came and went like the setting of the sun, like the final notes of a grand orchestra composition. I knew all along that the final days were playing out, and that they were days I would remember for the rest of my life. Just as we realize the change in the sky’s brilliant colors before an unforgettable sunset, or hear the final crescendo on a masterpiece of music; so too, was I aware of how those last moments with my village, were marking the end of something great!

That final day in Samoa was now a month ago, which may leave some wondering why I’ve written so late about something that affected me so much. I’ve thought of this very question, and believe it took that month, to process what happened, and what it meant for me and those I left. Perhaps at times like this, I’m most concerned about getting the words just right, working harder than ever to portray what my thoughts, emotions and feelings really are. Nonetheless, today I am ready to embark on that journey, to explore those last days and relive their new place in my life.

I can’t properly bring closure to a 26 month blog in just one entry, so I’d like to invite you to continue checking in over the next couple of weeks as I tell the stories in several posts. I believe this will most accurately reflect my final memories and events in Samoa. Over the past two years, you’ve come to know many of the people that were a part of my life during my Peace Corps service, so let me tell you about our goodbyes and how we celebrated our last days together. Thank you as always for reading, and for your interest in this ongoing journey.

The Hurricane Analogy

Writing in my journal my last week in Samoa, I found a way of describing how I thought the process of saying goodbyes might play out—and it later proved to be spot-on. As the week started closing in on me, I felt like I was preparing for a hurricane. Recall those news and weather reports shown on T.V. of families and businesses boarding up, packing up, and then waiting for the winds and rains to come. When I started my packing, and later took part in multiple trips with my bags to the capital, I felt like I was boarding up, and getting things in order before the storm hit. After my house was packed and things moved out, I had a couple of days to just relax and be with my village as I tried to keep things normal, yet knew they really weren’t. This felt a bit like the waiting just before the first wind bands arrive on shore.

Later, the eve of my departure would arrive, and emotions and feelings became so great that I knew the winds had arrived. Then there was a quiet stillness that last night, before my final morning, as if the calm eye of the storm had passed over. But then the next day arrived, and the back side of the storm came and thrashed. My village and I were strong though, and in the end we were able to ride it all out, and make it through together.

Thoughtful Silence

Throughout my time in Samoa, it was common for me to have visitors to my house. They would come over, kids and adults alike, and we would visit. When the adults came over, the conversation was normally upbeat and lively. When the kids stopped by we might listen to music, dance, play cards or cook food. But during my last week, one thing that struck me as different about my visitor’s time was their longer stays at my house, and more silent presences.

I can easily remember my last week when my friend Saulo came over to visit. I was busy working around the house, doing laundry and packing things. I spent some time in conversation with him, and we played a card game, but after a period of time, when he normally would have left to go home, he didn’t want to. He said he wanted to stay longer. He ended up sitting there for two or three hours as I did my work at the house. We didn’t say much to each other that day, but I think we both knew what was on the other’s mind. It was almost as if we were reflecting in silence about our last two years together, and what it meant to us, and what the future might hold.

As the days continued, I had similar experiences from others in the village I had been close to. My good friend Milo came over and sat as I organized and sorted. They all would come over and just want to be present. They would sit and just be content with little fuss over the topic of conversation. Looking back, I realize those were really our last moments together, as friends and neighbors, before the business of those last couple of days. I am so thankful to all those who came over to visit, who wanted to be with me just because they could be.

The End of Hoarding

As volunteers, we sometimes had a tendency to hold onto things that might have been useful someday, although we weren’t sure what that use might have been. I don’t know if that instinct came about from many of us living in remote areas in cultures different than those we grew up in, but I often heard of other volunteers stashing things away for the day they might really had needed them.

I use to feel a bit embarrassed that I was saving old glass jam and spaghetti jars, until another volunteer said they were saving old peanut butter containers. I felt more secure. But in the end, I never had a use for the jars myself, so when I was cleaning out the house, I offered them to neighbors, who quickly snatched them up—especially the ones that still had lids—because they said they were going to use them to put tea in them.

Routines are Hard to End

One part of life that helps many Peace Corps Volunteers keep their feet steady throughout their service is a well oiled functioning routine. In the beginning when everything feels foreign, the routine may be the only thing that you can count on to be predictable or feel comfortable. Of course, after time, we adjust and become more in tune with the day-to-day life in the village, yet that routine we once began always sticks with us.

For me, that last week was about doing that routine one last time. That involved cooking my favorite meals one last time in Samoa, although they weren’t the most amazing meals, they were the meals that I had become so accustomed to: pasta, pasta and more pasta, and then maybe one night of homemade tortillas.

Exercise was also a huge part of my routine, so I made sure to get out for my evening runs which led me down the most beautiful road overlooking that awesome ocean. The last run I had ended up turning into a soaker, forcing me to take cover under the broad leaf of a banana tree until the rains let up.

When I first arrived at my site in 2009, I never thought that I’d have the ambition or physical strength to run some of those steep hills near my house, let alone even enjoy it. However, as with many other parts of my life, I slowly realized what I thought was impossible was actually quite doable when I set my mind to it.

Another part of my routine, which falls under the category of a “chore,” was doing laundry. I remember thinking that week of how easy life was about to become for me in terms of keeping my clothes clean. Not only was I returning to a country where washing machines are as plentiful as coconut trees are in Samoa, but I was returning to a climate where sweating doesn’t take place for five months out of the year. Washing clothes, and towels, and sheets in Samoa taught me a lot of patience. The first few times I did it I couldn’t believe it, but after a while I found it to be a nice time to think about life and reflect on the day or week. Loosing that slower part of my life that final week reminded me I was about to return to a routine that would be different.

Saulo, during one of his visits to my house the last week.

During one of my last laundry sessions.

Milo always came and sat on the water tank outside my bathroom window to visit while I did laundry. Here he is on my last laundry day.

I literally had a "bench press," as part of my daily exercise routine!

White Sunday weekend in the capital of Samoa

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Samoa"

2012-01-13 00:39:17

	White Sunday weekend in the capital of Samoa During my Peace Corps service I made trips into the capital of Apia to buy fruits and vegetables at the market, and do other shopping I needed. This video was taken on October 8, 2011, the Saturday before White Sunday. White Sunday is a day that celebrates the kids, and gives them the chance to say prayers, and perform songs and skits at church, before receiving several candy necklaces and sometimes, even ice cream!! This Saturday is typically the busiest shopping day of the year for Samoans.	From: behappy701 Views: 6 0 ratings
	Time: 04:46	More in Music

The Sunglasses Saga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Southern Skies

2012-01-12 20:07:00

Day 1: No problem

Day 2: I return from my morning walk to put on more sunscreen, so I take off my sunglasses, watch, rings, etc. in the process and set them on the table in the room. Or so I thought. As I was trying to gather everything on my way out again, I could not for the life of me find my sunglasses. I picked up everything off the table, checked under the covers on my bed, and couldn’t find them any other place I thought they hadn’t ended up, but would be worth checking just in case. So I left with the mission of finding a replacement pair of sunglasses at the first store I could find. The problem with this goal is that this all occurred on Christmas Day in Australia, where most of the country shuts down to celebrate the holiday. The only shops that were open were the little convenience stores where everything is at least double the cost of what it is in a regular grocery store. After looking at approximately 4 pairs of sunglasses in 9 different shops, I decided to stall the purchase until at least the next day when more stores would be open and I would have more to choose from. Good choice. When I got back to the room, I went to open the window, and saw my sunglasses sitting on the ledge right next to the window. I immediately took back all my wishes of bad karma on the girl in my room who I figured must have grabbed them as she left the room 30 seconds before I did – why else would I not be able to find my sunglasses? Somebody else must have them, right?

Day 3-Day whatever: No incident

Fourth to last day in Australia: I went to the Blue Mountains, and was very thankful for having my sunglasses with me, as the weather was quite conducive to easy forest walking – warm and sunny that is. As I walked back through the town to the train station, I kept noticing all the sunglasses displays and thinking back to my second day in Sydney when I had been convinced my glasses had been stolen and went out on a fruitless search for replacements. Good thing I hadn’t jumped the gun on that one.

Third to last day in Australia: My sunglasses have been lost/potentially stolen again. I remember distinctly taking them off inside the hostel room the night before, but my memory stops there. I have no idea where I’ve put them, and because I can’t find them, they’ve obviously (but accidentally) been taken by someone else in the room. I set out on another mad search for a replacement pair of sunglasses. More shops are open now that the holidays are fairly well past, and most still have sales going on. I settle on a reasonable pair (not the perfect sunglasses, but you can’t get those every time) and purchase them as my first errand of the day. The rest of my day commences, and I return to my room late afternoon and find my sunglasses oddly tucked away in my traveling pharmacy. Since I still have the tags on, and the receipt, and am well within the deadline for returns, I make a quick dash back to the store where I purchased the sunglasses to return them, seeing as a second pair of sunglasses is utterly superfluous when you already have a perfectly functional pair.

Penultimate day in Australia: My sunglasses break. One of the ear pieces snaps off. I ask for glue at the front desk, but they only have stick glue. She jokingly suggests just wearing them as they are, and surprisingly, they still work with just one ear piece. True, I do have to adjust them a lot more and hold them when a stiff breeze comes up, but I’m only spending another 36 hours in Australia, I can just buy a super cheap pair of sunglasses when I get back to Samoa.

Last day in Australia: I’m getting frustrated with having to adjust or hold my sunglasses all the time. I wander into one of the larger discount markets thinking to myself “I will only buy sunglasses if I can find an exact replica of my current pair of sunglasses – although one with two ear pieces instead of one – and for a good sale price.” Well, the very first stall I come across is a huge display of sunglasses. I get sucked into the first rack, trying on practically every pair to find the one that fits best. Then I realize there is a second rack for the same sale price, so I have to extend my selection. Then I realize there is an entire wall for the same sale price, and there I find – yes – the exact replica of my current sunglasses. Granted, my current sunglasses have a green border and the replacement pair will have a black and white border, but the size and shape of the lenses is exactly the same, and the fit is just as smooth and perfect. So after a trip bookended with sunglasses drama, I ended up with basically the same pair I started with, although one came from Target in the States and the other came from a discount/wholesale market vendor in Australia. Perfect!

Australia: The Summary

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Southern Skies

2012-01-12 19:27:00

Sydney Take 1

Locations: Harbour Bridge, Sydney Opera House, Botanic Gardens, Art Gallery of New South Wales, various parks and grocery stores

Discoveries: Vending machines, ice cream trucks, the future (this requires a brief explanation. I was walking out of the hostel and saw a girl sitting on the stairs with ear phones in talking to what looked like a piece of paper. I realized it was an iPad and she was using Skype. The thought baffled me that she could just carry this piece of technology around with her and talk to whoever it was that was probably halfway across the world), Woolworths (grocery store)

Difficulties: Remembering to greet and respond to others in English instead of Samoan, adapting to air conditioning (but really, there’s no such thing as a comfortable temperature, especially if more than one person is involved)

Food: Cheese, almonds, cheesecake, sandwiches, pasta, crackers, tea, meat pies, burritos (which weren’t as good as I was hoping they would be. Oh well, that means it will just be that much better when I get to Qdoba or Big City in a year!)

Other notes: I ended up on a photo adventure with two older men who happened to be photographing the Sydney Opera House at the same time I was – just after 6 in the morning. They were very knowledgeable tour guides, and they even bought me breakfast and invited me to dinner. To be continued...

Melbourne

Locations: Federation Square, free tourist shuttle, free city circle tram, Australian Center for the Moving Image, Art Gallery of Victoria (both the international and the Australian buildings), Queen Victoria Market, bookshops, hostel rooftop, Target Center

Discoveries: Free wi-fi, Target, local fruit and vegetable marketsj, ALDI’s (which I think is roughly the Australian equivalent of Costco, but the stores are much smaller – at least in the big cities where space is limited)
Difficulties: Laundry, cooling down. I hit summer in Melbourne (and Canberra) and temperatures reached up to 40 Celsius, or over 100 Farenheit
.
Food: Falafel, peaches, blackberries, strawberries, yogurt, granola, sangria, hummus

Other notes: New Year’s Eve – I went with one of the girls from my hostel room to watch the fireworks in Federation Square. Fireworks came from the city skyline, the stadium, and a couple other places. The big show was when one of the buildings that had been shooting off fireworks caught on fire. It was only a small fire, and we waited to watch it for about 20 minutes after fireworks ended. The first response was a news helicopter. Fire trucks followed closely thereafter, but the fire was at the top of a tower, so it wasn’t exactly reachable, and eventually it just burned itself out.

The two girls in my room who I hung out with a bit kept giving me crap about having both a backpack and a suitcase for only 2 ½ weeks in Australia, when they were both topping 3 months and had managed to pack in one backpack only. I would like to point out that their backpacks were at least twice as large as mine is and packed beyond bursting. And, I pointed this out several times, but it didn’t seem to have quite the rationalizing power for them as it did for me, I had to bring chocolate back for about half the people in my village. That’s not going to fit on top of all the stuff I brought with me to Australia inside a backpack that’s designed for short camping trips. Again, I would just like to point out that this was much more convincing to me than it was to them.

I did laundry in a machine for the first time in over a year. Everything came out of the dryer nice and toasty (not that I needed it at 36 Celsius by 9 in the morning), and super soft. It looked great until I got to the new sweatpants I had bought while in Sydney. I purchased them because they were long pants (Sydney was cold), but lightweight, so I could still potentially use them in Samoa. I held them up, and there was definitely something wrong. I put them on, and they were at least 4 inches shorter. I would like to blame this on not having done laundry using a washer and dryer in over a year, but I think I had this problem many times in the States too. It turned out OK, they were fairly successfully converted to capris with some handy scissorwork on my part back in Samoa.

Canberra

Locations: National Library, National Portrait Gallery, movie theater, some shopping center

Discoveries: Movie theatres (they’re ridiculously hard to find if you’re used to looking for a ginormous megaplex – they don’t look the same from the outside when they’re buried in a city), another Target, more wi-fi
Difficulties: Canberra was the only place I could not find my way around with a map. The two main parts of the city are set up as circles, so many of the streets go around in rings and intersect in weird ways, and I just could not follow it. I also attempted to donate blood at a mobile station set up in the city center, but was told it would be too much trouble because I was only in Australia for vacation. I tried. And to top it all off, wi-fi is fairly scarce in Canberra. At least the free kind is.
Food: Doritos, popcorn, pasties, Breadtop (a chain that specializes in all kinds of bread, rolls, muffins, cookies, and other baked goods. Basically, Heaven), more peaches, more yogurt

Other notes: I went to see Sherlock Holmes 2 in theatres because a movie theatre was fairly high on my list of things to do. Magik Cinema is acceptable, but it’s not quite a great movie experience. This was a great movie experience. And to top it off, I saw a preview for the Hunger Games!

Sydney Take 2

Locations: State Library of New South Wales, Hyde Park, Sydney City Library, Blue Mountains, various parks and shopping areas

Discoveries: More Wi-fi, another Target (in case you haven’t noticed, Target is my Mecca), free movies twice a day at the hostel (I watched Mr. Popper’s Penguins, Red Dog (Australian movie, very cute), Captain America, X-Men First Class, and Harry Potter 7.2)

Difficulties: I was on tour overload by this point. I returned to Sydney wondering how to face five more days of museums, galleries, parks, local markets, and everything else I had been doing for what was beginning to feel like eternity, so this time around, I tended to wander more, window shop a bit more (shopping on vacation isn’t as fun when you’re in Peace Corps. I would look at a store, decide I either couldn’t or wouldn’t wear whatever it was in Samoa, or it would disintegrate within a week, and completely pass the store over). It kinda turned into a lazy vacation at this point, hence all the movie watching I think.

Food: more cheesecake, more peaches and yogurt, Berry Weetbix Bites, focaccia sandwiches, pizza, “lemonade,” gelato, and delicious Chinese food, including prawns (gasp!)

Other notes: I reunited with my two photo adventure buddies for a home-cooked dinner. The dinner party consisted of them, their wives, and myself. The one hosting us all has a Chinese background, so he made us a superb Chinese meal. It consisted of cabbage soup as the appetizer, three entrees of chicken, fish, and prawns, split between us all, and dessert of cut up fruit, cookies, and chocolate. I have never had prawns before in my life. Coming from Colorado, a state with a noticeable lack of oceanfront areas, seafood never really had a role in my diet. It wasn’t until I came to Samoa that seafood even really entered my vocabulary, not to mention my menu. I was wary of the prawns because they looked like shrimp, which have tried on a few occasions, most of them now in the distant past, and I distinctly remember spitting the shrimp out after two bites. But I’m working on my food flexibility, and I told myself I could get through at least one bite, and then one bite turned into two, which turned into an entire serving. I just couldn’t think too much about how the prawns looked, because doing so tended to trigger my “disgusting” reflex. Additionally, I got all the leftovers from the dinner (the rest of the prawns and chicken, the fruit from dessert, and the rest of the two wine bottles). I managed to finish it all in my three days left in Australia. Did I mention yet that the food was excellent?

My very last afternoon in Australia, I treated myself to a mani-pedi at one of the several spas around Sydney. As soon as I sat down in the special chair they put you in when you get a pedicure, I just melted. It was bliss. The 45 minutes it took to finish both the manicure and pedicure were way too short. And, I managed not to do major damage to the pain job until I got back to Samoa. Even now, I would only consider it minor damage. That’s impressive.

Kicking the Cat

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Following the Day

2012-01-12 16:43:00

... It seems I forgot to post this back in November, so enjoy!

Pulega and I at Culture Day in Sasina.

With the end of service so near, many families have been inviting me over for dinner as a final farewell. It has been a great way to spend some quality time with those families that have become such an important part of my life. Last week, I ate with two families, this week I have plans with another three. My first dinner last week was with Pulega’s family, and it was as comical as ever.

Pulega has a large presence. He is very fat and a flamboyant fafafine who lives with his sisters family. He is also Ali’s principal. Ali and I often joke about the two sides of Pulega. She knows him as a firm and demanding teacher, who always wears a pristine floral shirt and ie’konga (black wrap around skirt - - - business-wear for Samoan men.) For me however, I know him only as a friend in the village – a laughing, joking, shirtless man, who has a cat and two dogs. Which brings us to the brief yet somewhat horrible (and hilarious!) story of the cat.

I showed up for diner just before sa, or evening prayer, was to begin. The sun was setting and short bursts of heavy rain were blowing through the village. I sat with Pulega in the large open fale that makes up his home, while behind the house, Pulega’s sister and children busied themselves preparing our feast in the fale kuka (cooking house.) The rain was really picking up, so I helped Pulega to lower the tarps, creating instant makesift walls surrounding the fale. The sound of the rain beating down was immense, and for half a moment I worried that the river might come, thus cutting me off from my home on the other side. I quickly brushed the worry aside, knowing full well I would have a place to stay if that was to happen. Pulega’s cat, which he affectively calls Pusi (meaning cat), crept under the tarp to avoid the rain with us. It was clear that she knew meal time was approaching and lurked closely around Pulega’s chair. He spoke to it, pet it, and showed affection towards it. And then the meal came. Pulega transformed from a loving pet owner into a ravenous territorial man almost instantaneously. The formerly loved cat looked up with begging eyes for a scrap or two and “Whack!” Pulega kicked him in the side. I was so startled I almost couldn’t eat! Then, with bravery and perhaps a bit of stupidity, the cat continued to beg with a similar outcome every time. Finally Pulega had had enough. He called over a child, who picked up the cat, and through it out of the house. The routine continued for the whole meal, and although it sounds terrible in writing, the kicking and throwing never seemed over the top animal abuse – more just comical. When Pulega wasn’t looking, I slipped the cat some chicken bones.

At the end of the meal, I was walked home by Pea (Pulegas sister) and her two children. Senara, the eldest child, held a beach umbrella sized umbrella for the three of us to walk under. Jason, to the horror of his mother bounced a ball, and she kept hissing at him “Aua! Sa!” apparently afraid of attracting the attention of ghosts with his noise at night. I walked in the middle of the three of them. Pea held my hand, as we walked home, and although it felt unnatural to be walking holding this motherly womans’ hand, I just went with it. It is common in Samoa to see two grown men walking down the street holding hands, or two girls holding hands while walking to church. As awkward as it felt, there was something really touching about the moment. I will miss Pulega, Pea, Senara, and Jason. I hope our paths will cross again one day, as they have so generously included me in their family for the past two years. Tofa soifu lo’u aiga!

Home is Where the Heart Is

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Following the Day

2012-01-12 16:48:00

Me with a handful of my students after the Prizegiving ceremony.

It has been a month and two days since I boarded the plane leaving Samoa and headed home. Every day I have thought to myself, “I should really write that final blog entry,” yet self denial of the finality of my time as a Peace Corps volunteer prevented me from sitting down and concluding this twenty-seven month blog. Even today, I find myself at a loss for words. How does one summarize twenty-seven months of service? And how do I capture the lessons learned? The beautiful thing is that this blog has already captured so many of those memories and experiences.

Coming home, I expected more culture shock. I thought that I would be overwhelmed by speeding cars, technology, supermarkets, and of course, the mall at Christmastime. But when it came down to it, coming home felt more like waking from one dream to begin a new one. You might say I eased my transition a bit by road tripping through New Zealand for 16 days before coming back to New York, and maybe that is the reason I was not so overwhelmed by American life. I had anticipated a fear of driving, yet that has not been the case at all. I have been driving every day, and even took a few trips into Manhattan already! I have upgraded my Samoan monochrome cellphone to the iPhone (4s) and am LOVING the apps, games, and easy flow of information. I miss being able to throw my rubbish (oops, trash!) out my back door, but I am appreciative of the regular garbage collection, recycling collection, and composting going on here. And I cannot stress enough how amazing it has been to come home to a snow-less winter! My tan is still holding true, and I still wear my jandals around the house (so weird to wear shoes inside!) but for the most part, I am embracing boot fashion, jeans, and bubble jackets. I have seen Phish twice, Mamma Mia of Broadway, celebrated my birthday in a posh NYC nightclub, eaten pizza, sushi, bagels, and wings, and have visited the Jersey Shore. I have made cookies in an oven and washed clothes in a washing machine. And I have stopped float-testing all eggs before consumption. I have also put away all fans and embraced indoor heating.

Job-wise, I am not sure what is next. I have picked up two part time jobs from my past: dog walking (yes, dogs are friendly here!), and I will soon start working the front desk at the Rockland Conservatory of Music, now in their new location. I am slowly readjusting to the strange sensation of living in my parents’ full house once again, but I am savoring the moments we all have together and am happy to have arrived home when I did.

In a way, I now feel that I have two homes: Skyview, and Samalaeulu. I find myself missing my village and Samoan life to the point where it literally hurts my heart, yet tears do not come to me when I think of leaving. Instead, I feel gratitude for the two years I was fortunate enough to spend living in such a loving village in the South Pacific. The friends I made there and students I taught feel like a family, and thanks to technology, I have been able to stay in touch with many of them; one students, unaware of the time difference, has been calling the house at 3am in the morning! I do not know when I will return to Samoa, yet I do know that when I do, it will not be the same as my two years spent as a Pisikoa. However, the experiences shared there will forever remain in my heart. I am a proud Returned Peace Corps Volunteer! Today, the 960 photos I selected out of thousands should arrive and I will be able to relive my 27 months as a volunteer as I create my largest scrapbook to date.

This concludes my blog…. until the next adventure :)

Wink Eye

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Peace Corps and Beyond

2012-01-11 22:09:00

January 9, 2012

Ruby Tuesday server, Cari, and bartender, Joshua, presenting two Wink Eyes in West Plains, Missouri

West Plains, Missouri is an Ozark town in the Southeastern part of the state about 10 miles from the Arkansas border. It is the hometown of the author, Daniel Woodrell, who writes country noire novels, the most famous being "Winter's Bone" which was also made into a movie and nominated for four Academy Awards in 2010. I just had to drive there to check out the place, being warned not to look anyone in the eye and stay away from meth labs.

My quest to possibly meet the author, known to be secretive, and interview meth technicans proved to be futile. Equally futile was my quest to meet anyone who knew what "wink eye" described in another West Plain-based novel by Woodrell, "The Death of Sweet Mister I wondered whether anyone in the Ozarks had ever heard of the dish, "wink eye", so I started asking anyone I met.

At the local Ruby Tuesdays I quized the server, who then quized restaurant patrons, bringing a curious bartender and nacent author to the table. No one had ever heard of a wink eye. I described what it was and much to my surprise they later appeared at the table with two wink eyes. They had to go out to a nearby Walgreen's to get the eggs, the restaurant not having any. Now that was service!

Most people refer to the dish of "Wink Eye" as "Egg in the Basket" with a lid or "Toad in the Hole. For anyone wishing to learn more, here is the Wkipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egg_in_the_basket

Please also check out the bartender and young writer, Joshua's blog at todayisee.blogspot.com .

A Speck on the Map- The Postcard Project

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Live in the Sunshine, Swim in the Sea, Drink the Wild Air: Surviving Samoa

2012-01-11 02:19:00

"A nun."

This is the most original answer to the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" that I've gotten from a Samoan student.

When I've asked students what they want to be when they grow up, most of them don't really have an answer. "A job," is usually their reply. Their bland answers are not due to an English ineficiency. They're just never asked this question. Often one wonders what makes American culture and answers are usually hard to come by since our country is a mosaic of other cultures. However, asking children this question about their future is something very American (if not just very un-Samoan.)

Not only are kids not asked this question, but they often lack the ability to imagine a creative answer because they simply aren't aware of the outside world. When asked if they would ever leave Samoa, a lot of my students say, "No. I want to stay here. In my village." They are also baffled when I tell them I don't know the people on "American Idol."

"But, you live in the same country."
"But it's such a big country!" Then I pull out the world map and try to explain how big the world is. (Poor grammar here, I know.)

One way to give these kids an idea about the rest of the world is the Post Card project. So here's the pitch:
If you read this blog regularly or if you just stumbled upon it, send us a postcard from where you live!!! Write a short message about whatever you want, speak to the students directly or talk about where you live, but make sure the picture on the front shows something about your neck of the woods, as we like to colloquially say here in Minnesota. Write the message in English, but a greeting in the language of your country would be wonderful. (Most likely, I'll use the postcards with my Year 7 class- roughly ages eleven to thirteen.) Address postcards to me:
Samantha Maranell, PCV
Peace Corps
Private Mail Bag
Apia, (Western) Samoa
South Pacific

As postcards come in, we'll put pins on a world map of the places we get postcards from. Let's make these kids a little more worldly.

Literary Recommendations from a Literary Snob

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Live in the Sunshine, Swim in the Sea, Drink the Wild Air: Surviving Samoa

2012-01-11 02:01:00

I've been called the literary snob of Peace Corps Samoa and as I gear up to travel back to the island after a rejuvenating Christmas break at home in the USA, I once again find my suitcase with, perhaps, a few too many books. Over the past fifteen months, I've read many a book; here are what I think were the best and the five worst.

The Best:
-Stiff by Mary Roach
-The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
-Columbine by Dave Cullen
-The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the OED by Simon Winchester
-Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer (You cannot go wrong with this book.)
-The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins
-The short story "Fantasy for Eleven Fingers" by Ben Fountain (Found in the book Brief Encounters with Che Guevara)
-Life of Pi by Yann Martel (!!)
-The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
-Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
-The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possibly by AJ Jacobs
-Ishmael by Daniel Quinn (!!)
-The Help by Kathryn Stockett (The movie does not do justice to this amazing book; two thumbs down to the movie; two thumbs up to the book.)

The Worst:
-The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larson (Ok, so it was published posthumously, but wasn't the editor aware that the first and last one hundred pages of the book were completely unnecessary?)
-Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (The three person love triangle was genious in Sophie's Choice and this book was a sad attempt. Just rent the movie.)
-The Romance Reader's Book Club by Julie L. Cannon (It's as bad as the title implies. You take what you can get when on an island in the middle of the ocean.)
-The Other Side of Haight by James Fadiman (Ken Kesey, if you hadn't had a positive review on the book, I wouldn't have picked this up at all. Damn you Ken Kesey.)
-Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay (Genocide and Holocaust studies fascinate me, but I really don't see how books that offer nothing new to literature in general or the genre in particular still get published.)

For anyone considering the Peace Corps, here are a few recommendations from the 15 month book list:
-The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time by Jeffrey Sachs (Aid is clearly the answer.)
-The White Man's Burden: Why the West's Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good by William Easterly (Aid is clearly not the answer.)
-Dead Aid: Why Aid is Not Working and How There is a Better Way for Africa by Dambisa Moyo (Perhaps not the best book on the subject, but one of our Peace Corps staff members said this book "changed her life.")
-American Taboo: A Murder in the Peace Corps by Philip Weiss (The true story of a 1970 murder of a volunteer by another volunteer on the nearby island of Tonga. Face it, it can be dangerous at times. -This book may never have been published; we have an editor's copy going around Samoa. I recommend looking up the case if really interested.)
-Dear Exile: The True Story of Two Friends Separated (For a Year) by an Ocean by Hilary Liftin and Kate Montgomery (This epistolary Peace Corps book is a quick read with many relatable moments.)
-Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal by Ayn Rand (Altruism vs Egoism. Personally, I consider both to be very legitimate reasons for joining the Peace Corps. In fact, if I didn't have egoistic, or selfish, reasons for joining, I might have quit long ago. The cliche is kind of true: I feel like I'm getting more out of it than those I'm supposed to be helping; if I had purely altruisic reasons, why would I have stayed?)
-The forward, introduction, or whatever it was to the book Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road by Donald Miller (For anyone who may be hesitant about leaving their pre-Peace Corps comfort zone, this book's forward will motivate you to get out there.)
-Ishmael by Daniel Quinn (This book will make you question everything.)

Books since November 2011

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2011-12-08 01:54:00

Hocus Pocus – Kurt Vonnegut

Hocus Pocus tells the story of how the narrator came to be imprisoned in the library where he is composing the novel. After graduating from West Point, he joined the war effort in Vietnam (might have been Korea, I can’t remember at this point). Upon his return to the States, he took a job teaching science at a public college to students who hadn’t been accepted anywhere else for various reasons. Across the lake from the college stood a state prison, and after he lost his job at the college, the narrator (I would tell you his name, but I can’t remember it exactly either – it’s relevant to the story, so rather than get it wrong, I’ll just leave it out) accepts a teaching position at the prison. After a mass prison break, he is then accused of providing information to the inmates (describing the lakes and trees outside) which made the escape possible, so he is now an inmate at the prison. The population of the prison expanded so much that it took over the college, which stopped was no longer a college after the prison break made it too dangerous.

This is my new favorite Vonnegut book – Timequake has been pushed into second place. The satire is noticeably subtle, and sometimes blatantly obvious. Brilliantly written, highly recommended.

Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy

I’ll be honest here…I don’t think my book-lover status qualifies me to summarize and comment on Tolstoy. As far as I can tell, Anna Karenina is a long story set in Russia. It reminds me of both Pride and Prejudice and Gone With the Wind because it follows many characters who are all somehow related. The uniting theme behind all these characters seems to be how they deal with guilt – how their moral misbehavior influences their thoughts, actions, and relationships and whether they use their experiences to improve themselves or just ignore anything and everything that doesn’t please them. That’s the best I can give you.

Through the Looking Glass – Lewis Carrol

The follow-up to Alice in Wonderland. I liked Through the Looking Glass better, but I still couldn’t tell you the point of the book.

River Town – Peter Hessler

A Peace Corps novel from a Volunteer in China in the mid-90s, only a year or two after China reopened its borders to the world after the Cultural Revolution and the Great Leap Forward. The author studied literature and wrote articles for newspapers, so sometimes the book gets a little dry, but he generally has excellent descriptions. He taught English at a teacher training school, and interspersed with his writing are excerpts from student papers. This enhances the story because you have the US perspective from the author experiencing China post-communism, and comments from the students that show the emerging Chinese youth perspective balancing parental demands, political propaganda, and personal desires.

I also liked this book from the Peace Corps perspective. I feel like I can relate to his story – there is the initial awkwardness, the growing comfort, what it’s like to have people visit from the States, and adjusting to a new, slower lifestyle. In terms of PCV books I’ve read, this one gets second place. I still highly recommend The Ponds of Kalambayi.

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency – Douglas Adams

Dirk Gently has been hired to solve a murder. He believes in a holistic approach to the problem, so instead of just solving the murder, he figures out how everything about the case – even the parts that seem innocent, inconsequential, and not at all related – are connected.

Fans of Hitchhiker’s Guide everywhere will love this book. Beyond the first 3 chapters (40 pages or so) it is a quick read. The beginning introduces various characters and scenarios that don’t make a reappearance until later in the book, so it’s hard to keep track of what is going on and what information is important. Well-written, intriguing, moves fast, and plenty of satire. It’s like Douglas Adams with a hint of Vonnegut – if you like one or the other, you will probably like this book.

Ishmael – Daniel Quinn

Yes, I read Ishmael again. That makes it the second time I’ve read it this year, the third time I’ve read it total. If you take this book seriously – which you should – it’s one of those books that sticks with you. Ishmael talks about the mythology that guides cultural development; how the stories we learn and act out impact our relationships and the world. It begins with an ad in the paper – a teacher is seeking a pupil with an earnest desire to change the world. The classrooms and lessons aren’t quite conventional, but you find yourself following along with the narrator asking the same questions, struggling with the same answers, and having the same Aha! revelations. Very highly recommended book, especially for those with an earnest desire to change the world.

The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho

The Alchemist is the story of a journey. After having a recurring dream, the main character, Santiago, leaves his life as a shepherd to follow the omens that will lead him to his Personal Legend (I think that is the terminology from the book). Santiago sells his flock to leave Spain and cross the sea into Africa in search of the pyramids of Egypt. His journey stalls, but as long as he continues to listen to his heart, he can see the omens that lead him to the next step.

I felt The Alchemist was a good follow-up to Ishmael if you consider the spiritual aspect of Ishmael. It’s one of those books that sometimes you feel embarrassed about advocating because it’s a cheesy story that makes you believe in your own dreams and destiny, but I love those stories that emphasize the importance of living life. I heard a song the other day that had a line “everybody dies, but not everybody lives,” and The Alchemist is about living your life – facing the challenges and taking the risks to find what makes you happy and fulfilled.

The Famished Road

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2011-12-20 21:02:00

The Famished Road – Ben Okri

The Famished Road tells the story of a spirit child who chooses to remain in the human world. Normally, spirit children live only a short while before returning to their idyllic spirit world, but Azaro chooses to remain in his African village life. He must fight to remain in his life, for all his spirit companions are constantly trying to lure, persuade, and trick him into returning to the spirit world, and there are several occasions where they almost succeed, but with the help of his parents, herbalists, witches, and others, he is always called back to Earth. While Azaro wanders the roads of his village and the spirit world, his parents endure the daily struggles of poverty and trying to raise a family in a world of broken dreams and false promises from corrupt politicians. The Famished Road is an epic novel of struggling through everyday life.

The beauty of The Famished Road comes through in every page and in every sentence. Okri’s language is poetic, and he evokes vivid imagery by crossing the senses, so that the reader feels the color green and tastes the sorrow of the villagers. His descriptions are vivid, which is needed to describe the world of the spirits and the spirits in the world. One of my favorite passages, near the end of the book, describes why the people in the spirit world are endlessly building a road that meets with destruction as much as it does progress

“There are many ways to be dead…the prophet’s people are the dead. Heaven means different things to different people. They wanted to live, to be more alive. They wanted to know the essence of pain, they wanted to suffer, to feel, to love, to hate, to be greater than hate, and to be imperfect in order to always have something to strive towards, which is beauty. They wanted also to know wonder and to live miracles. Death is too perfect.”

Okri’s words are lyrical, and the imagery vibrant, but because of that, I tried to find symbolism in every sentence, and I frequently had to remind myself to step back and read the book and not analyze the meaning behind every word. Also, I had a hard time following the book because the storyline was not always clear, and the book does not always obviously move towards a theme or lesson or climax. Particularly in the beginning of the novel, the spirit world mixes strongly with the real world and it is hard to tell what is really happening. There were times when the story moved quickly because it was so compelling, and times when I got completely lost because I couldn’t make sense of everything. Do you need to read this book? Probably not, but if you’re up to it (it’s 500 pages), it’s beautifully written and has some parts that really shine.

The Devil in the White City

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa The Reading List

2011-12-22 03:58:00

The Devil in the White City – Erik Larson

The Devil in the White City is a tale of the enchantment of the World’s Fair hosted by Chicago at the end of the 19^th century. Amidst a quickly industrializing world, Chicago is out to prove itself to the rest of the United States of America by hosting a fair that can top all previous records of attendance and revenue. This goal is extrapolated to a national level as the US tries to put itself on the same level as European countries and cities. The fair is constructed in an unbelievable timeline, resulting in a new (or rather old) influence on architecture in the US and all sorts of innovations, from Cracker Jacks and Shredded Wheat to the Ferris Wheel, now a central part of all fairs across the States. However, just past the enthralling World’s Fair lies a charming man responsible the modern definition of a psychopath. This story tells the true story of how the World’s Fair was built in Chicago, and how one particularly suspect character took great advantage of the flurry of motion.

Larson’s work is very well researched and filled with quotes, excerpts from newspapers and letters, and interesting statistics about cost. However, sometimes his writing comes off more as a report and less as a novel. The book is known for its description of the architecture of Chicago and the fair, and it is chock full of architectural descriptions. I felt some of that could have been left out because I don’t remember the difference between the types of column, and without any background in architecture, it was hard to visualize some of his descriptions, so I found myself caught up in details. Larson also has a tendency to end sections, paragraphs, or chapters in the book with a sentence like “Later, he would realize that this was important,” or “Much would be made of this observation in the future.” Sometimes he would tell you why in the next sentence, and sometimes he didn’t address it until 250 pages later. It felt like a simple, overused method to hook the reader. The other thing that annoyed me about the book is that Larson assumes a base level of knowledge that I don’t think everybody has. He continually mentions specific locations in Chicago by giving the intersection in street names, and I don’t understand the necessity of the street names in the rest of the book. Also, he mentions three kids – Alice, Nellie, and Howard – who were so well-known that everybody in the US knew them by first name only. He doesn’t come back to tell us why until the end of the book. His methods of trying to keep the reader hooked left me a little frustrated – I felt the story could have been more straightforward and just as compelling without so many interruptions, assumptions, and details.

Overall, the book was surprisingly interesting. I even found myself as frustrated about landscape architecture as one of the architects in the book. The story of the madman is sparsely interwoven until the end of the book, but makes for interesting little tidbit reads. While I can see how it relates to the World’s Fair, I would also be interested to read a book solely about him because his story encompasses much more both before and after the World’s Fair in Chicago. The Devil in the White City is a fairly compelling read, surprisingly interesting, and reads like a novel because some of the facts are so unbelievable.