Urban Hike

My dad and I share a knack for dragging people on absurdly long walking trips. My college friend Kim came to visit San Francisco a few years back, and I dragged her up and down Market and all over the Embarcadero. It may be a threshold of pain sort of thing—I can’t stand stubbing my toe, but I can walk all day, much to the detriment of my company. And so it came to pass Luisa and I walked somewhere between 8 and 10 miles today.

I looked it up on GoogleMaps this morning, and it turns out the place we’re staying is only 10 kilometers from downtown Sydney, and I suggested we do it like an urban hike—we’d get to cross the Harbour Bridge. Luisa was all about it. In fact, she suggested we run it. I blanched at that idea, so we took it slow.

It’s kind of fun staying in Sydney’s ‘burbs. Australia’s western colonization took place just slightly after America’s, and the areas north of Sydney have a similar feel to suburbs along the American east coast. Roads are sprinkled with tidbits and factoids about when and why bridges and buildings were built, and the architecture of older buildings echoes the past. The walk also gave us a chance to scope sites for watching tomorrow night’s fireworks extravaganza (Yeah. We’re a day ahead here.).

We got a little lost finding the pedestrian entrance to the Harbour Bridge, but we made it eventually. Preparations are underway on the bridge for tomorrow night’s show. Special platforms have been setup with boxes of fireworks and fuses. New Year’s Eve is in the air.

Once we made it into Sydney, we walked even farther out to Darling Harbour to check out the tourist trap there. We sat down at Lindt’s to iced chocolate and chai tea, which were both delightful. And hours after we left the house, we took the bus home. Exhausted.

In any case, tomorrow is the bigger issue. It’s still unclear where we’re going to watch the fireworks to ring in the new year tomorrow night. But the plan is to leave as early as possible. On the ferry to the zoo, the guide said many people will be camping out tonight to ensure a good view for tomorrow night, and the people at the table next to us at Had to Happen Mexican Restaurant said they’d be heading to stake out their spot around 2:30 a.m. , 21.5 hours before the fireworks start.

So I think we’ll be out of the house early tomorrow morning, but our destination is still unclear. I guess we’ll play it by ear.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

This bridge connecting Cammeray and Northbridge was constructed in 1828.

A storefront in North Sydney.

The yin-yang symbol, which will play a prominent role in New Year's festivities.

The Sydney skyline as seen from the Harbour Bridge.

Iced chocolate, chai, and macarons (not macaroons) from Lindt's. You'll also notice a small wrapped chocolate square on the plate.

I highlight the chocolate square because it was immediately familiar seeing as I have a ton in my freezer back in Samoa. In the last shipment of Ghiradelli chocolate my grandmother sent, I got a bunch of Lindt's chocolates. I didn't even know what Lindt's was. But sure enough, when I turned over the chocolate square at the restaurant this afternoon, it was baked(?) at the Ghiradelli factory in San Leandro, California. What a small world.

It's All Happening

In middle school, Carter and I used to check out a book called “Amazing Animals of Australia” from the school library and renew the hell out of it. Carter’s family was all about exploring the stranger corners of the animal kingom—over the years their pets included a boa constrictor, a chinchilla, a Savannah monitor, a corn snake, and countless garter snakes caught at the park. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. In any case, the animals in that book were so foreign and fascinating, and it’s only fitting that our first sunny day in Sydney was spent at the zoo.

I looked up Mexican food on Google Maps this morning, which led us to an underground food court between George and Pitt Streets. We had a late start, and it seemed inappropriate to eat so early in the day, but a burrito is difficult to pass up. We took one for the road.

The crowds at Circular Quay were massive this morning. Given yesterday’s relatively light crowds, I was perplexed by this until I considered the following things:

• It’s summer and schools are out;
  
• We’re in that week of purgatory between Christmas and New Year’s when, even if you show up for work, there’s nothing to do; and most importantly
  
• Yesterday was rainy and today was hot and sunny.

The cost of the ferry, which at $48 seemed steep, included admission to the zoo. Whatev. We went for it.

As it turned out, zoo admission is $41, so really the ferry was only $7 roundtrip. Also, the line to buy admission at the zoo was insanely long, and we got to skip it. Also, once we were in, the line for hot dogs and sausages was at least a half hour wait. But we brought a burrito! Score!

Once things settled down, the zoo was a great time. I’ve seen a fair amount of zoos in the past couple years—San Francisco, Oakland, San Diego, Auckland, and New York (Central Park)—and Sydney’s stands with the best of them. One thing that stands out is its sprawling size. It’s huge.

And Sydney Gal was correct: the zoo provides stunning views of the Sydney skyline. Located on the north side of Sydney Harbour, it’s perfectly angled toward the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

And then, of course, there are all the fascinating animals: kangaroos, wallabies, koalas, echidnas, tapirs, and 11 of the 15 most deadly snakes in the world. In the building that houses the nocturnal animals, they turn the lights on at night, and then keep them off during the day, so the animals are all on opposite schedules and thus come out when visitors are around.

So that’s the zoo.

Tomorrow, we’re going to the beach. Maybe.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

The zoo is quite proud of the new baby elephant on the far left. He's the first African elephant born in Australia.

Zebras were very popular today.

Zoo employees are pretty good at staging photos like this where the giraffe looks to be stealing the carrot with its tongue. Still funny.

Most of the kangaroos were lazing in the sun, but these guys were hoarding the carrots.

An emu.

Near the end of the day, Luisa and I sat down to look at a map. I looked over and saw a flock of turkeys (far more than are pictured here) inexplicably flocking toward us. All I could say was "Uhhh... Turkeys!" And suddenly they were everywhere. I had to scramble to get this picture, leaving Luisa to fend for herself.

Twice today, an airplane wrote across the sky, "Bondi NYE Shore Thing" to advertise the New Year's Eve celebration at Bondi Beach. The first time the letters stared, I slowly pretended to read, "Su rr en der... Do ro thy." Then I looked around and asked, "Who's Dorothy?" But no one, not even Luisa, thought it was funny. Fine then.

Australia

I've met up with Luisa in Sydney! We're staying in a 'burb on the north side of Sydney Harbour. We haven't figured out how to connect to the Internet at the house where we're staying, so blog posts will be intermittent and short for the time being.

It's rainy here today, which is a little obnoxious since it should be the middle of summer. Who packs for rain at this time of year? Other than that, things have been great.

We made baked macaroni and cheese for dinner last night, and we've stopped at a Starbucks to make use of the Wi-Fi. After this we plan on wandering around downtown Sydney for the afternoon.

PCV Erin and her entourage will be in town for New Year's Eve, so we're going to try to meet up with them.

That's all I got for now. I hope you're all well. Pictures below.

Me in ye olde tyme phone booth.

Me with Harbour Bridge.

Luisa in front of the Opera House.

Odds and Ends Thursday 38

It’s Christmas Eve, and I am the only one sleeping on my school’s compound tonight. I know I say this all the time, but I swear I don’t really feel lonely so much as relieved. This week, as lazy and wandering as it’s been, has also been pretty busy. I’ve made the cross-town trek at least twice a day, and I managed to go running twice this week and everyone’s been getting ready for tomorrow’s holiday and I’ve also been getting ready for the day after when I leave for Australia. But now all the shops are closed and most of the packing is done (no lie) and everything should be in place. Hopefully. And that’s a relief. Here are some other odds and ends from the week:

• The lights along Beach Road are lit tonight on account of the holiday. They only light them 3 times a year: Independence Day, the Teuila Festival, and Christmas. The lights are very festive, and I personally think they should be turned on a lot more. But I guess I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
  
• Erin leaves tomorrow morning, and I leave the day after, and then Blakey will be the sole member of Group 81 in Samoa. Way to hold down the fort, Blakey!
  
• The plan to watch Christmas episodes from various TV shows is still on. On Wikipedia I found a stunningly comprehensive list of Christmas episodes of American TV shows, and using the Peace Corps library I was able to compile 18 episodes with a total run time of 9 hours. We’re all set.
  
• I finally got to what I think is the best episode of Mad Men last night where the priest breaks out the guitar at the end of the episode and plays Peter, Paul & Mary’s “Early in the Morning”. I admit I’m a sucker for musical montage. Which is why I’m looking forward to the “In Excelsis Deo” episode of The West Wing tomorrow.
  
• In the priest’s homily tonight, he asked, “Do you know that the best sermon on the birth of Christ wasn’t given by a great priest or a pope or even a saint? Do you know who truly understood and communicated the meaning of Christ’s birth?” I had it narrowed to 2 candidates:
  
  • Linus Van Pelt; and/or
    
  • The Little Drummer Boy.
  It turned out the correct answer was “the choir of angels”. Yeah, I think Linus may have actually said it better. But that’s just my opinion.
  
• I got a couple mosquito bites during mass tonight, and I realized I haven’t gotten any mosquito bites in a while. I’m not sure about this, but I think the weather lately has been too hot for mosquitoes. Just a hypothesis.
  
• Phil and I were cold the other night, and we were trying to estimate the temperature. We agreed it was probably high 70s Fahrenheit.
  
• It’s tradition here to go out to the nightclubs on Christmas Eve. According to one of my Samoan friends, Christmas Eve is very similar to New Year’s Eve. Asked if this was true in America, I shook my head. I won’t be clubbing tonight.
  
• Apologies to anyone offended by the language in Tuesday night’s post. I had to tell it like it happened. No punches pulled.
  
• I was at the flea market today looking for a particular souvenir in a particular colour, and when I finally found what I was looking for, the vendor wanted $15 for what should cost $10. It’s faux pas to bargain in Samoa, but I called her out (in Samoan) on the price. Startled and entertained by my Samoan, she immediately agreed to the $10 price. See? My language skills aren’t terrible.
  
• I admit I’ve been keeping a secret from you, blog readers. It’s benign and inconsequentional, but I don’t plan on telling you until sometime in mid- to late January. Sit tight.
  
• Finally, I want to thank everyone who’s left Christmas greetings in the comments section. Season’s greetings to all readers. Have a wonderful holiday!

That’s all I got for this week. I’ll give you a rundown on Christmas tomorrow night. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Last-minute shoppers—myself included—at Chan Mow, the Samoan equivalent of Target/Wal*Mart.

The sidewalk outside Frankie's Supermarket this morning.

Lights along Beach Road.

Visitors

Waiting to cross the street with a bunch of Samoans this afternoon, one of them looked at the other and with a perfect American accent whined, “It’s so hot here!” Natives these were not. Before RPCV Dylan from group 77 went home last year, he pointed out that with the holiday season comes hoards of visiting family members from overseas. And on Christmas Eve Eve this year, the situation is no different.

First, I should point out there seems to be a marked difference from Samoans who grew up here—the ones who lived here and then left to stake out a life in New Zealand or Australia or wherever, and are now coming back—versus those who were born overseas and have made a pilgrimage back to Mother Samoa to explore their heritage or visit extended family. The latter group understandably tends to stick out a little more, and it’s interesting to see their reaction to Samoan life.

A member of this latter group struck up a conversation with Phil on a recent ferry trip. “I can’t believe you live here!” the guy told Phil. Phil shrugged.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Phil posited while recounting the story to me. “People from your family live here. Lots of other people live here. It’s not that crazy.”

It’s a good point, but I can relate to the other guy as well. My dad immigrated to The States from Portugal and when my family made the trek back to the motherland, there was nothing familiar about it. Our expectations and our threshold of what we consider to constitute a “normal life” are so influenced by where we grow up. I empathize with the kids who come back here and feel a bit overwhelmed.

Another example is Auckland-born Quincy, who has been visiting family in Apia for the last 9 weeks. Through mutual friends, Blakey and I have spent a fair amount of time with the 19-year-old. “I think Quincy’s a little out of his element,” Blakey whispered to me shortly after I first met him. Quincy’s cousin Ailepata had driven us to a fale’oloa and told Quincy to hop out and buy a box of matches.

“What should I say?” asked Quincy.

“You should go up there,” Ailepata told him,”and tell her ‘I would like to buy some matches.’” Blakey and I hid our giggles as best we could, but my heart went out to the kid. After all, a year ago I was in the exact same boat. In fact, I think my experience as a palagi made the whole thing easier because people see me and right away know I’m not from here.

Quincy’s been a real sport though, even extending his time in Samoa to last through the holidays. And just like the rest of us, he’s gotten a lot better at maneuvering the culture.

Back on the street corner, I could also empathize with the girl who complained about the heat. It is indeed very hot here.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

For a while I seriously thought TV1 was playing a bootlegged copy of "Alvin and the Chipmunks", but then the movie ended, and it turned out the TV was just getting terrible reception.

And Out Come the Wolves

Teaching middle school in Oakland, my road rage faded away. There was enough stress and unadult- erated rage during the school day mere traffic spats seemed insignificant. Normally in The States I was an angry driver, mad in traffic, irate when cut off. But during the few weeks and months I taught middle school, those emotions were dwarfed and quiet. And yet after I quit they came back in unyielding fervor. And now, living in Samoa, that anger has been channeled toward the dogs.

Though today is the first day of summer and nearly the longest day of the year, darkness fell before I left Blakey’s this evening. With campus empty and Christmas on the horizon, Blakey, Erin, and I got together for dinner, cookies, and wine. But all good things must pass, and as the evening came to an end, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out the door.

The path from Blakey’s house to mine is relatively short; at most a fifteen-minute walk. But as I trudged down the hill on the crudely paved sidewalk, the LED flashlight of my cell phone lighting the way, the dogs inevitably began to bark.

I lived just south of downtown Los Angeles throughout college and I heard my fair share of gunshots in the distance and helicopters above and dogs barking in the distance. And so I take it all in stride.

And then, quiet and out of nowhere, a real dog is in my face. A German shepherd, angry as hell, barking louder and louder, and before I know it within a threatening distance. In less than a beat, the dog is within 3 yards of me, barking loudly and cautiously continuing its approach.

At first I’m rattled, and all I can do is front. I reach into my pocket, my cell phone is the first thing I feel, and I immediately pretend to throw it at the dog, making grand and violent gestures like a stage performer.

The dog is unconvinced, edging even closer, barking the whole time, his threatening teeth glisten in the starlight. I begin to scream words, feigning anger before it comes, and I crouch down to paw at the gravel in my path hoping to find something to throw at the dog. I find nothing, and the dog inches closer, now less than a yard away.

I throw my cell phone at him. Fuck you, Dog. The last ditch effort riles the anger from the depths of me, and I verbally come at him with all I’ve got. A string of expletives follows. Hell, I beat my chest.

The dog lets up, impressed with my newfound belligerence. My sacrificed cell phone has bounced behind me, and I retrieve it, popping the battery back into place.

By now, the neighboring dogs have heard the scuffle, and echo their own barking. I shine the LED light along the path and seize four rocks of sizable girth. I’m ready now.

I’m almost home, there are no more than 200 steps to my gate, but I hear the dogs, and I’m ready. My shoulders ride up high, and my defense edges past the midfield line as I call out to their barks, mocking them, inviting them out. The rock in my hand slides up next to my index finger. Come and get me.

Across the street a dog barks in a driveway. I hurl my rock, but the dog takes off before I release. He is temporarily silenced.

I walk through my school’s gate, still clutching my ammunition. I hold it securely in my hand until I reach the door to my house. I’m home and safe, but I can feel the blood pumping through my ears. It will be a while before I cool.

And so here I am. I hope you’re safe. Pictures below.

Erin and Blakey baking chocolate chip cookies.

A slew of Los Angeles paraphernalia is available at the Loko Samoa store.

This house across the street from my school has a nice display of lights.

Last Day for Spring Cleaning

Phil, Briony, Jenny, and Spencer flew to New Zealand earlier this afternoon, and Koa and Ryan leave for America tonight. Max and Rosie took the ferry back to Savaii yesterday afternoon. And just like that, Apia, which has been full of volunteers for the past 3 weeks, is nearly empty. Blakey’s up the hill housesitting and I’m here and Erin is supposed to come through town tomorrow. As always, it’s a little weird to see the mass exodus, but mostly it’s a relief.

My list of things to do has been steadily growing since school got out, but I figured I’d put it off to hang out with people and trek out to the village and all. So, among other things, my laundry situation has grown dire. Dire. It’s common practice to wear garments 2 or 3 times before washing, depending on the amount of sweat and stink a particular shirt or pair of shorts has taken on, but my clothes have been putting in overtime lately.

The first order of business for the day was laundry. I amassed 3 full loads (I don’t remember ever doing 3 full loads in The States), stuffed them into some pillow cases, and called for a taxi. I figure I’d celebrate Christmas early by paying for laundry service. The lady told me to come back around 3:00 p.m.

Apia is all a-bustle with people getting ready for Christmas. I stopped by little Big Bear to get a price check on hangers: 10 frail plastic hangers for $11.90. No way I’m taking that deal. I walked home empty-handed.

It was time to mop anyway. I haven’t mopped since I moved in, and after a year in this climate, the floors desperately needed a wash. The screws had rusted on the shoddy mop I bought last year, but with some cajoling I was able to get them loose. I gave the floor a coat of bleach and then a coat of Fabuloso.

I keep a Samoan fine mat on the floor in my front room, which effectively acts as carpet. The problem is, unlike a carpet, the mat is permeable. I’m pretty good about sweeping the dust from under the edges, but I didn’t realize there was a layer of dust under the whole thing. Gross.

I mopped the kitchen and dining areas while I listened to NPR podcasts. It was an enriching and productive day. I picked up my laundry, and caught a taxi to schlep it home. I don’t like the way they fold the shirts, so I had to re-fold, but I have clean clothes now!

I hope that today’s momentum of productivity will carry through to tomorrow. I would like to wash the couch cushions and clean the bedroom. That’s a lot to ask for though. I might just watch a movie.

I hope you’re well. Picture below.

The nativity and Christmas tree outside of the Catholic church in Mulivae.

Adaptation.

I talked to Luisa tonight and, recounting what she’d done today, she mentioned a particular store she found that had a bunch of cool stuff. I heard her talking and I understood the story, but I experienced some cognitive dissonance. Today is Sunday. How can there be shopping on Sunday? What does that feel like to go Christmas shopping on Sunday? And I was suddenly struck by this new level of Samoan-ness I’ve reached.

Phil and I watched “12 Monkeys” this afternoon. His brother called somewhere in the middle, so we paused the movie, and as Phil wandered back to his seat after hanging up, he said, “Sundays at your house are crazy. I don’t do anything. I probably haven’t taken 50 steps today.” Yeah. We’ve accepted Do Nothing Sundays as a part of life, and the thought of doing anything beyond grocery shopping is foreign. Hell, even going for a run is out of the question.

This is just another bullet point on the list of ways America seems foreign. On the eve of Phil’s departure to New Zealand, we had a conversation about ways we’ve adapted to the lifestyle here and the apprehension of going to a post-industrial Western country.

Phil noted the slower pace of life here. “I feel like here it’s okay to just sit,” he said, “But in America that’s not really acceptable. People expect you to always be doing something.” This concept is palpable in the village where we noticed on this past trip that our host families seemed to appoint a particular family member to keep us occupied.

Other adaptations are less nebulous. When my parents came to visit, I drank a glass of water while standing in their hotel room, and red flags were raised in my head. In Samoa it’s faux pas to stand and drink, a fact that’s so ingrained that it’s second nature to sit before drinking now.

Here’s another custom: when someone calls your name, and you’re out of that person’s sight, you don’t say, “What?” or “I’m here”. You make a noise like “woo”. So, for example, if Mele is sitting in the faleo’o, she might call to Akanese who is inside the house somewhere. “Akanese!” Akanese would respond “Woo!” I’ve heard that this is because there could be an evil spirit calling you, and you don’t want the evil spirit to know where you are. Now, I’m not aware of any Peace Corps who has adopted this response, but Dan and I agree we’d like to make it a habit before we leave.

And then there’s the adaption involved in the solitary lifestyle. “Do you ever talk to yourself?” Phil asked me tonight. All the time: in the kitchen, on the bus, laying on the couch. It doesn’t seem to serve any purpose, but living alone, you start talking to things. Neither of us has painted a face on a volleyball yet, but we’ve both begun to project personalities on to inanimate objects.

It sounds strange at first, but then you adapt.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Keleme sitting at her high chair while Asolima fans her.

Asolima and I changed a tire. The one we put on was more flat than the original. So we put the original back.

One of the family dogs, Rocky. I will devote an entire post to him sometime in the coming year.

The Angel Moroni atop the Mormon temple in Apia. Asolima said the angel's horn fell off during the earthquake in September, and thieves made off with it before it could be put up again. The angel remains trumpet-less.

Back to Fausaga

As much fun as last Christmas was in the nu’u, Group 81 has opted to spend the holiday elsewhere this year. Blakey, Erin, and I will be the only volunteers in the country, in fact. In lieu of spending the holiday there, Phil and I decided to go this week. November was a busy, and it was the first month I haven’t made it back to Fausaga since training. Phil hadn’t been back to the village since Easter. We met up at the Fish Market on Thursday afternoon and headed out.

Christmas preparation is in full swing in Fausaga. Phil and I were invited to choir practice on Thursday night, and, perhaps more importantly, a truck came Friday afternoon and brought new sand for the volleyball court where the annual tournament will be held. Beyond that, things seemed much the same.

My host brother Malo and his nine-year-old daughter Aiga are staying at our house because he lost his job at the Samoa Packing Corporation in American Samoa. He and Oge have been sleeping up in the plantation to protect the taro crop from pigs and thieves. Aiga is withdrawn, but seems sweet. Perhaps because she’s the oldest child, or perhaps because she’s not Asolima’s, she seems to have Cinderella-type responsibilities.

Akanese is bubbly and goofy as ever. When I handed her the bottle of coke and small bags of chips I’d brought, she offhandedly replied, “Thank you” in English. I called her out on it, and she refused to say it again. She happily repeated her old standard, “Oh my gosh!”, which is still cute, but not as much as it used to be.

The baby Keleme has entered into the preliminary stages of the terrible twos. During evening prayer on Thursday night, she began ripping up pages of the book of Revelation, all Sinead O’Connor-style. So I quietly took the pages away from her. She started screaming. Mele, my host mom, had to stop the prayer to comfort the baby. She turned on the TV, and that was that. And thus I wrecked evening prayer on Thursday. I felt bad at first, but every time the baby started crying the rest of my time in the village, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Let’s hope she moves through that stage quickly.

The most shocking and amusing moment of my stay came after choir practice got out on Thursday night. Asolima and Mele attended Catholic bingo, so I wandered over to see what was up. The children built a small bonfire out of bingo cards with Akanese taking the lead. She ordered the younger kids to go and collect more cards while she and a few deputies slowly dropped more cards on the fire. Asolima kept half an eye on things while she blotted the current round of bingo. Occasionally the fuel supply would run out, and Akanese would seek out Asolima’s cigarette to light the fire anew. I was mostly entertained until I imagined some kid growing up with horrible burn scars. And then I started pulling the children away from the flames.

A lot more happened, but it’s difficult to capture the world of the village in one post. Maybe I’ll tell you more in the next couple days.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Akanese and me.

The bingo fire.

Phil's host sister Tafale playing volleyball in her puletasi.

Girls hanging out on the cricket pitch. Akanese on the left, Aiga in the center. I don't know anyone else's name.

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?

R and R

Toward the end there, RPCV Sara talked a lot about how she wished she and Cale had been assigned to a more rural site where they could have immersed themselves in the community more. Group 82 left for their sites last week, and as I heard about the places they were being sent, I also felt slightly jealous. PCV Kyle is being sent to the most unreachable part of Upolu. PCV Dana is going to join Spencer and Jenny at the westernmost point in Samoa, and technically, the westernmost point in the world. But then I realized one of the great things about the Peace Corps is once a volunteer is living in a certain place—and assuming all is good between you and that volunteer and its acceptable gender-wise by village standards—you can go and sleep there for free.

With school out and the weather in Apia hot as sin and my growing boredom with my own house, I’ve set out across the strait to visit Phil on Savai’i. I had a couple errands to run in Apia this morning, but I caught the 10 a.m. pasiovaa and the noon ferry and the right bus and now here I am at Phil’s.

Usually trips to Savai’i are rushed for a couple reasons. First, during most of the year, school is in session, and there’s a pressing need to come on the last boat on Friday, and leave early enough to be back on campus Monday morning. Second, there’s an unofficial weekly gathering of Peace Corps in Savai’i’s main city, Salelologa, and it’s difficult to avoid the social obligation. But I’ve arrived on Monday afternoon, and there’s not really a big rush to do anything or be anywhere, and so far the trip has been quite leisure.

Phil’s house sits on a little cove, and sitting around this afternoon, I asked if we could go swimming. “Yeah,” said Phil. Phil got the snorkels out while I found the sun screen in my backpack, and 10 minutes after deciding to swim, we were wading into the ocean in Phil’s backyard.

When I was assigned to the heart of Apia, I was very happy, but I admit I’ve always been a little jealous of Phil’s place. He’s got a scenic view of all 4 of Samoa’s major islands, and his house is far from the dirt and grime and crowds in Apia. But I didn’t even know the half of it. The coral reef in Phil’s backyard is breathtaking.

The current was strong enough today that from castoff up the shore to the swim back into Phil’s backyard took roughly 15 minutes. We did 2 rounds and saw many different types of fish and coral and anemones and stuff. I imagine it’s the kind of thing that might grow tedious after a while, but I feel like living here I’d be out there whenever the tide allowed.

Afterwards we hiked up to the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner, only to have Phil’s pule cover over and drop off barbecue.

Overall, the day has been great and very un-Apia.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

The new open-air market in Salelologa.

We played Jenga tonight.

Jenga soon devolved into strange impromptu offshoot variations like this one here. This version was a tangible mix of Battleship and Jenga. I built 4 towers out of 50 Jenga blocks, and Phil blindly threw 4 Jenga blocks at my towers. I then got as many points as the height of my tallest tower left standing.

Christmas Time

Dan has related the story to several people. He and a bunch of others had slept over at my house, and we were laying around, too lazy to get out of bed, but awake enough for conversation. Apropos nothing, I said, “We can play Christmas music!”, after which I crawled across the room and put my Holiday playlist in rotation. It was Black Friday, the official start of the Christmas season, and hell if I was going to waste any time.

I don’t know that I’d say Christmas is my favorite time of year, but I definitely like it a lot, and without the trappings of North American winter—crowded shopping malls, Mel Tormé on the radio, ubiquitous Starbucks red cups, cold weather—the Christmas season isn’t quite as enthralling for me here in Samoa. So I feel the need to overcompensate, and thus the “All I Want for Christmas is You” on Black Friday morning.

This overcompensation seems to be part of the Peace Corps experience. Some of us who’ve always felt a little ambivalent about hardcore American patriotism have been born again. I’ve always been a big fan of Creedance Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son,” but now even when we briefly talked about ASCII in my computer classes, I was quick to point out the A is for American. Whoo!

In any case, I’ve tried a couple different ways to remind myself it’s Christmas time. Last year I read David Baldacci’s “The Christmas Train,” which is a terrible terrible book. I made it a point to save all the Egg-Nog-flavored Ghiradelli squares because they capture the essence of Christmas pretty well.

I’ve considered hanging Christmas lights around my house—this is my first dwelling since college in which I have sole control over the building. There are several problems with putting up the lights: they’d be difficult and/or expensive to acquire, they’d be difficult to hang, and plugging them in inside the house would probably mean a breach in mosquito security. Expenses like that are hard to justify since I won’t be here for Christmas next year.

The ferry between Savai’i and Upolu gets a lot more crowded during the lead-up to Christmas, so the PCVs that live way out there get a good Christmas reminder. There is a whole lot of Christmas music played on the buses and the radio, but it tends to be of a slightly different style—i.e. put to a synthesized techno beat and often awkwardly mixed with inappropriate non-Christmas music. The worst example of this I’ve heard would have to be (no joke) “Feliz Navidad” mixed with Black-Eyed Peas’ “My Humps”.

Blakey and I are trying to figure out our plan for Christmas day. I’ve suggested watching the various cartoon Christmas specials, which we have in AVI format on the community hard drive in the Peace Corps office. I also thought about compiling various Christmas episodes from different seasons of different TV shows. Blakey wants to cook. Yeah. I think that will do.

I hope you’re well. No pictures today. Sorry.

Waiting

We were up at Zodiac tonight sipping Vailima when Agnes and Ben showed up. Agnes and Ben are Americans working at a micro-finance institution. They’ve been here 2 months, and Agnes leaves to go back to The States Monday. Ben leaves the following week. Along with Agnes, there will be 9 Peace Corps Volunteers headed back to America on Monday’s flight visiting for Christmas. “3 more days!” Agnes said gleefully to Chris. I sipped my beer.

I chose to not go home for Christmas, and I’m completely comfortable with that decision. But I’m not leaving for Sydney for another 2 weeks, and there’s just nothing to do. With school out of session and the holiday season in full swing, it’s beginning to feel difficult to keep myself occupied. And with the anticipation of Sydney and LSAT scores, time can’t possibly move any slower.

It would be a lie if I said I have nothing to do. My house is a mess. I have load upon load of laundry piled up. My computer lab needs work. I have books to read. I’m considering taking the GRE. But it all feels like busy work. It’s stuff I was putting off because things were too busy at school, and now that school’s over the motivation is too. There’s an element of feeling burned out, and lying around Apia marking time isn’t making it better.

The plan is to switch things up a little next week. I’m going to go visit Phil on Savai’i for a couple days, and then he and I are heading back to the host village together for a couple more days. It should be a good distraction.

Today I played Freecell and listened to NPR podcasts for a couple hours. Then I turned on Amelié and took a nap. I know. All you worker bees envy this lifestyle. But it can only last so long. Even Freecell has its limitations.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Rain drops on my glasses with no rain clouds in the sky.

Teachers from my school at the teacher dinner last Friday night. Ms. Saleupolu and Ms. Suasami.

Soccer on my school's field in the shadow of a rainbow.