A Traveling Porter: May 2010

5/21 Tonight, I had a conversation about climate change and sustainable agriculture with the president of the FSM, Mr. Manny Mori. He shared his watermelon with me, which was amazingly delicious. [side note: if you're able, I strongly encourage you to enjoy a piece of fruit and/or fresh green salad for me, whenever you get the notion. You'll never know how wonderful those are till you can't have them for months on end.] Anyhow, the whole informal conversation thing with the national leader of my new home is still feeling pretty surreal right now. Just being on a ship heading back to Yap is feeling surreal, as well. We weren't supposed to be heading back for another week and a half on the state ship Hapilmahol, but our boss pulled some strings and got us a ride on the patrol boat that brought the president to the high school graduation. We found out yesterday about the new plan. Pretty wild. So far, out of our four boat rides between Yap and Woleai, four of them have had last minute surprises with the schedule being significantly sped up. Yup, all of them, and that doesn't look to be changing anytime soon. I sure hope it happens again for number five, because I really want to get back to my home in Woleai. Leaving is making my heart ache, plus this summer is going to be freakin' awesome with tons of fishing, cutting tuba, drinking faluba, hanging out at the men's house, paddling around the lagoon, summer school... can't wait to get back. Though I am stoked to get back in contact with you all, of course. Seeing my host family, other volunteers, etc. – all good stuff about Yap. But there's not much else I'm looking forward to.

5/19 Bouncing back from yesterday, I’ve bottled the first drops of juice from my ‘gashii’ to make faluba. Very cool. I also figured out how to make the local funnel-type-palm-frond-thing to channel the juice into the receptacle coconut shell on my own and made much sharper work of tying on the shell than last evening. ALSO, I did a little workshop with the senior students on basic test-taking skills – the kind most American students take for granted thanks to our educational system being over-saturated with standardized tests. The workshop went really well. I even served up generous helpings of Woleaian to explain the concepts I was talking about, and I could see some significant benefits for comprehension, though I could also see that my pronunciation left a bit to be desired. Oh, did some major cleaning around my desk today, too. That’ll be really helpful, just wish I’d done it sooner. In any case, I’m pretty well ready for the summer. I have my plans, or at least plans to make plans; I have resources, and I have my health. That’s been a real blessing of mine, so far (cross my fingers before knocking on wood, throwing salt over my shoulder, spitting and thoroughly counter-jinxing myself). No major health issues, only minor stuff – digestive unrest (if you catch my drift), a few temporary and weird skin conditions, minor infections in small wounds, one cold and I hurt my left ear once diving (not seriously, just felt the after effects of pressure for a half day or so). I know other volunteers haven’t been so lucky.

Ah YEE-AH! Mail’s coming tomorrow with the ship! 7:30 am – the Hapilmahol arrives in Woleai. Anchor should be down and preliminary shuttling of people done within an hour or so. Then the most important cargo comes off. I should be holding letters in my hand as of 10 am. Damn, mail is so freakin’ exciting. I’ve needed some fresh connection to you all. This is going to be good, so good.

5/18 Some hard things happened today. I found that a couple of students plagiarized their final projects in my English class – very disappointing. Then, after talking with one of the plagiarizers (not fun), a friend made a comment which clearly showed strongly dislike/disdain for a certain group of people (a group marginalized the world over, Woleai included). I don't know why that struck such a chord with me, but I'm taking it hard – not offended, just sad about it. I'm not sad for the person, don't pity or dislike them for the comment or mentality. Really, I'm not sure why this is paining me so but it is all the same. Well, I do have some pretty firm notions about what 'injustice' is and tend to react strongly (at least in emotion, if not action) to things that qualify as it under my notions. This certainly does. Anyhow, in an effort to soothe my aching mind and heart, I picked up a set of letters from a good friend of mine. I brought with me all the letters friends/family had sent in the years leading up to Peace Corps, so I'd have them to read in the tough times. They're paying off. The friend, whose stack I grabbed, wrote about a personal, international experience which hits close to my new home. I want to share a paragraph (with a few minor changes to protect anonymity). It doesn't really talk about the issue I'm dealing with now, but it stands out to me nonetheless. Here it is:
“We are so blessed with our families. That they support us and all the opportunities life is bringing our way. How do your parents feel about Peace Corps? I know my living in Kenya was hard on my parents, but they loved that I loved it. And they try, so hard, to understand my experience and how it has affected me. The other night, in Phoenix, we went out to a family dinner and they chose this super nice restaurant. When we were looking at the menu I just couldn't imagine paying $30 for a plate of food, and then this song came on that we used to listen to in Kenya about going home, and I just started crying. I tried so hard to cover it up, but of course they noticed, and even though I insisted I'd be fine, my family all stood up and apologized, saying they should have thought, and that it was no problem, we'd go somewhere else. I felt terrible. I didn't mean to ruin dinner, I just couldn't justify paying that much for a meal when most Kenyans don't make that in a week. I know, I can't compare like that, but how can I not? It's just not fair. Someday, I will find a way to reconcile my 2 worlds, but for now, I was just so, so grateful for my family. Plus, the pizza was way better than a $30 pasta bowl. Do you think I'm crazy? I normally don't cry at dinner. I swear. Maybe I shouldn't have shared that story.”
I love the message here and the humor that makes it easier to connect with. This story gets at something many folks from developed nations who live in 'developing' ones for a spell deal with – guilt. It so hard not to feel guilty in the situation I find myself in. I have so much more; I've had so much more. More opportunities, more money, more schooling, more assistance, more protection, more privilege. So I feel shitty about that. Then I feel shitty about not doing more with what I have, which makes me feel shitty that I imagine anyone needs me to set right the wrongs of the world (as if the people in places like Woleai aren't capable themselves). Then I feel guilty about having it so plush here, like I'm not suffering enough, which makes me feel shitty for wanting a lower standard of living on the island so I can feel like I'm being a ‘better’ PCV. I feel guilty for these things. Then I feel guilty for feeling guilty, because I know all of the aforementioned 'shitty-ness' is self-inflicted, unnecessary, unimportant and unhelpful. I know that my effort here is important, that connection between the peoples of the world is necessary, that staying hopeful is helpful, and I just wear myself out with all these hard feelings when I could be hanging out with friends here. Damned if I don't still feel the guilt, though, and damned if I'm not still unsure of how to reconcile 'my 2 worlds'.
On a lighter note, I climbed into the top bow of one coconut tree and started collecting juice from another to make faluba with for the first time today. Those were both super cool experiences. I'm sure I looked like a nervous, clumsy idiot climbing into the fronds of that tree, and putting up a coconut shell to collect the juice took WAY longer than it should have. But, you know, I just don't care. I'm making progress, and for all the whining I do, I feel that way about everything in my service. It's just… progress here also seems to entail progressively difficult tensions of spirit, roller coaster feelings pulling me in more different directions than I have fingers and toes. Some nights, it weighs heavily on me, but other nights it buoys me up so much I can't fall asleep for all the excitement and joy I feel. Hell, just this afternoon I was cruising passed cloud-nine on my way up and out of the atmosphere, right before going down screaming. Ups and downs, highs and lows, strikes and gutters, valleys and peaks, pros and cons, etc. and etc.: that's Peace Corps. If you're feeling at all concerned about my mental state after reading this, please know that the prior of each of those clichés is outweighing its respective latter. I'm still living the dream.

5/17 Last school day of the year, today. Grades due this week and graduation on Friday. Then I’m free and easy until summer school – aside from IST II. Pretty wild to think how long I’ve already been here. Tomorrow will mark my sixth month since coming to Woleai, and the eight-and-a-half month mark for being away from home. Tomorrow is May 18th, 2010 and I left home on September 2nd, 2009. One year is fast approaching, just three-and-a-half months away. Moments like this one make two years seem really short. I can already tell this summer is going to cruise by, what with a trip to Yap, summer school, possibly having Jo here, ramping up efforts on my thesis research, implementing some community projects and trying to become a capable spear fisher (that’s a goal of mine for the summer). Then one full year will have come and gone, mid-service training will sneak up on me as the fall semester wanes, and I’ll be staring down the home stretch of my service. It’s kind of scary, actually. But I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this summer; that’s for sure. Lazy days spent bummin’ around the men’s house in Iyeiuriu, showing Jo the island, working on my Woleaian, all the fishing, and the smooth flowing faluba. Ah yeah. Sounds great.

It’ll be really great to talk with my folks again, when I’m in Yap. Of course there are other people I’m looking forward to getting in touch with while there, and seeing the other Yap PCVs and my host family will be great. Those are the only things I’m looking forward to, though. Training doesn’t get me excited, nor does the stay in a nice hotel with hot showers, a pool and bar, even the food is only a minor perk. This time around, like the first time we headed in for training, I’m finding myself getting cold feet about the idea of leaving. A few weeks before the ship is set to arrive in Woleai, some excitement brews at the possibility of cheese burgers and beer, ease of contacting people in the States, internet, etc., but both times, as the day draws near, I’ve found myself feeling like I’m getting along so well here, I don’t want to leave. The risk of getting stranded on Yap seems too great to justify leaving. That’s kind of funny in-and-of itself – feeling more stranded on the island with internet, phones, planes and mail than I do on the one with naught but SSB radios, canoes and the ‘coconut wireless,’ as Peace Corps staff members refer to gossip on the islands. Anyhow, while I’m not chomping at the bit to get back to the mainland, I think this upcoming trip will be better than the last one and will be worth leaving Woleai for a spell – so long as it’s not more than a couple-three weeks.

5/16 Great day today. Started my first unassisted tuba tree, and it’s looking great, tons of juice. I made a cork for a tuba bottle, cut out a quarter of a small buoy to use as a water pail for my showers and made a new friend – William, an old dude from Ifaluk with a rockin’ beard. He helped me with my bottle cork, gave me a new little woven basket (kind of like a wallet) and told me about some interesting social dynamics of how people without jobs are treated as compared to those with paying jobs (apparently folks aren’t too keen on inviting you to eat if you’re not makin’ some bucks). All and all, it was a pretty nice little Sunday, even got to kick it with Andy and Gita for a while before joining my men’s circle for a couple rounds.

5/14 I’ve been told there are people who work for Peace Corps whose jobs are to browse volunteer blogs and websites in search of inappropriate content. Maybe a volunteer has been ‘behaving in a manner unfit to his/her position as a Peace Corps member’ and, on top of it, has been recounting their misbehaving to the world via their blog. Well, if that’s the case and one of these Peace Corps employees finds it, there can be consequences for the volunteer. Maybe the PCV has to delete the blog or possibly all the way up to having their service terminated. Heck, my group had a guy removed before we even made it to staging (first official stage of being a trainee, orientation to being a volunteer) because of what he was publishing. Now, I want to be good at my job as a PCV and, by doing so, hope to represent Peace Corps well in word and action. But I want my blog to be an accurate description of my experience, which (if I’m doing well as a PCV) should also represent Peace Corps well, but maybe all the same will have some ‘sore spots’ from an official viewpoint. So, a little message to any paid purveyors of my blog: “I hope there’s nothing offensive to the Corps on here, and I hope you’re having a great day. Take it easy and drop me a line sometime.”

5/10 Yesterday was Woleaian Day, an annual holiday that hasn’t been celebrated in over a decade due to untimely deaths in the community. No Woleaian Day festivities during funeral times. I think this goes for a good number of holidays, but especially so for Woleaian Day. It’s not so much because of the cause behind the holiday but because of how the holiday is celebrated.
Woleaian Day marks the return of people and fertility to the land of Woleai after World War II. During the war, Japan was occupying much of Micronesia, including Woleai. In fact, they evacuated the islands in a westward-expansion-style progression. First the folks on Falalap were moved to a neighboring island, then to another and another until they were finally driven to Ifaluk, thirty-miles to the south. While controlling Falalap, the Japanese cleared the land, all of it. No more palm trees, no taro patches, no grass, shrubs, nothing, nadda, but instead, a military encampment. Those of us familiar with the war and its outcome are surely aware that the U.S. claimed almost all the territory Japan had controlled. In the case of Woleai, the change of hands allowed a rebirth of vegetation on the islands and the return of their peoples. That’s a pretty good reason to celebrate, yes?
There had been some concerns as to whether or not it would be possible to recreate the habitat of Woleai. Accordingly, Woleaian Day’s partying centers around sustenance – the island’s primary sources: fish and taro (iige me bulage). The men go fishing the whole day before Woleaian Day and the women work the taro patch, each group in search of an enormous specimen to put the other to shame. All this I understand. We’re celebrating the return to Woleai and the ability to survive here. Plus, there’s a little friendly competition between the genders, which is fairly common throughout Micronesia. But I get lost at the point that Woleaian Day is marked as the one time during the year that men and women can be as lewd, crude and vulgar through song and dance as they like. There are firmly established rules about what words and topics may be exchanged in mixed gender settings on the islands of Woleai, and their far more conservative here than we are in the States, at least in general. So all the references to genitalia and sex yesterday was a bit shocking (one of the women’s songs focused heavily on an exchange between a lead singer and backups, in which the lead described sexual acts and the backups sang “then what do we do?!”). After the group activities were finished, everyone retired to their village and the men to their respective circles to drink the evening away. I was talking with a guy about the day’s events at my circle, and he told me about how he hadn’t made it all the was to the celebration. The language had been too much for him. He’s about thirty-six, thirty-seven, and what he heard while approaching the gathering point was just too offensive for him, especially considering that he knew there were children present.
It’s all very interesting, and I had a great time yesterday. But this is another thing on the list of confusions for me. For one, where did the idea come from to begin with? How did it catch on? And if it’s okay for Woleaian Day, has that led to more lax social norms on such topics of conversation in general?

I have dreamt about being back in the States every night for the past week. I’ve visited all the places I’ve lived in the past – Portland, Boise and Normal – and even Salt Lake, which was the location of half my dream last night. I was visiting my brother while on vacation from Peace Corps. Visions of similar vacations in Boise and Portland and glimpses towards future stays in Boise and Normal following Peace Corps have also come around. The idea of being home for the holidays has been a persistent theme throughout as well.
Sometimes I’m really happy in the dreams and sometimes there’s so much strangeness around what’s taking place in the dream that the idea of actually experiencing it is very sobering, the jerk you out of sleep in the middle of the night kind of sobering. Maybe there are some deeper meanings being sent my way here, but the main thing I seeing that I really miss my homes and family and friends. Matter of fact, seeing you all in my dreams makes me want to spend a little too much time in bed. Another clear message, kind of funny too, is that I really miss the cold and bundling up for it. Almost all the dreams involve me layering on long johns, jeans, sweaters, jackets, gloves and a knit hat. Gosh, I love the cold. And here we are, nearing the summer months once more.
I’ve almost been gone a full year. That really blows my mind. This is May. I came to Micronesia in September. Eight months in the FSM as of this past Wednesday, and Thursday marked six months as a volunteer for me. That’s one quarter of my service already gone. And today is the third Mother’s Day in a row that I’ve been away from mine. After twenty-three straight Mother’s Days together, I’ve failed to see her for the third time running. And all odds have me away for next year as well. I know it’s not the biggest holiday in the year, but an important one in my family, and I know it means a lot to my mom – that she’s sad when we don’t spend it together. I hope Jon made it home, though.

Our second training event is fast approaching, along with summer break from classes. I’m wondering how it’s all going to go this time around and how long we’ll be in Yap. I wonder if I’ll find it more useful than last time but feel confident it won’t hinder my work and community integration nearly as much. Not being in school when we go is a big part of it, as are deeper personal roots here, stronger connections with folks. I tell you what though, I am looking forward to eating a nice big cheese burger and drinking an ice cold beer. However, I’m going to keep my spending in check better this go ‘round. Back in February, I spent way too much on food and booze. A big part of that was being out of sorts myself, you know, not on an even keel. Now, I’m feeling much more balanced and ready to approach IST II in a healthier way than I did IST I. On the other hand, I hope I have a repeat of being bit by the exercise bug. I ran almost every day we were there for IST I and joined a yoga group several times. That’d be great to keep going.

5/6 You know, I think I might actually be hitting my stride as a teacher. My classes are going really well, absurdly well. The students are really engaged, and I think they’re learning stuff. They’re definitely improved from where they were when I started. Too bad it took until the last month or so of the year. I’ve really been focusing on listening skills, vocabulary, figurative language, translation between Woleaian and English, writing and, subtly, speaking. I did a short dictation unit, which really helped with their listening; we play a lot of hangman for vocab; everyday I introduce new idioms and we spent one week listening to, transcribing and discussing the meaning of English songs as well as transcribing and translating Woleaian songs which helped with listening, figurative language and translation skills; I’ve been having them give me sentences in Woleaian for me to translate then we work together to make sure I got it right, which is good for translation stuff; I’ve been making them do a lot of free writing; and throughout all of it, they’ve been getting tricked into speak English during the different activities, getting them engaged enough that, at least some of them forget to be embarrassed. I’m excited about next year, because I’m more comfortable and I’ll be better prepared for classes, which will free me up to focus more on skills transfer with my co-teachers.

The rub about recent times has been the distance growing between Gita and I in terms of friendship. With the arrival of her buddy, Andy, I feel I’ve become a bit ancillary. I should have seen this coming, especially since I’d thought about how to avoid the reverse happening if/when Jo comes. I saw the possibility that I’d spend a lot of time with Jo and wondered how to make sure Gita was included and not forgotten in the presence of my long time friend. That withstanding, it didn’t occur to me I’d end up the odd man out now that Andy’s here. All the same, I haven’t seen much of Gita these past couple weeks. Considering that she now has a friend at home whom she can hangout, share the American bond and discuss her experience with, it makes sense she’s not seeking me out. [addendum: really, it was okay, and about a week after this entry, I started hanging out with both of them a bunch. It’s been great having a guy on island that I can talk with so easily.]
So I’m turning more inward, as of late and getting a better idea of what life’s like for other outer island volunteers that are on islands without other Americans. It’s really not so bad, and maybe, in time, things will balance out, so that I see more of both Gita and Andy. For now, though, I’ll be kicking it solo or with the local crowd.

5/2 Something I love about skilled writers is their ability to connect me, by way of relating their experiences (real or imagined), to memories of my own. These people I won't likely ever know better than a small black and white photo and single-paragraph biography allow me to – and who won't ever know me at all – put me back in touch with and help me to see my past in a new light. It's an amazing experience.
I was just reading an essay by one of my favorite writers, David James Duncan, from a collection of reflections on his life. As I read about a walk he took along the Oregon Coast during a time of personal turmoil, I was hit by the memory of beach stroll I took with a friend years ago in Oregon – a friend who likewise, greatly enjoys the works of DJD.
It was my senior year of college, February, start of a new and the final semester of my undergraduate career. As an RA I was 'encouraged' to join the Christie Hall Retreat, and, as a young man struggling mightily with the world of romance (and the toll it can take on his heart, mind and soul when it goes badly), I was glad of an escape from campus. Though on the home stretch of recovering from my first broken heart, I found myself confused and as yet, still a bit anguished over the whole thing. At the same time, new 'interests' of the feminine persuasion had emerged, which simultaneously eased and exacerbated that anguish. So with a bruised heart, cloudy mind and conflicted soul, I went to the Oregon Coast along with a dozen residents of the dorm, the Hall Director, Gary, and Assistant HD, Max.
I was very close with Max and Gary by that point, having been together on the previous year's hall staff. Both of them had listened to my story of woe and knew well my shaky progress in healing. Max even knew that I had agreed to come in large part because I was trying to escape the confusion I was experiencing (and the gals helping me to create it). There are some great memories from the weekend, like a friendly though particularly annoying resident (we call them 'clingers') being tackled into a couch; watching another resident start to crack through a lifetime of sheltering by playing with a beach bonfire in a morbidly funny and over-the-top way – something akin to mania; the vision of our hall president sprinting his 6 foot-plus, muscular and big-bearded frame barbarian-style down to the ocean holding high above his head a flaming newspaper torch in each hand; and my own dramatic reading of a He-Man comic book to the entire group on our last morning (favorite line: 'I dare ANYTHING, Dark Lord!', delivered by He-Man to Skeletor with the finishing blow during their climactic battle). But the best moment for me came on our first evening.
We'd arrived, eaten dinner and settled everybody in at our rented cabin for the night, when Max and I decided to take a jaunt up the beach. It was well-on towards midnight by this point, but the moon was so bright, illuminating the few thin clouds in the sky and reflecting off the ocean to strengthen its glow; you could see as clear as day on the beach, and would cast a shadow ten-feet long. It was that eerie, pale moonlight that reminds you of a dream sequence in a movie, as did the constant, gentle wind drifting wisps of sand from the beach up to the waiting dunes. We walked for a spell, then stood and chatted while watching the only artificial light in the sky – a dancing point on the edge of the horizon we figured to be a fishing boat. I told Max about my most recent mistakes that were further complicating an already unintelligible mess of loneliness and lust and pain. He said insightful things that sounded right and struck a chord with me but were nonetheless unheeded, and now forgotten, as I continued to splash muck from my hurt feelings onto the undeserving. Then we just stood there. In that moment, I was calmed. The scene was beautiful and serene, bathed as it was in muted moonbeams that highlighted the kindness Max was doing me – sharing wisdom he knew I needed, even if I couldn't readily use it – and swept over by the cleansing ocean breeze that alluded to the emotional stability soon enough to re-enter my life.

Another thing I was thinking about today, though I'm not sure why, is going to my friend Angie's softball and basketball games during college. She went to school in Idaho and I in Oregon, but there were several schools in her conference around Portland, so I was able to see a few games each year. We rarely got much of a chance to hangout, what with her teams just doing quick there-and-backs for basketball and non-stop play-a-thons for softball. Still, I can't think of a basketball game I didn't go to (when I was in town and could access a car), or a softball tournament I didn't at least catch a game or two of during our four years. Nor can I think of ever considering skipping out.
I do remember a basketball game they stayed overnight for, I think senior year, when we got to kick it for a while at her hotel. And I remember always sitting with her family for the softball tournaments – very supportive parents, made it to every game they could. And I remember getting to do the same once for another friend who managed/played for her school's basketball team. She was in a different division, not to mention conference, and didn't come to Portland often. But I got to go to a game of hers against PSU. Also, when my buddy Dave played lacrosse against University of Oregon during our freshman year, I go to check that out. Even though it didn't equate to a lot of time spent together, those memories are ones I treasure from college, creating a special bond between friends. The long drives across town and back, getting lost because I'd never been to the school before, let alone their gym, almost always having to scrape together enough change to get in thanks to not stopping to think there would be an entrance fee (which there ALWAYS was), briefly chatting after or between games, and watching a friend pour herself into endeavors he/she loved and excelled at (well, at least in Angie’s case, she excelled at both her sports, but really only loved basketball). Speaking of getting lost, man, I burned up so much gas and saw so much of Portland thanks to being so grossly incompetent of the city layout during college. After school, I finally figured it out and wished I’d have done so sooner – would have save a lot of time and bit o’ coin.
Oh, speaking of Dana, after going biowe (trap fishing) today and enjoying the men's bbq afterwards, I was washing my hands. Washing your hands here equates to going to the surf, picking up some sand and rubbing your hands together in the waves. Made me think of a time Dana and Blake (her husband) were talking about whiny players on their teams. They're both coaches and quite successful, I might add. As they talked about this particular kid who was mildly hurt during a game, Dana got this look on her face of total disappointment as she said, 'Rub some dirt on it kid' (the basic advice she wishes she could give to her players, but that she doesn't find works too well for high school gals). For one, I love the phrase; for two, Dana's one of the sweetest, most kind-hearted people I know, which just makes it hilarious to hear her say that and mean it. That reminded me of another uncharacteristically harsh and hilarious moment of Dana's that Blake has told me, several times (as is his tendency with stories – never forgets one, just forgets whether or not he's told you already). They were out golfing (one of Dana's high school sports and a strong point of hers) when Blake came upon a deceptively difficult four-foot putt, at least he claims those kinds of short-but-not-tap-in putts are deceptively difficult; I don't have the proficiency or experience to contradict him. He takes his shot and comes up a bit short, to which Dana gleefully spun around on him, huge smile on her face (and anyone who knows her, knows how big her smiles can be) and says, “Where's your purse, Sally?!” Nice one, DB. Ouch, Blake.
All in all, I had plenty of opportunities to remember friends back home, smile and even laugh to myself – always a welcome event. Can't wait till I see you all again!

4/28 Two more weeks of class after this one. Then it’s graduation, summer break, IST 2 in Yap, summer school, and hopefully Jo coming to Woleai. We found out that training will be happening at the very beginning of June, and we’ll likely be leaving here at the end of next month. I do worry a bit about how training might impact my progress since the last IST. However, I think I’m better settled this time around and not likely to have the same troubles again. Plus, it’s summer break, baby! Just a little teaching – Oral English – probably some community projects and loads of fishing, hanging out and exploring the island. Should be a great summer.

Had a real pleasant chat with Andy yesterday. He and Gita stopped by my house after taking a hike around in the jungle. We all shot the breeze for a spell before Gita decided to head on home. Andy and I have some really interesting similarities and departures. Class time, more on that later.

4/22 Last week, on Tuesday, Gita and I discussed the finer points of picking leaves to use as toilet paper. Join Peace Corps, serve your country and the world, change your view of foliage forever.

Blake Gaudet, you should never live in Micronesia. Dogs are not friends; they are property and a foodstuff. I was talking with my host mom, Lewechipy, at lunch today (all in Woleaian, of course, since she doesn’t speak English, but I totally understood everything she said and she understood me too – awesome), and I asked, “Blacky ifa, i tai werii Blacky,” meaning, ‘Where is Blacky, I haven’t seen Blacky” – who is/was one of our dogs. I haven’t seen Blacky in over a week. She told me that my host sister had taken him and he is dead; he was eaten. She said all of this with a twinkle in her eyes, which seemed to say, ‘I know you silly Americans don’t eat dogs and get foolishly attached to them, but tough. This is Woleai.’ Now, I’ve come to accept the Micronesian approach to dogs as a legitimate difference in cultural values, even though I will not adopt it as my own. And honestly, Blacky was a jerk of a dog, always getting all up in my business and bugging the hell out of me begging for food. I was able to laugh the whole thing off, which Lewechipy enjoyed.

4/20 Well, well, well, some interesting things have been happening around here lately. I’ve been keeping up with biowe, working on my Woleaian, trying to make classes more interesting and engaging for the students and myself, drinking with the guys in my village at our men’s circle, thinking about the summer months and what I’ll be doing to keep myself busy, and basically living the life, you know? Oh! And I finally sent a letter to my cousin Andrea and her class; we signed up to be pen-pals, but I’ve been slacking. The big news is that Emily returned to Falalus about a week ago, very cool, and a friend of Gita’s just showed up this past weekend. His name is Andy, he rocks a beard and is planning on spending the next nine months on Falalap. Wow, seriously. It’s looking like his role in the community is going to be very similar to mine as a PCV, but he’s paying his own way and gets no official preparation. Once ashore on Falalap, Andy presented one of the chiefs with a five dollar ‘landing fee’ and a gift – one carton of cigarettes. That’s all it takes to be accepted to stay on the island and have a chief find you a place to stay, which Fred (my chief) is doing for Andy. So, any of you who’ve been inspired to take up life in Woleai but don’t know where to start: buy a plane ticket to Yap, then hop a ship to the outer islands carrying at least a five-spot and some cigs. Anyhow, Andy seems to be a pretty solid guy, adept at spear fishing and excited to live the island lifestyle. Should do well.
For a little more of an update, here’s what I wrote in a recent letter:
Across the waves and swells of the Pacific between Yap and Woleai, I’m living the dream. Things are going really well. I’m starting to feel really connected here. Starting to feel like I’m making progress with language, my host family, the men in my village, the community, and even at work. All across the board, things are getting better, easier, and more fun. Before long, I may be wondering whether I want to leave at all. No, actually not at all, but for the time I’m here, I’m going to be happy. I couldn’t possibly live this far from my family and friends for life. I miss everybody WAY too much for that. I think about my parents all the time, can’t wait to hangout with my brother, can’t wait to see folks in Portland and Normal (though most will be gone from there by the time I return), can’t wait to kick it with my Boise crew, and can’t wait to experience fall and winter again. A defined timetable is important for me at this point. It’s part of what frees me to fully enjoy being in Woleai.
At school, I’ve started revamping my approach to better engage my students and get at some of the core deficiencies of their English skills. We’re playing more games, moving in and out of activities quickly, changing our focus regularly without moving so fast as to confuse. English Club is similarly shifting towards games and activities with less sitting around chatting.
At home, I continue to be able to speak more with my host mom, and as our relationship deepens, I feel better and better about everything here. She’s my most important point of contact. When we’re getting on well, things are good everywhere. When we’re not connecting well, things can seem pretty bleak. My host father and brother and I are becoming great friends, and I’m making other good friends with the men in my village (Iyeiuriu). I’m participating more and more in community events and building up my face time there, which will help with my future development work. I’m still not doing much as far as community projects, but I think the men’s circle in my village will be a good conduit for my movements in that direction.
The best thing I’ve been doing lately is joining the village guys when they go biowe (fish trap fishing). They go out every other day, which means I can join once a week on Saturday or Sunday. We take a boat out to a channel next to the reef, snorkel around to find a trap, dive down to check the trap, pull off the rock weights and then tie a rope on to bring it up to the boat. There, we unload it, make any necessary repairs and dump it back in, pile the rock weights back on, and move onto the next trap. We have five of them, and the fifth has been moved in close to shore. It gets a good haul, but I wonder if they did it to make an easy one for me to help on. Either way, I’m glad of it, because three of the other four are in water too deep for me to lend a hand. Sorry if the news is brief, but let’s move to some personal reflections/feelings type stuff, huh?
Looking towards the future a bit, here, this whole Peace Corps experience is starting to look pretty damn brief, at least the at site, working portion. A big part of that is all the training we have to do. Just two months in Woleai and we went back to Yap for almost three-weeks/a month. And that was supposed to be a quick turn around, thanks to the ship-only transit. If the schedule of IST didn’t get all juggled around, I would have just gotten back with Emily. That’s almost three months out of site, and we run that risk every time they call us back in. With the second IST this summer, MST in December, and COS sometime in April/May next year, I’m not loving the timetable for actually being in Woleai. If we lose a month to each of those, plus the month I’ll likely take for vacation after MST, that’s four months out of the remaining eighteen. Fourteen months left, and we’ve already been in Micronesia for seven, going on eight. That last stretch will go especially quickly. MST is in mid/late December, meaning there’s just about ten months left of service, take out two for MST and one for COS = 2 three-and-a-half-month stretches in Woleai. And that’s really the best-case scenario. I’ve heard other outer island PCVs have been known to get stuck on the main island for as long as three months at a time. AND I’m not including the resource trips we’re supposed to take. If I do make either of the two ‘not connected to a training event’ trips, it’s likely to be another month lost – not happening. Makes me realize just how crucial it is that I get the most out of this time now, and especially the time between IST 2 and MST, which might be my longest stretch in Woleai. Damn, it just all seems to go so quickly!
I’ve been thinking about events and foods I’d like to take part in once I’m back home. I’m thinking of a baseball game (viewing) with accompanying hotdog, burritos at King Burrito (in Portland) and Chipotle, backpacking with my folks and the follow-up pizza or cheese burger lunch, pizza from Lucky 13 (great little family joint in Boise), Kobe beef burgers and Brutal Bitter beer from the Rogue Brewery (Portland), an afternoon tipping brews at Medici (Normal) on the patio, holidays with my family, Mongolian BBQ, Chinese food from Jimmy’s (a family friend’s restaurant), my pops’ steak and potatoes, and my mom’s tomato/artichoke pork chops with mash tatters. Oh man, it could almost be too much to handle, if I didn’t have so much tasty food at home and if I hadn’t adjusted well to the local cuisine (sea turtle and rice for lunch the other day, yum! I do feel just a little bad eating the turtle, though).
Something a little more meaningful, now: I’ve been having the realizations about which relationships are most deeply meaningful to me, and whom I want to make a larger part of my life than they have been over the past few years when I get back stateside. My brother is the first one I realized that about. Our relationship has been improving over the past few years, and this summer we were the closest we’ve ever been. I want to keep that going, and I think I need to be more proactive than in the past. Then there are a variety of friends and family from Portland and Boise that have joined the ranks – people whose friendships help me to be the best version of me I can be. I just wrote a letter to a former roommate. She’s someone I enjoy talking to so much it’s ridiculous. The way she analyzes things and communicates her thoughts always makes me stop and rethink what I’ve been coming up with on a topic. Both of us are pretty weak at keeping in touch. Consequently, although I know the play-by-play of what she’s experienced this past year (which is quite a bit), I feel like I know very little depth to it all, mostly the facts and little of the feeling.
That’s one of the most important results/growths I’ve experienced in Woleai, and a major reason why I came: to discern what I need in life and what’s just excess. What’s funny is I thought I’d be doing that more w/material possessions and amenities, not relationships. Thought I had a better beat on those in the States, but nothing has been more poignantly or clearly felt than an outpouring of love for those most dear in my life, since arriving in Micronesia. Well, maybe the heat had been more intense and pervasive. That sun! It’s so powerful. You known the near-universal mosey-paced walking of islanders? I know why they do it, now. Slow stepping is clutch for beating the heat, as is moving in the shade whenever possible. That’s also why my face stays so pale in spite of living on a tropical island – avoid that sun, gotta do it.
That friend of mine I was just talking about mentioned the onset of Portland spring, and I feel pangs of missing yet another change of the seasons. It’s beautiful to discover just how deeply ingrained seasonal transitions in temperature, foliage, weather, smells, sounds and sights are in my life. It’s so subtle and permeating. I asked her to, if she catches the urge, cut a grip of daphnes and send them my way. Many did so with fall leaves, and I loved it. Winter snows would have been a tall order, so that’s cool, but spring blooms would be a welcome addition to my collection of U.S. plant life.
So here’s something I think you’ll get a kick out of. Over my time in Woleai and the FSM generally, I have steadily, though unintentionally, cultivated an astoundingly cliché, stereotypical ‘Peace Corps Guy’ visage – beard, bracelets and necklace (handmade, gifted and each w/a story). I’m a walking platitude, but I kind of like it. I wear my dad’s ring (and he mine), a bracelet from my young host sister in Yap, another from a PCV friend, and a shell necklace from a buddy of mine in Woleai. I don’t often see my reflection (no mirror), but when I do catch it in the screen of my camera, or see myself in a photo, I just have to laugh. High school me wouldn’t even recognize this guy in a loincloth.

The ships were just here, and that means the stores on the island got restocked – booyah! Coffee, snacks, condiments: very exciting. More material for thu, also, and some fresh footwear showed up. It’s always nice to have more thus, lets me go longer without doing laundry.

I had a really good day, yesterday. Good classes – started a new activity in which the students are going to write things to me in Woleaian and I have to translate them, should help with my language skills. My host sister went into Yap on the ship, and we had a nice moment saying goodbye. I did a fair job translating most of the sentences my students gave me, had a great chat with a co-worker about school organization and ideas for improvement, spoke more often than usual and with more confidence in Woleaian at the men’s circle, and just basically had a great day.

Not sure why, but I just thought about my buddy, Max, out in Portland. Was thinking about disc golfing in Pierce Park and enjoying a few fine brews (Oly, what else?) while making our way through the course. That makes me think of hitting the 3-par 9-hole golf course at Meadows with the Christie Crew. You guys remember when I almost hit that dude our first time out? Still blows my mind, not that I almost accidentally hurt someone at a golf course, but because he was standing on the green I was aiming for – never thought I’d actually make it there. Maybe we can squeeze in 9-holes when I get back, huh? That makes me think of fly fishing on the Deschutes, John Day and Sandy Rivers, grilling up sausages, narrowly avoiding the fuzz that one time – remember when I bought my license last minute, which turned out to be a great decision, because the guy at the bait shop told Fish & Game that I tried to buy a license from him (he doesn’t sell them) and might be fishing without one? Man, sure am glad I didn’t lose my gear that day.

Shout out to Angie Gribble: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANG! The big two-six, exciting stuff! Hope life’s treating you well. How’d b-ball go this past season? State champs? If not, at least you did better than my team in fantasy, right? I’m pretty sure everybody did, though I haven’t seen the standings.

4/6 I’ve just had the best week of my service, and I didn’t work one day of it. Classes were suspended all this past week, in favor of a school wide retreat. Students spent each day sharing and reflecting and writing/practicing songs. I didn’t do much those days other than supervise a little. Then the weekend hit. I was cutting tuba daily, going to the men’s circle, joining the men for biouwe, practicing the song we sang at the Easter BBQ, practicing the dance we did at the BBQ, hanging out with family and friends, going to the 3am Easter mass, napping till the BBQ, performing the song and dance with my village, being tricked into pretty much singing the song again but solo, getting bombed with the men after the BBQ – singing our way through the night, and, finally, joining the high school seniors on their class picnic where we played on the beach of an uninhabited island, barbecued, swam, played volleyball, napped and ate an immense amount of food. It’s been a pretty wild few days. I wouldn’t say I’m hitting my stride as a volunteer – things at work would have to pick up significantly – but I would say I’m getting into a groove with the community, finding my place and developing some strong relationships.

Here are the lyrics to our song on Easter:
“Wairesili lani tipashe pangashe,
Wairesili woali mene faliuwashe
Sitai tagungu fengange,
Sibe taliti fengange

Igela mene yateoli,
Yashe be ganibengi tefaali
Sibe tagungu fengange
Pangashe lago, tipali fagoo

Tingaro ngalii gishe pangashe lago, igela
Besibe gatapetape seewe
Beyebe file gateragile waai ye waashe

Igela mene yateoli,
Yashe be ganibengi tefaali
Sibe tagungu fengange
Pangashe lago, tipali fagoo

Sibe tagungu fenange
Pangashe lago, tipali fagoo”

English translation
“Hard are our feelings
Hard is it on this, our island
We don’t come together
But we will solve this together

Right now, this time
We will build it back
We will come together
All of us, and feel nothing but love

To all of us, right now:
We need to work as one
So our course will be the right one

Right now, this time
We will build it back
We will come together
All of us, and feel nothing but love

We will come together
All of us, and feel nothing but love”

Found out today that Gita and I totally failed the communications test Peace Corps ran on Monday. Turns out they like to gauge how long it takes to establish communication with volunteers every now and then. Well, we were with the seniors on their picnic all day, which is not part of daily life here, and when we got back, all we heard was someone from Peace Corps tried to get ahold of us on the radio. I just figured we’d talk to whomever it was later. Apparently, the correct response would have been to immediately send a message via satellite phone to our supervisor. Because we didn’t do that, we didn’t get in touch with our supervisor till this morning, putting our time for establishing contact at slightly over 24 hours. Although it doesn’t mean much to me (a major delay in communication is pretty much the first adjustment I made since coming here), I’m afraid it might be a strike against having PCVs in Woleai. I really hope more isn’t made out of this than necessary by the country directors. It would be such a shame to even consider not having volunteers out here in the future after this one small stumbling block.

3/18 Something that has struck me several times since coming to Woleai is just how important faluba, the local booze of choice, is to the people here. Faluba is made by binding immature coconut stalks, cutting off the ends and slowly bending them towards a ninety-degree angle to squeeze out the juices inside. A piece of palm frond is used for a funnel that sends the juices into a hollow coconut shell tied to the end. The juice is collected three times a day, when the men make fresh cuts, slicing off a thin layer from the end of the stalks to allow fresh juices to flow. If you clean out the shell each time you collect, you’ll end up with gashi (sweet tuba), which is nonalcoholic. If you don’t clean it out, natural yeast will form in the shell, cause fermentation, and yield faluba (sour tuba), which is alcoholic. Making time for the morning, afternoon and evening cuts is an unquestioned necessity, everyday. It’s like the way we differ to all things involving young children in the States. Imagine asking a friend to go grab a bite to eat but he says, ‘Can’t, have to pick up my kid.’ You’re not going to argue that point with him, ‘Hey man, can’t she just find her own way home, catch a ride with someone else or something?’ ‘Dude, she’s four. Stop being an ass.’ You get what I’m driving at here? It’s one of those automatically accepted facts of life.
So when a meeting was planned for the 35-years-and-older adults on the island for tonight, of course the school day would be shortened. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, school ends at 4pm, but making a round of cuts and getting something to eat takes time. Thus, we shaved two hours out of our schedule today to give extra time for folks to take care of evening chores before the meeting – primarily cutting for tuba. My principal told me this morning, and his tone of voice was one of expressing something that should be abundantly obvious, needing no explanation. ‘We have our meeting tonight. So one-hour classes, to give us time for cutting our tuba.’ ‘Oh, of course, because we couldn’t possibly ever have a night short on faluba.’
The evening men’s circles are an indispensable cultural tradition and one of few specifically social events for men. Daily community planning takes place, during which decisions are made about what work activities the village will take on over the coming days – replacing a roof, cleaning communal water catchments, fishing, clearing land, or whatever. They’ll prioritize and make back-up plans, ‘Ok, we’ll replace the roof on Thomas’s house if the weather is good, but if it rains, we’ll go check the mackerel for fishing.’ [‘Check’ is an English word that has been fully assimilated into Woleaian and is WAY overused. ‘Let’s go check those ones in that village,’ meaning: meet with the people in the next village over. ‘Maybe we check the boat is good,’ meaning: ensure the motor is working. ‘I will go check the men over there,’ meaning: go talk with a group of guys somewhere else.] It really seems that their plans are already decided when they get to the circles, though. The ‘planning’ portion is very short, if it happens at all. The rest of the time is used just to shoot the breeze, tell stories and joke around. The guys seem to squeeze a full day’s socializing into the three or four hours of each night’s circle. It’s a pretty different system for interaction but one that I’m getting used to.
The hardest thing about it all is how, to many of the men on island, I’m a non-entity except when we’re drinking together. Some combination of the freeing influences of alcohol and the ‘guys only’ environment of the men’s house (a kind of carport for canoes each village has at least one of and that is off-limits to women) loosens their tongues and makes us friends. In most other situations, though, I’m either invisible or just not someone to be talked with. This is getting easier all the time, but you know, it really makes me miss friends back stateside. It’s hard to find my way in this totally new social environment, and most of the time I find myself feeling at least a little tense or just overly attentive to the surroundings. The comfort that permeates every aspect of kicking with the fellas back home only crops up here and there on Woleai. Thinking about that today has brought up fond memories of sipping beers, dolfin (disc golf), big group dinners, lazy afternoons BSing or just watching the tube, the occasional work projects, summer barbecues, running the BK Lax Camp, getting together with our all our folks and feeling like we have one of the biggest families ever and more parents than seem genetically or legally possible, road trips, and late nights kicking it just before someone takes off for an extended period of time (I tend to land on the ‘leaving’ rather than ‘left’ side of the equation) where we’re exhausted, not boozing, making light conversation, and just enjoying a few last moments together. Well, it’s still going to be a while before I see any of y’all, but I’d love to hear from you. So drop a note to me, if you get a chance.

Things I took for granted (most of the time) in the U.S.: grocery stores, kitchens and their appliances, variety of food, seemingly endless running and clean drinking water, the ability to clearly share thoughts, the ease and speed of long-distance communication, the cultural knowledge and skills needed to easily navigate many social situations, easy access to vast quantities of music, videos, art, literature, news and how-to information, being able to prepare or provide for my own meals, the internet, cheese, being able to talk with family (especially my brother, whose presence in my life I have really missed since I’ve been gone; we spent a lot of time together during my last month at home – something we’ve been short on for a lot of years – and I saw just how much I want to have regular contact with him and that I need to be more proactive to make that happen), bars and other dispensaries of fine beer, precipitation of all kinds, my parents’ wisdom, cold weather, changing seasons…
Things I take for granted (at least some of the time) in Woleai: near universal welcome from community members, knowing almost everyone that lives around me, not having to use money on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis, almost never needing to wear a shirt, having meals prepared for me, freedom from internet, email and phones, being able to swim in the ocean, sunshine, immersion in a foreign language and a great opportunity to gain fluency, natural beauty, separation from material-cultural values, slow but steady and full pace of life, lack of cars, abundance of food, cultural values around sharing…

3/15 As I've mentioned, there have been some challenges for me since returning from Yap, mostly dealing with not feeling integrated with the community. Well, some good things have been happening lately. For one, Lewichipy came back on Friday. She'd been in Wottegai (different island in the lagoon) caring for her sick brother since the previous Sunday. I knew before IST that she means a lot to me, is really important for my sense of belonging, and is pretty much my favorite person in Micronesia. This absence of hers confirmed that, as has her return. There was mutual affection when I first saw her, which reminded me of my return from Yap.
Then I went to the men's circle in Lelipeligi, where I was warmly received and had a great, though short visit. They'd started drinking at noon, which meant an early night, and, as I rolled up late, there wasn't much hangout time for me there. That doesn't mean I went short on cups of faluba, however. They were mostly finished and more than happy to keep on filling my cup. After some fun conversation, a little singing, BSing and reconnecting with one of my co-teachers (we hit a rough patch after I called him out on not preparing his third quarter unit for our class), I headed to my village's men's circle. On the walk, I pleasantly chatted with an administrator from the high school, Thomas. He's pretty severe and reserved, so it was a nice opportunity to catch him primed for conversation. I also got a chance to sass a student of mine who was recently expelled.
Then I got pretty darn drunk at Iyeiuriu's circle, expressed my feelings of disconnection to my host father, went home to chew betelnut and the fat with him and Lewichipy, during which I made it known that I'd rather eat with them than alone. It was a great moment of meaningful conversation and a good example of seeing benefits from honestly expressing my feelings. Since then, I've eaten almost every meal with at least one other person. Also during that night, I made plans to fish with the Lelipeligi guys and check fish traps with the Iyeiuriu guys. I was too hung-over to join Lelipeligi the next day, but I did rock the fish traps on Sunday with Iyeiuriu. It went well, though I was not much help. I loved going out with the guys and just having that experience. We checked five traps; I helped out where I could, and we stopped by a tiny nearby island owned by the people of Iyeiuriu. They spotted sea turtle tracks and a baby frigate bird. We took the bird and came back for the turtle eggs after divvying up the fish, barbecuing/eating our share, and drinking some tuba at the men's house. We found about fifty eggs, and everyone was really stoked about it. They taste kind of sandy, but still good, in spite of the guilty aftertaste. And then today was Culture Day. I'll talk about it more later. Peace!

3/11 There’s an interesting phenomenon in Micronesia that was brought up occasionally in training. Folks here tend to avoid telling complete stories or just giving complete information in general. There is a cultural value placed on not speaking of things you aren’t one hundred percent completely sure you know the full truth about. Also, for those things you do believe you are fully informed of, there is a taboo against sharing all of it. I’ve been told there’s a fear of losing yourself if you share all you know, like you might cease to exist if you don’t solely possess some unique knowledge. Thus, when you want to know about something that happened on the island that isn’t written down, you’ve got to ask several people and piece it together. There’s a particular story I’ve heard several accounts of and am really curious about. The last PCV here was apparently ‘fired,’ or ‘administratively separated’ as Peace Corps puts it, due to a conflict with another volunteer from a different program. Their names are Paul and Neil, but I’ve heard both names attributed to the PCV and to the other volunteer. I’m not sure who was who. The consistent part of the story is that PCV Paul/Neil came upon other volunteer Neil/Paul partying with women – potentially also PCVs but maybe locals – and giving them alcohol, which is a big no-no in Woleai outside of the holidays. I’ve heard Paul/Neil yelled at Neil/Paul, that he brandished a knife and threatened Neil/Paul, that he brandished a spoon with malice, and that he actually attempted to attack Neil/Paul with a knife but was stopped by a local friend. The last version I heard from the local friend. He told me that PCV Paul (he had Paul in this version) found the party, was unhappy and wanted to go back to the elementary school, where he and the local guy had been hanging out before. Then other volunteer Neil comes walking up and Paul absolutely loses his shit yelling at him, pulls a knife and has to be physically restrained and have his knife taken by local guy. Neil demands to be evacuated from the island, and Paul gets ‘terminated’ by Peace Corps. The upside, though, is that Paul was such an avid men’s circle attendee and tuba cutter that a song was written by the community about him making and drinking tuba with the men. So he’s got that going for him, which is nice.

I totally punked out on class today. I presented two essay prompts, one from a U.S. college’s application and one from the FSM National College Scholarship application, for them to choose between – answering one. The point is to incorporate prep stuff for college into the classroom, a good idea, I think. But I explained so little and did so little afterwards that I doubt half the class really understands the assignment. I’ve decided to let them continue on in this fashion till they have some sort of answer to their chosen prompt. Then we’ll review some answers and discuss what makes one more attractive to admissions staffers and scholarship awarders. Then we’ll revise, trying to improve everyone’s drafts.
What’s starting to drag on me is how I keep losing motivated students to policy infractions (three were expelled before the start of this week for drinking), which tips the scales of my classes more towards the ‘too-cool-for-school’ crowd. It’s so frustrating to put in a bunch of effort to trying to connect and explain something when you can see the students aren’t even trying to fake an attempt at listening. That feeling makes me want to split the class according to interest level, just focus all my energy on engaged students and completely ignore those who are already pretending like I’m not there. Of course, I won’t do this; it’s too much like giving up and, apparently, I’m thoroughly American enough to not accept that outcome, yet. Watched one too many action-hero movies, I guess. “With the odds staked against him, one American teacher working overseas struggles to help the children of Woleai go to college and achieve The American Dream. Will a major language barrier, resistant co-workers, and less-than-fully supportive administration be too much for our hero? Or will he persevere and ride on a wave of triumph while straddling the roof of a Cadillac Escalade carrying the hopes of the FSM and its youth to the shores of capitalist success?! Find out November Twenty-Eleven!”

3/9 I had a dream last night. In this dream, I was wandering around in a very large gymnasium, full of people watching different televised football games. They were sitting in bleachers, plastic chairs and sofas. I came across a group of two fathers and their sons watching a college football game – I think Georgia was playing. During some highlights, I noticed the Jets were playing the Vikings and requested a change of station. One of the fathers – a ruffled looking fellow with shaggy brown hair, a handlebar mustache, and wearing a white undershirt – adamantly demanded we not change the channel. He was arguing over the relative importance of games, and my claims that the Jets/Vikings game had play-off implications were to no avail. I then noticed the next, and largest, section of the gymnasium was devoted entirely to my game of interest and was showing it on enormous screens. I took my leave of the father-son group and got a seat at one of those fiberglass-table-with-attached-stools jobs. You know, the kind that are at some parks and most fast food joints, where the hard plastic stools are on metal arms around the table? Anyhow, I start watching the game and a gal takes the seat next to mine and asks if I mind her joining. Well, she’s quite lovely and I recognized her from junior high, so the choice was pretty obvious.
That’s where I woke up, but it’s not the point of this story. The point is, this dream made me think about what my life would have been like had I been in the States these past six months. It was the Jets connection that did it. They made it within a game of the Super Bowl, actually, within a quarter-and-a-half. If I’d been in the U.S., I’d have followed the whole season, been pissed by mid-season (because the Jets squandered an early win streak) and freaking out by the play-offs, which they snuck into in impressive fashion. This was the first year since the 1998 season that the Jets made it to the AFC Championship game, and I missed it. Would have been damn exciting, especially with the Jets dominating the first half. This is a pretty minor example, but an example nonetheless of the things I’m missing out on because of what I’m doing. All of us face decisions about where to invest ourselves and our time, and whatever we choose, we’ll miss out on something. We just have to hope that what we invest in will outweigh what we forego. What’s cool and daunting about the choice I’ve made to join Peace Corps is that I really didn’t and don’t have any solid evidence telling me that my investment was wise. We usually have a bit more information when we make decisions within our cultural realm, say like where to go to college, which job to take, where to go for the holidays. But there is always that measure of the unknown. Who will I meet at school, where will this job take me, what if I don’t go home for the holidays and a loved one dies before next year? The thing that’s got hold of me now is the realization that I’ve pretty well gone for broke on this one, as far as the whole unknown aspect goes. I sure didn’t know anything about Woleai before this past September. As one might expect to do while living and working so far from home for an extended period of time, I’m really starting to think about what I’ve stepped away from and what I’m getting in return – mostly about things a little more important to my life than professional sports.
This all makes me think more about heading home for the holidays this year. I actually thought of something that I’m getting a big kick out of. The plan is this: 1) intentionally sabotage my family’s plans to meet up in the FSM for the holidays, 2) get a ticket home in time for Christmas Eve (which I’m hoping would happen at my parents’ house again this year), 3) show up at home that evening wearing a thu and carrying a map, 4) knock on the door and ask for directions to Woleai from whoever answers. “I seem to have gotten lost, can you help me find my way home?” It’d be pretty damn chilly, but totally worth it, especially if nobody knew I was coming home. Ha! To see the shock on the faces of all my extended family; it’d be priceless. It’s a little something I’m thinking about, but pulling it off will require a lot of things falling into place just so. Just have to wait and see as the time grows closer.

3/4 So the ship has come and gone. I was able to put out some letters but didn’t get responses to everyone I’d hoped. A couple responses were really short, too. But at least I got something out.

Since first returning to Woleai, when I was riding a pretty good high, things got a bit rough. I felt separate again, from the community. I’ve had to go through the whole settling in thing all over. Seriously, I was out-of-sorts with the family, my job, and the community at large. Basically everything I’d done in-class and at school before leaving was undone or saw such little progress that it was almost laughable. [Insert a long and unfair rant about co-workers ‘dropping the ball’ while I was away. Damn, I got really petty/self-rigtheous in this one. Pretty disappointing to find while going back over this document.]
In good news, things otherwise have started to turn around. I’m on better terms with my host family. Community connections seem to be improving as I spend more time with people, especially at the men’s circles, which I’m interacting in and enjoying more now than ever before. English classes are getting back on track; had great classes on Wednesday, describing American houses to the kids. It’s part of an activity I want to make a regular part of class wherein I lecture on an aspect of American culture and the kids take notes. Then they use their notes to write responses to short answer prompts I give them after the lecture. I really enjoyed that (was yesterday), and they seemed to as well. On Friday, I’m going to show them pictures of my house, and they really got excited about that, especially first period.

There’s something I wanted to write about earlier and won’t really seem logical to bring up now. When I got back to Woleai, I decided I wanted to be more direct in trying to pick up men’s cultural skills, starting first with climbing coconut trees and collecting coconuts. So I took to climbing trees to get my own drinks. I stuck with little trees, but worked on building my comfort. It’s difficult to balance, but I started to get the hang of it, started to feel comfortable. I was going to grab myself a drink from another little tree, and one that was so small, it turns out, footholds hadn’t been chopped into it. Grabbing the base of some green fronds, I hoisted myself up and tried to twist one off. The frond I was grabbing with my left hand broke off as I did this, just as Lewichipy was walking up the path. I fell on my ass and shoulder, she flipped her shit (railing me about hurting myself, though I wasn’t hurt) but thankfully it was all in Woleaian, and I could just laugh it off. I’m pretty sure she told me ‘You don’t climb, tell us when you want a drink and we’ll get it.’ I told her, ‘No, I’m going to do it.’ She got a neighborhood boy to tell me he would get my coconuts; I told him, ‘No, I’m going to do it.’ She doesn’t like it and only wants me to get coconuts from trees with ladders, but I’m going to keep working on climbing, but not around the house. I think I’ll head out to the jungle to get away from prying, over-protective eyes. She’s gotten that way about a lot of stuff – don’t use that water, don’t use that knife, we’ll do this, we’ll do that, you just sit there. I appreciate her concern, but I really don’t think my tiny spill out of the mini-coconut tree warrants this kind of babying. Anyhow, I’m still working on that.

2/20 Funny/cool/hard/notable things that happened on the way to, in, and on the way back from Yap and IST.
SHIP RIDE: last minute change of schedule diverging the Voyager from its course to pick us up and run the only express trip to Yap I’ve heard of (only one stop in Ulithi to refuel their generator); meeting a really cool RPCV (Scott) on the ship to Yap, finding out he’s back visiting his communities and feeling encouraged that he’s been able to make that happen, having a really good conversation with him and Emily; watching flying fish shoot out randomly over the waves; talking with many different locals on the ship; eating French toast the second morning with Gita in the ship’s mess room and steak that evening.
FIRST DAYS IN YAP: being confused by the sound of morning traffic (what is that?); being surprised/scared by a passing car (it’s so fast!); seeing fellow Yap PCVs; reconnecting with a guy I met during training and building on that to form a friendship; doing yoga with ex-pats; seeing my host family again and feeling closer to them than when I left; meeting the new baby in the family (CJ); seeing how much softer and obviously loving CJ’s presence has made my host mom; realizing that I’d just rather not have the romance issue to deal with; hearing some serious unhappiness w/service detailed by some PCVs; being bombarded by the unhappiness of others (at times); feeling a knot steadily build in size and intensity in my chest for fear of being stuck in Yap for months; drinking with Eriks and his host dad (Yap State Governor); being flashed by my host grandma (she was readjusting her lavalava and thought I couldn’t see her do it b/c I was reading).
MID-TRIP IN YAP: walking all over Colonia to buy supplies for my host family and I in Woleai, talking more fluently in Woleaian with my host family than ever before; feeling a new and much stronger connection forged between Julie (my host mom) and I thanks to mutual care for CJ; receiving and opening and reading mail and diving into packages from home; feeling amazingly loved and supported by family and friends; feeling like I shouldn’t be in Yap at all – that I should be in Woleai with my community; feeling that a lack of support for trying to ensure a timely return to Woleai (i.e., not two/three months down the line); buying a SIM card and borrowing a cell phone that I thought would greatly ease the difficulty of talking with folks back home but not having that be the case (borrowing Eriks computer and using Skype remains the best option); wishing I had stayed in Woleai maybe hiding from the ship or something; feeling some rifts between certain PCVs and myself widen; spending way more money than intended; being treated as an obstacle and invader rather than a colleague by another volunteer; reading my third Harry Potter book (all three were read out of order: read the second book first, the first second and the fourth book third – now I’ve read the fifth and am moving on to the sixth – you win Josh, Megan and Kc); being able to talk with family and friends; catching up on email; updating my blog with tons of content both written and picture posts; completing and submitting my professional practice reports for Beverly; re-establishing contact with my first serious girlfriend by sending her a letter/email with long over due sentiments of thanks and apologies, having that letter be not only received but well received and proceeding to exchange many emails and even have an hour long phone call that reminded me how easy and fun it is to talk with her (also awesome that there is no inclination towards rekindling anything romantic – she’s married with a kid and that chapter of my life is finished); running almost every day I was in Yap until training started; finding 11,000+ songs on the external hard drive in the volunteer resource room and using them to add 670 to my Woleai collection; being slapped into another mini-depression for the removal from Woleai; going to Regina (my PC boss) with the intention of asking to be excused from training but having her be a step or two ahead of me – said training was mandatory and there is no way for me to be excused BEFORE I’d even asked the question (I think she’s gotten the same attempt from previous PCVs in the outer islands); going out to dinner with Emily and Gita and sharing a bottle of wine at Traders and just sitting there shooting the cool evening breeze as the only customers in the joint and feeling more relaxed than at any other point during my time in Yap (I was wearing pants and a shirt too! That’s not normal for me anymore); getting a mad lib/note from a friend showing she still wants to hangout (it was pretty funny too).
IST: Regina changing the training schedule last minute (bumping it up three days) so the Woleai crew could hop a flight to Fais and catch the ship to Woleai, being absolutely elated by that news; picking up Catherine from the airport (via taxi) and Scott as it turned out; sleeping in a real bed for the first time since training in Kolonia; sitting through several unhelpful training sessions that confirmed my feeling I didn’t need to be there; feeling really grateful for Catherine’s presence and optimism and enthusiasm during sessions debriefing our experience so far; getting blasted the first and second nights of training; trying to play match maker with two separate couples the first night and succeeding with one of them; giving an enthusiastic and apparently hilarious account to the M76s at Mnuw of Emily’s near plunge into the ocean while attempting to reboard the Voyager in Fais; loading our gear onto the ship knowing we’d be joining it in two days’ time; building a much more solid friendship with Eriks; Emily deciding she would not return to Woleai on Sunday and feeling that was the best decision for her; Regina asking Eriks (who’d been lobbying for a transfer to an outer island post for sometime) if he could be ready to leave the next day and takeover Emily’s placement; thinking Eriks would be in Woleai with Gita and I for the rest of our service; chilling with Catherine and Kanani at the pool between sessions on Sunday and feeling really connected to them; having a great chat with Catherine the last night in Yap about being PCVs in the outer islands; feeling grateful for a relaxed evening free of booze our last night at Manta Ray.
LEAVING: finishing training and saying goodbye and going to the airport to catch our flight; Eriks staying behind when we left because he needed more time to wrap things up; riding in the cockpit of the little plane taking us to Fais; chatting with the pilot pretty much the whole flight; getting an aerial view of Fais; touring the island with Gita (who climbed a coconut tree and got us drinks); joining the ship’s passengers and hunkering down for the trip; barely moving over the two days we rode to Woleai; arriving in Woleai and being suddenly filled with energy and excitement for having returned; getting home and hugging Lewichipy before dragging my tired ass to bed; and sleeping soundly and happily my first night back.

I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve been as happy as I am now that I’ve come back to Woleai. Everywhere I walk, everything I see, everyone I talk to brings me great joy and satisfaction for having returned. It’s likely that the fear of being stranded in Yap and all those tense/shitty feelings have made way for an overwhelming sense of relief that ebbs and flows like the tides, surging up in me when I see something especially familiar from the months I was on Falalap before going to Yap. Obviously, the first night back, seeing Lewichipy and hugging her for the first time was an awesome moment. I feel such strong mutual caring between her and I that it’s no surprise seeing her was the only thing aside from sleeping that I wanted to do when I came back. Since that night, my happiness remains while I walk the island, drink with the men, joke and laugh with people, walk passed my usual haunts, type these thoughts in the computer lab, contribute to the unloading of shore boats bringing in the island’s cargo, walking back home hand-in-hand with Katie, and eat the food I got used to here. I think I’m beyond falling in love with Woleai and the people. I love it and them. Accordingly, I’m kind of dreading going back to Yap for IST II. It might also interfere with my plans to kick it with Jo in Woleai, supposing she’s able to make it out here for the summer. I want that to happen so badly. How sick would it be to have her out here and be able to share my experience so fully with someone so important in my life? Ah man, I hope it comes through.

Found out yesterday that Emily will be rejoining us in Woleai. It’s awesome news for Gita and I and especially for the people of Falalius. To lose their first volunteer in a decade after two months would be a terrible blow. I’m so happy for them. However, I’m worried for Emily. She was UN-HAPPY in Falalius. She had little positive to say during IST and as Regina said, she just looked heavy with all her unhappiness. She talked a lot with Gita and Laura during IST after she decided not to come back. She says, however, that when we left, she realized that she wasn’t ready to have her time in Woleai be over. I can feel that, understand it. I just really hope she’s making the right choice. I don’t know, but I hope my fears are unnecessary and her latest decision is the right one. [addendum: she’s doing really well now, and it was the right choice]

Gita and I got a bundle of letters from my principal yesterday – totally badass. I got something like ten letters. It’s awesome. Great letters from Mia, Blake, Mollie, Laura, Joe Coulter and Jo. They range in date from early December to early January. Kind of crazy to get a letter from the beginning of December, talking about the upcoming holidays, in pretty much the last week of February. I love it, though. So cool to hear from you all and be given so many opportunities to laugh and feel missed and cared for. It does make me miss you all that much more, too. It’s a good kind of hard to deal with, missing my family (inclusive of friends) back in the States and even some in the Pacific that are nonetheless far from me. Holy cow, though, I have some serious writing to do so I can catch up – better get to it!

A Traveling Porter

Friday, May 28, 2010

Thank You thebackpacker.com; I agree

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Thoughts - Part II

Obligatory Personal Information

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Kimberton, PA

Pembroke, IL

Bloomington-Normal, Illinois

Woleai, Yap

Houk, Chuuk

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