I found this entry somewhat buried within my computer. I
know I’m posting it a little later (only 3 months lol) than originally planned,
but I promised I would do better about keeping the updates fresh, so here’s me
keeping my word. Enjoy!
4/19/2012
I’m in utter disbelief. Exactly one year ago to the date, I
boarded a colectivo (bus) with Jaime
(G-mate/neighboring volunteer), half my luggage, and a very nervous
anticipation of what awaited me in my new (and permanent) home of Isla Pucú. 12 MONTHS AGO. To say it doesn’t feel like 365 days worth of
time has gone by at all would be an understatement. The clocks ticked away
painfully slow during training (my first 3 months living here), but have flown
by ever since. I’m looking back and
trying to remember how I got to where I am now. In short, I’d have to say my
host family the Gonzalez-Diazs’ have played a huge part. Generally speaking many
Peace Corps volunteers would probably agree that after already been required to
live with a host family for 3 months, the thought of living under the roof of
another one isn’t exactly thrilling. And it’s nothing against host families or
anything, really. Most are as guiding and supportive as a family away from home
can possibly be, some even more so. The groaning and heavy sighing has more to
do with a craving for privacy (complete privacy) in conjunction with
independence. We sat uncomfortably through somewhat informative sessions for
days on end longing all the while to put our new skills to instant good use and
explore our surroundings with uninhibited curiosity. Instead, however we were
restricted under a different (but equally as watchful) eye for yet another 3 months. It’s sort of like
training a bird to fly within a cage then sending it off with your blessing….to
an aviary. I mean is it ever truly gonna be able to soar or learn on
it’s own within confinement? Of course not, but rules are rules which means
some of us (whether we like it or not) have to remain sheltered beneath a
protective wing just a little longer than planned. So, I shook off my dissatisfaction and braced
myself for more awkward encounters where due to a lack of confidence I consistently
stifled thoughts like: “It’s not that I don’t speak Spanish, it’s that you talk
so fast I can’t understand you” and “The reason a third party isn’t necessary
to inquire about my personal life is because I’m sitting right beside you.” Oh the
good ol’ days when my only worry was whether I rolled that last “r” audibly enough
seem like only a distant memory now. And
in a way, they kinda are. I’m proud to say that within a year’s time, I’ve
overcome my verguenza (embarrassment)
and there is significantly less gesturing from my host mother when I stop by
for my weekly visits (although she does throw one in there every now and then,
for old time’s sake). Since I moved out
and have been living on my own, I have come to appreciate her all the more.
When something went awry before it was simply added to the topics of
conversation at mealtime, but in my own household I have to either be my own
hero or go retrieve the nearest neighbor (which is not at all easy being Paraguayans
never seem to run low on excuses, ever). Presently, I better understand and
fully respect the Peace Corps policy and the importance stressed in community
integration beginning with host families. It’s through them that we learn how
to “blend in” (despite the book bags we lug around that are an obvious
giveaway). We arrived here lost and in a daze (that is if you aren’t fluent,
which I was not), but host families help to ease the initial shock. They are
our very first, and if we’re lucky a continuous support system. At the end of
the day, we all just want to be accepted and if not, knowing there is at least
one person in this foreign land rooting for us is encouraging. Sincerely speaking, there are days when I’d rather pack my
bags and book the next flight out, but I’d hate to look back at this experience
and have the dreaded “what ifs’’” haunt me.
On top of that, it’s true we are our own worse critics, but imagining the
disappointment of TWO moms as well is probably, unbearable. And it’s wise of me
to not desire to test that theory, agreed? Plus I’m no quitter, so I shove the reoccurring
thought of giving up without a fight to the back of my mind and press on. I
mean, I made it this far, didn’t I? It seems I’ve proven to others and (most
importantly) to myself that I am capable of pushing the limits and any doubts
only add fuel the fire. So, I look forward to what this coming year brings with
hope rather than hesitance. I spent the majority of my service thus far
learning there are things you just can’t influence a person to change, but for
the remainder of it I expect to learn of the things I can. Crazy as it sounds I
may have arrived over 365 days ago, but it feels like I’ve only just found my
niche. We’re assigned for a two-year term for a reason after all,
and I’m told year two is when the ball truly gets rolling. That being said, I
can’t wait to see what the second half of my service holds and share what more
I’ve experienced after another year. I’m sure my friends and loved ones are just as eager as I
am, but I wouldn’t wish time to pass any faster than it already is. I can
barely keep track of the memories I'm making as it is!
PS- Check out the photos below of Rose and I’s cookout to
commemorate this significant accomplishment. We’re halfway done whoo-hoo! J
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| About to cook up some Tilapia! |
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| Jose saved the day by helping us start up the grill :) |
