Exhausted

I’m sorry. I was at that conference and then I got back, but everyone’s still in town and there’s little time to sleep let alone blog or clean the house or do any of the 12,000 things I’ve been meaning to do lately. I spent all day today working on the school magazine layout, which is coming along, but still has far far more to go. But seriously. Despite the magazine and the blog and the lesson-planning and figuring out my computer lab’s intranet, all I want to do is curl up into a ball, turn on some movie I’ve seen a thousand times before and do absolutely nothing for days and days on end.

Not that the conference didn’t allow for a little bit of that. I won’t get into the long string of events that led to a bunch of us having our own rooms this past week. Even though I live alone and I constantly have my own room, it was thrilling to have my own hotel room with air conditioning and a hot shower. I didn’t have to worry about sharing space or keeping my area clean or figuring out who has the key. And the cat wasn’t there to be all hairy and needy. It was awesome.

But Group 81 tends toward a “rest when you’re dead” mentality. We work hard, we play hard. Sleep gets put on the back burner. We’re a gregarious bunch, and we would often walk together from dinner to somebody’s room, where we would listen to music and reminisce and collectively dread the future late into the night.

There was excitement about reaching the end of our service and going back to America. And there was dread about leaving each other and going back to the frenetic pace of America. But more than excitement or trepidation, it seems to me we’re all mostly exhausted—not just in the immediate with the late nights and early mornings, but in a much larger sense.

It’s not palpable on a micro day-to-day level, but the Peace Corps is all about endurance. Some steps outside the comfort zone requires a person to adapt, and once that happens, that person is all the better. But other steps outside the comfort zone are flat-out uncomfortable, and you don’t learn to adapt and accept as much as you learn to tolerate and put up with.

Living alone, not having a car, cooking on a camping stove, having the water shut off as early as 10 o’clock some nights, the constant barrage of mosquito bites, dealing with issue after issue after issue in the computer lab. I don’t mean to complain as much as I mean to say that the Peace Corps lifestyle is taxing.

And it’s all in the spotlight. I briefly mentioned recently that during a trip to Corina 82’s school, I made a good impression because I ate my fish with my hands. As much as I take pride in being patted on the back for my cultural sensitivity, it’s telling that I was being watched. It’s not that her staff was spying on me or distrustful in watching me. I’m the stranger who came to lunch; of course people are going to watch me eat. All I’m saying is it’s wearisome to be the stranger in the spotlight, and I’m tired.

School starts tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure blog posts should become more frequent and reliable. Apologies again for being MIA last week. I hope you’re well. Pictures from COS below.

Country Director Dale toasted the group after afternoon sessions ended on Wednesday.

Supy.

DJ Paul in the zone.

Bed-sharing.

Lunch on Friday morning before heading back to Apia.

We've been in the middle of a 4- or 5-week dry spell. But torrential rains came Thursday and Friday. What great timing. Thanks, rain. You really liven up the beach.

We Did Start the Fire

Everybody’s got an opinion. During training we played that game where you sit in a circle and draw a picture and then pass your picture to the left. Then you take the picture that’s been placed in front of you and augment the drawing somehow. Then pass again, augment. Pass, augment, pass, augment, pass, augment, until finally you get your original drawing back and it’s warped and bizarre, but somehow it’s the product of the collective. That’s how today’s fire worked.

A bunch of us headed out to Tafatafa on the south side of Upolu to hang out on the beach and barbecue. And right from the start, the barbecue’s outlook was bleak. For starters, we didn’t have a barbecue. We had 18 pounds of chicken; onions, soy sauce, and garlic to marinade; and a plastic bag with not enough charcoal. And no barbecue. Brilliant.

Blakey got things started by asking the family at the next fale over if we could borrow the large rocks and corrugated aluminum they’d used to cook their food. Erin was able to finagle a grill from the owners of the beach fales. Dan then went into bush and came out with an armload of firewood. Paul collected a bunch of dried palm fronds to use as kindling, and Phil and I went in search of small volcanic rocks, which function like reusable charcoal. If I’ve given you the impression this was a neat and orderly process in which we huddled, set out a plan, and yelled, “Go team!”, I’ve painted the wrong picture. This process of gathering materials was deeply unorganized with begrudging participants and probably took about 2.5 hours.

Paul stepped up to build the fire first. My stint in the Boy Scouts is best measured in weeks, so I’m no fire-building expert. That said, I recognize that everybody seems to have their own style of doing things. Paul comes from the Start Small and Build Slowly school of thought. Dan comes from the Throw Everything On So We Can Start Cooking school of thought (His style makes me think of that line from Dances with Wolves where the one Sioux looks at the others and says, “Only a white man would light a fire big enough for everyone to see.”). In any case, there were conflicting philosophies about how best to cultivate the fire.

I found it best to simply try an assist whichever firemaker was up to bat. I helped Paul build a small structure from firewood. I helped Dan build a larger one. I helped Phil fan the kindling. Then I helped Paul stuff the lava rocks between the burning logs.

It was all very tag-team. Someone would come along, add their 2 cents, and then walk away. Then someone else would come along. Augment, pass, augment, pass, augment, pass. Soon enough it became a quality fire with a pretty optimal cooking temperature.

Say what you will about too many cooks ruining the soup, but in the end we succeeded. Out of nothing we came up with 18 pounds of grilled chicken.

Yeah. Mālō mākou. Uma le case.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Paul does it his way...

...Dan does it his.

Come On, Supy

This weekend marked my first visit to Supy’s house. We moved into our houses 16.5 months ago, and there are still a handful of group 81 houses I have yet to visit. But Supy’s finally been checked off that list. The one time I visited Supy’s village before this weekend was when my mom and dad visited a year ago, and we went to swim in Supy’s village’s waterfall—while Supy was in Fiji. But now I’ve finally seen the kid in his natural habitat.

First a few words on Supy: everyone loves him. He’s laid back and incredibly social and ridiculously nice. And because of this, it takes twice as long for him to get anywhere because he has to stop and chat with everyone he runs into along the way. This can grow tedious if he’s in your travelling party, but on the whole, Supy is great. But it’s important you understand Supy is everyone’s friend. In fact, even if you’ve never met the kid, rest assured you’re his friend too.

On its own, the Peace Corps lifestyle is based on forging relationships with the people in your village, and most volunteers become village celebrities the day they move in. But Supy is so perfect for this role, he brings things to a new level.

When I first got off the bus and approached the school gate, a man came out of the neighboring house to inquire about who I was and what I was doing there. Supy came out promptly, resolved the situation, made a couple dirty jokes, asked about the car the guy was working on, gave a summary of our plan for the evening, made more jokes, asked about the guy’s wife and kids, briefly remarked on the recent issues he’s had with his plumbing, observed a passing pig, threw in a couple more jokes, and then finally wished the man a pleasant evening. It probably lasted 10 minutes, and I was exhausted by the end. I should add that Supys sees this guy all the time. This wasn’t a conversation after a long absence or “catching up”; this was a routine, everyday. Personally I tend toward briefer, more reserved interactions, but Supy chats.

In fact, while I was there he had similar conversations with his pule, the lady down the street, her sister (separately), the lady who runs the faleoloa, the lady shopping at the faleoloa (also separately), the matai who collects admission at the waterfall, and countless students and soles.

The effect is he comes across as having all the time in the world to chat with whomever, and he is thus beloved by everyone. And this is not limited to his village. Walking with him around Salelologa, the main city on Savai’i, I felt like part of a celebrity entourage. Pedestrians waved, people shouted from cars, all the shopkeepers know his name. After a bunch of random kids walked by and waved and called his name while a bunch of us sat a ways back from the road drinking niu, K8 observed, “Supy’s pretty much the Blakey of Savai’i.” Well put.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Jordan's silhouette Saturday morning.

Supy's shower. The spigot is high enough Supy has to stand on the chair to turn on the water.

Koa and Paul at yesterday's Cinco de Mayo celebration.

Phil and Joey 81.

Trojan getting off the boat Friday afternoon.

Comfortable

Savaii and I have had a rough relationship. It all started with my second visit during which my iPod and camera were stolen from Phil’s house. They were recovered a month later, but the experience left a nasty taste in my mouth. Later I lost my camera during at our cinco de mayo celebration, and shortly after that, my parents and I had an unfortunate run-in with a taxi driver. Given all this, and the fact I dropped my camera in the ocean yesterday, it’s a little surprising how smooth and easy-going this weekend has been.

Okay, the trip over was a little stressful—mostly because of the cat. Things the cat likes: string, chasing the laser beam, expensive cat food. Things the cat doesn’t like: being cooped up in a sweltering cardboard box for six hours. Blakey and I thoroughly enjoyed the new boat in all of its pristine glory; the cat tolerated the trip, only because of the air conditioning. The second we stepped into Savai’i’s humid heat, the cat got really really cranky. She was pissy for the rest of Thursday.

Other than that, this trip’s been the relaxing holiday for which I’d hoped. Early in the week, word went around about staying at Aganoa Beach Fales on the south side of the big island. Financially and logistically, this didn’t appeal to me, and it turned out Blakey and Phil felt the same. Besides, a bunch of us got together at Lusia’s last night—a much more accessible venue, so it’s not like we’re being completely antisocial.

We needed to be at Lusia’s yesterday sometime between noon and 4:00 p.m. That kind of window allows for a lackadaisical outlook to the day. No rush. We’ll get there when we get there. Even though life in the Peace Corps is markedly slower than life in America, it’s still rare for a day to be so relaxed and unencumbered.

Today has been even slower. We all woke up mid-morning, and given the heat, we decided to play cards for a while outside in the faleo’o behind Phil’s house. Blakey was picked by one of her Apian friends, and Phil and I along with Trent 80 decided to head into town to get lunch.

We ate at a small restaurant in Salelologa right on the ocean, Le Waterfront, which has good, reasonably priced portions. It a beautiful spot. Too bad I threw my camera in the ocean.

In any case, the general success of this weekend seems to stem from the fact that we’ve been here long enough we’re much more in control of the way we spend our day. Or perhaps we’re better at discerning between what we can control and what we can’t, and maneuvering the system accordingly.

In that sense, the Peace Corps’s policy of having volunteers stay for 2 years makes sense. As much as I feel like I’ve been drowning in work lately, I feel like I’ve also learned to maneuver that system more capably.

We’ve hit our stride. Maybe between now and December is when the magic happens?

I hope you’re well. Pictures tomorrow.

Knock on Wood

We are smug. We are pompous and proud and totally impressed with ourselves. And if there’s one topic of conversation that we can all speak about passionately, it’s one in which we try to understand why we’re so amazing. And in situations like yesterday’s, that conversation becomes inevitable, and while Group 81tries to fathom its own glory, everyone else rolls their eyes and waits for the love fest to be over.

As much as Samoa is a tiny country and as much as modern transportation and technology allow any volunteer to travel to any other volunteer’s site within a single day, it’s still extremely rare to have an entire group gathered in one spot. In fact, after training, for most groups there are essentially only 5 or 6 more times every single person in the group will be in the same place at the same time, and all of those are Peace Corps functions where attendance is mandatory. Getting everyone together for a casual occasion is rare, and for some groups nearly impossible.

But self-satisfied, too-cool-for-school Group 81 breaks the mold. A couple volunteers got together to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day yesterday, and once Erin showed up, we looked around and all 13 members of group 81 were present.

Now, first and foremost, group 81 is proud because we haven’t lost anyone. The 13 people who boarded the October 7, 2008 flight are all still here. Blakey points out that more than anything else, this is due to luck. The fact that no one in our group has had a big tragedy back home (knock on wood) and no one’s gotten sick (knock on wood) and no one’s found reason to leave (knock on wood) is all a lucky game of chance. But we’ll still obnoxiously pat ourselves on the back for being so gosh darn lucky.

So in addition to having everyone still here, we are all also fairly likely to show up to events like yesterday’s. We are all social enough butterflies to come and hang out with volunteers en masse where we can have obnoxious Group 81 love fests and alienate everyone else who showed up.

One could argue that the social personalities provide good reason for why we’re all still here—perhaps group 81’s sociability contributes to its completeness. I’ve always felt like we’re in the longest game of chicken ever, and no one’s quit yet because no one wants to be the first the back down. See? I’ve seduced the post into a conversation about why Group 81 is so amazing. Tricky how we do that, huh?

I’m not trying to be ironic or clever by talking about how obnoxious we can be. We most certainly are that obnoxious, and after a year and a half, we’ve learned to tone things down. Sort of. Each of us has caught enough flack for our self-love that we know we should keep such talk amongst ourselves. In the family.

Actually, we weren’t very obnoxious at all yesterday. Erin got there, we realized what was up, we snapped a couple photos, and we went back to the party. We've become so humble. We're awesome.

I hope you’re well. Happy birthday, Aunt Kelly! Happy Pi Day! Pictures below.

Phil, Paul, Dan, and one of the 82 Jennys.

I just re-watched The Godfather, and the toilet at The Yacht Club is suddenly much more foreboding. You just get that feeling that Abe Vigoda just might have hid a pistol behind it.

The waitress last night brought over this bug, which she called a sei. She said they're lucky.

Phil and I are having a drawing contest in which each of us must reproduce the image above using Microsoft Paint. Once the entries are ready, I'll post them too.

Mid-Service Conference

At the airport with Chris, I ran into the latest member of Group 82 to leave. The trainee-turned-volunteer expressed feelings of futility and guilt, neither of which I could blame him for. Looking down the long end of two years feels daunting, and there are a host of emotions that go along with that feeling. But since I left for Group 81’s Mid-Service Conference directly from the airport, the interaction only accented the contrast between the new group, which has lost a total of 5 so far, and our group, which still boasts all 13 members.

It sounds cheesy, but at this point, it really does feel like we’re a big family with all the love and dysfunction that entails. As much as the event had the feeling of a corporate retreat with sessions like “Obstacles and Strategies to Circumvent Them” and “Challenges and Rewards,” it also felt a lot like a family reunion.

Samoa isn’t such a big place that I don’t see most of these people fairly often, but it’s rare that we are all gathered in one place at one time. And the ethos of the group has evolved as we’ve become more familiar with Samoa and with each other. Shyness and awkward conversation has given way to coziness and goofy banter.

Then again, we all fall back into the archetype we’ve each carved out for ourselves. Dan is loud and walks the thin line between obnoxiousness and brilliance. Blakey blithely and assertively sets the group’s agenda. Supy tromps around with his shirt off spreading cheekiness and ka’a wherever he goes.

But as I said in yesterday’s post, there’s a lot to do. Just as it’s daunting to look down the long end of two years, it’s nearly as daunting looking down the long end of one. We all expressed frustration over how to bring about any lasting change at our schools. And as much as we’re psyched about the new year, there’s a whole lot of cynicism left over from last year.

This cynicism was all too well symbolized in the tsunami destruction surrounding the hotel. Manenoa Beach Surf is nestled between Coconuts Resort and Sinalei Resort, both of which were hit very hard by September’s tsunami. Many of us knew people from Fausaga who worked at these resorts (none of whom were harmed or killed), and we had made trips out to see Samoa’s high-end accommodations. There is a devastating quality to the sticks and building skeletons, and it was difficult to not feel a wave of discouragement wash over as I walked through a bit of the rubble.

Yet in that same vein, the infernal sounds of construction emanated through our conference meetings. Workers showed up early in the morning, already hard at work on getting the hotels back up and running. So I guess the conference was all about persevering through the shortcomings of last year and building the future on a more solid foundation.


I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Coconuts Resort.

Phil's host-sister Tafale works at Lupe's next to Manenoa Beach Surf.

Artistic footprints picture.

As you can tell by mine and Jordan's expressions, there were a few intense games of Sorry! last night.

Volunteers for a Year

Phil and I played Connect 4 tonight for a couple hours. We played the game, which always reminds me of rainy days in elementary school, sitting on the floor in Phil’s living room, the vertical board setup on the fala, or Samoan mat. “I’ve definitely learned to sit with my legs crossed a lot longer,” said Phil. It was a delayed response to a conversation we had earlier this afternoon about what we’ve learned so far from our Peace Corps experience. It was a fitting conversation for today, given it’s the one-year anniversary of our Swearing In ceremony.

As you may recall, the Peace Corps is a 2+ year commitment, the ‘+’ is up to 3 months of training before the 2 years begin. Our training lasted from October 8 to December 15, when we were officially sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers.

On this blog, I’m more apt to celebrate milestones in terms of how long we’ve been in the country rather than how long we’ve been sworn volunteers. As far as I can tell, the date of Swear In is mostly important for 2 (albeit important) reasons:

• Our departure date is loosely based on our Swear In date, so theoretically we finish our Peace Corps service December 15, 2010; and
  
• If we leave early, our stipend is prorated based on our Swear In date rather than our arrival date, so making it to today means we can claim at least half of the stipend amount. Not that any of us are thinking about leaving. But it’s nice to have the number in the back of your head.

Last night I reminded Phil that today marked a year since Swear In. “I feel like we’ve celebrated being here a year a bunch of times already,” he said. It’s a good point. I think we’re entitled to celebrate the one-year mark for the entire period lasting from our arrival date to Swear In—kinda like Christmas gets celebrated until the Epiphany or Easter until Pentecost.

In any case, during snorkeling this afternoon, we got on the subject of what we’ve learned from our Peace Corps experience. Arriving in Samoa, I think everyone in Group 81 was still high on idealism; given all of our differences, I think each of us honestly came thinking we could make some kind of difference. And I think we’ve all learned how difficult that can be. “I guess you could call it patience,” said Phil, “but I feel like it’s also learning to be more passive—learning to accept the things you can’t change.” Indeed, it seems like everyone’s sense of idealism has ebbed and flowed over the year. We’ve all felt demoralized at times, but each of us has also experienced triumph.

We also talked about the wisdom we’ve gained. Neither of us could think of one specific nugget of wisdom.

But… I will bring it back to the 3-D glasses I mentioned back in November. 3-D glasses allow your brain to meld two different views of something and together they render a more much richer multi-dimensional image. And I think that is something I’ve picked up over the past year. Seeing global issues—global warming, war, etc.—through my American perspective versus, say, the perspective of my host family, the two images are vastly different, and reconciling the two, more perspective is gained.

So we’ll see how much more wisdom group 81 can glean in the coming year.

I swear this is the last “one-year” milestone. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Trash fire behind Phil's house this afternoon. Mmmm... cardboard.

This centipede crawled out of the woodwork during Connect 4.

This hermit crab crawled out of the woodwork in the middle of the night last night. Maybe he came in with the tide?

The Unofficial Halfway Point

When I trained for my first marathon, I remember I felt really good when I reached the halfway point of any given run because at that point I was pretty much guaranteed to finish the course, if for no other reason than I’d have to get back to where I parked the car. The longest run I did was a 20-mile course from Dockweiler Beach to Redondo Beach and back (The following week when the team did the 22-mile run, I sat in the car and slept. What a whiner.). In any case, when I got to the turn-around point, I thought to myself, I will get back to the car if I have to crawl.

By my calculations, today marks the unofficial halfway point for Group 81’s tenure in Samoa. Since volunteer departure dates vary within each group, so it’s difficult to pinpoint any specific time, so I’m basing my numbers on staying until 2 years after our official Swear-In date and then taking the flight home on the following Monday.

I realize I made a big to-do about the one-year mark last month, and there will probably be more fanfare in December to mark the one-year anniversary of Swear-In, but I feel like the symbolism of today might be stronger than either of those. Today is Hump Day on a macro scale. We’ve spent the last ~13 months climbing the mountain, and now it’s time to start our ~13-month descent.

Going back to running, when I’m on a long run like that 20-mile course, there’s a lot of time to think, and one way I enjoy passing the time is thinking about the numbers. At the 5-mile mark, I think about how for every step I’ve taken, I need to take 3 more steps. And then at the 8-mile mark, every 2 steps I’ve taken, I need to take 3 more. It’s always exciting to make it to the halfway point because that’s when the numbers change and number of steps taken surpasses the steps remaining. You’re not driving into the tunnel anymore, you’re driving out.

Although I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m in a tunnel. And I’m not a prisoner chalking days up on the wall. I’m having a great time in Samoa (except for the paper-grading), and as exciting as it is to come this far, there’s also the worrisome realization that we’re not going to be here forever. There’s a lot left to do in school and out. I want (Max) to setup an intranet in my computer lab so my kids can email each other. I haven’t been to the Blow Holes on Savai’i, nor have I been out to any of the smaller islands like Manono or Apolima or even Namu’a. I could go on with my Samoa Bucket List, but I’ll spare you.

One more running analogy: When Brian and I did the San Francisco Marathon, our split for the first half was excellent. I nearly puked on the Golden Gate Bridge, but hell if it slowed me down. Save for a quick bathroom break around mile 10, we ran those first 13.1 miles fast. But not too long after that, I needed to walk for a while. And from what I’ve seen from other groups, that scenario seems to fit the Peace Corps as well. The first year is one prolonged adrenaline rush, and then you need a breather. Which isn’t to say that people begin to slack off. But I think people start to feel the limitations of time and the weariness of their persons.

Running the race, I’d start to realize I was on a 26.2-mile tour of San Francisco. I could put my head down and power through the rest. But it was a such nice day. Might as well take it easy and enjoy it.

Here’s to enjoying the last 13 months and looking forward to 13 more. Picture below.

Today was my school's Entrance Exam for next year's incoming class. This is the view from above.

Trivia bonus!
Which side of my face was duplicated to create the above-the-fold image?

Crossing the Line

Near the beginning of training, our Medical Officer Teuila showed us a graph somewhat similar to the one at left. I can’t find the actual one she showed us, and mine is a terrible reproduction, but it captures the essence of what I took away from hers. According to my ears, the overarching point was the Peace Corps is an emotional rollercoaster that has ridiculous ups and downs at the beginning, but which evolve and become more elongated as time goes on. And any time you cross the x-axis, your chances of going home early become higher. At Volunteers en Masse events, we often recall this chart and talk about how accurate it was.

Teuila’s chart also had a more specific timeline. There are specific moments in the life cycle of a volunteer when most cross the line: the first couple weeks of training, after 1 month, after 3 months, after 6 months, after 12 months, and after 24 months (I’m reciting all this from memory, so take it with a grain of salt.). And as group 81 has passed each of these milestones, we’ve noticed the collective mood swings.

I bring this up because this morning I made arrangements to hang out with two people, one midday and the second for dinner, who are having particularly difficult times crossing the x-axis at their respective points. The back-to-back scheduling was a coincidence, but I worried a little about what this one-two punch would do to my psyche.

The first was a fellow member of Group 81. My group just hit our one-year mark, and most of us should be crossing the x-axis in the next couple months. We’re at the point when a lot of factors are coming to a head: our first year of school is coming to a close, many volunteers are going home for Christmas, stuff is starting to feel re-hashed, the excitement of new things has dwindled. Though we’re just about halfway through service, there’s a feeling of culmination in the air right now sort of like the kicking a field goal right before halftime, or bringing down the house just before the end of Act 1. And people are getting antsy about coming back after intermission.

Conversation went as well as can be expected.

Dinner tonight was with an outgoing member of Group 82. I’d say the first 4 months of the Peace Corps are the most difficult, as is demonstrated in the frequent ups and downs in the graph. The days are so long, and going to bed with the satisfaction of getting through the day is erased the next morning when facing another day is daunting. There’s adjusting to the new place and the new climate and a new set of friends. Then adjusting to the host village. Then adjusting to training and having your hand held. And when you’re finally adjusted to all that, you’re kicked out of training and there’s a whole new round of re-adjustment at your permanent site. All feelings are tentative, and the ups and downs and loop-the-loops can be nauseating. It’s not uncommon for people to want off the ride.

Once again, conversation went as well as can be expected.

The encouraging thing was the two conversations forced me to assess my own situation, and it seems like I’m doing okay. I like my job, I like my site, I like Samoa. There’s a constant feeling that any state of mind in the Peace Corps is temporary and tentative and that line-crossing can come any time, but today things were good.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.















Jordan and Briony laughing at Lynn's faleoloa.
















Luke McGrath and his posters advertising Punjas Breakfast Crackers are all over Samoa.  Dude isn't listed in Wikipedia nor on the first page of "Luke McGrath" hits on Google.  He is wearing goggles in the picture and by googling "Luke McGrath" AND swimming, I found out Luke McGrath is a reasonably talented ocean swimmer from Fiji.

Q&A: Koa, Blakey

Blakey and Koa are at my house tonight after plans fell through to see a movie after it turned out that I had already seen it. And since I currently have a whole lot of pumpkin at my house (which we can talk about on Friday?), I wasn’t interested in going out to dinner. So we’re here, cooking and discussing the Canadian political system. And I figured we’d open up the floor for a little Q&A session. Here’s how it went down:

MATT: How are things?
KOA: I’m sweaty as hell.
BLAKEY: Great. Manaia! Manuia!
M: How is Swine Flu?
K: Boring
B: Awesome
M: Why?
B: No school.
K: No school.
B: It’s amazing how much school work you can get done when there are no students there. Sometimes I think students should never be there. Ha. Ha.
K: Ha.
B: It’s true though. I feel like I’ve gotten more done in the last 2 weeks than in the last 2 months.
K: Me too. That was a joke.
M: Do you worry about getting swine flu?
B: No.
K: No.
B: I wash my hands.
K: I’m not sure there’s much of a swine flu problem in this country. All my students were sick one week, but now they’re healthy.
B: And I’ve seen them trying to maua teine in the makeki.
K: I have a lot of the athletes staying at my school, but no students which is unfortunate—because we have that major project due at the end of the month. (pause) I mean how many reported cases have there been? 80 out of 100,000
M: Uhhh I think there are 190,000.
K: 190,000? You can just correct my number; you don’t need to add your editorial opinion.
B: I got a text about Chris’s birthday. Italiano’s dinner, and then dancing.
K: Oh. I don’t want to go dancing.
B: If you don’t want to go dancing, then you’re not invited.

(Awkward pause.)

M: How long does the pumpkin need to boil? Do you think?
B: Until it’s soft?
K: No response from me.
M: What were you saying about the heat, Koa?
K: It’s very hot.
B: It’s always hot in Matt’s house. He doesn’t open the windows and his curtains are solid wind blockers.
K: It was really hot today though. It’s just been hot around town. It looked like it was raining in my neck of the woods when I was walking around town today. [When I go back to The States,] I don’t know how I’m going to take the transition because [in December] I’m going from the hottest part of the year in Samoa to the coldest part of the year in The States.
B: That’s why I’m going in September… I have no pants.

(Awkward pause.)

B: Get rid of that awkward pause. It wasn’t awkward.
K: No. It’s just a transition. That’s how he transitioned to his first question.
B: Oh that’s how transitions work. Thanks, Koa.
K: You’re welcome.
B: Are you spelling awkward wrong?
M: It’s an awkward word with the 2 w’s. It’s almost like onomatopoeia.
K: Like onomatopoeia for spelling.
B: Anamanapia?
K: Did you just say “Onomatopoeia” like a Samoan question?
B: I was making fun of you for not pronouncing the T.
M: I never pronounce the T.
B: This isn’t turning out as funny as I thought it was going to be.

(Awkward pause.)

B: This is a [lousy] post, and I feel there was insufficient journalistic integrity with regard to my comments.
M: Yeah, well…

It’s time to go. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















Blakey.
















Koa.
















Me (typing): Dhaal.
Blakey: It wasn't Dahl. It was "Pumpkin Mash with Rice".
Koa: I think it's D-A-H-L.
Me: Like Roald Dahl?
















Koa and Matt. Gay jam makers.

Odds and Ends Early Service Conference

Between getting home Thursday, the VAC meeting on Friday afternoon, and taking off for New Zealand Friday night, the last couple days have been a whirlwind, and it’s nice to relax now. It’s been a lot of fun having group 81 around, and I’m a little bummed (but not that bummed) to be heading out of town. With so much going on, my days have had the feeling chaotic yet days have required rigid planning to ensure everything gets done on time. The week on the beach was restful and stressful. Here are some other odds and ends from VAC and Early Service Training:

• Today was Sara’s parents’ last day in town, so she asked me to take minutes at today’s Volunteer Advisory Committee meeting. I asked her for advice on taking minutes, and she told me, “Just write down what everyone says.” So I sat there in the corner of the room like a court reporter this afternoon. I typed out 9.5 pages. I definitely didn’t catch every word that was said, but I could paint a pretty good picture.
  
• I wish Early Service Training came after my trip to New Zealand. I feel like my Samoan language skills have a lot of momentum right now. Koa and I agreed that having our parents in town forced us to interact with Samoans a lot more, and that we got a lot of language practice out of that too.
  
• I’ve listened to the new Green Day album, 21st Century Breakdown, a lot since it came out last Friday. It’s very good, but I’m not sure I like it as much as American Idiot. I think it will take a while to come to a final decision. It’ll probably need at least a year to marinate, I think.
  
• We played Mafia on Monday and Tuesday night at Faofao. A number of people were drinking during the game, which only exacerbated the tension. Kind of awesome. Definitely uncomfortable at times.
  
• The movie “Angels and Demons” has been banned in Samoa because of its portrayal of the Catholic church. Maybe I’ll see it in New Zealand. I haven’t seen “The Da Vinci Code,” but I read the book. I haven’t read “Angels and Demons” though… and I do want to read the book before I see the movie.
  
• It sounds dumb to be all staunch about mindless Dan Brown fiction, but whatever. I want to read the book first. I’m thinking I could probably get through it in a day or 2, so maybe I’ll pick up the book AND see the movie in New Zealand. I don’t want to get too crazy though.
  
• The bug zapper Luisa’s parents sent is extremely effective, and I can’t help but find maniacal satisfaction when I hear the crackling and popping as little bugs of flight meet their end. It only takes about a half hour for most of the bugs in my house to get zapped. So nice.
  
• The guys on Savai’i speak Samoan really well now, or at least much better than the rest of us. Last night Supy, Dan, and Phil started an impromptu session of Samoan conversation that probably lasted an hour and a half. Paul came and joined them about halfway though. I had to sit by quietly, barely able to keep up, barely able to contribute to conversation.
  
• One of the language sessions was on Samoan superstitions. While the session was definitely amusing, it was also educational. I learned:
  
  
  • If a cats pupils are large, it means the tide is in;
    
  • If you whistle at night, a ghost might slap you in the mouth;
    
  • Chickens are afraid of owls, not only because owls eat chickens, but also because owls are ghosts.
  
  
• I kicked a piece of coral. It cut my second to last toe on my left foot. Might have to cut it off.
  
• Dan and I raced from one end of the beach to the other doing freestyle. Phil was there too, but Phil is half fish, so we don’t really include him in race results. Dan beat me. I suggested that we race back the other way doing butterfly. Dan suggested breaststroke. Breaststroke was my stroke back in the day, so I accepted the challenge. Shortly after this second race began, Dan stopped. He claimed it was because there was coral in the way. Yeah right, Dan. Yeah right.

That’s all I got for this week. Off to New Zealand tomorrow. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















Blakey and Supy.
















Dan.
















Phil.
















Paul.





















Jordan.
















Erin.
















Blakey and Kate.

Early Service Conference

Though things often seem nonchalant and haphazard here, it’s interesting how carefully calculated things actually are. When we first arrived in Samoa, we did not go straight to the host village; instead we lived in a hotel for 10 days. We were eased into the country in air-conditioned rooms, and if that wasn’t posh enough, we spent a day at the beach and a day on a chartered snorkeling excursion before we left for the host village. Though it was never overtly communicated to us, I felt it was a subtle reminder that we’ve been assigned to a beautiful place and there’s no way we can complain about the host village when we’d just spent 2 days playing in the ocean.

This weekend was much in that same vain. After spending 5 months at our job sites, group 81 came back together to spend 4 days and 3 nights on a gorgeous beach on the southern coast of Upolu. In addition to High Intensity Language Training, we also had lots of time devoted to sharing our experiences and venting our grievances. We arrived for lunch on Monday, and after spending an hour talking about the difficulties and frustrations of our jobs, a bunch of us went swimming… and then it clicked. Allotting lots of time for airing grievances and holding the event in a serene, idyllic venue was no coincidence at all. WE had been brought here to unwind and rejuvenate ourselves. And it seemed to work pretty well.

Truth be told, I never viewed this week as a conference or a work retreat. In my mind, this week was a free vacation on the beach with the old crew from training. And going into it, I was surprised to find others dreading the week./ But I think most of the group warmed to the beach and the tasty (free) food and the lax atmosphere pretty quickly.

The work-related sessions were a lot easier to digest than similar sessions we had during training because we now have a much better idea of our jobs and the challenges we face daily. And it was good to get a pulse check from everybody.

People’s situations are quite different. Some talked of weak or absent administrators while others complained about being supervised by micromanagers. Some had issues with resources and lousy computers. Others were overwhelmed b the number of students in their class load. All of these problems were things I’d heard a out from my friends who taught with me in Oakland, but here there’s the added cultural barrier that we all have in common. And even if we didn’t solve our problems, it was comforting to see 11 faces that could relate. It was also nice to hear about problems that are different than mine, if on;y so I could think to myself, “Thank goodness I don’t have to deal with that.”

The language sessions were also easier to handle after spending 5 months in varying levels of language immersion. It was easier to separate the skippable from the inimitable, and we all came in with specific questions regarding how to say certain things or the proper way to address situations we often face.

In fact, I think my favourite session of the week was the one entitled, “ Open Forum: Language and Culture questions.” It gave us the chance to voice areas of confusion (e.g. How do I decline a dinner invitation? How do I avoid being ripped off at the market? How much money do I give when I attend a funeral?), but more than that, it gave us the chance to embrace the thrill and difficulty and inherent humility involved in living and working in a foreign culture. It was the kind of deal where in the middle of the conversation it dawned on me how cool and rare such a conversation is; particularly in such a formal setting and with so many voices in the mix.

And then there was down time. Since there are no beaches in Apia and few opportunities to swim in the ocean, I took advantage of being near the sea at nearly every opportunity I got. But when we weren’t dodging coral together, we were huddled in conversations over tea, telling jokes and gossiping, as Peace Corps are wont to do.

The whole environment was so lax I didn’t wear a shirt from just after lunch on Monday until I finally put on one just after lunch this afternoon. I don’t know if I’ve ever logged 72 contiguous hours of shirtlessness in my life, but this week it was a testament to shedding stressors, baring our flaws, and soaking up the sun. Not a bad week.

I hope you missed me this week as much as I missed you. Pictures below.
















The beach where we stayed.
















Group 81 guys (minus Joey, who missed the conference because he was working on a project on Savai'i). Left to right (shortest to tallest): Supy, Koa, Me, Paul, Jordan, AJ, Dan, Phil.
















Group 81 girls... Sorry the picture didn't come out well at all. Left to right: Kate, Chris, Blakey, Erin.
















Breakfast on Tuesday(?): Panakeke, papaya, oranges, and tea.
















Afternoon snack on Wednesday: Panepopo (sweet bread served in an inch of coconut cream) and apple wedges.
















Language class in Onofia's fale.
















Another culture show on Wednesday night. It think it's my 78th since arriving in Samoa.