A PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEER TURNED REGULAR U.S. CITIZEN BLOG
We all have a few friends in our lives that simultaneously inspire us with their work and also make us feel like total failures. You stare at their artwork and read their writing and see their cute apartments and think, “I am so lucky to know this person, they are truly impeccable and I am grateful to know them…but wow I need to get my shit together.” It is that very feeling that has inspired me to write today.
It’s almost been three months since getting back from Panamá. Three whole, little, long, short months. It feels like a lifetime and it feels like nothing at all. The existence of both of those feelings is the scariest thing I’ve ever confronted. Seriously, though: what the hell happened?
At some point, a whole month of being stateside flew by. It's crazy how quickly time seems to pass here, after feeling so stuck in time in Panamá. As I'm approaching my seventh week of going back, I've been reflecting a lot on how bizarre things really are. Maybe it's because I just finished Season 4 of Jane the Virgin on Netflix and I'm incredibly impatient for the fifth and last season to drop next year, but things feel a little like a telenovela. The volatility of my day-to-day right now is screen-worthy; despite this, I'm learning to settle into it all and find the humor and beauty in these situations.
Being back in Michigan has been so lovely. The lakes have wrapped me up and welcomed me home, friends from all over the state have made an effort to tell me how happy they are that I'm back, and I've felt overwhelming love for places I haven't been in quite some time. However, my life is a mess. A literal, giant, chaotic, mess. And I'm trying to figure it out, but it seems when something starts going right, a million things go wrong.
I've been stateside for one whole week now, and I have felt the most insane spectrum of emotions since stepping off my plane in Detroit. I didn't quite expect the transition back home to be so crazy, after only being gone five months. However, things have changed. Much like the quote from my favorite coming-of-age novel The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody."
It takes a lot of courage to make it to the finish line, and the pride you feel upon completion is immense. However, there is also courage in admitting the finish line is too far away, or in the wrong direction that you want to travel; the pride found in knowing when to change course is equally as satisfying. I would know: one time I ran a 5k and barely dragged myself across the finish line but totally finished it, and one time I set off for a grand adventure in Panamá and had to call it quits a little early.
I got a fun email recently from a prospective volunteer in the United States (shout-out to Kasey from Virginia Beach for such a pleasant surprise) about being vegan while in service. I had written a blog about being vegan a while back, but I've been reminded that it's time to revisit that topic, because things have gotten a bit more interesting here in Chiriquí...
I'm learning a lot here in Panamá: a new language, a new culture, how to navigate weird public transportation, all of the ways to ask if there is meat in my food, and many insanely valuable life skills. One thing I have't quite figured out though, is the delicate balance to strike in order to manage my life here.
I definitely found myself still in bed at 8:00 am today (way later than I usually am, I wake up automatically around 6:30 here most days), recovering from the insane amount of traveling I’ve done recently. I love the long bus rides and watching the mountains in Chiriquí roll by, but it’s exhausting nonetheless.
The last week of life didn’t leave me too much time to be unbearably homesick. While I’m definitely not over that hump, I started making progress with creating healthy distractions: primarily, the distraction of making work for myself.
Now that the initial excitement of being in my site wore off, I’m finding myself cycling through the same emotions I did while adjusting to life in Panamá Oeste during PST, and it’s hard as hell. It’s unbelievably difficult to revisit all of the negativity I worked through only 6-7 weeks ago, and to battle the same nagging thoughts that I should just go home.
I’m writing this blog from the table on the porch at my new host family’s house, in the Dolega region of the province of Chiriquí. I arrived here just before midnight on Thursday evening, April 26.
I was trying to think about writing my last blog of PST, reflecting on how to conclude the journey that has been training to serve in the Peace Corps. I came up with about 12 really deep, unnecessarily heavy topics to write about, all having to do with the constant transitioning that PCT/Vs go through: making friends and leaving friends, finding comfort and navigating discomfort, building trust and losing confidence, your pants fitting one week and not making it past mid-thigh the next week...there are hundreds of examples. However, I want to promote positivity, both for myself and for you all reading, so instead I'm just going to tell you a story.
This last week was a big week, for one really huge reason: I learned where I’m going to live for the next two years of my life.
My host mom in Panama is a boss. Let me tell you why.
I spent a lot of time writing today already, so I'm just going to list things that happened to me this week and call it a day. Sorry this isn't as beautiful as last week's post, but I'm not perfect, ya'll.
As a nation, I'd like to say we learned a lot from the Standing Rock Sioux over the last few years; however, I fear that what most people got out of the outpour of passion for Water was a new phrase to culturally appropriate and some content for their social media pages. However, Mni Wiconi means something more than a phrase on a t-shirt or a hashtag on Twitter. It's more than a slogan for clean water, too. It's a law of nature and of life, deeply respected by the people who made it a news headline all across our nation.
For me personally, it's the embodiment of who I am as an individual and what my soul craves. It is a requirement in order to thrive and flourish. I have carried it with me throughout the Great Lakes, into the Southwest, and even to Africa and back. Now, this ancient law is surfacing from deep within me and pouring onto the diverse isthmus that I currently call home.
Some of the most common questions I'm getting about my service now that I'm actually here have to do with my being vegan:
"What do you eat?"
"Are you still vegan?"
"Don't you feel like you're missing out by not eating all of the Panamanian food?"
"Do you just eat rice?"
I'm happy to report that I'm happy, healthy, and well-fed here; but let's get into some of those questions anyway.
The contents of this blog are mine personally, and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or Peace Corps.
Since my last blog, something has clicked. My perspective of my time here in Panama has completely transformed for a few reasons, including starting my environmental conservation training and Spanish tutoring, but the most important being what I'm about to share in this blog.
During the first week of PST, we were given a presentation at the Peace Corps Office called: "Panama: A Tale of Two Countries." It detailed the distribution of wealth in the country, driving home the fact that Panama City is one place, and El Campo (rural Panama) is entirely different. While this discrepancy exists on many levels in many countries, the differences in Panama seem to be quite profound. After visiting Panama City on Saturday this week, I understand that a bit more, and found I related to the idea on a personal level.
