Two weeks ago we had a conference in the City of Smiles, aka Bacolod, and while we were there, we found out our permanent sites! My site is in the province of Antique, in a super rural barangay (village). My barangay is inland, but not too far from the ocean, and sandwiched against the mountainous region of Panay Island. The elementary school I’ll be working out is really small for a school here; there are only about 480 students. My counterpart seems really nice, and so does my new host family. The house at which I’ll be staying at is surrounded by rice fields and banana trees; it’s so peaceful and quiet- it will be a nice change from the hustle and hubbub of where I’m at now.

One challenge that I’ll be facing my first few months at site is that they speak a different language! Right now I’m learning Hiligaynon (aka Ilonggo), but they speak Kinaray-a at my permanent site. Luckily the languages are related, and the grammar seems to be mostly the same. But still, it’s a bummer that I’ll have spent three months learning a language I won’t really need. Oh well.

One thing I haven’t gotten used to yet is the mosquitoes. They love me here! If I don’t have pants on, with some sort of DEET on beneath, my legs will be dotted with at least a dozen bites within the hour. It’s really unpleasant. Once last week, while I was eating lunch- I got 14 in ten minutes!

This past week has been full of fun things. On Sunday, I went with a few fellow PCTs to a beach about an hour North of here. We took a bus, and then a boat ride out to a white sand island. We had the whole beach to ourselves. The water was a beautiful clear turquoise color, but goodness it was warm; almost too warm. Getting in the water didn’t give me the same satisfying cool down that swimming normally does. But it was still nice to get out of Banate and actually see some of the spectacularly beautiful coastline I had heard about.

On Monday, we took a field trip to an indigenous community, to visit the Ati. The Ati are the indigenous peoples of Panay Island who were here long before people came from Borneo and Malaysia and settled here. They have their own language, and traditions, which they fight hard to preserve. While up in their community, which is a reservation, we learned a bit about their history, traditional weaving, and saw a traditional dance performed. We spoke with one of the leaders of the community who told us about how they got their reservation. Apparently, in the 1980s they had a Peace Corps Volunteer who helped them through the paperwork, as well as to help preserve the integrity of their land through the planting of trees. It was awesome to hear about and actually see the success of another PCV’s service.

Tomorrow I’m becoming a godmother to a baby I’ve met once. All four of us in my language cluster were asked to be godmothers to the baby, and apparently it’s rude to not accept, so tomorrow I’ll stand up in church, hold a candle, and become one of the many godmothers of Ernie Dave.

As a thank you to the community that has been so welcoming to us for our training, we are doing a community project. The community, aka the school we have been working at, decided they want an English camp. So the week after next, while the students are on semester break, we will be conducting a two-day English camp with some sort of environment theme (undecided as of today), which will include the production of an environmentally themed mural painting. I’m excited about the project because, well, I love camp. It should be fun- and our four counterparts, and the school, are excited about it too.

I can’t believe I only have three weeks left of training, and then I’m off to permanent site! I can’t wait.

My awesome language cluster. Evelyn, Trisha, and Mindi

Beach excursion

My family has already decorated for Christmas. Yes they know its only October, but Christmas is celebrated in all the 'ber' months.

You're so jealous right now.

The boat that took us out to the island beach.

Walk back from language class at the beach.

We had language class here one day.

Everything is so green! I love it.

The fruit here is delicious. Every night after dinner, I eat heaps of it. Some nights I will eat a mango. On other nights I will eat rombutan, a small reddish spiny fruit, that has a sweet flesh. These last few nights, and usually mornings and afternoons, I have been eating lansones.

Lansones are amazing; I eat close to a kilo everyday. They grow in bunches, kind of like grapes, but each fruit is about the size of a golf ball. After peeling the skin off, there are wedges of tart yet sweet deliciousness. However, peeling and eating the fruit has the unfortunate side effect of staining the fingers a dark orange-brown. Oftentimes I will look down at my orange tinged fingertips, and my mind instantly wanders to Kyrgyzstan. Suddenly I am standing in my classroom in Bazarkorgon with fifteen expectant sixth graders looking up at me, their similarly stained fingers clutching a pencil.

How different fall is here, if I could even call it fall. Most of the time I am sticky with sweat, my bangs clinging to my forehead. Families are not out in the fields harvesting cotton or picking walnuts (the latter being the reason for stained fingers in Kyrgyzstan). Leaves are not falling from the trees, and the temperature is not slowly dipping towards freezing (however much I may wish for it). I have never really lived anywhere with such a lack of distinction between the seasons.

It feels like summer- I listen to the calming swoosh of the water outside my window, with the quiet yet incessant buzz of the fan near my bed. It is rare for the temperature in my room to drop below 84, and just the thought of wearing pants makes me shudder.

These past two weeks I have been more frustrated than I have been in a long time. I had forgotten what it was like to feel uneasy and unsure of myself in a new culture. My integration into Kyrgyz culture was so gradual that I never noticed when it happened, and I took for granted the ease and comfort with which I existed in that culture. So here I am, having forgotten the process, and I find myself frustrated at myself with not knowing how to handle certain events, circumstances, or even just daily life.

I have been especially frustrated with my host family situation. I know that they are extremely nice and hospitable people; I know that in ordinary circumstances I would feel like I was somehow part of the family, that I would have the chance to eat and converse with them, but these are not ordinary circumstances. I have been torn between being understanding and being frustrated. Intellectually I know that my family has more important things to worry about than me. However, I still find myself faulting them for their cursory acknowledgement of my existence in their house.

I am frustrated that I eat by myself; I am frustrated that I do not really get a chance to practice speaking in Hiligaynon, and I am frustrated that I feel like I am a burden to them at this profoundly personal time of their lives. Various people keep reassuring me that once the burial happens, things will be different. I am trying to trust their assurances, and I guess only time will tell.

This coming week the trainees from the Visayas region (the middle collection of islands in the Philippines) are headed to Bacolod, a city on the island of Negros Oriental, for our site-announcement. On Monday, we find out where our permanent site is going to be for the next two years, and in the latter half of the week, we are actually going to go visit our permanent site. I am super excited for the mini-vacation although I cannot believe that I am already finding out where I will be living and working for my service.

View from my window.

My room.

The trisikad driver, my luggage and new host family.

People are really into signs here.

Week 3

Wow; it’s been an interesting week. So much has happened and I don’t really know where to start, so I’ll go chronologically. Last weekend started out with my first videoke experience. There was one other PCT with me. Soon after our arrival it became apparent that the only people who would be singing was the two of us. Five hours later and many many songs of videoke, we headed home.

Sunday was another first; I had my first experience with dating. A fellow PCT is dating another PCT and he had come to our town to hang out. When he arrived he had two members of his host family accompanying him, soon after I was picked up to be yet another chaperone. So with his host family, her host family, and the two of them we headed to a local beach resort. We walked around and then we, the chaperones, headed over to another area to give the two of them time to get to know each other.

While we were watching from afar, I met a member who had worked with a PC volunteer from the first batch of volunteers to the Philippines in 1961. It was crazy to think that not only had Peace Corps been in the Philippines for almost 50 years, but also that a volunteer had been in this exact village so long ago.

Monday was unnecessarily dramatic, to begin with at least. A few of us were invited to the vice-mayor’s birthday party. But before we could go, we heard from Peace Corps that we needed to stay home. So after much phone tagging, I stopped by with some PC staff for only a few minutes.

I had only been home for about ten minutes when my host mother rushed in, hurriedly told me that she was taking her husband to the hospital, and was out the door before I could ask any questions. I went to bed and awoke around 3:15 to someone wailing. At this point I had no idea what was going on, and so stayed in my room listening for the next few hours. By the time I got up no one was left in the house and so I went off to language class.

But the chikka-chikka system was in already in full swing. I heard from another trainee that my host father had died at the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. Clearly my host family is devastated, especially since it was so sudden and out of the blue. He was only 50, and he died of a stroke.

So now I’m really getting a cultural experience. Family and friends have been around all week. They’ve set up this covered outdoor area outside the house where people congregate. Gambling is apparently quite common during a wake, and so every night there are people playing bingo, or mah-jongg. The coffin is set up in the front room, with candles surrounding, and there is some sort of vigil every night. It’s not uncommon for there to be two weeks between death and burial here. The burial will be the week after next, after the daughter arrives from Singapore.

It’s been strange for me because I’m not entirely sure how to act or what’s expected of me. I’ve only known these people for a little over a week, and now I’m suddenly thrust into this incredibly personal event. I wouldn’t really know how to act in my own culture, let alone in an entirely new and foreign culture.

I’ve been trying to give my family some space, so I’ve been spending time with the other trainees in my area, and doing a few things with their families. Today I went to a birthday party at the beach. We sang videoke, ate spaghetti and went swimming. It was a nice respite from the heat and from some very intense cultural integration.

This next week I start observing at the local elementary school, and soon after will actually start teaching there. I met my counterpart this past week. It was her father that actually worked with the first volunteer here. She’s quite awesome, and seems very excited to work with me, and is very enthusiastic about her students’ learning. I’m excited to start working with her.

Greetings from the Philippines!

Maayong aga sa tanan! (Good morning to you all!) So I’ve finally settled down a bit here and started training. I spent my first week at a resort, an hour outside of Manila, with the other 144 trainees. The week was spent mostly going over various Peace Corps policies and goals. Mostly information I already knew. But that’s ok. And then on the very last day of that week I found out where I was going to go for training.

So on Friday of last week, I took my bag and headed to the airport to fly south. I flew to Iloilo City, on the island of Panay, before driving about an hour northward to the town of Banate! The town is fairly small, right on the beach, and mostly a fishing town. I’m learning Hiligaynon, also known as Ilonggo.

We’ve had about a week of training classes here at site. I have language in the morning and then stuff about the education system here in the afternoon. Thus far I’m finding the language much easier to learn than Kyrgyz. But it’s only been one week, so we’ll see.

My host family is nice; there are a couple of kids that are living there, and many more that live in the surrounding area. The house is right on the beach and I have an excellent view from my bedroom. The kids’ neighborhood hangout spot is a basketball hoop on the beach directly in front of my house, so there’s always a bunch of kids running around.

The kids here are all obsessed with what they call ‘spider gambling.’ Most kids walk around with a matchbox that contains some spider they’ve caught. Apparently they starve them for five days, and then they have their spider fight other spiders on a stick. It’s very interesting to watch how into it they all get.

Ok, well that’s it for now! I hope everyone enjoys their Labor Day weekend!

Hey everyone!
Just a quick note before I'm off on my next big adventure. I'm headed
to the Philippines tomorrow morning (5 am!), where I'll be serving yet
again as a Peace Corps Volunteer until Nov 2012.

If you feel the need to send me a letter, a postcard, or a package
(please do! even if it only says hello), email me for my address.

I'm rather excited about this upcoming adventure. It's going to be
fun, interesting, at times awful and horrid. But hopefully most of the
time good and exciting. I'm not looking forward to the humidity, or
having to do training all over again. I am looking forward to learning
a new language and experiencing a new culture. I am happy to make new
friends, and widen my world perspective.

I finished packing this afternoon. I thought I had finished yesterday,
but I decided that I really wanted to bring my tent, and thus the
repacking extravaganza began. But now it's all done and I'm bringing
about half of what I took to Kyrgyzstan. Tomorrow I'm headed to
Philadelphia for a one-day orientation on Thursday, and then Friday
I'm flying from NYC, via Tokyo, to Manila. I'm excited to meet
everyone, but not excited for the counter-productive flights that I'll
have to endure over the next few days.

My kitty, Timurlan, will continue living in the lap of luxury here at
Casa Thorne (he has not one, but two, catnip plants to take naps in).
I'll miss him and his snuggly mane, but I'm sure he'll be happier
staying in America.

Ok all- thanks for tuning in, and I'll be sure to keep you all updated
as the months progress.

The end

So most of you have heard by now- my service in Kyrgyzstan has come to end. After assessing the safety situation in the region of the country that I live in, it was decided that the volunteers cannot return. The volunteers from my group (K16) and my region are being evacuated from the country. The volunteers from the K17 group are being placed at new sites in open regions.

Those of us leaving were given Interruption of Service. This means that we were unable to complete our service due to circumstances out of our control. So here I am, three months early, headed home.

After 22 months of being in Kyrgyzstan I have to say goodbye. This is not the way I wanted to leave. I didn't get to say goodbye- not to my host families, my students, my school, or my community. I won't get the chance to finish my projects. The new toilet my school wanted will not be being constructed, Joni's and my three-week summer camp extravaganza is being parceled out to other volunteers.

I have seven hours left in country. I'm at the Peace Corps office with three other volunteers who will also be traveling back to the states. Some staff went down to pack up my house and are returning tonight. I'm hoping that they'll make it in time for me to collect that, but it's possible it won't happen. My cat came up in a taxi yesterday, and thanks to the enormous generosity of Ariel's host family he's flying back with me.

Thank you to everyone who supported me over the last two years. I appreciated your letters, your packages, your prayers, and your emails. It would have been much more difficult for me if I hadn't had such amazing people to lean on. So thank you again for listening to me over the last 22 months. And don't forget to tune in August for the trials and tribulations of volunteer life in the Philippines.

 

I had neglected writing because I really just don't know where to
start. I've spent the last two weeks in a near constant state of
anxiety. No one, myself included, thought things would go so far so
fast. Two weeks ago, well really two and half weeks ago, I was calmly
eating ice cream with Ariel and Alex. I received a call from Peace
Corps that said there were planned opposition rallies all over the
country the next day and to be vigilant. I didn't really think much of
it.

I awoke on Wednesday, April 6, and things had… changed. No one really
seemed to know what was going on. Things had happened through the
night in Talas, one of the oblasts in the North. Peace Corps called
again and we were told to not leave our houses. Gossip and rumors were
flying by text message through the PCV community. The afternoon was
rather uneventful.

Joni got stuck in my village and so she spent Wednesday night at my
house. Starting around 4 pm things began escalating. Joni and I tried
to keep ourselves calm by playing yahtzee and making humus (from
scratch!). Text messages and phone calls came throughout the night,
anytime anyone found out an update. We tried sleeping, but our phones
just kept beeping all night.

We awoke Thursday to relative calm. I had plans to clean my house and
prepare for a few extra PCVs to spend the night. At noon I got a call
that said I had to get my group together and immediately leave my
village. I can tell you right now- no one ever wants to get that phone
call.
I quickly through things in my bag, Joni organized a taxi for us all,
and within thirty minutes we were gone. I squeezed my cat thinking I
would probably never see him again. I left dirty dishes in the
kitchen, food in the fridge, a bag of trash, and my room in general
disarray. We stopped briefly, like two minutes, in Joni's village so
she could grab her passport, and then the six of us were off.

Our plans changed once we were on the road, and at that point it
really seemed as if we were being evacuated. What we heard, not
directly from Peace Corps, was that we were headed to Almaty in
Kazakhstan. This proved to be untrue.

All of the southern volunteers headed north, and we've been in the
same place now for two weeks. Things will seem relatively calm in
country for a couple of days, and then something new will happen. It's
a constant rollercoaster of emotion. One day we think that we will be
able to back to site, another it looks doubtful. This is not the way I
wanted to end my Peace Corps service.

I'm still in state of limbo as to when my stay at this location will
end. I just don't know. I have my suspicions as to what will happen-
I'm just not ready to share what those are. It sounds like I'll know
more by Wednesday next week.

These are photos that I tried to post a little over a week ago, but I couldn't access this site. And better late than never.

Bryan and I hiked to the uppermost point on the right hand side.

View from the uppermost point. Bryan and I are going to try and hike back to the lake and go camping.

Awesome view from our hike.

Joni and Ariel outside our post office. Soviet faces while waiting for the post office lady to return from her three-hour lunch.

A homemade bacon cheeseburger. It was delicious, expensive to make, and so good I documented it. 

My kitty, Timurlan, stalking a hole and waiting for a mouse to pop out.