A Traveling Porter

An update

2012-02-12T12:30:00.000+11:00

February is swiftly passing, aided along (for me) by the feeling much of my time isn't my own. Turns out writing a thesis is a consuming venture. Throw a couple time intensive jobs on top of that, as well as living a bit off the beaten path, and life gets pretty narrow, focused.

Waking up at seven each morning, I like to take the morning a bit leisurely. Turn the alarm off and the radio on, start water boiling for coffee, bathroom, wash dishes, get the coffee press brewing, make toast (no toaster, so I use a pan on the stove), fry two eggs, listen to news with breakfast, finish coffee while watching the day come to life. Then it's a shower and catch the bus to campus, reading along the way (currently: The Three Musketeers). I really enjoy my mornings, which continues to surprise me, since I always hated the morning growing up.

Once on campus, I do the email thing, consult the calendar, and typically move onto some data work. I enter data from a survey for a local planning commission, or work on syntax for a project the Stevenson Center (which my program runs through) does to make reports for the county criminal justice courts, or plug away at the data set for my thesis. Not the most exciting work on the planet, but there is an intellectual satisfaction to figuring out a piece of one puzzle or another, or just simpler pleasure of getting another thirty or forty surveys keyed in.

That's been the Monday through Wednesday routine for a little while. Thursday and Friday I speed up the morning routine, so I can get to campus an hour earlier, get ready and drive out to Peoria (about forty-five minutes west) to meet up with a planning commission staffer to distribute surveys in Pekin (maybe twenty-five minutes south of Peoria). Back to Normal around five or six o'clock, spend a little more time in the office before hopping the bus home; I'm getting so into d'Artagnan's story that I've missed my stop a couple times. Any given night, make some dinner, have a beer or two, read, listen to the radio or watch a show on my laptop before calling it a day.

Saturdays I've been going out distributing surveys in rural Woodford county. That generally takes the full day, leave home at eight-thirty, return by six. Yesterday was the first Saturday in a month that I haven't gone out, and it was delightful. I stayed around home, tidied up, baked some bread (two honey wheat loaves and a pan of corn bread), had a couple friends stop by to chat, then popped up to campus in the evening to check email. Sundays I come down to a coffee shop, where I am currently. I might do a little research or just catch up on emails and read some articles online.

It may sound like I never get out, but that's not the case. I have made time, about once a week, to grab a beer away from home, hangout with a friend, leave work for a spell. Like most folks, I prefer going out with a buddy, but a few weeks ago I happened to miss my regular bus. I'd noted another route that leaves Normal fifteen minutes later and gets to Bloomington in time to catch my normal bus on its way back towards my place, so I gave it a shot rather than waiting another hour. I ended up with about a half hour to kill, and a bar is right across the street from the bus stop. I've since returned a few times and found that people like to talk to me. In four evenings, I've been chatted up by five different people (not including the bar tender), each of whom has approached me. Not sure what to make of it, but it's been fun. Talked with a salesman for warehouse equipment (forklifts and whatnot) who also happens to own a tree farm; a couple nurses, both of whom were enjoying a rare evening out as they continue caring for either children or parents after work; a male model who is very bored in Bloomington; and most recently the director of the Economic Development Council for Bloomington-Normal. He even bought me a couple rounds.

Otherwise, a friend of mine and I have popped into a bar here and there on a Thursday to catch up and enjoy the unique freedoms of grad school which allow for such relaxation. Also was asked by a guy I met back in August (bought a bike from him) to be his mentor for a leadership certificate program. Illinois State University is piloting the program this semester, and Rich is one of the initial participants. The basic premiss is to bring together the wide variety of leadership, civic engagement and volunteer experience students get, synthesizing it through the program so they come away with better understandings and preparation to use those skills in their careers. Oh, and I spent a day working on a farm two weeks ago. That was excellent and brings to mind the biggest and most exciting news of the past month. I got offered, and accepted an internship working on an organic blueberry farm for the summer. The guy I'll be working for owns property in Eureka (about thirty minutes west of Normal), where he grows a large variety of berries (raspberries, blueberries, elder berries, aronia berries, black raspberries). He's arranged a lease with a Methodist church in Pembroke Township (110 miles north of Normal) for two acres of blueberry brambles and a half acre garden plot. I and another intern or two will tend the brambles and garden for the summer and run his booth at the farmers' market in Bloomington, receiving room and board, farming experience, and a monthly allowance. It's perfect for me, better than perfect as it does more to prepare me for and inform me about local organic farming than anything else I could have hoped to do this summer. And I'm trying to get a Peace Corps friend to join me, which would be amazing. Both my site mate, Gita and Yap PCV buddy, Eriks have expressed interest in coming out to Illinois for the summer. Neither is a lock, but if either does make the commitment, I can bank on a tremendous summer.

So, the impetus to get this degree wrapped up this semester is even stronger, now. That way I can fully focus on farming in the summer, as well as fully enjoy the weddings I'll be attending. My great friends Josh and Jamie are getting hitched in June, for which I'll be one of the groomsmen, and my dear friend Sarah is getting married in August. I'll be an usher or reader or something of the sort for her. Yup, life's pretty great, though somewhat demanding in the work department. I think that's a good thing. It's engaging and is leading to some amazing opportunities.

James Porter, Pa

2012-01-06T21:19:00.000+11:00

James Porter had a long full life, but he has died today. He had a long full life before I was ever born, before I knew him, but he was my grandfather, and this is my journal. I will speak, then, of my grandfather, as I knew him, because I love him.

James Porter was known as Jimmy to his mother, Jim to his friends and Pa to his children, their children and his great grandchildren. He was born in Michigan, as most Porters in my family from generations prior to mine have been. A farm was his childhood home, and like his parents and siblings, he tended that farm for minimal compensation. As he grew, so too did his responsibilities. Pa was gifted with animals, and particularly excelled in caring for and working horses. As a young man he was able to ride astride two horses, standing up, one foot on either’s back. As an older man, he was still able to take control of a team pulling a cart and guide them backward into a designated stall, though they were not his horses and not familiar with him. He was a man to be trusted.

Exceptionally bright, tough and talented, Pa skip grades in school like the rest of us skipped assignments or classes. He graduated high school at the age of fifteen. He worked for the CCC on improving the campsites at Bob Lake in the UP of Michigan. He boxed. He went to war, fighting in WWII in the Navy. He married a beautiful young woman, Betty Jane, whom he courted in Hollywood fashion. Once she knew the quality of the man, there was nary a question. Their marriage is measured in decades, the successes of their children and grandchildren, and unlike over half of unions today, theirs was truly till death did them part.

He worked, hard and smart, and provided for his family. Pa raised seven children with Gramma Betty: Barbara, David (my father), Gail, Catherine and Marilyn, Diane, and Steve. He saw his daughters and sons grow, gain educations (some eagerly, some against their wills—my father), start careers, marry and raise children of their own. He retired, golfed with his wife, traveled, cared for his grandkids, and watched some of them marry and raise children, whom he again cared for. The girls have always been his favorites, especially fiery, independent gals. You’ve never seen a bulb burn so bright as Pa did when beholding one of his bold young daughters, grand daughters or great grand daughters.

Pa was frugal, because he grew up through the depression. He was resourceful, because he and his brothers all learned the importance of adapting, innovating and overcoming in order to survive. He was stubborn, because he was so damn smart. He was funny, because of his tremendous wit. He was filled with joy, because he lived life for his family and watched them thrive. He is loved, because he was such a great man and loved others with such fidelity and amazing depth.

My grandfather delighted in good beer, a fine wine, the high-end Japanese scotches my cousin Josh brought him, bourbon and Squirt soda. Golf and football were his favorite sports to watch on television; he even put up with these new obnoxious televisions, cable boxes and innumerable remotes for the games and matches. His favorite sports to watch live were whichever his grandkids were playing in, be they basketball, football, or lacrosse. Pa loved bullshitting, spinning a yarn for a willing ear, making anyone smile unguardedly. Those few times my brother or I brought a significant other to family gatherings, Pa inevitably pulled her aside, held her hands tightly, told her hilarious lies and made the kind of first impression we could only dream of. The men that accompanied our female cousins left equally impressed by a man all hope to emulate.

I felt deeply cared for by Pa and Gramma while I was a child. Always found Christmas gifts from them under tree and received birthday presents two days later. I was once deeply wounded when, in my early teenage years, I overheard him tell my uncle that he had so many grandkids, he didn’t mind if he lost one—I’d been running around like a kid (aka idiot). I was later deeply touched when he and my gramma attended my high school lacrosse games, my college graduation. I was immensely gratified to know he was thrilled by a visit I made to them after I graduated from college, and again to know they followed this blog while I was in the Peace Corps.

During my time in Micronesia, one of my greatest fears was I wouldn’t see my grandparents again before returning home. Blessed as ever, I returned to find them in fine health. Pa and Gramma came to my welcome home get together this past August. Two days later they came back to Boise for a dinner with my folks, aunt Diane, cousin Monica and I. We ate, drank, bullshitted, laughed and had the kind an evening I’ll treasure the rest of my life.

After Thanksgiving this year, Pa’s health took a turn for the worse. He slowed down, grew tired. Over the month leading up to Christmas, my dad’s concern built and built. He, my aunts and uncles rallied around Pa and Gramma, did what they could. Medications, doctors’ appointments, home care, and a trip to the hospital. Pa never made it back home to Payette, will never hug his children again, kiss his wife, sip a beer or spin a yarn. I’ll never see that shit-eating grin, hear that gruff laugh or shake that powerful hand again. Our lives were granted and made fuller for his having lived and are now bereft by his absence. I am grateful to have been with my brother today, sorrowful for being away from Boise and unable to be at Pa’s bedside. What a wonderful man, and what a horrible day.

I love you, Pa. Rest in the blessed peace deserved of a man who lived so admirably.

A Boise Porter Christmas

2011-12-28T06:28:00.000+11:00

And Then Came Winter

2011-12-11T08:40:00.001+11:00

That's my momma!

2011-12-09T03:21:00.001+11:00

The article below ran this week in the St. Maries Gazette, the local paper from my mom's hometown. Not a bad little piece, though they could have included more of the great stuff she's done for the National Board of Accountancy. One little note, I may end up living at home again before too long. However, it should be noted that my brother, Jon, has his life sufficiently in order to maintain his own fully-an-adult, big-boy home. Also, that's Jon's delightful girlfriend, Courtney, in the picture with our mom.

SMHS GRAD HONORED BY NATIONAL GROUP
By Summer Crosby

She always envisioned she would have a career, but she didn’t know where her path would lead her.

Barbara Porter, formerly Barbara Reidhaar of St. Maries, was the recipient of the Lorraine P. Sachs Standard of Excellence Award from the National Association of State Boards of Accountancy for her work as the executive director of the Idaho State Board of Accountancy.

“There are 54 of my peers who do similar work and only one person can be a recipient,” Mrs. Porter said. “I’m very humbled and very honored.”

After high school, Mrs. Porter pursued an undergraduate degree in biology at the University of Utah after she was inspired by her high school biology teacher, Sam Cummings.

When she decided to return to Idaho, her career took a different turn.

“I was working at a lab in Utah doing some DNA research and we had two electron microscopes,” Mrs. Porter said. “When I moved back, the state of Idaho didn’t have one.”

Mrs. Porter said that her high school English teacher, Bev Greer, had taught students to think critically and also served as a debate coach.

“I decided to apply my knowledge in a different area,” Mrs. Porter said, “and my first job was doing statistical analysis in state government.”

Mrs. Porter still serves as the executive director of the Idaho State Board of Accountancy, a position she has held for 15 years.

“Our responsibility is to screen and license individuals as certified public accountants,” Mrs. Porter said. “We continue to monitor them and make sure they receive proper continuing education, undergo peer reviews and we handle any complaints filed by the public. Our primary focus is the protection of the public. It’s a big job.”

Mrs. Porter was honored for her ability to deliver exceptional results with limited resources. She’s worked to empower her staff to identify and groom volunteers to assist the board.

The engagement of volunteers has resulted in highly-productive committees, created a pool of highly-knowledgeable applicants from which to recruit board members and sparked a greater involvement of Idaho Board members on NASBA.

“It’s definitely one of the ways we do more with less,” Mrs. Porter said. “This small, four-person shop can leverage the work and it allows us to do it many times over.”

Mrs. Porter said that growing up in St. Maries gave her a basis from which she could succeed.

“I learned that ethics are important,” she said, “Growing up in a small community you have that sense that your peers and your peers’ parents are watching what you’re doing and what kind of a kid you’re going to be. I also grew up with a sense of working hard. People in St. Maries work hard and they are dedicated to what they do.”

Mrs. Porter now resides in Boise with her husband, Dave, and their two sons, Jonathan and Eric. Mrs. Porter is the daughter of St. Maries resident Rose Mary Reidhaar and her late husband Jack.

Hike up those britches

2011-12-02T07:35:00.001+11:00

There are many types of old men, just as there are many types of old women, guys, gals, boys, girls, teens, tweens, young adults and adolescents. People come in a myriad of varieties, I'm not trying to deny that. However, there are some prominent types that stand out. Riding the bus this morning, I was lucky enough to see two of my favorite old man types. One I greatly enjoy, probably because it's the opposite of how I expect to be, and the other probably because it's exactly how I'll end up.

I'll ask you to forgive me once more, because I primarily categorize these gentlemen by their clothes. The aged fellow I'm not likely to emulate when my social security isn't rolling in is the fashionable type. Swank jacket, fancy pants, sleek hat, shiny kicks. He's the charismatic, still flirting stylishly with pretty young gals and NOT coming off as creepy but rather as winning and adorable. He walks with a slight swagger, diminished by age but still just noticeable enough to catch your eye. He laughs loudly, wears his hat jauntily, waggles his eyebrows garishly, smiles broadly and lights up a room with his full personality. A good man, delightful at parties, engaging to chat with, and just enough of a rascal to still make you laugh and sigh in good natured exasperation from time to time.

The other gent is precisely NOT a fashionable fellow. He dresses piece meal and much of the substance of his style is sentiment. Starting from the ground up: he wears the same style of shoe as his father, keeping touch with his roots through the articles that ground him. The trousers are an untattered version of his work britches, too much a part of him, that labor he poured his life into will always be the pants he wears. The shirt and jacket were gifts from his wife and sister, respectively, holding in his heat with reminders of those who warm his heart. The watch on his wrist was his grandfather's and hasn't worked for years, but his arm doesn't feel right without that small weight to balance him. He wears a hat--one that changes its facade regularly--big and dopey and colorful, broadcasting his son's or grandson's most recent school, sports team or job. His style, much like his life, is less a show of forceful, unique personality than it is a display of those near and dear to him. He's the soft-spoken yet talkative senior. He loves all his grandkids but has a special place in his heart for the girls. When he laughs it's hearty but understated, carrying gently around a room to nudge up the corners of lips at family holidays. He smiles slowly, with great warmth, grasps your hand firmly though a bit shakily, looks into your eyes deeply, talks equal parts seriously and jovially, and pats you on the back fatherly. A good man, delightful at parties, engaging to chat with, and just enough of a rascal to still make you laugh and sigh in good natured exasperation from time to time.

Normal to Boise and back over break

2011-12-01T06:32:00.001+11:00

A Thanksgiving to recover

2011-12-01T04:09:00.001+11:00

September 2nd, 2009 I started the longest and most profound journey of my short years. As one might note, that date was a bit shy of Thanksgiving '09. Well, as it played out, I spent two holiday seasons out-of-country and away from family. It was tough, and it was easy: easy because so much was so very different from the norm, that I barely registered the holidays when they came (didn't even realize it was Thanksgiving until Gita told me so in Woleai), and tough because, as time went by, it started to hit home just what I'd given up by undertaking Peace Corps service. Holidays, birthdays, weddings, births, career starts/changes, home buying, moving, graduations, hair-dos, vacations, relationships, years came and went. In many ways, I can see that few fundamentals changed while I was gone, and in that way, I can be doubly sure the right decision was made. All the same, those years spent in Micronesia were years away from so many that I hold dear and wish to have near. Those years contained mundane, momentous, precious Life both for me where I was and for my loved ones where I wasn't. So it was with great joy that I boarded a flight to Boise for a long Thanksgiving break sure to be filled with reconnecting and to help reestablish my presence at home.

Landed in Boise on Thursday the 17th, ready for a week and some change of family, friends, hills, river, dog walks, tasty brews, and making the memories I'd dreamed of for well over a year. Of special note, my old friend Dave's wedding was on the horizon and would mark the first time we'd had our whole group of buddies from high school together in years. Spent the day with my pops and had dinner with the folks. Later that evening I picked up my buddy Nick from the airport, and we went over to the happy soon-to-be-newly-weds' for a couple beers and some conversation. The wedding was a hell of a time full of laughter, beauty, dancing, booze and love. What's especially wonderful is knowing Dave and Jacinda's life together will be only that much better than the day it officially started.

The rest of the week, until Thanksgiving, was given over to just kicking it with family and friends. My brother was home home from Friday night till Monday morning, and we had some solid catch up time. He also snapped some pretty great photos of me being mistreated by our friends Saturday night. We hit the town after the wedding reception broke up, and I ended up falling asleep in a sandwich shop on the 'bars are closed' side of 2 am. Nick and our friend Kate made sure to deliver my just rewards so such a feux pas.

Thanksgiving day saw a goodly potion of the Porter family gathered at my aunt Barb and her husband John's home. My grandparents, aunt Gail and uncle Kelvin, cousin Brett and his wife Mel and lovely daughters Evi and Olivia, cousin Michael, my folks, and myself had a great time shooting the shit, eating tasty food (that Gail so selflessly and humbly prepared), playing cards, and goofing around with the little ones. There's so much BSing at a Porter family get together you have to wear waders, but it's sure worth it. Can't wait for Christmas. Also had our annual Turkey Bowl on Thanksgiving morning, and I enjoyed the hell out of getting back into the game. Our team lost but had fun along the way. Next year, my friends, next year.

The trip back to Normal went through Chicago, and I got to spend a day with my good friend Mojgan, whom I lived with in Portland. She and I got to catch up, wander through Chicago a bit, have dinner with her brother and his lady friend, and then she got me to my train in the morning. Since then, I've gotten back into the groove of things, making the last big push to end the semester on schedule. Just a couple weeks and I'm back to Boise. Here's to buckling down!

First Fall for Years

2011-11-09T05:58:00.001+11:00

Glimpses of my return to autumn. It is so delightful.

The aroma of rehydrated eggs, freeze dried hash browns and ugh

2011-11-08T02:41:00.002+11:00

I traverse much of Bloomington-Normal while biking into campus each morning. Trees, buildings, streets, cars, pedestrians, blocks and neighborhoods all pass by. Fallen leaves litter the ground. Nightly rains linger on the pavement. Squirrels and possums with either faulty depth perception or timing skills remain as monuments to their poor street crossing decisions. The scents of the morning mingle, and shifting winds waft them about me, highlighting the mulch from a yard one moment, the exhaust from a bus the next. Some are more odiforous than others, some milder, some more pleasantly aromatic. And every now and then a whiff from the past tickles my olfactory system. One in particular has been prominent as of late: an elementary school's cafeteria. Hard at work delivering a morning meal and preparing the afternoon's, the kitchen staff's efforts permeate the air and condense in the chill of early hours. I can almost taste the food... and it's still just as gross as I remember it.

Perhaps it's the hallmark of the most highly processed of the lowest quality of food that finds its way to our schools or maybe has something to do with deep rooted memories of childhood. Not sure if the nausa is overpowering the nostalgia or if they work in concert. It's possible that the desire for freedom--a young boy's idea of freedom that is: to play with friends, swing from monkey bars, hide in fields, not sit unless it involves getting his pants dirty, not listen unless it's to the wind whipping leaves across the blacktop--wells up in reaction to the scent long associated with imprisonment. Smell is the oldest of our senses, most directly tied into emotion and memory. It would make sense that an aroma from childhood would dredge up the feelings and memories from that time, and no time was more depressing than the first sounding of the bell, when the most school lay before me, and the cafeteria smell hung heavy on the playground.

How long has it been?

2011-10-29T08:46:00.000+11:00

I've been back for some amount of time; we're getting into months now. October is almost gone... so that means... I'm closing in on three months back stateside. Yes, three months in the US, most of it in Bloomington-Normal, some in Chicago, some in Nashville, some in Boise. Here's a select shot from each location, chronologically, from my iPod (conspicuous consumption name drop: check; compulsive need to justify poor quality or pics: check).

Since my last post that wasn't either pictural or poorly-written-poetry-al in nature, I've continued my love affair with baking bread, cookies, and cooking a variety of vegetable-centered dishes that I can make sound fancy by listing the ingredients. I've gotten my new touring bike up and running, but the tubes are giving me a lot of trouble, so I've reverted to the old Schwinn for the time being. My projects: thesis, Tri-County survey and school closures data are all progressing to varying degrees but all smoothly. I got my drinking back under control and experienced MAJOR strides in my mental/emotional/spiritual processing of the past two years. I've seen some old friends, made a few new ones here in Illinois, been to Nashville with my folks for a long weekend, and have a trip planned to Chicago with some Peace Corps buddies. And keep this under your hats, but I've gone on a couple dates. Can you believe it? Before this month, I think I'd gone on all of one or two outings that could be called 'dates' with gals I wasn't already in a relationship with.

I feel good about things. I feel healthier in every sense of the word. I feel more settled. I feel more at peace with how my time in Peace Corps went. I feel happier, smarter, more adjusted, more fun to be around, and just generally BETTER. I'm living the Dream, and loving Life!

Falling and Fallen-

2011-10-13T08:34:00.001+11:00

A slender serene black river
rolls solidly north
through twin cities' center.
Enclosed by thick set trees
on either side
who bask in
strong but ever-waning
autumnal sunshine
in the late morning.
Brilliant clear skies
burst fragmentedly between
the canopy's boughs,
sending flashes of blue
streaking overhead.
All the while
a soft flurry of color
floats and freewheels to the ground
as my tires tread lightly
over already fallen leaves.

Normal days

2011-10-07T05:15:00.010+11:00

Ah-ha, ah-ha! Get it? 'Normal' days? Right? 'Cause of the town name. Classic. Anyhow... here are some pics from my first night back in Illinois, eating pizza on the floor to just this week when I wrangled a sweet touring bike for seriously cheap. There are photos from around town (Constitution Trail and campus), from my place (coffee mornings, a few meals), and from when my buddies Dave and Brian visited (including Chicago). Hope you enjoy them marginally as much as I enjoyed the moments they sprang from.

A month and some change (Get it? 'Change'?)

2011-09-27T03:45:00.000+11:00

I've been back stateside for over a month, going on two. At times it's been uber-smooth, at others... well, I've comported myself with less than significant amounts of grace, intelligence and/or sobriety.

I live alone, work and study independently, do not yet own a tandem bike or have a person to ride it with and recently learned how to bake my own bread. There are delightful people in the program here at Illinois State, coming from a variety of backgrounds and experiences, and spending time getting to know them has been wonderful.

I cook my own meals (eleven-bean soup is on deck for tonight, simmering away in my new, from-a-thrift-store crockpot) and listen to NPR on an old, side-by-side tapedeck radio. About half my furniture (one recliner and two end tables) was procured from the area adjacent to my apartment building's dumpster.

I sleep on a beach blanket spread out on my living room floor with the quilt my aunt sewed for me while I was in Peace Corps. Absolutely love the fabric squares she used (island themed) and will often study them in the mornings while sipping good coffee and enjoying the sunrise through my large front windows.

I do my laundry in the kitchen sink or bathtub and line dry it (outside when the weather permits). Bought a suit for the first time, though it's second hand. Plaid, flannel shirts make up the majority of my wardrobe, and my beard is going over a month of growth (the transition point for me from hipster stubble to legit beard). Can wear wool socks some days, thanks to cool temps.

I bike about 95% of my commuting, walk 4% and only rock about 1% via automobiles; this makes me inordinately happy. However, a link on my chain broke today, making for a shit-ride to school. Need to repair it, right after learning HOW to do so.

I finally have made flossing a part of my life, after learning that I've carefully crafted six new cavities and three around old fillings during my two years in Miconesia. My doctor advised that "general wisdom states one drink a night, probably beneficial. More than one, probably harmful. You know, so long as we're talking about 'beer' [makes a hand gesture indicating average size]". Decided to heed his words: One day, one drink or less.

I am planning a massive bike tour of the US following completion of my masters. Bike rack, packs, lights, pump and patch kit have been purchased. Now I just need a helmet and the bike - old, single speed Schwinn road bikes to not work on long hauls. They often even come up short just for commuting.

I've stopped looking at new overseas assignments with Peace Corps Response (Peace Corps version 2.0 for RPCVs). The move into agriculture, post-master's, is becoming a central focus area. Just need to actually finish here.

I don't like being indoors. Rivers and mountains are still being missed, but trees changing colors can stop me in my tracks. The sweet, musty smell of fallen leaves decaying alongside the bike trail fills my nose and lungs during my rides, bringing back fond memories and reminding me how much longing and love of autumn exists in me. Rainy days with fleece clad Illinoisans recall me of Portland, make me smile.

I'm starting to feel at home in my apartment and even, dare I say it, in my country.

Apartment Tour-Bloomington, IL

2011-09-04T09:15:00.003+11:00

Reentry

2011-09-03T09:13:00.001+11:00

A week shy of one month back in the United States, I find myself in Bloomington-Normal, Illinois. I have an apartment in South Bloomington, office in North Normal, and an assistantship primarily out of Peoria (about 35-40 miles east of B/N) currently. Two weeks have passed with me here in Illinois so far, and I feel up to the tasks ahead: readjustment, assistantship duties, thesis. Honestly, the first will probably be the biggest challenge.

It’s not easy, coming back to the U.S. Seems like most folks either don’t think there’s much to reentry—like I’m just returning from a couple weeks of vacation—or they understand the challenges I’m facing but the way they talk makes it all seem bigger than I think it is or should be. Really, it’s one of those things that I don’t understand and I don’t want to. I don’t want to understand, to be told what it is or to deal with. I’m trying to make a seamless transition, and in the process I’m making some seams large enough, they’re tripping me up.

I listened to a radio show this morning while eating breakfast (turkey bacon, scrambled eggs and coffee, awesome). It was an old episode of Radiolab, about stress. They’re pretty sciency and philosophical and all, talking about the good and bad, the metaphysical and the nuts-and-bolts of subjects. Anyhow, at one point they discuss the physical expressions of chronic stress. That’s what I find most interesting, the way this mental thing turns into physical symptoms. So far, I’ve gotten a head cold, I tire easily and I’m carrying a shitload of tension in my shoulders and neck. That last one has been the most prominent. Over doing it with Frisbee golf in Boise set it off, but the way it’s stuck around and how it coincides with stressful times in Illinois really shows me that it’s mostly a mental thing. Even better though, it’s slacked off the past couple days as I’ve found a new level of comfort here.

Settling in, though slow, is happening. I feel good in my apartment, am really enjoying preparing my own food, love cruising around on my bike, am delighted by all the good beer, dig the anonymity of being just another American (U.S. American, excuse me), think my assistantship is rad, and am excited about the potential of this year for reconnecting with family and friends and truly closing a monumental chapter of my life: the grad school/Peace Corps chapter. Oh, and mail is SO FAST here. It’s amazing. We’re talking days, not weeks or months. Blowing my mind.

Then again, there are things I miss so much from Micronesia. Aside from saying ‘the people: friends, Peace Corps and Micronesian, as well as just Micronesians generally,’ I don’t really know how to put into words what I miss about my life there. Just small things come to mind, which maybe get at something bigger, though I’m not able to grasp it now.

I don’t like all this indoor time, and I can’t stand the sterile, climate controlled, windowless, frigid offices. It’ll feel like I’ve been inside for hours upon hours, that morning has dissolved into night when actually only an hour or so has passed. The sunlight, when I do find a window, will shock and soothe me.

It’s often hard to get people to acknowledge my existence. Now, I don’t want to be the center of attention all us foreigners are in Micronesia, but eye contact, a head nod, saying ‘good morning’. Anything that shows our shared humanity, that’s all I’m looking for. I’ll be passing someone, smile and say good morning. They walk by as though I were a tree. I miss hearing, ‘Nessor annim! Ifassoumw?,’ responding, ‘Annim! Pechekkun, nge een?’ I end up mumbling this morning exchange to myself three or four times a day.

Life is loud here, fast and full. Well, it’s pretty fast and full for everyone else, it seems. Not having close friends around doesn’t help. It’s hard to get more than a moment of anyone’s time. Then I feel bad when I start chatting someone up but know they don’t really have the time, or there’ll be those times when I’m getting lunch or waiting for an appointment and the person behind the counter/desk will apologize ‘for the wait’. I try and explain that ‘I really don’t mind, not in a rush, take your time’. They either don’t believe me, or the ‘sorry’s roll off their tongue as automatic statements without meaning. Then there’s always loud music playing in every building or rushing traffic or dozens upon dozens of people talking or construction. Airplanes are endlessly crossing the skies. Guess that’s part of why I like my apartment so much. It’s tucked away from town, on a dead end street, with almost no traffic, quiet neighbors, and the cicadas remind me of the crickets in Woleai and on Houk. No replacement for the constant roar of the ocean breakers, though. That gentle, distant rumbling, languidly keeping the time of the islands.

Well, life is all about change, transition, moving from one moment to the next, one place to the next, one time in your life to the next. Some things will never really change and others can never stay the same for long. I feel pretty well experienced in the process but a bit exhausted by it too. Anyhow, if nothing else, the easing of tension in my shoulders and the stiffness of my neck tell me: I am moving on.

The Story in Under a Hundred

2011-08-15T03:55:00.000+11:00

Two years up, two years down and a travel completed

2011-08-10T06:35:00.003+11:00

Back stateside once more, just landed in Honolulu. Haven't recorded much the past two months with more than photos, and even those are mostly from others. After how badly I've wanted to get home, it's shocking to sit here and feel maybe I'm not ready.

Good-bye in Chuuk with the PC and JV crew was the most painful and difficult and beautiful send-off of my life. Caused physical pain and more than a few tears. Part of me is as desperate to go back as I was to leave Houk, back to Weno that is.

Saturday night we all stayed at Saram (one the JV apartments), had a dance party--featured 'Kids' by MGMT (the Team Chuuk theme song) with a Team Chuuk celebration chant--and absurd roof games: 'Baby, I love you' and 'Huggy Bear'. It was a perfect last night. Played soccer on Sunday and got together for dinner at High Tide before my flight.

Paul (a PCV from the M77 group) started the speeches for Kirby (another early COS PCV from my group, M76) and I. Everyone save the Xavier and new JVs spoke, and everyone made me cry. God, that tore me up in the most beautiful way. Had been taking it all in stride up till then, but the reality of leaving came crashing down just before Paul started to talk. For the second time in two years, it felt like my heart was being ripped out. Can't fully say just how much those people mean to me, how amazing they are or how much I love them.

So grateful for Eriks and his being on my flight. Being in Pohnpei with him and the PCVs there was a great way to end my time in the FSM. Brought it fill circle. Went by South Park Hotel, where we had our mid-service training in December, and it was like stepping into a memory. So powerful to see those places and people and to leave. Just hope I'm ready to arrive this evening.

Final Peace Corps Photoblog

2011-08-09T08:07:00.000+11:00

Here's the last of the photos I have from Micronesia. There are more out there from those final days, but it'll be a while, I think, until I get copies. Probably just update this post with them, anyhow, once I do get copies. Anyhow, here are the final days in Chuuk and my trip to Pohnpei. Times at Saram, Xavier, Pisar, and Pohnpei. Miss those people and those days.

So long, Sweet Misery

2011-07-18T16:04:00.007+11:00

So Long, my misery
I don't need you
You've only caused me grief
Forgive me if I fall asleep
I haven't slept in centuries

Daylight lives like a burden for me
So I escape
Sent it strewn about the street
Beyond the ruins of my ancestry
Far past the pages of my disbelief
I rose from my moat
Like a ghost from a grave
Sunken in the salty eyes of the wandering displaced
I was heading through the mist across the golden gate
All of my rebellions fall into the fog of fate

So long my misery
I don't need you
You've only caused me grief
Forgive me if I fall asleep
I haven't slept in centuries

Spring time came again
And Icarus fell
I flew past the numb lipped nuns who'll never tell
The secrets of the sailors and their seven year spell
I will not fall, nor will my wings ever melt
If I could I would wash all these wounds away
I would surround your room with a sense of mental grace
I would paint your portrait over everything mundane
More colorful than Easter Sunday

So long my misery
I don't need you
You've only caused me grief
Forgive me if I fall asleep
I haven't slept in centuries

Put me on a boat
Leave my inhibitions at bay
My mind is spilling
But I haven't much to say
I was running through the canyons
Pulse the echoes of your name
You were laughing at me like
The sun laughs at a flame
Put me on a page in a book of beginnings
Let me scroll me through old volumes of ancient teachings
Let me reveal in all of these forgotten feelings
Lay me with the wretched in the arms of my queen

So long sweet misery
I don't need you
You've only caused me grief
Forgive me if I fall asleep
I haven't slept in centuries
No I haven't slept in centuries
I haven't slept in centuries

-Brett Dennen

High times on Weno Isle

2011-07-18T14:05:00.012+11:00

Here are some photos from June up to now. From my first couple days hanging out with and saying good-bye to the Jesuit Volunteers who have finished their service, to seeing fellow PCV Andrea and her family, to walking around Weno (including a the rubble from a burned down legislative building), to meeting a couple of summer volunteers (Tara and Kelly) who are staying with the JVs, to our 4th of July BBQ, to Megan's birthday, to the first meal Tara and Kelly cooked (delicious pasta, and they said they can't cook, psssh), to saying good-bye to Alex (our third year PCV leader and great friend), to cleaning the JVs' apartment (SO many batteries), to meeting Charles' friend Paul who's currently visiting, to a night out at the Blue Lagoon. There have been some wonderful moments spent with tremendous people here on Weno, and there have been some sad times saying good-bye to those who have gone home. All-in-all it's been a time of rejuvenation for me, and I'm feeling much better these days, gearing up to head home myself, and then to Normal (or as close as I can get to it--gonna be living in Bloomington, probably--zing!).

A time of excitement, uncertainty and a booty full of unexpected change

2011-07-04T12:53:00.004+11:00

The dutiful reader of this blog will note that my service on Houk didn't go uber-smoother. More like the choppiness of neighborhood pool after Big Franky does a cannonball from the high dive... and the water was simultaneously impacted by a meteorite. Just setting the context here.

And so, it was decided that an early close-of-service date (official end of Peace Corps term) was the best option for me. Instead of completing two full years as a Volunteer and twenty-six months total in Peace Corps Micronesia, I will end at one-year-nine-months as a PCV and twenty-three months total in the FSM (COS on August 8th, 2011). When I was applying, training, starting service--I figured, if anything, I'd extend for a third year. Also thought I'd stay in the same place the whole time. Things change, and the changes aren't always easy to anticipate.

A final project for the summer was planned--a workshop in long-range lesson planning for the teachers from Houk--and then the capital 'r', Return trip to Boise. The end of Peace Corps. Thought I'd just head straight home on August 8th. Then I heard from my buddy, Eriks--fellow Yap PCV. He's COSing early too and figures we ought to spend some time in Pohnpei together and get on the same flight to the States: 'rewards' (our term for brews) on the trip home.

Eriks' plan sounded great to me, and then I thought, "Why not stop by Honolulu too, see Pete (oldest friend)?" Plans formed, schedules were decided and I was looking at spending August 8th to the 15th in Pohnpei with Eriks, the 15th to the 22nd in Honolulu with Pete. After that, on to Boise for the fall and winter--readjust, come to terms with my issues (at least to a workable degree), catch up with family and friends, sip some tasty rewards--and in January head to Illinois to finish my MA.

Good plan, no? Simple, economical, flexible. Should be easy to stick to, right? Nope.

Well, I updated the folks at Illinois State as to my situation: early COS, time at home, planned return to ISU in the spring '12, thesis plans, etc. The response I got shook everything up. No guaranteed tuition/stipend funding for JUST the spring '12, but a potential internship for the full school year, starting fall '11 (that's next semester, by the way). Truly, an internship with a domestic development agency in the Bloomington-Normal area is EXACTLY what I wanted: work experience, community engagement, another chance to ponder a job and figure out whether it's for me or not. I said I was interested and started reforming my travel plans.

Told Eriks I'd have to cut a few days out of Pohnpei, leave the 12th instead of the 15th. Still need to tell Pete Honolulu isn't a possibility anymore.

The internship offer was dependent on whether my thesis work during Peace Corps warranted continued funding, as decided by my thesis committee (profs helping with/reviewing my work)--something I had my reasons to be concerned over, considering the epic failure of my thesis. Turns out they said I should be funded, but the potential agency pulled its offer to host an intern.

HOWEVER, Dr. Beck, the director of my program, needs an assistant for his research and community projects--a position they could GUARANTEE me, if I accepted. I accepted.

The assistantship is better, in some cool ways, than the kind of work I might have done in an internship. I get to work with Dr. Beck (great guy) and I'll get a broader experience in the best work environment I can imagine--love the Stevenson Center staff! I won't be able to do the position as an AmeriCorps volunteer, which would have been sweet and financially beneficial, but that's easy enough to survive without.

The rub is... I have to be in Normal and READY TO WORK starting August 22nd, the day I had planned on returning to Boise.

Since then, I've arranged for a ticket to Pohnpei on the 8th, then to Boise on the 10th (still get two days with Eriks), and I'm planning to get to Normal on the 20th. I've got the ball rolling for an apartment, my folks know about the change in plans, and I guess the rest will be sorted out on the fly.

I've accepted the fact that nothing I planned during Peace Corps has followed or will follow any sort of a reliable script. Every time I think I'm past the point of last minute surprises, something changes, often in a major way. It's not bad, but it presents challenges, fosters anxiety and doubt. It also presents amazing opportunities, possibilities that are worth the difficulties, and even the difficulties are not without value.

Fortunately, the logistics for moving to Normal ten days after returning to the US are starting smoothly. Found a nice apartment in Bloomington (away from the under grad crowd but within an easy bike ride of Normal): one bedroom and affordable enough (little worried about the size of the place, though, so BIG). What am I going to do with TWO rooms and THREE closets? I doubt I could fill even A closest with what I'll take out there.

Other than the apartment, I don't know that I have much to figure out for school at this point. Place to live, a job, a map to the nearest burrito joint and liquor store; what else could I ask for? Might need some more professional clothes.... Does anyone know, is a loin cloth business casual?

Feffen Fotos

2011-06-24T17:49:00.007+11:00

This past week I went out to the island of Feffen to spend a couple days with a fellow volunteer--Johnny--and help him with a project of his (a proposal for a vocational high school that he and his host father have been planning). Took some photos while I was there (none of the proposal, sorry). You can see our departure from Weno, bottom fishing the first night, hiking up to the top of the island the next morning, and swimming with the village youth that afternoon. Also played chess (won for the first time in years), ate delicious local food and just simply had a HUGELY APPRECIATED, good damn time. Oh, and the photo of Johnny next to a cinder block wall, that's a water tank the previous PCV started and Johnny has been finishing. Thanks to Johnny (other white guy), Benisio (not in pictures), BJ (not in pictures), Iner (red hat on hike), Kimbo (girl swimming in red shirt) all the rest of the family and the whole swimming brigade!

Thoughts 3/2/11-6/14/11

2011-06-16T11:38:00.001+11:00

3/2/11 I think my metabolism is starting to rise, which should be good for my fitness but terrible for my comfort in a tropical climate. It's soo damn hot. Makes me wonder if this whole 'exercising' thing is really so advisable.

Living abroad, especially in a setting as distinct from one's nation of origin as I have found myself, is a tremendous way to force a realization of what and whom you most treasure 'back home'. Some people and things you knew you'd miss, though maybe not HOW MUCH you'd miss them. Other folks and fancies make their absence - and hence, their importance - known as their time and distance from you increase. All this is, of course, a drawn out way of saying, "you don't know what you've got till it's gone," except in this instance it's more "till you're gone from it."
During the past nearly two years (going on nineteen months of Peace Corps service, now) I've shared many of my 'forced realizations' in letters, on the blog, through phone calls and in the videos I've sent home. What I miss doesn't really change over time (could you stand to hear again how I miss the changing of the seasons?) - aside from some superficials dropping by the wayside (q-tips, carpet, electricity) - but the experience of 'missing' does.
At first the feeling is something sharp, stinging and akin to fright. It's a loss of the familiar, which can be scary as well as exciting - like that first big drop on a roller coaster. But it transforms over time, loses its immediacy - deepening, intensifying, becoming more poignant, more distant and yet more ever-present. It is at once more potent, easier to live with and clearer that you don't want to experience it indefinitely. The ache of missing really starts to mean something.

3/3 Just finished a meeting with my principal. We're coming together everyday after school and talking about lesson planning - how-to, strategies, tips, ideas - and tomorrow we'll start putting it into action, planning next week's lessons for the class we teach together: English for the 1st and 2nd graders. THEN next week (Mon-Thurs) we're going to start brainstorming a set curriculum for the class - what students should know by the time they enter 3rd grade. Once we figure that out, we'll turn it into a full year's worth of lessons, materials and activities - the complete plan for 1st/2nd grade English.
This is It, my big shot to really be of service to the people and school on Houk. I'm so excited about it and encouraged by Cos (the principal); his willingness to work with me, motivation to improve the school and excitement to pass on what he learns to the other teachers are an incredible blessing for me. I am SO LUCKY to have him as a counterpart (what we call the locals who work with PCVs).
Shit y'all! It's all coming together, and it's all coming to a close. I really feel like I've hit my stride as a volunteer, that I'm really doing the job I signed up to, and I've got eight months left in which to do it. Eight out of twenty-four - the final third. It's pretty surreal (that feeling just never goes away: reference the post from my first night in Pohnpei).
Pardon the vulgarity, but HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT! I feel like I've been through so much, been through so many places, met so many people, made so many friends, been away from home for so long, and YET I feel like it's all just flown by. There were some times that dragged by excruciatingly slowly, don't get me wrong, and there were things I wished would just hurry the fuck up and be DONE. But as the end draws near, over twice as near as the beginning (been eighteen months to the day since I left home), the whole experience starts to look pretty fast. That's nothing new to hear from me, though, is it? Think I've written or said that several times over this past year and a half. Mostly it comes out when things are going well. Shocking.
Yup, they bill this 'Peace Corps' thing as life changing, and turns out they know what they're talking about. Neither the world nor my place in it will ever look quite the same as it did before. I'm grateful for this. I think I have a better understanding of both, see them each more clearly and am able to better appreciate both.
Three more months of school till the summer, five-ish till our final training event (which might be how long I have to wait to post this on my blog), and after that, I'll pretty much be down to the final two months till I head back to Boise.
Wild.

3/8 Been back on Houk for almost six weeks. Longest straight stretch I've spent here, absurd considering I've been the 'Houk Volunteer' for over seven months. My thoughts and dreams have been drifting back home more frequently as of late. The aching to see the people and places and to live the parts of my life I love and miss most dearly has become especially potent the past couple days.
As would obviously be expected, the magnitude of my longing to be home fluctuates over time, crests and troughs there on the old 'missing home' chart. Also pretty obvious, this feeling takes it's lead from how I feel about my work here, dialing down when I think the job is clicking along at a good clip and ratcheting up when the job slows. "We're doing some good stuff here. These six months are gonna be gone before I know what happened!" versus "We're not really getting anywhere. How long is it till I head home?" What's kind of funny now is that I'm feeling good about just being here, job aside, and, job considered, one counterpart and I are working really well together but the other one and I aren't. So there's this weird ebb and flow happening where my desire to be home wells up and slides away. The wellings don't come too often - the feelings usually in the background of my mind - but the intensity of them seems to increase with each occurrence. At the same time, I can handle them better too, know how to put my head down and push through till the next Houk crest/homesick trough comes and I start being more present to the present again.
What I'm getting out of all of this - right now anyhow, could always change with the hour - is that I'm really going to be ready to go home once my twenty-six months are up. And I wonder whether I'm a 'live abroad intermittently' type or a 'take trips abroad occasionally' type. I'm confident now that I won't ever be living abroad truly indefinitely, but will I uproot and spend six months, a year or two or three in different countries around the world throughout my life, with say five or six or ten domestic years in between? I'm not sure, but I'm wondering about it. I suppose life'll help me make such decisions, throwing a curveball or two my direction, adding considerations into the mix that I don't really have at current.
Anyhow, I do really miss the shit out of all you back stateside, as well those of you who, likewise, find yourselves outside the US. Thoughts of seeing you again come regularly, sometimes as a quick smile from a glimpse of a memory and sometimes as a powerful realization of just how important you are to me and how ready I am to be in your company once more. Take care till then. I'll do the same.

3/12 Put up more security screens at the school today. Cos and I and a few of the older boys. We didn't get as much done as last week - only one window instead of two - and the mood was less enthusiastic. But that's to be expected, considering that this is an 'open' weekend - meaning drinking is allowed today and tomorrow. Cos likes him some alcohol, more than me even, and that's saying something as those of you who know me can attest (and those of you who don't know me, now know I like to knock 'em back). Anyhow, excited to get his drink on, Cos disappeared several times this morning to check if the fishing canoes were back yet (in island time, their return is the equivalent of 5 o'clock). So we called it a day after the first window was complete.
Speaking of drinking, I finished off my booze last night. My parents sent a bottle of scotch back in December and a friend sent a few beers in January. I had a few shots worth of scotch and one beer left as of yesterday, and, after this past week, I felt a need for the lot. Peace Corps is a series of highs and lows as I (and many others) have experienced it.
Well, this last week was a low: progress with my co-teachers stalled, host family relations grew cold and distant, and we have puppies at home now. That last one might seem like a boon to quality of life and, of course I adore the little guys, but Micronesians are generally short on love for animals, especially Micronesian children.
Janessa, our resident toddler (my host niece) got over her irrational fear of the dogs this week. I thought that was a good thing initially, but how wrong. Without fear, she's willing to touch them, and her touches spare little gentility. The puppy she likes gets twisted like a Gumby doll, picked up and put down repeatedly, and is under her watchful eye and iron fist whenever she's around. The one she doesn't like gets picked up and thrown down, kicked and punched, and I'm terrified anytime I see her with a knife (Micronesians start learning to handle knives about the time Americans learn to shake a rattle. Janessa can't utter a coherent sentence yet, but she wields a five-inch straight blade no more clumsily than many adults in the States. She can really dig that blade into wood - as long as it's something we don't want maimed).
We're all warned in training: 'dogs are property, not pets, in Micronesia'. I handled that pretty damn well in Pohnpei, Yap, Woleai and Weno. Dogs are vicious in Pohnpei and Weno (made that way by people), annoying as hell in Woleai and not even on my radar in Yap aside from my host family's puppy, which was benignly ignored. I saw dogs slaughtered, even ate some of the meat, though the second time I felt like someone was stabbing my soul with each bite.
I saw some exceptions to the rule too. Cowboy, a good friend in Woleai, had a dog-buddy named Whitecap every bit 'man's best friend' as a stateside pooch. My host family in Woleai was also real decent to our main dog, Four-Two (named for our SSB radio call number), but turned Blacky into dinner - didn't like that dog anyhow.
So wrap it all up - all the job frustration, home life dissatisfaction and heart break from watching loving pups being transformed into traumatized, eventually hateful dogs - and I had a meal of a week that needed washing down with some sauce. Sitting in my unlit room, listening to Ray LaMontague and The Weepies, leaning back and looking out my window at swaying palm tops in the last fading light of Friday, I opened a beer (New Belgium's Ranger IPA), sipped it down and then followed it with the last of the scotch - straight from the bottle. I let the tension drift off on a tropical breeze headed west and went outside to have dinner with the family and watch a movie before bed. Been feeling pretty good since then.

3/16 My family's toilet is of the 'water seal' variety, meaning we dump a bucket of water in the bowl to flush it, rather than pushing the lever. We keep two trashcans full of well water flanking the toilet like a royal guard (it is the 'throne,' right?). Over time evaporation has left these sentinels with mineral deposits in successive rings. The rings recall me of reservoirs in Idaho - Lucky Peak and Arrow Rock - with their high water marks and those others at varying levels and of various thickness, showing which heights lasted longest or are most common. It makes miss home, which is odd, though not unheard of, for a bathroom moment.

Moved into lesson planning training, then practicing it with Cos (principal and co-teacher for 1st/2nd grade English). As of yesterday, he’s showing a strong grasp of the process. We also covered the lesson planning form Chuuk State provides and will start practicing that as well to hone the skill.
Cos has been really vocal about his appreciation of this training and suggested I provide it to all NW Chuuk teachers in Weno this summer. Need to talk with my PC supervisors and see what they think.

3/17 A PCV was pulled from her site [temporarily, I found out later] because of inadequate communication with Peace Corps, and that might happen to me too. Might also be evacuated due to toxic spills in Japan. Need Pasiano (host father) to check the radio on weekends and in evenings from here on out.

3/18 Anxiety - real tight-chested, foggy-minded, nervous eating and shaky hands anxiety - strikes at site for the first time. Found out about the earthquake, tsunami(s?), and nuclear reactor damage in Japan on Monday. Have since found out there could be an evacuation of Peace Corps from the FSM due to toxic spills spreading, but that danger seems to have passed. Most recently, I've found out that communication with me on Houk, as it stands now, is inadequate. Have been told plainly that I might get pulled if things don't improve on that front - indeed, another PCV just was pulled for the same reason.
We mainly use SSB radios (like CB but longer range, I think) in the outer islands to talk to the world beyond the ocean. This is also a way Peace Corps alerts volunteers to emergencies, the only way for my site - FM/AM radio, cell phones, and a couple other options exist for main islands PCVs. Well, the Safety Coordinator for Micronesia was led to believe we had a radio being monitored 24/7, but we don't. We have three radios on island, each being checked once a day. Other than that, I have a satellite phone to check for messages on once a day (currently thrice a day thanks to the heightened state of alarm).
Oddly enough, it's not the natural disaster and man-made fallout that has me anxious, though I am worried for the people of the Pacific. I'm anxious because for the second time in my service I'm being told that the site Peace Corps set up for me might not meet their requirements for safety. And if it doesn't actually meet the standard, I'll be moving out, ending my work on Houk not long after it began in earnest.
Now, I fully understand the concern. Emergency alerts only work when timely, and a federal agency can't be risking danger to its workers overseas, especially when those workers are largely young, fresh out of college volunteers for one of the most well-known international aid organizations in the world. It's even more salient now, during the 50th anniversary year and following the recent 20/20 special about Peace Corps Volunteers being assaulted, raped and even killed in recent years, which indicted the agency for failing to take adequate precautions or provide support after the attacks.
I understand. Doesn't mean I like it. Doesn't mean I wasn't heartbroken by the last site closure. Doesn't mean I haven't JUST started to really feel like I'm making a home here. Doesn't mean I wouldn't be upset to lose the time and effort I've put in to be able to work with the folks here. Doesn't mean I don't feel like this is my last chance to do the work I came to Peace Corps Micronesia to get done. Doesn't mean I'm not nervous the attempt to get better radio coverage will fall short of the mark.
So I'm gnawing on my uncooked pack of ramen noodles, brooding over this turn of affairs before classes today. Questions swarming around my brain, slamming into the sides of my skull and creating a disquieting din of 'what-if's, a slight headache, unfocused eyes. Time has a weird halting haste at moments like these, hours blink past while minutes drag into eternity. Eight o'clock and the start of school spring upon me almost instantly after hanging up the five-minute call to the Safety Coordinator placed at a quarter to seven.
A song titled "Everything'll be alright" comes on my headphones just before first period, and I hope it's right about the disaster. And I know it's right for me, whatever may come.

A major reason the threat of Houk being closed is getting to me so much is how well things have gone this week in school and that things are getting back on the good foot at home. Cos and I have seen such tremendous progress both in our planning sessions and in the pay-off of that planning in our class. Angeli and I have also had some good meetings, setting a solid base for the rest of the year and getting some new tricks added to her bag of teaching. My hosts and I also have been spending more time together, talking and I even got to help Pasiano clarify the instructions to his new chainsaws last night (couple real nice Stihls for the upcoming work building a new canoe house on our property). Hard not to think 'why now?' but I suppose it's better than leaving and being happy about departure. Wouldn't say much for my time here if I was itching to leave.

Talked with my hosts about the radio situation. They'd said they're game for the task of checking three times daily. That's step one. Step two is figuring out how that's going to actually work. Then, step three, we need to pass some sort of Peace Corps 'communication test'. There we have it: the secret to success as a Peace Corps site. Just have to cross my fingers that all goes according to plan.

3/20 Another 'open' weekend, another big Saturday of drinking. Woke up nearly naked on my sleeping mat middle of last night. Apparently I took a shower before bed and had lain down with my towel around my waist. Fortunately, very few people ever look in my window.
Also yesterday, I put up more security screen at the school; hung this window pretty much solo. Cos didn't show till two hours after we'd agreed to meet, and all that was left was a few pieces of trim to be nailed on. It's not a complicated task but trying to measure out seven-ish feet of security screen, which is basically a short wire fence, that wants to be rolled up and not flat is tricky for one person. So is lifting that screen segment and nailing it up by yourself. Went fairly smoothly and I was feeling good about myself afterward.
Then I hauled a few wheelbarrows worth of firewood from the beach to home. Was feeling sufficiently manly by the time I took my shower and had lunch. Hit the men's circle after lunch, made some friends there and got sloshed.
One guy, Rote ('row-tay') asked me to send him a bible when I get home, and Kintino said he would send me off when I leave with a beaded necklace his mother had given him before she died. Guess I made a good impression, as he told me he likes me more than the last PCV that was here. Not sure why, we've barely spent any time together (maybe that's why), and just talked for the first time yesterday.
Was a hell of a Saturday, but I was regretting it slightly this morning due to the loss of my flip-flops and travel mug. Some one had taken my flops before I left the men's house, while I was peeing. The mug, I don't know what happened there, but this morning I popped down the men's house again and the guys there (already drinking before 7am) said they'd keep an eye out for it. My host cousin Stan also returned my flops, which made my day. Aside from them, all I have is my running shoes - not looking to make those daily wear.
And, you know, this just another way that I can tell I'm settling into Houk and that it'd be a shame to have to leave now. Making friends at the men's circle, doing good work at the school with my co-teachers, picking up more of the language (can kinda talk to people sometimes in Houkese) and having relationships with my host family improving and deepening. Hopefully we pass our communication test - fingers crossed!

3/21 Phone and phone calls becoming more and more tiring. Bad reception, constant searching for signal, constant concern about the security of my placement on Houk. There are reasons to be hopeful that I’ll be able to stay here. Just need to get this communication issue worked out, but I really won’t know if it’s good enough till the decision comes down from Pohnpei.
The decision to move me may already be a foregone conclusion, though. The Security Coordinator said, “When I report this [what I told her about the radios on Houk], they might just…” We didn’t really get the radio checked over the weekend, but I’m not sure who ‘they’ are or what they’ll do. The implication is I might get pulled; she might have even said so. Can’t be sure if she trailed off or if reception cut out or if the din of anxiety in my head clouded my hearing. All three are possible.

Immediate stressors this morning: 1) looming threat of site closure reaching climax & I expect a conclusion to the whole episode within the next two weeks, more likely in a week's time - transfer seems probable & anxiety rising; 2) co-teacher for 7th/8th grade English class absent today without warning (not that warning is common); 3) almost all classes disrupted today; 4) somebody destroyed the cables for the school's solar panel and radio antenna this weekend, cutting clean through them with a machete; 5) students in 1st/2nd English class still largely unable to identify words and their sounds in the five simple sentences we've been drilling for over a week, & Rina is upset with me for scolding her about giving other students answers when we want them to do it themselves; 6) satellite phone more of a headache than a help - incredibly sketchy reception, & it seems, ironically, that my recent increase in communication with Pohnpei staff is going to cause my transfer, which is based on inadequate communication; 7) a woman offered me coffee at my house - MY house, I live there, not her (ie, it's a reminder I don't really belong here, that I board at the house, I am not family or a community member but a visitor); 8) I'm having trouble telling how big a part of me is enthused about a potential transfer putting me in better contact with stateside folks and in the regular company of my volunteer friends, & feelings of guilt are on the rise as is resentment: at Peace Corps, at my placement site & co-workers, at myself; 9) not unsure my time in Peace Corps has been 'worth it' but positive I could have contributed more had I just been let be; 10) I miss family, friends, fall & winter, sweaters & jeans & knit hats, good beer, hiking, vegetables, speaking & being understood, Western notions & behavior surrounding 'respect' & 'responsibility', relative anonymity, cheese & potatoes & pasta & beans & burritos, river valley views, pine trees, pets instead of property, parenting and discipline styles I agree with, being seen as a person rather than a store of goods & resources & cheap labor. That is to say, I miss home, but as I've been told, I'm not likely to find what I expect out of 'home' even when I make it back to Boise. Readjustment, sweet.

If they offered me an early COS today, one within the next month or two, I don't know if I'd take it, but I'd definitely consider it. Also know an extension has never seemed less likely. Depending on what Emi has to say next Monday (transfer imminent or unlikely), I'll have to check what they plan on doing with me in the event of being pulled from Houk.

3/22 If everything just blows over here, I’ll be relieved but also feel a bit jerked around. Starting to feel varying levels of burnout, jadedness, and numbness to my situation – mostly just burned out, though.
In other news, the Municipal Chairman said they’d try to help out with radio checking in the evening. Should make Peace Corps happy. Cos is helping me get this thing shored up, and I really appreciate it.

3/23 Took a nice long beach stroll yesterday to clear my head. Such a blessing to be near the ocean and it’s calming presence. However, by the time I was on the airstrip (far southern end of the island), I could barely will myself to keep walking. Tired, frustrated and with an increasing sense of hopelessness, I stopped in my tracks about halfway around the tarmac. Yeah, time for a reassessment.
Talking to myself like a crazy person, I broke down the situation: my main problem is inner turmoil over my conflicting feelings about Houk being closed. I was in a ‘low’ period when the news came, and so a significant part of me was eager for better communication with home and time in the company of my Chuuk lagoon friends. Same feelings I had really early on in Woleai when I heard about the plan to consolidate all Yap high schools to the main island. Both times I got down on myself, “if you were a better volunteer, nay, person, you wouldn’t want to leave in the least.” Well, I loved Woleai, so I shouldn’t be surprised some part of me wants to leave here. Doesn’t make me a bad person or a failed PCV. So I told myself to lay off.
Then I considered the more tangible issue confronting me: possible second transfer. Three scenarios seem likely to me. One, the Safety Coordinator is just trying to improve communication on island and I’m not really in danger of a transfer. Two, there is a legitimate threat needing to be addressed. Three, communication has already been deemed inadequate and I’ll be moved in the near future – I think this scenario unlikely.
The first seems the most likely to me, the second possible but I’m taking the steps needed to address the threat, and the third is totally out of my hands. Plus, I really doubt the third is reality. So I’m feeling much better today, knowing I’ve done what I can. Just have to let the rest play out as it will.

3/24 Frustrating day at school. One co-teacher absent, a student being VERY disruptive in class, really getting stared at over the top today, still no word on Houk’s status with Peace Corps (transfer or no?). Need to call Imauo (immediate PC supervisor) and check on the situation.

3/25 Called Imauo yesterday and ended up (shockingly) talking to the Country Director for Micronesia. He happened to be visiting Chuuk. Sounds like the communication problem is a countrywide problem, not just a Houk issue. Should know what’s up by the end of next week. I’m a bit concerned that no matter what happens, there’s going to be some sort of let down. Houk should be kept open and this is where my best chance for contributing is. However, if that does happen, I’ll miss out on that reconnection with family and friends and the enjoyment of main island comforts. I am excited by those possiblities, but know I don’t want to be transferred for them. I could just use a break, but would ultimately be fine if left to push through.

Sometimes I surprise myself, little comments I make to no one, out loud. Then I realize that Peace Corps has, indeed, made me a bit crazy just as a friend predicted might happen before I left. Being so alone, so much of the time, in so many meanings of the word, I have retuned much of the quirky inner life I led as a young boy. Now though, it's been perverted by the oddities and maturities of greater life experience: so-called 'adulthood', though most adults I know would likely still say I'm in 'young adulthood' or even 'extended adolescence'. And so it is, upon noticing the family's clock battery has died and I won't be able to use it for timing my nightly radio vigil, that I remarked, without thought or shock-comic intent, "Oh, fuck a goat". Yup, adolescence it is.

Have just a little more info on the potential transfer situation. Talked with the Country Director on Thursday, and he said they'll be meeting early next week to hash it out. I should know by Thursday or Friday what the decision is. He's been away from Pohnpei for a while, thus the delay.
I wasn't actually expecting to talk with him at all, had called Imauo (immediate PC supervisor) with the idea that if this thing is actually serious, he'd have heard something about it. Well, turns out Renwick, the CD, was visiting Chuuk, so I heard his story. I found out it's serious.
Ren apologized for ruining my weekend and asked if I still have my crazy huge beard from MST (6 months+ at that point). I've since whacked down the beard ('bout two-months length now), and he didn't ruin my weekend at all. He liberated it. Not knowing if or when the ax would drop had been pretty tortuous, until I gave myself that little reality check on the airstrip. Now I have one question answered and know I've done all in my power to ensure the other answer is the right one.
All I have to do is just keep at my job and go about life here on Houk. With any luck, the transfer business will all be behind me in a week's time and nobody'll read this post until August. An April update means I've officially been transferred for a second time, will have recently devolved into self-pity and gotten righteously drunk.

3/26 Waiting for Cos at school. We’re putting up security screens on his back window today, did his small front windows yesterday after school. I came early, about 6:40 am, to sip coffee and listen to an NPR podcast. Little mainstays of life in the US help get me through, though I didn’t drink coffee till Woleai and rarely saw any hour before 9 am on a Saturday unless I hadn’t slept yet. I also suspect these moments will help once I’m back home and missing my Micronesian life. An early Saturday morning with coffee and the radio will be totally doable and keep me in touch with where I’ve been/who I’ve been these two years.
Sometimes I look around, pause and go into sponge mode. I try and suck up as much as possible of the moment: smell of morning, gentle chirping of crickets providing a backdrop to my music, sunrise light casting dancing shadows from breeze-tossed palms on the concrete floor of my classroom, particle board crumbles from the small folding table I use as a chalkboard collecting on the rusty desk where it’s propped, the school days and weeks tallied and slowly crossed off on the larger but more damaged blackboard (mostly unusable), the sense of peace I feel amid the current turmoil of threatened transfer seeming like calm before the storm, a man passing snapping and blowing bubbles with a piece of the cheap chewing gum that recently flooded the island.
Yesterday I took a run after putting up security screen with Cos. I like to start out west from my house, veer south when I reach the main ‘road’, which is close to the shoreline, and head through Eor (South) village on my way to the airstrip. I take several walking laps once I’m on the tarmac, lose myself in all sort of thoughts. On the run back home, I could smell autumn on the breeze, the scent if not the quality of chill air. I think it happened because I miss that season so much, what with it being March and I in the tropical Pacific – autumn’s not likely to come whisking my way. Like to think it was a sturdy Arctic wind, though, holding onto its personality even as the last of its strength was sapped by the warm water and hot sun near the Equator.
Cos never did show up, but I don’t really mind. Was a very relaxing morning. Came home at a quarter to ten, had another cup of coffee and a good chat with Simeon (traditional chief on island for a vacation from his patrol boat captaincy) before lunch. Been a nice little Saturday. Got to talk about backpacking and beer – always a plus. Think I’ll head down to the ‘gubul’ (party/men’s circle) here soon.

3/28 The transfer isn’t happening. Houk will remain my site. My anxiety is pretty much gone, but I really don’t know how to feel about things right now. The past two weeks were really stressful, and it seems like maybe my site never was in any real danger of being closed. Kind of a frustrating feeling. Getting upset won’t do me any good. Need to find perspective again. I’m back on track here, back to the original plan. COS conference in August, maybe teacher training in Weno in June and July, keep on working. Plenty to keep me busy.
I've decided I should get out of here this summer, out of the FSM, good and far from Peace Corps. I think I need to get back to Boise. If I get back there in June, I might even get to celebrate Pa's 90th. Would be awesome. We'll see what happens. Have to talk with another Peace Corps boss to check her opinion on some other summer plans I'm brewing.

3/29 I wonder if I’m becoming embittered – imbittered? Is this a word – by these recent challenges. Probably just a down time, but I’m getting sich of spending so much time upset. It’s like having my world turned upside down. Instead of feeling good for four out of five days and upset one, it’s good one and upset four. Patience vanishes, anger simmers, blah, blah, blah… Been here, talked it to death. I’m tired of adjusting all the time.

3/30 Woke up feeling a bit better today, but was down again pretty quick. The bad student behavior is a part of my problem, so I decided to release, let it go, all my attempts at authority. They can do as they please outside of class. I’ll just try to keep their attention during lessons. I’m going to let go of my hopes and expectations for my co-teachers too. They can set the tone. I’ll just try to capitalize on the moments when they are engaged.
My calendars both help and hurt. They help keep a record and provide an organizational tool, obviously, but they also stare at me, slap my face with all the days between me and home. Hopefully my recent resolutions bring about a fresh happiness, a renewed time of enjoyment and peace. Today’s already going better. Laughing with students, sketching one on my chalkboard – a cartoony version of him as an American. The kids love it, and it makes me chuckle.

3/31 Last day of March, thank the good and just Flying Spaghetti Monster. It’s ben a rough month, and I hope April brings some happier times and fewer frustrations. It’s certainly going to bring faluba back into my world, which I’m stoked about. Simeon cleared us to start cutting a few days ago. My trees aren’t ready yet, so I may have to wait a while. Hopefully the guys will share with me until I start producing. I think they will. [they did]

4/4 Finals week starts today, PTA and clean-up later this week. 3rd quarter is coming to a close, but that doesn’t mean too terribly much. You need more organization before a schedule can matter beyond giving a ballpark for the end of the year. That’s coming the first or second Friday in June.
Just thought about First and Last Thursday in Boise: special evening of open art galleries, cheap/free booze and snacks. You can stroll downtown, enjoy the art, sip some wine, and retire to a bar for drinks and conversation. I could use some art in my life. When my sketches and crayon BS are primary viewing treasures, you know the area is seriously lacking in that department. My host father did nearly complete a damn fine model sailing canoe, which is says is for me, though.
The weekend was okay, Friday night was the best. Got to talk with a PCV friend and that connection put me in my best mood since chatting with my folks after the tsunami warning. Had a great chat with a local friend afterward and was amazed by how much my high spirits improved our exchange, or maybe it just seemed that way because of how happy I was. Anyhow, it certainly reminded me how much better life is with a bright outlook and how crucial feeling known and understood is for having one.
Living in a place where you don’t speak the language with any real depth beyond “I’m done eating” and the locals don’t quite speak your language fluently leaves you feeling an unknown quantity. Confusion, misconception and surface level understanding are predominant feelings. Can’t properly explain yourself or communicate complex concepts any more than have them told to you.
I spend a great deal of time observing interactions and either being ignored or ogled. Viewing and occasionally participating in interpersonal exchanges gives me the perception – real or imagined – that I know certain people here: their character, motives, care for others, persona. Being rarely engaged, though often stared at like a zoo attraction (people – mostly kids – literally come stare through the screens and boards of my windows without a word, just stare), leaves me with the perception – real or imagined – that few know anything of substance about me. My favored sitting positions, my tendency to read and write, that I have a beard and white skin are all fully known but still apparently warrant considerable attention. My reasons for being here, my personal history, an abiding love of the outdoors, the things I tend to think of as making me, me, these seem rather shrouded from the local population. Sometimes I worry that the persona and character they might perceive is flat, foolish, easy to annoyance and anger, ungrateful, offensive. I don’t think that list of characterizes me very well, but how do they see me?
Even in my cheeriest moments I can’t shake the feeling I’m little more than a curious new island pet. They like to watch me in my natural habitat (the classroom), play with me when time and mood allow (drinking circles for the men, meals for the women), and laugh at the tricks they teach me (Houkese words, cultural behaviors, simple skills). There are exceptions of course – Cos, Pat, Colby, Rose, and a smattering of kindly islanders who see me as a guest/tourist.

4/5 [Frustrations with school; resolution to continue working in my target areas without getting too worked up about things I can’t change.]

4/6 You remember that good kind of anxiety from when you were a kid? Like it's Friday afternoon, you've got a friend staying the night, you organized your toys after school into likely groupings for more play and less searching, it's about 4:30 pm and - as your friend's parents finish work at 5 - you figure they ought to arrive approximately thirty seconds later? Or Christmas Eve, anticipating tomorrow's presents and candy? There's so much joy in it, expectation and such an abundance of excitement that it's uncomfortable and just slightly painful. Though I imagine it's a bit tempered by the lame-ities of age, I'm feeling that anxiousness again today. The plane's coming and should be bringing mail!
There really just isn't much of anything else so exciting as mail call in Peace Corps, in my outer island experience, anyhow. Of course I get pumped about other stuff, like the cutting of faluba being permitted again by our chief, Simeon - so awesome. But there's an x-factor with mail. The uncertainty, the possibility, the moments to come where all those many miles between Houk and home will briefly disappear while I take back up ongoing discussions or start new ones with those dear to me. And there's that small trill of fear: "what if I didn't get any mail or if the mail I did get wasn't put on the plane?" It's actually a really nice feeling, even with the discomfort. I remember feeling it in Woleai - also waiting on mail - and in Pohnpei - waiting for site placement - and in the States, waiting for my invitation to Peace Corps service. Nice to feel it again. [Dang! The plane's been delayed till tomorrow. Such a let down. Now today's going to stretch on forever.]

In other news, I've completed seventeen months of service and have been in the FSM for nineteen. Next month, I'll officially be three-fourths of the way through with my service. One year and a half done with but another half sitting ahead, and a half so broken up by travel and conferences and different work projects and close-of-service paperwork/exams it'll just flash passed. It's really coming to the end. How will I feel when it's actually over...?

Been quite the negative nancy lately, upset over all the transfer BS and letting that color all of my experiences. I can feel the upswing starting, though. Outlook brighter, mood lighter, weeks look shorter. Hope this keeps going in such a fashion.

4/7 Two under-sized seventh grade girls stalk into the schoolyard in front of my door. Two black butterflies with white spots are fluttering near the edge of a clump of jungle there. They raise hands holding short sticks. My jaw slackens and my gaze becomes incredulously fixed. Slowly, carefully they draw near the butterflies and at the same instant violently bring their sticks down, attempting to find contact. The Micronesian viewpoint in me: "They're just bugs." The much stronger American: "Are you kidding me?! Butterflies? Who on Earth attacks butterflies? That's fucked up." They missed. Whew.

The plane is coming today. It's currently heading to Ta, an island to the southeast of Chuuk's main lagoon. Back to Weno, the main island of Chuuk, and then onto Houk. Should be here between one and two this afternoon, meaning it'll more likely be here around three or four. Can't wait to get my mail, and REALLY hope Imauo gets it on the plane. But that's never a certainty. Boats are much easier to get stuff on than the plane, especially flights fully booked with passengers. Just have to wait and see. Also sending in a bag - stuff I don't need at site but want to take home with me. It'll make my next trip in a lot easier and lighter. Word.

I don't know the last time I felt this good. I mean, seriously. I feel sooooooooooo good. Mail from home and Micronesian friends - blows me away. Thank you. Anyone who has ever sent me a letter or package, you can't even imagine how much it's meant to me. Such a beautiful thing. My heart feels fit to burst. And it makes my relationships here better, deeper, easier, more sincere. Unless you've lived a life like this, you'll never know the full measure of my happiness right now. I am so grateful for you all. Find whatever your passion, your love is and get close to it, right now. It'll tell you something of how blissful I am right now.

4/11 Started my day with some minor repair work on my door at school, after starting the cooking fire and boiling our coffee water at home. Felt good to do the fire for once - my family wouldn't have let me except I got up before them.
I don't know who I do it for really, I mean, beyond the fact we all use the hot water. Do I sneak these kinds of jobs to remind myself that, despite the general opinion on island, I am in fact a capable human being? Or am I trying to prove something to folks around here? "See? I have no physical disabilities and I'm not a complete bumbling moron! I can, with scarcely greater difficulty than you - just out of practice, light a fire or climb a coconut tree or hammer a nail in or whatever." Maybe I'm trying to do both, as well as pull some of my own weight and show a little appreciation to those who usually do these tasks for me.

My buddy Pat just walked by my class.
Pat: "Did Cos... tell you something about today?"
Me: "About the PTA?"
Pat: "Yeah. It's cancel."
Me: "Really?"
Apparently today has been declared a 'fishing day' and the men will go fishing. So the PTA will wait till tomorrow. There are a couple things about this I love. First: "did Cos (pause) tell you something..." Something? He has a specific piece of information in mind, why leave it so vague? Well, Micronesian culture is indirect, as opposed to American directness, in conversation. Info generally is transmitted obliquely, through casual conversation. Short pointed chats are not the norm. Also, by remaining vague, you leave open the possibility of learning something you might not have were you to get straight to the point. What if Cos had told me something but not about the PTA? Maybe Pat would be interested to know. Still, it makes me chuckle, as does (second:) finding out our PTA has been canceled from a friend passing by instead of from the principal, boss.

Well, in keeping with the fashion of inappropriate sources of information, my boss just told me that my host cousin attempted suicide last night. I sat with my host mother for twenty minutes this morning and she told me about another cousin falling out of his palm tree (he seems mostly alright, but a little banged up) and a drunk guy beating up the school last night - hence the door repair. She didn't say anything about Stan. I don't get it, don't understand the way people let serious, important, family information pass here. Thank goodness Stan's attempt failed.
All this shit: the drunk pummeling the school, Vinnie's fall and Stan's attempt on his own life, it's all a result of too much drinking, not knowing how to handle oneself while drunk and the local cultural strictures against expressing emotion (except in the case of Vinnie's fall; he was just sloshed). Everybody is expected to just keep all their feelings bottled up inside, especially anger, longing, passion, sorrow. The more powerful, the less appropriate and that's not a good combination. It's painful, destabilizing and leads to explosive outbursts when a people lose their grasp. Throes of agony at funerals, fury-driven attacks on anyone within range when long burning embers of dislike are stoked by alcohol, and the sickeningly common attempts of suicide by the desperate who see no way out.
This is the first time attempted suicide has hit close to me, but other volunteers have seen it in their communities and schools, more than attempts too. The high school in Ulithi (outer island atoll of Yap) lost two students last year, one right after the other. The PCV on Mogmog knew it would happen that way. She'd seen it before in the States.
It's terrifying and there seems to be little we can do about it. There have been really good programs on some of the main islands - plays, short stories and poems turned into radio announcements, songs - which have gotten families talking and started to dispel the mystique and frightening allure of suicide. But the outer islands seem so far removed from those options, the tight-lipped aspect of the culture so much stronger here. At least the islands I've served on, though I could really see something big being done in Woleai. The community is so united there, the students very capable and the school so centrally important to the island and atoll.
The PCVs in the Mortlocks (southeast outer islands of Chuuk) did have a major success with a boys summer camp last year, which they're continuing this year. I don't imagine I'll be able to pull off such an undertaking here for a variety of personal and community reasons, but I wonder if there isn't something that could be done. Something with the school kids that could be presented to the community. Will have to think on that, my heads a bit foggy right now.
I'm so glad the family was able to prevent Stan from ending his life. I hope he scared himself; I hope he doesn't try again; I hope someone has the courage to talk with him. I can barely discuss anything in the local language beyond food preferences and Stan has similar limits in English, otherwise I'd be all over him, trying to convince him there's always options, and they're almost all better than suicide, whatever his problems.
Maybe Houk really had it figured out, being a dry island. Can't see that much good has come of reinstating drinking privileges. It's done so irresponsible, so over the top. Not that I can say I never go passed my limit, but I feel I've been a damn sight healthier in my approach to alcohol than what I've seen here.
I really don't like this.

Cos also told me this morning that school might end in May, instead of June. The teachers need to be into Weno by the first full week in June for some program called 'second summer' if they want to take the University of Guam courses later on in the summer. Not sure he gave me a full explanation, but couldn't really muster the energy to care after that first bit of news he shared with me. Other news from Cos: my host father is taking off to Yap for the summer in May, when the Voyager comes through, whether or not school is finished; Angeli and Benedict (teachers) are in charge of 'graduation preparations', which seem mostly to be writing speeches for the valedictorian and salutatorian; I'll be taking over for Benedict if he leaves before graduation, writing a speech in English for the valedictorian, as is the custom - both for the speech to be in English and for a teacher to write it; our graduation theme comes from the DOE, should get it in May; and he's checking with the DOE to see if we can finish school early so the teachers can make that summer program. I feel like he said something else but can't remember. Guess I'll just deal with it later.

4/12 It’s raining on one side of the school this morning and blue skies with sunshine on the other. So cool and weird. Not just momentarily either. It’s going on and on. Rain out one window, clear skies the other.

4/14 School's going pretty shakily. Starting to suspect the fourth quarter is going to be a flop. The fact that we'll have the national tests next week further jeopardizes the remainder of our fourth quarter - saps motivation.

[Entry deleted for privacy of others.]

4/15 Last night I came home from the men's circle and there were many more people at the house than normal. Looked like half the women in the village were here. They said Janessa, my host niece, had a high fever. She was surrounded by women who seemed to be taking care of her. Went to bed. Today, when I got back from school, I saw Janessa close up, and something was obviously wrong. Something in her eyes and hands. Pasiano said she's going to be handicapped. It makes me sick just thinking about it.
Here's this toddler, just really developing a personality, becoming a full person, learning to speak, and now she's gone. It's a lost life, in many ways. We'll never know the adult Janessa might have been. My heart breaks every time I look at her. Pasiano picked her up earlier today, to take her somewhere. She's lost almost all motor control, and I know it must be tearing him apart. But Micronesians don't show emotion like Americans. Tragedy strikes and they take it in stride on the surface. Somehow it hurts that much more, knowing the storm that's raging under his calm surface.
Janessa and Pasiano have a special relationship. She's lives to be carried by him. Her most frequently uttered word is Papa. He adores her. To hear him talk to her with that same voice, like nothing has happened, I feel tears well up and a pressure on my heart.
This is so sad.

4/18 Janessa has regained much of her motor control, but her demeanor is drastically different. Everybody figures she's suffered lasting brain damage and now has a cognitive disability. But she's eating again and who knows how much lasting damage has really occurred. Maybe I'm deluding myself into believing further recovery is possible, but looking at her today, compared to Friday, the improvement is wonderful. I'll hold out for more even if it's foolish to do so.

A boat should be coming next week, chartered by the DOE to administer a couple national tests in the NW. Hopefully get some mail, maybe a package or two. That'd be sweet. [Didn’t, dang]

4/19 [Excitement about improved position at school and feeling of returning purpose.]

4/27 [Upset about failure to realize the improvement I’d hoped for at school.]

Pasiano hasn’t been coming to school lately, and I don’t fault him for it. I’d be pretty devastated in his place. Work would be far from my mind. On Easter Sunday, I think I even saw his emotions overtake him. He looked so miserable and surprised me with an Easter hug – very uncommon. Yet Janessa is improving. She’ll never be exactly the same, but maybe the resilience of childhood will help her to a higher functioning adult life. One thing is clear, she’s full of joy, smiles and laughter. She seems so much happier than ever before. Not sure what to make of it, but given the situation isn’t about to reverse, I can only be grateful she’s doing so well. But I’m not surprised that even this improvement hasn’t offset Pasiano’s sadness over her condition.

Was able to talk with a fellow teacher at school on Monday about my struggles. Felt really good to get some of it off my chest. Afterward I was going to use the radio to join the outer island PCV radio conference, but the key was misplaced. Instead, I was swept into the gubul. Not how I’d hoped to spend the day – had work to do – but what can you do? You know the idea of a ‘pusher’ for drugs? Multiply that by 30 and make him charmingly enthusiastic and sensitive to rejection. That’s a men’s circle on Houk. They guilt you, demand your company and show their hurt feelings if you refuse. All this withstanding, I can usually escape just by saying I have work to do. Not so on Monday, well not after the first time I walked by – had to check a couple men’s circles to try and find the key that had disappeared. Both circles eventually broke through my resolve, and before I knew it I was six cups in on the day I’d wanted none.
Faluba is like a wine, somewhere in the 15-20% range. Slam six cups in twenty minutes and it’ll turn your cheeks rosy. The real bitch is the fresher the stuff, the longer it keeps getting you drunker. Monday’s was mostly fresh. Get the engine warm and this drinking machine is ready to go. Turned into a much different day than I’d planned on, to say the least.

Since Monday – even before talking with that teacher – I’ve felt a weight lifted, for no discernable reason. Maybe it’s just the infinitesimally greater amount of contact I’ve been having with my hosts and community members. Maybe the letters I wrote, venting out some of my issues. Maybe a funk can only last so long before it tires itself out or all these things have just added up enough to tip the scales back toward an upward trajectory (mixing metaphors is so enjoyable, “Once we hit that bulls-eye, all the dominos will fall like a house of cards. Checkmate.”). Whatever it is, my step is lighter and while my excitement to visit home in July is no less, it’s no longer desperate. The days are shedding faster now, dragging much less.
Things are pretty much the same as ever, but I’m just not taking them so hard. I’m reconciled to it, to my life on Houk. I might even start to enjoy it more.
It’s ten-thirty now (a.m.), and school’s done for the day. Just Cos and I here again. Our class and the two others he taught were not the best examples of education in action, but much better than last week, when classes didn’t so much happen. I’m worried about the rest of the school year and what we’ll get accomplished. Yet, I’m not angry or frustrated or feeling in anyway bad, except my stomach’s indignation over the old, greasy doughnuts I ate this morning. It’s rather confusing. Cos and I even had a great chat, swapping stories and bits of history – he spoke of famous canoe building stories and I of Czech revolutionary events. His story of a talented builder committing suicide by amputating his ‘member’ on a canoe in progress (because his son had arranged to demonstrate their technique to men from other islands – giving away such valuable knowledge is a huge taboo in Micronesia) reminded me of Czech students burning themselves alive – making a grand statement through grizzly suicide.
More canoe stories brought us within a stone’s throw of a topic I’d been eager to discuss: differences in communication styles between the US and Micronesia. He recounted humorous canoe builder passive-aggressiveness (making shoddy boats because the offerings given to the builders weren’t what they wanted, though they never told the ‘buyer’ what they wanted), and I was clear to note how such things would happen differently in the States and tell of my difficulties in Peace Corps trying to get a handle on this new way of communicating. Honesty and openness are not as valued here as appeasing the listener, telling him what he wants to hear, expecting him to read between the lines and figure out the actual situation. Very difficult.
Thus I have planted the seed – having learned a measure of Micronesian cunning – and I can return to it, tend it over time. Before long, Cos may well understand my directness, not feel the bluntness of it so much, and stop looking for deeper meaning in words that convey the whole of my intent within the lines.

Ended up getting a fever later in the day. Topped out at 103 degrees F. Lasted through the next day but was manageable with ibuprofen.

4/28 Fever is gone, but I can tell something is still off. It’s building, too.
National tests are coming up next week, and we need to get our classes back on track. [Further details on my concerns omitted]

5/2 The DOE boat is finally coming today. The national standardized tests for students and teachers will be given, as will the junior high entrance test. I'm worried about the performance of our students. School has been shaky, and we were never able to do any practice tests.
I called Janeen, the PTO, today, seeking her advice for my work. The challenges seem out of my realm of control or influence.

5/6 Recurring dreams, I think most people have them. But I don't mean the kind that are totally repetitive and insane. The one you've been having since age ten where a calico cat in overalls plays the spoons while your second grade teacher (who has your father's face and mother's body and Michael J. Fox's voice) slowly lowers you into a vat of molten chocolate, all the time singing the Star Spangled Banner, not that one. Everyone has that one. The ones I'm thinking of are these dreams I have once or twice a year, sometimes as more or less exact repeats but more often with slight updates. There's a whole bevy of them. The old ones phase out and new ones phase in over the years.
The oldest and only one I can always recall started when I was in third grade and always involves myself and two of my then classmates. We're living in a sandstone cave, orangeish in tint, and we have strained conversations about our tenuous situation. Spelunking as a housing strategy isn't the carefree existence cavemen always have led us to believe, trust me. I haven't seen either of these people in over a decade, and we age just a bit slower in the dream than I have in real life. I last had that one just while I was in Illinois. Shocked me because I hadn't had it in about four years.
The other reruns I can usually only remember right afterward. I know they exist, and I can always tell it's a repeat while I'm dreaming, but I can't recall them at will. Just had one a couple of nights ago. It's a new one, first time it's repeated, and the original screening was just before Peace Corps. The dream involves my family dropping me off for service. I'm headed to the FSM, but, in crazy dreamworld, the trip is by car and goes through Bulgaria. Apparently in my mind's eye Bulgaria is primarily made of lumpy yellow stalactite- (or is it stalagmite?) esque formations and structures. The homes, shops and landscape are entirely these odd geological formations, there is no plant life and busted old playgrounds dot the scenery. Aside from driving around and telling stories on each other, our main activity is to stop at a gas station. My brother and I excitedly buy mix-n-match six packs of cheap beer, constantly discussing the varieties available and our decisions. It's such an oddly comfortable dream to have, even with the drab and certainly unfair representation of Bulgaria. It was like really being with my family and took me back to the optimism and excitement of my run up to departing for Peace Corps, during which I spent so much quality time in their company.

5/8 [Entry omitted on account of melodrama. General thesis is: I failed as a PCV in many ways on Houk. Most Peace Corps folks I’ve talked to dispute this claim, but not the folks at my site. I’m not taking COMPLETE responsibility for the outcome but neither am I blameless, and the bottom line is I did not accomplish my tasks.]

5/10 [Entry omitted. Things VERY shaky for my placement.]

5/11 I’ve talked with the three men with the most influence on my work here, and each expressed support for my continued service for Houk. Actions have also demonstrated that support. Taken together, the rest of my time here is looking brighter. I’m very confused by the turn of events, but I’m pleased with them.
[I know this is all getting pretty disjointed and opaque, but I don’t feel comfortable going into greater detail on here. If you want more info, it’ll have to be via direct communication.]

5/12 [Decision made to close my service in August, rather than November. No viable work assignment will exist for my final three months. Lucky to get the option of early COS.]

5/16 [Entry omitted. More of the same.]

5/17 [Entry omitted. I was very down and contemplating resigning my post.]

5/18 Reading David James Duncan’s “My Story as Told by Water” today has me longing for home in all new ways. The tremendous beauty of the Mountain West is sung so genuinely and alluringly by Duncan. Rock and water and earth and all the walking, flying, crawling, swimming, hopping multitude come to mind in vivid memory. I want to lose myself, especially the self of these most recent months (whiny, angry, etc.), in the mountains and rivers of Idaho. Joy, wonder and CONNECTION are experiences I want to find myself in while I’m losing my self.

5/19 [Entry omitted: boring.]

5/23 Start of another school week, the last one of full classes. Next week we only have one days of finals, two of graduation prep, and then graduation. The plane might come June 8th, and I’m hoping to be on it. The timing is perfect.
The summer will have my final project: workshop on long-range lesson planning for Houk’s teachers. This time last year, we’d just gotten to Yap proper for IST II. I was bummed to leave Woleai but prepared to deal with the training. I was SO excited for the summer. Such good plans for work and fun. Little did I know, the months I hoped for would shrink to ten days, but the best ten days of my service, so that’s sweet.

5/24 [Entry omitted: boring Peace Corps paperwork nonsense.]

5/25 Thirteen days b/w today and the flight, two weeks more on Houk if the schedule holds.
I’ve been overly focused on this pending departure and all the things that go along with it, both in this document and in my thoughts. My whole life feels very narrow and shallow of late. Instead of opening new vistas of depth and complexity and beauty, I feel like I’m closing down.
Connection. That’s the key. I need more connections in my life.

5/27 I have just finished my last week of school in Micronesia. Somehow it feels really sudden. The end of last year felt just the same. I remember my last class with the computer students. Felt very anticlimactic and blunt. “Welp…. Guess that’s it. Hope you guys enjoyed it,” bell, gone, over.

5/28 I’ve tried to keep as honest an account of my experiences and emotions through these two years as possible, for myself as well as others. Unfortunately, there have been more downs to detail and fewer ups than I’d have preferred – as a writer and as it’s my life. For those following along, you have my sincere appreciation and apologies.
There have been some truly blessed moments: meeting my group of PCVs at staging, last burrito in Hawaii, talking astronomy with Robert (host in Pohnpei), the sakau party my Pohnpei hosts through for me and Matt and Mike, placement day, Man Meetings with Eriks during PST II, the Woleai Crew, swear-in night, arriving in Woleai, playing Santa by handing out copra before Christmas, swimming with my niece Katie riding my back in the lagoon, biowe (trap fishing) and the Iyeoiur men’s circle, the Easter song and dance we did, my many PCV friendships, celebration nights with all the Yap M76ers together or all of Team Chuuk, dinners with Eriks and Kaz and Koji on Yap, my parents’ visit, seeing my seniors graduate and shake their president’s hand, my friendship with Andy, having Jo come to Woleai, the swimming during our summer soccer camp, my last ten days on Woleai, the love overflowing on the morning I left, meeting Team Chuuk and becoming a member, all of MST, the purpose and peace I felt on Houk in February, hearing Enola’s laugh when we’d play, teaching Johnson to ‘hit the rock’, those days when I can see the 1st/2nd graders really learning, how they shake my hand after class, making friends at the drinking circles, letter and packages.
There have been some rough moments: STD training in Pohnpei (with pics), the heat, loss of seasons (as I know them), distance from home and family and friends, new and unvarying food, saying good-bye so often and to so many people (PCVs and locals), language training, days without progress, adapting to Island Time, being sick through my first Christmas and birthday, insomnia, tension at IST I and anxiety about the ship, two solid months away from Woleai after IST II, getting an intestinal worm, learning to sacrifice my independence, hand washing loin cloths, doing with out beer and cheese, running out of TP for a month, feeling alternately like a zoo animal and a spectre.
And there have been a few heartbreaking moments: transfer from Woleai, Andy’s death, months of doubt and frustration and sadness and idleness. I’ll be dealing with them for some time to come, I imagine.
I’ve learned a great deal about Micronesia, its people and culture, about the practical challenges of Peace Corps type work, about myself and Life, and about death. Some lessons were fun and easy, others wrenching and slow and difficult. Most have been worth the cost; one in particular was not. The next great challenge or task post-Peace Corps will be how to make all this education a part of my life and how I live.
I’m open to suggestions.

5/30 Had a real special moment with my hosts last night. Sitting outside, chatting, reading. Enola climbs into my lap, and I read to her from The Fellowship of the Ring. A song came up in the text, so I sang it, and she fell asleep in my lap. They tried it on Janessa next, but she’s wasn’t having it. Then I described the beauty of Boise to Rose. It was good to have that, I think. Leaving on a positive note.

5/31 Eight days left. My thoughts spend much of each day on the opposite side of the Pacific from myself. Hopes, concerns and musings for the future weave through my wandering mind’s daily travels. Family and friends, reverse culture shock, and ‘what the hell am I going to do with myself – in Boise, in Normal, elsewhere?’ How soon should I look for work and in what capacity? Should I just wait till I go to finish my MA? How much backpacking can I get in before the season ends? Can I possibly find enough time to see and be with all the people I’ve missed so dearly? Which beer should I drink first? Food? In what ways will my years in Micronesia and the changes wrought manifest themselves once I’m back home? Can I ensure I avoid the pitfalls that lead to taking for granted the tremendous amenities and privilege of the US? Will I be able to handle cold weather still? What cultural quirks will I show I’ve picked up? And SERIOUSLY, which beer first?!

6/2 Graduation day and just six more remaining on Houk, 126 behind me. Visions and dreams of food are a prominent part of my waking and slumbering life these days. I’m very excited to take control back over my eating, to reestablish the self-reliance aspect of American independence. I’m ready to be DONE walking on egg shells without the benefit of getting to eat eggs! [LONG list of foods I miss. Four pages!]

6/6 [Entry omitted: basic gist is I’m excited to get back in touch with people and finish up my service. Weno here I come!]

6/13 Made it to Weno. Already spent four nights here, and I'm starting to feel much more comfortable. Had my best night of sleep in over three weeks last night.
I made it here in time to see, spend some time with and say goodbye to the second year Jesuit Volunteers who have finished their service and gone home. Sad to watch them go, but so good to have been able to see them. I'll miss Tyler, Jess, Caro and Mike, but I know it was time for them to move on, as it will be for me soon.
Also got to see another PCV and meet her family before they left for Japan. It was really nice to spend time with them and hilarious to watch their family dynamic. Just good to be around a Western family and feel the culture of home for a bit.
I'm back at my host family tonight, getting ready for bed. Nice folks here, and I love the sleeping arrangement. All the men sleep out in a little hut. Very breezy and comfortable. Up tomorrow morning, starting to round up supplies for my host family on Houk and meeting with some Dept. of Education people to get materials for setting up the workshop I’m doing with the teachers from my school this summer.

Jan. '11 to Jun. '11 Houk, the final chapter

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Well, here it is: the big picture post. January to June on Houk. It was a wild four months filled with the whole array of human emotion. I'm not great at capturing it all on film, but hopefully this helps you put a mental image to some of what I've written about. First pic is a pig being prepared for lunch. Then some beach walking, our school's field day, a scorpion, sunset/kid pics, local swing, door building, beach walking, putting up security screens, my room, men's circle, our puppy, a student (Dave) waiting out the rain, more men's circle (gubul), a pic of Rose and Pasiano at home, gubul, lizard hunting spider, Mothers' Day (men in moo-moos), snorkeling, graduation, gubul, spear fishing (the close up kid is killing a fish by crushing its brain with his teeth- local style), good-bye BBQ with my hosts, and my last day on island being sent off on the airstrip and finally one last aerial of the island while flying away.

Down Unda!

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Check it out! Australia and junk!

Mid-Service Training

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Here's our Halfway-Home Conference. Great people, fun times.

Nov. '10 & Dec. '10--Weno (part deux)

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Here's the rest of my time on Weno before going to MST on Pohnpei! First is a trip to Feffan (an island in the lagoon here) to join in on the good-bye celebration for Ben, a PCV who finished his service in December. That's the bulk of them, then there're just a few pics of sending off Ben and John (another PCV that finished in Dec. '10) at the airport and the few days after until MST.

4/18/11 My favorite Micronesian dishes:

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1) Bananas stewed in coconut milk-- uur aarong
2) Pounded taro chunks fried in oil-- bulage cookies
3) Reef fish stewed in coconut milk w/rice -- iik gatchiu me riice
4) Breadfruit/banana chips fried in oil/baked -- saibuk/uur fry
5) Boiled swamp taro or sweet taro -- bula garee opt
6) Tuna sashimi in local vinegar -- sasimi
7) Tuna boiled in coconut milk -- iik arong
8) Fish and cancon (local cabbage) pan fried w/rice -- iige, cancon, me perase
9) Pancakes Falalus (skinny style)
10) Boiled taro pounded and covered in chunky coconut milk -- bulage yaroong
11) Sea turtle BBQ (local chicken good too) -- woonge/oong (maluk)
12) Octopus cooked in soy sauce or catsup -- giuse
13) Sweetened banana cake -- ?
14) Grilled igaput (men's fish) w/whatever at men's house -- igaput gabeshi
15) Lewechipy's big, thick pancakes
16) Double coconut cream, pounded breadfruit -- rocket

3/22/11 Zombie Day

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[* I wrote this post after the big earth quake in Japan. There were communication issues afterward with the tsunami warning, and I was potentially facing another transfer for safety reasons. Hence the unhappiness in this one. Transfer didn't happen, but this was a turning point in my time on Houk. More on what came next later.]

Spent yesterday in a light-headed, mind-clouding, hangover-esque stupor. Thought listing my stressors might help but can't tell if it did. The full weight of possibly being transferred fell on me, and I had a zombie day: able to walk, make sounds and eat, but not much else.

I told Cos about what's going on. He agreed to check with the municipal office (yes we have something like that, no it's nowhere near as fancy or organized as it sounds) to see if I could monitor their radio in the evenings. Emi, the Safety Coordinator, said the decision to close Houk might already be made based on the information at hand as of our phone call yesterday, but if not, I think the Municipal's willingness or lack thereof will make the difference. Either the community is going to support PCVs or they're not.

After talking with Cos, I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or vomit or both, but the feeling has lingered and the food I've been eating isn't helping with the middle possibility. Our number two chief is on island (ie, the second oldest brother in the high chief family - the three oldest brothers all live off island most the time) so my family threw a party for him: slaughter and cook a pig, prepare plenty of rice, taro, breadfruit and doughnuts, burn through most the soy sauce, coffee and sugar with half the island over. I like these gatherings, but the timing wasn't great.

There's the warm-up meal at lunch, before which most the prep work is done. Then there's the full on meal at dinner - more people and a couple more dishes but mostly the same food again. Local pig is VERY fatty, I'm talking morbid obesity: take out the bones and these creatures are probably 60-70% fat. You've never seen so much fat in such large slabs cooked rare. I'll try and take a photo next time, because my words don't do it justice. Anyhow, it's a departure from fish and taro and bananas. I've been feeling the difference.

So, sitting there - alone - after I was done eating my meal (people have a tendency of vacating my vicinity during these shindigs), I must have looked pretty pathetic. Slumped shoulders, bowed and tilted head, slightly pained look - like a pressure being exerted on the top of my head was slowly and steadily increasing. I don't know if Enola (5 year-old host sister) noticed this look or was just bored and wanting for a playmate, but she came over right when I needed some human contact more than I have in a long time, a looooooong time. Micronesians are very hands off and tight-lipped when it comes to shows of affection, with the exception of their very young children for whom they seem to save it all - oh, and big goodbyes, those can get down right mushy. So an occasional handshake is the most I've seen in a couple months, save for the funny squish-face Rose (host mom) and a couple other women on island make at me every now and then. Well I just about squeezed the stuffing out of Enola, and she loved it demanding, "Paliou! Paliou! Paliou!" (Again! Again! Again!) and so did I. Our game was her climbing into my lap, laying down in my arms, and me folding her in half, wrapping her up and shaking wildly and making noises we Americans do when playing with kids, but Micronesians do not. She tells me to wait, dismounts and climbs back up before saying the magic word, "paliou" starting the game all over. Now I must have looked just a shade passed insane. Then I taught her and Johnson (one of my first-graders and literally John's son) how to 'hit the rock and explode' (fist bump greeting). So they'll be down to roll the streets if they ever end up in the Boise hood.

I felt better for a bit after that, but a peculiar thing about the looming site transfer is that nothing really makes me feel solely good. Everything just gets cast or amplified in a negative light. Difficult or frustrating things are worse because I'm already short on patience and because they make the possibility of staying seem almost futile, like no matter what's decided, things are going to be shitty. Good and relieving and heart-warming things are bitter-sweet, take me up and right back down, because there's just one more thing I might lose. Progressing or stalling out with co-teachers, closer or more distant with host family/community, sunshine or rain, full night of sleep or awoken twice by Janessa crying and screaming (not that we've had a full night in the last couple weeks), it all just brings me down in the end, lately anyway.

I guess I'm getting training in putting on a brave face, in not giving up even when it seems a losing effort, in finding peace amid turmoil, joy amid sadness. I can recognize I should be grateful for the life lessons, but this rainy morning, eyes faintly stinging with encroaching tears, I'm just not there yet.

3/4/11 A moment in the dream

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The tide is high, the water so calm and clear you'd be justified in wondering whether there was anything between you and the sand save for still tropical air. But then a lulling wave, not even a wave: a swell, a bulge, a slow moving ocean finger stretches out to brush some shells off this western shore. The evening light is soft thanks to a sun muffled both by having nearly finished its daily trek and by a band of clouds lazing low on the horizon. These tired rays curl up in the many dimples on the surface of the likewise sleepy Pacific resting within Houk's protective reef.

The last hours of daylight on Friday hold that special quality of a week come to a close. It's something in the air, highlighted by those waning beams of golden sun, punctuated by the last shouts of activity drifting over from the basketball court. An exhausted exclamation point following those last, contented words of the week's sentence, all covered by a thin but warm hued streak of a nearly-empty highlighter. This week it's accentuated by an ocean, on one of those rare circumstances, living up to its name.

Grimy, from having done prep work at the school for tomorrow - when Cos and I will nail up new security screens on the office windows, I wade out to start my shower. There's more satisfaction in the scrubbing tonight, having actual dirt and a little blood to get off my skin. The blood came from an old piece of trim that surprised me, popping off the window frame more eagerly than expected and introducing me to the nails that had held it up.

I stand, scan the horizon and decide to walk out to the breakers. Our coastal shelf stays shallow enough for the nearly fifty yards to the reef that I needn't leave my feet till then. The sun gently caresses my face and shoulders, and the water eases on by me, barely disturbing the tail of my thu (loin cloth wrap, for the uninitiated). Taking note of the sea grass, fine grained shell sand, funny white-with-black-spots sea cucumbers (make me think of little ocean dairy cows) and the not much else: a revelation. I feel it, poignant and potent. This is an evening I'll never relive, a space in time and a period of my life, a moment in the dream I've been living that will never be a part of my waking life again after I leave Micronesia in November.

Salty drips collect and then fall from the ends of my hair, land on my back, collect and then slide down into the big, capital 'c', Collective from whence they came. I have to squint as a sliver of the sun peeks out from in between two clouds. One deep breath and I dive in, hoping to rejoin those run-away drips. Hoping to be immersed in this dream moment as fully as possible.

2/16/11 High Tide, Setting Sun

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Waist deep and rising, the Western Pacific ebbs and flows inside the sheltering reef around Houk. My board shorts ungulate gently in the hazy shallows. Dirt and seaweed kicked up by incoming tide cloud the water.

Quick flashes of silver, slightly tinged black and yellow-tipped dart around me. A school of skipjacks seems to have mistaken me for a free standing clump of coral. They swim around and between my legs, pausing every so often, as a group, to look up and ponder the white mass protruding above the water's surface. It's as though one of them caught a glimpse of my arm waving to swat away flies, said "what the--!", and all turned with him to scope out the disturbance. More endearing still are the gentle nibbles at my skin and leg hair as they search for morsels surely hidden therein.

The sun is setting along the horizon as a sailing canoe works its way in from the day's fishing. It's one of the most beautiful sights the world has to offer, I imagine. Shimmering water, locals working-backlit by the waning light-to steer the canoe they themselves hewed from the trees of their home island with knowledge passed down through generations, wisps of cloud far off-shore and the steady breakers shrunken and quieted by high tide.

Though the communion with ocean inhabitants is delightful, I dive out further to start my shower. Kneeling I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the day's run. Neck deep, waves roll up to my chin and set me to swaying. And they're back! Swimming nearly up to my face, the skipjacks like my company too much to let me get away. Now they swarm around my whole body, under my arms, through my legs and across my chest. Two are nipping at my right hand, one going for the shine of my ring.

I've been back on Houk for three weeks. A great peace has stolen over me, permeating to my core. I know what I'm doing, know why, and that I can get it done.

Life has fallen into rhythm with the island: slow and steady. Work, exercise, leisure, community, food and sleep. I have a plan at school and established relationships with co-teachers; I have a project (teaching an adult English class); my thesis work is almost ready to commence.

I'm on the best terms ever with my host family. The house and compound are becoming home. Pasiano (host dad) and I are becoming friends and learning how to relate to one another, how to show respect. Rose (host mom) and I have been good since my last stay. Enola (4 year old host sister) is taking my heart.

The turbulence of past months is behind. Feeling stronger, wiser, more fully human and fully alive, I'm ready for these final nine months of service - the next six straight to be had right here, on Houk.

I'd return what I've learned and how I've grown as a person in a heartbeat, if it'd bring Andy back. I'd consider it too, to prevent Woleai from being closed, but ultimately hold onto these lessens, as much as I loved life on Falalop. But that's all fantasy. No more real than Frodo and Sam struggling through Mordor to Mount Doom (reading The Lord of the Rings right now, third book-exciting!). Time doesn't offer rewinds, refunds or exchanges. The past is past, and I'll hold those memories as treasures in my life, doing my best to honor Andy and the people of Woleai, who gave so much and have meant so much to me.

Finished rinsing off, I walk from the beach as the men begin drawing up their canoe, chanting the cadence of their effort. The sun is sinking below the sea, and I look back to the sparkling waters. Passing a group of island elders, they offer me fish, but I decline. We have plenty at home, and I need to put the final touches on my shower-buckets of fresh water and soap. I am truly and undeservedly blessed. I'm living the dream, more completely than I ever thought possible, and I am so grateful.

1/27/11 Like a band of gypsy...

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Departed Houk November 5th, 2010. Four days spent riding the Nien Chuuk fishing boat back to Weno. We stopped at five islands, three of which I was able to visit. Polowat, Tamatam, and Onoun are unique and beautiful islands in the northwest of Chuuk state.

Polowat's lagoon is the most beautiful I've seen - so clear and serene. Tamatam is shaped like a guitar, is well landscaped in the main community areas, and has a wonderful gathering square with three traditional meeting houses. Onoun is large and more developed with a solar power station, high school, and airstrip. I loved wandering these islands and meeting locals, especially on Tamatam, where Paul (a teacher) showed me around and chatted me up for a few hours.

From November 8th till December 12th, I stayed in the main Chuuk lagoon, mostly on Weno. I had work from Houk, language studying, and main island PCV stuff to do. I even substitute taught at a private high school on Weno for a week of that time. Also used that opportunity to be present for the swearing-in ceremony of the new group of Chuuk PCVs. Many good moments but the loss of Andy had me pretty shaken and I was doubting on myself with vigor. When I had my shit together, I joined the other PCVs and the JVs for a Thanksgiving get together on Eot (a lagoon island where one of our M74s was placed; he finished service in December). We hiked around, met John's host family, had a nice meal and watched a huge drag net be emptied of its fish before heading to the next island over to swim a bit. Got a really mild jelly fish sting. Also visited Ben's site (our other M74 in the lagoon, on Feefin), for a 'goodbye' party night being thrown on his account. There was speechifying, eating and dancing: the usual. What was interesting was that the dancing turned into a dance party rather than a performance, and we white folk were all involved. Then we went back to Ben's house, drank with his host dad and brother - three horrific bottles of wine after finishing off the yeast (very simple alcoholic brew made in Micronesia). There was also a night at a local hotel, when Peace Corps and Jesuit Volunteer alike danced and drank and celebrated the friendship and successful completion of service of John and Ben. And just before my group took off for MST, we had a sort of Christmas pre-celebration: good meal, Christmas carols and great company.

December 12th we flew to Pohnpei around 11pm. Before our flight, the M76ers cleaned the office, had some pizza and played some ping-pong. MST was incredible, some good sessions and so much valuable time with our fellow volunteers. Sharing stories and experiences really helped a lot of people put their service in better context and to feel better prepared to take on the second year. And for me, it steadied my emotions, helped me regain my footing and get closure on the first year. I stayed on in Pohnpei for five days after MST, till my flight to Australia, during which I got better acquainted with some of the PCVs there and hung out with my buddy Ap. We were house sitting for the Country Director while he was on vacation. A steak and potato and salad dinner was a main highlight.

Australia was an awesome trip. Food, booze, relaxation, a good friend, so much laughter, time with a wonderful family and just a swell country. Cairns was hotter than B-Gee Bus, but I'm pretty used to that. Sydney was much milder and I greatly enjoyed just wandering around the cities, grabbing a beer here and there, taking some photos. Kc's presence was kick ass, as she can nearly keep up with my drinking and takes more initiative than me in planning days or just coming up with stuff to do. I approach vacations just like I do backpacking: set a destination, get there with not more than you can carry and just sort of, you know, look around, take pics, hike in the day, have a drink and chat at night, and maybe do some fishing if you brought a rod. Some folks might not do well with my lack of direction or planning, but she did fantastically.

Back in the FSM as of January 10th, spent the night in Pohnpei with some of the PCVs and then flew on to Chuuk. Seventeen more days readjusting to Micronesia, seeing the PCVs and JVs, and preparing to get out to Houk. It was a good two weeks with many projects to get done. Even got to chaperone a high school dance, which I was very excited to see. Coed mingling is strongly discouraged in Micronesian culture. The kids stepped outside the bounds in several ways that night, but mainly held to their upbringing. It was fun, but HOT! I soaked my clothes, literally, from neck to mid thigh - very noticeable on the tan khakis I was wearing, very noticeable.

January 27th I got myself to the Chuuk airport by 4:30 that morning for a 5 am flight. They didn't even open the airport till a quarter after 6. Unpleased though I was, we boarded and left for Houk about 7 am. Will hang here till the summer.

12/20/10 Tears that must be shed

2011-06-14T10:12:00.002+11:00

At the end of September 2009 I moved from the first phase of pre-service training in Madolenihmw, Pohnpei to the second in Colonia, Yap. Somewhere between the two locations and phases, I slipped loose of a personal foundation I'd been building since my freshman year of high school. I lost my footing, eventually experiencing a good measure of depression and withdrawal from the community in Woleai. Understanding of what was going on came after a few weeks, and I rebounded. My footing stayed a bit precarious but I finally realized it--a big help.

In-service training one brought on anxiety for the fear of being too long gone from Woleai. Happiness filled my cup to the brim when I did get back, but frustrations in the community and at work crept in, making things pretty slippery again.

Then it happened. It wasn't an overnight transformation, but over a few weeks I found a place, dug out a fresh foundation. It was amazing. I felt more grounded than I had in months. I rode that feeling into the second in-service training. Little did I know. The close of Woleai at the end of May obliterated what had been built and marked the beginning of the most turbulent, emotionally unstable six months of my life. Worse than my first broken heart--some of you know the full meaning of that statement; you saw what a mess I was then.

I drank too much, allowed anger to seep into my core, and simply was torn up over the transfer. Two months after leaving Woleai, I gave Yap one last look as it receded into the horizon. I then spent ten days in an alternate reality of joy and bliss on Falalop before heading onto Houk. Best week and a half of my service and high up on the lifetime charts. Didn't last, of course.

Three weeks on Houk followed and I never really settled in. Some health issues and trouble letting go of Woleai left me restless. I took the first opportunity to get into Chuuk main island.

A month on Weno, getting to know my new supervisor and cohort of PCVs, as well as other members of the Chuuk volunteer community, and getting equipped for the new site ensued. It was pretty solid, but I was ready to get back to work.

Five more weeks in Houk. I was lost, foundering and lonely. But things turned a corner, and I felt revitalized as things picked up with my host family. Then the news of Andy.

I was rocked, my whole world shook and darkness crept in through every crack. November was a month of inner turmoil, tremendous self-doubt and timely support of friends and family.

I came close to breaking down several times. Tears welled up but didn't fall till I was in Pohnpei. It needed to happen, I think. It'd been over five years since I'd cried, and I was starting to wonder if I still could. I can.

Don't call it a comeback!

2011-06-14T09:28:00.000+11:00

I'm once more in the land of plenty, though most folks reading this blog might not consider it that on first glance. Fair confident you would if I took you to the outer islands for a couple months first, however. Anyhow, I'm back and ready to post some fresh accounts of my time this year. The first couple reach back as far as November last year and then more recent posts stop around April, I think, maybe late March. From that time on... well, I had some challenges and my writings are scattered, repetitive and need some organization/paring down/revising before I post them. I'll get to the past month and a half - in words - before tooooooo long, but in the mean time, I'll throw up my photos from November up to leaving Houk. Hope it's worth the time it takes to read and view it all, but if not, I'm confident you can navigate your browser to a more entertaining webpage. Hope you're all well!

On the waves again...

2011-01-26T17:09:00.002+11:00

Well folks, it's been a couple incredible months. A lot happened and I wish I had more time to let you know what all it was, but that's going to have to wait. I leave SUPER early tomorrow morning, and it'll be months before I'm back around again. There are plenty of you I wish I had spent more time catching up with. Sorry about that. Take care till we meet again, and keep living the dream!

Everything is Cool

2010-12-20T13:05:00.004+11:00

I was walking down the road man,
Just lookin' at my shoes.
When God sent me an angel
Just to chase away my blues.

I saw a hundred thousand blackbirds
Just flyin' through the sky.
They seemed to form a teardrop
From a black-haired angel's eye.
And that tear fell all around me,
And it washed my sins away.
Now everything is cool,
Everything's okay.

And I find it real surprising
For myself to hear me say,
That everything is cool,
Everything's okay.

Yeah, everything is cool.
Everything's okay.

-John Prine

Healing

2010-12-20T12:56:00.001+11:00

Approaching
Regaining
Stumbling
Balancing
Reflecting
Falling
Laughing
Dancing
Crying
Drying
Wishing
Feeling
Healing

From the peanut gallery

2010-12-10T07:53:00.002+11:00

I recently found a feature on this blog contraption that allows me to see all the comments posted on it. While perusing these reader messages, I noticed several for the first time--some of which were months old. Some of which asked questions I'd never answered. Some I had commented back to. I wasn't sure what to do with all the ignored messages. Post a comment back to them? Some were people I didn't even recognize. What are the chances they're still reading my blog, let alone checking back on that specific post for a reply? Then I thought, why not bring all these wonderful little notes to the forefront, and reply in chronological order? Enjoy.

Andrew--9/3/09--Commented on 'Two bags for two years. Fitting? I think so.'
Happy and safe travels Porter!
-Andy, thanks for the well wishes! They were and still are much appreciated.

Andrea--9/6/09--Commented on 'Two bags for two years. Fitting? I think so.'
Are you sure that's enough stuff??!!
-Andrea, if you only knew. It's really starting to look like I brought too much stuff...

Andrea--9/6/09--Commented on 'I have arrived!'
It's beautiful! Have fun, Eric!
-Andrea, isn't it gorgeous? I'm looking forward to getting back to Pohnpei, seeing my first host family again, and kicking it with the rest of my PCV group.

Beth--9/6/09--Commented on 'I have arrived!'
I suspect the surreal-ness will only increase from here on out for quite awhile. Can't wait to hear more. :) --Atkins Roomate the Younger.
Beth, your suspicion was completely accurate. Though somethings have become ordinary, much of my life is still very surreal.

Beverly--9/9/09--Commented on 'I have arrived!'
Congratulations! We at the Stevenson Center are very happy for you!
Beverly, Thanks! I'm happy for me, too.

Joan--9/9/09--Commented on 'I have arrived!'
Congrats!!!! Can't wait to hear all about your adventures and how that thesis project moves along. :) Enjoy the bliss and excitement! Joan
Joan, sorry I've been so awful about keeping up with you on the thesis. I'll send an email soon, update you. Thank you for your encouragement!

Blakeob--9/10/09--Commented on 'A week has passed.'
Miss you buddy, but stoked that you are feeling such a sense of purpose. Proud to know someone with the kidn of courage you're showing right now. Dana and I are thinking about you.
Blake, miss you buddy. Been thinking about you and DB a lot, as usual. Hope she's feeling better.

Sarah--9/18/09--Commented on 'A week has passed.'
I can't believe you're now half a world away! If there's anyone I'd nominate as my ambassador, it'd be you. So delighted that you're already so involved and excited - not that I would expect anything less. Can't wait to hear more!
Sarah, I still can't believe I'm half a world away, except when I'm waiting on mail and packages. Then, it's COMPLETELY believable. Hope I haven't fallen too far from the point where you'd nominate me as ambassador.

Nicole--9/19/09--Commented on 'A week has passed.'
Not surprised one bit you went against your safety and security officer on your first day. Your all sorts of mischief. By the way I've had Kava and its a wonderful drink, I'm sure its treating you well :) Sounds like you are having a blast, I am so happy for you Porter. PS if your living in the jungle does that mean you use jungle leaves for well number 2 j/k.
Nicole, you know me too well. Been missing you friend, and been WICKED impressed by you, after checking up on your Thailand adventure. Wow, Nicole. You're a fuckin' BADASS! Everybody, check out Nicole on youtube.com; search for Tuff Girls. Nicole be reppin' Idaho in an international Muy Thai competition! Oh, and I do use jungle leaves, when the situation calls for it.

Shawn--9/21/09--Commented on 'Two weeks have passed'
Kasalelie! Hi! I'm Shawn. I was a PCV on Yap a couple of years ago, also had a blog going. All was going according to plan (well, not really) until (dum, dum, dummmm) headquarters in DC discovered my blog. I had accidently mentioned some small things that were against the PC handbook. This unfortunate event let to my downfall as a PCV, so be careful about what you post. Yap is the best by the way. You'll LOVE it! I look forward to reading your future posts! In the meantime, have a bowl of sakau for me! Cheers, Shawn http://web.mac.com/shawnpendergrass
Shawn, thanks for the wisdom, buddy. I've taken it to heart and think that my blog has passed the Peace Corps test. Woleai was a tremendous site, fitted me perfectly, but I'm in Houk now, and I think that'll turn out pretty good too. Tried your website a couple times, but it seems to be gone.

Amy--9/21/09--Commented on 'Two weeks have passed'
Porter!!! I'm so excited for you! I'm glad that you are having such a great time (knew you would). Keep us updated when you can. We miss you here but wish you all the best in your adventures. Can't wait to hear more about your adventures... Peace! Amy
Amy, eh? EH? Have I or have I NOT kept you updated? Check-plus. Swish. Domino! Updated and then some. Thank you for your support. It means a lot. Hope you and Joe are living the dream!

Andrew--9/24/09--Commented on 'Two weeks have passed'
I'M SO EXCITED FOR PICTURES OF PORTER IN A LOIN CLOTH AND A MASSIVE BEARD! Have fun out there buddy. -Andy
Andy, pics of the beard and thu? Hope you liked 'em. How's life in Medford these days? Job?

ChrisWilliamson--10/14/09--Commented on 'Photos'
Wow! Micronesia looks even cooler than I thought! What an experience man! Keep us well updated. Love you.
SnagglePuss, seriously, huh? Freakin' awesome place. Haven't heard from you in a while, dude. Hope you're doing well. Shoot me an update if you get a chance. Miss you, Chris. Love you too.

Pablo (yo)--10/21/09--Commented on 'Three Weeks Flew By'
Great blog!!! If you like, come back and visit mine: http://albumdeestampillas.blogspot.com Thanks, Pablo from Argentina.
Pablo, thanks, fella. Checked your blog back in the day, but I'm not strong enough in my Spanish skills to make much of it.

Jane--10/23/09--Commented on 'Unfortunately these can't be sent in a care package'
hello, I am Jane from Philippines. And I am currently working on a Postcard Project where the goal is to received postcards stamped and written all over the world. Jane enajpostcards.blogspot.com 565 North Poblacion, 6037 Naga, CEBU, PHILIPPINES
jane, sorry I never got around to the postcard thing, but I got a LOT of these posts. Hopefully you've gotten an FSM stamp for your collection.

Blakeob--10/24/09--Commented on 'Unfortunately these can't be sent in a care package'
Hey buddy - I've got a letter on the way but I'm not sure how long until it gets to ya. Great post. And yeah...that really sucks that you always take Dana's side. I guess I can't blame you though, since she's usually representing the correct argument. I was dissapointed in the loin cloth pic. Wish it would have been better blackmail material. hope you get the letter soon!
Blake, speaking of letters (over a year ago) did you get my most recent letter yet? If not, I have a digital copy and will send it to you. By now, I'll bet you've got all the blackmail you'll ever need. Did you SEE that latest thu pic? Definite buttcheek goin' on there.

megan--10/24/09--Commented on 'Photo Essay: Sept. 27th-Oct. 23rd'
the skies! i would like for those skies to be above me right now. its nice to see your smiling face. thanks for the midterm study break. hope your today is beauty-filled.
megan, such gorgeous skies in Micronesia, I know. I hope Cleveland is giving you something beautiful to enjoy, as well. Hope you're having an awe-filled day!

Sherti--10/25/09--Commented on 'Photo Essay: Sept. 27th-Oct. 23rd'
This post has been removed by the author
Sherti, this is a very confusing post. What are you trying to say? Are you suggesting I remove those pictures? Who are you, and what business of yours is it? HUH?! PUNK! NON-BUSINESS! THAT'S WHAT! I'm just kidding, I know this is a message telling me that YOU deleted your post. Been curious about it ever since...

Nicole--10/27/09--Commented on 'Unfortunately these can't be sent in a care package'
Turkey Bowl without you won't be the same. I'll miss hanging out with you this winter and catching up. I always enjoyed those times, I looked forward to those every year.
Nicole, ah... T-Bowl. Can't wait till I'm back in the fray, and can't wait till we can have a nice long chat to catch up on the past couple years.

Radka--11/1/09--Commented on 'Photo Essay: Sept. 27th-Oct. 23rd'
Hello, you have a very nice blog, Have a nice day, Radka.
Radka, thank you. That's a very nice comment, and I hope you've been having many nice days since you made it.

Andy--11/10/09--Commented on 'Did I say the first three weeks of training flew by?'
It's Andy Lucas, for some reason my google account forced me to use the name Andrew and not Andy. Probably because that's how I have the name set on my gmail. I was thinking about you just last night as I sat down in a chair and it wobbled slightly. This was the same chair we (read, you and Aaron, not me, although I witnessed it) broke during that uber EPIC night of John's Birthday. :) EPIC! And you're much easier to wrestle when you're drunk.
Andy, sorry 'bout that chair, buddy. And, yes, I am easy to beat when drunk. Please, always use this great and terrible power for good, never for evil.

Beverly--1/26/10--Commented on 'Intermediate--Mid'
Hi, Porter! I look forward to hearing from you. Beverly Beyer Stevenson Center for Community & Economic Development Illinois State University
Hey, Beverly! I know this was a LONG time ago, and that you heard from me after it, but I'll get another email to you here soon.

Greg--3/1/10--Commented on 'B-Town vs. Woleai'
Interesting. Always wanted to get there. PMA let us down when in Yap and we hadn't time for the boat. Are they still wearing loincloths? Do you? Woman's apparel? Do they speak a dialect of their own or has English taken over? Is Tuba distilled like Arak (Indonesia, etc.) or just fermented, with potency of beer or wine? What percentage of the people have electricity?
Greg, Woleai is SO AWESOME! I'm sorry you weren't able to make it there. They do still wear loinclothes (called 'thu' or 'mengaagu feliuwashe', the latter meaning 'clothing of our island'), I DEFINITELY rock the thu (still do in Houk, too), and the women rock lavalava, a beautiful and intricate woven wrap skirt. They speak Woleaian, similar to other Micronesian tongues but distinct enough to be its own language. English is becoming more and more prominent, but Woleaian is in no danger of disappearing any time soon. The locals don't often distill faluba, though I was able to try some during my time there. It's freakin' good! They know how to distill, but I imagine they decide against it because of the time commitment. On Falalap (the main island), everyone has electricity. The other islands are equipped with solar, but only a few people have personal panels. Hope that answers your questions. Ask more if you have them (and still read this)!

Semprilibri--4/22/10--Commented on 'Ha!'
Hello! Excellent blog and great job! I'd like to have your Flag on my flag counter. I need your help for my collection… So, please, simply visit my website about “unusual stamps”: http://www.eryx.it/dentelli/index.htm Greetings and good luck!
Semprilibri, another stamper, eh? Well, I never made it to your site, but I'll do that right now. Thanks for you words of kindness.

Jack--6/4/10--Commented on 'B-Town vs. Woleai'
Was on one of the small islands in 86. Have [fond] memories and good friends left there. Maybe one day I'll get back...
Looks like the Micro Spirit !! Spent 10 days on her..
Jack, which island were you on? Clearly it was outer islands of Yap, since you know the Micro Spirit. Would love to hear more about your experience.

megan--6/9/10--Commented on 'A dream is ending...'
hug.
megan, hug back.

Beth--6/14/10--Commented on 'Clever men'
This makes laugh every time I watch it. Yes, many repeat watchings. The question is, do you think you are more funny than I do, or the reverse?
Beth, come on, of course I think I'm funnier. Did you not see all that smugness on my face? Glad you enjoyed the video.

Sarah--6/18/10--Commented on 'A dream is ending...'
Porter, Porter! You make my heart break and feel angry on your behalf! I am with you in spirit and sending loads of hugs your direction. Still hoping we'll get a chance to talk one of these days. BE WELL my friend, you have already given so much to the people of Woleai, the residents of Houk will be lucky to have you. I know this because I've experienced it first hand!
Sarah, thank you so much. These words were a great comfort and still are. Hope you're doing well today, Sarah.

Nick--9/11/10--Commented on 'HOLY SHI...'
Hey Porter, I'm reading the blog, and understand you've moved. I'm glad to hear you'll still get a chance to return to Woleai occasionally. (One thing left unexplained: what was your attraction to an outer island? Knowing little about the region, I wonder what the cultural differences might be. Looking forward to hearing about your new situation and your new community. All well here. --nick
Nick, glad to know things are good with you. For me, the outer islands had many attractive features. On a professional level, they have much fewer resources and are more in need of the service Peace Corps offers. On a personal level, I knew the life would be simpler, more isolated, and simply better suited to me and the kind of experience I was looking for (still am looking for). I wanted to cut back, and I've been doing that. Also, the culture is more traditional and salient in everyday life. It's a beautiful experience, one I'm immensely grateful to be having.

Pops--10/30/10--Commented on 'On to Houk w/Stop At Lamotrek, Around ' & 'Traveling Porters (Mom and Pops in Yap!)
The picture of the cribbage board hurts! Pops
Eric, I miss you son! Pops
Pops, I've been missing you too, and that cribbage board ought to hurt. STINK HOLED! (A note to non-cribbers, the be stink holed, is to be beaten by one point)

Sarah--11/12/10--Commented on 'A tidal wave of doubt'
My dear friend, my heart goes out to you as you are missing Andy and dealing with loss and challenges! I know how dark and wretched these storms of doubt and disgust can be. Here is one voice offering as much love for and faith in your character as I can communicate. Your ability to acknowledge your struggles is proof enough of your strength to grow through them. Hold on Porter, feel what you feel and let the negative weights pass away. Your soul has been crafted by God! You are a man of God's shaping, loved and respected by all who know you. May God's peace find you now my friend. Sarah
Sarah, again, you provide words of great comfort. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend in my life.

Nicole--11/25/10--Commented on 'Some Perspective'
Everybody goes through phases of ruin and rebuild. My friend, realize that with ruin comes more understanding of yourself. You become more aware of what your heart needs and wants rather than your ego. Reading all these updates I see you constantly re-finding yourself on this journey. Keep up all the work you do, you are an amazing individual!
Nicole, no doubt, no doubt. Dark comes before the light, and it's cresting the ridge as we type. Thank you for this message.

Amy--11/30/10--Commented on 'Some Perspective'
Hey! Glad you are finding some joy! We all experience life differently so I'm not going to say that I've been there, but things can get pretty rough out there in the jungle, bush, coast, steppe, etc. for even the strongest folks. Hang in there and do what you need to do to stay with it...even if that means spending way to much of your stipend to get to a decent shower/restaurant you enjoy/shop that sells that beer you like...whatever. Blessings!
Amy, thanks for the advice, it's always good coming from you. Hope your prep for Liberia is coming along smoothly!

Michael Everson--12/9/10--Commented on 'First Month or so in Woleai'
I'm wondering if while you were in Woleai you saw any examples of the Woleai script, a writing system dating perhaps from 1905 and which was in use at least in the 1950s.
Michael, I have seen the Woleaian script, but from what I can tell, it's no longer in use on the island. It certainly is not in common usage. The Roman alphabet has supremacy, which is too bad, That Woleaian script was really cool!

Negative Fishing

2010-12-09T09:56:00.007+11:00

A couple more PCVs from my group came in, Dan and Trevor, who stay in the Mortlock Islands (south east of the Chuuk Lagoon). They're both great guys, and Trevor was my roommate through staging up till we moved in with host families. He's a really unique and interesting guy. Really love chatting with him. The three of us tried fishing last Friday. To sum it up, we titled the day "Negative Fishing". We rented two sea kayaks from a resort here, after purchasing some supplies for the day. After some pretty sad rigging of the fishing line in local style (secured to and wrapped around a short piece of 1x4), we took to the lagoon. Dan was in a single kayak and Trevor and I were in the other kayak, also designed for one person. Things started just fine, though balancing was a bit tricky. We got a ways out, had a good rhythm going with out paddles, and started surveying where we'd want to try fishing. That was the pinnacle of our fishing day. After that, we started loosing things.

I turned around (was sitting in the back recess, meant for gear) and noticed Trevor's flip-flops were no longer with us. We spotted one and were able to get it, but the other alluded us. Unbeknownst to the operators, our kayak was taking on a prodigious amount of water, becoming more unstable with every second. It tipped over, my newly purchased snorkel mask (left my other in Houk), the fish we'd bought for bait and a REALLY important set of keys to the office sank beneath the gentle lagoon waves.

We righted the kayak, got Trevor back in and all the gear--save those mentioned above. Trevor's backpack was soaking, though. Also, I couldn't get back into the kayak, due to how tip-happy it had become. This exposed me to an unanticipated danger: jellyfish. Big ones. Lots of them. Dan tried to come to our rescue, but took too long. He did, however, bring the beer, which was even better. We cracked one open and shared it around. I took some photos, and then Trevor started towing us in. At one point, I looked to my left and there was a jellyfish within reach the size of my head! Somehow I managed not to get stung on the way in, we swapped places about halfway and Trevor, likewise, escaped the jellys' wrath.

Dan kept fishing for a while, and Trevor and I had a great chat, munching Cheese-Its and drinking more beer, drying out our stuff. During it, I really started to formulate a plan to check out the US after I'm done with my Master's. Go check out the country, you know? Visit friends from before and during Peace Corps. It's really sounding like exactly what I need to do, because I BARELY know any of the States outside of my little corner in the Northwest. I think that needs to be addressed. Otherwise, I'm going to know a tiny island nation in the Pacific better than my own homeland.

Anyhow, we BSed, relaxed, enjoyed some of the late, slanting rays of the day's sun, and then headed on home. It was such a great day, and the tremendous failure that was fishing only made it better. Could NOT have been better. Could not have been better.

Nov. '10--On the Main, a-gain (Weno)

2010-11-28T18:49:00.019+11:00

Now for some pics from the past few weeks. We've got shots from around Weno, of course: the office (my obnoxious hair-do), a hotel, pics from my host family's place (sunrise/sets and moon), and various places in-between. I went to another lagoon island, Tonoas, to meet the new volunteers, watch them swear-in and hangout with the PCV from my group stationed there. Also went to Eot, a small island that one of the PCVs who is just about to finish his service is placed on. A big group of PCVs and Jesuit Volunteers went together as a sort of Thanksgiving celebration. Be warned, we buried one guy in the sand, made him into a mermaid and gave him very voluptuous breasts. The final photo is of a jelly fish sting I got. You can hardly see it, and I could hardly feel it (wasn't sure it had actually happened). Fitting, no? Not pictured are the week I spent substituting at a local private high school on Weno, meeting with reps from the Chuuk Mental Health Department to discuss some collaboration between our offices, three straight days of submitting stool samples to a clinic here for my mid-service medical exams, or my new application - a 3D model of the human brain with labels and fairly in-depth overviews of each lobe/function area. It's badass.

Some Perspective

2010-11-24T09:51:00.003+11:00

So the blog has taken a bit of a downer tone as of late, yes? As a friend recently commented, I sound 'broken'. Well, I'd like to strive for a bit more balance and hopefully demonstrate my very much not-broken-ness-scousity... Anyhow, here's a clip from an email I just sent my pops this week. I'm doing okay, please don't worry.

"Thank you for the encouragement, Pops. This experience has certainly lived up to the whole 'life changing' billing it received from everyone I talked to about Peace Corps before joining. What's most amazing to me, right now, is how this has become the hands down most turbulent time in my life (physically, emotionally, locationally) and yet, I'm finding new, unimagined and incredibly deep levels of peace, happiness, joy, and child-like mirth. My blog has been a little heavy on the somber notes lately, but just yesterday, I was buying some groceries, and thought of a silly little joke from some TV show. The impulse to laugh out loud and my full-bodied reaction to the humor of it was overwhelming--stronger than the reactions I recall having while in the States. In some ways, I'm a more reflective, serious, anxious and sad person than I was before, but I'm also much happier, more joyful, silly, relaxed, laid back and peaceful than ever in my life. And it's all that much more special, important, and eye-opening to me for the juxtaposition. If I can be feeling these positive moments so viscerally WHILE I'm also burdened by the other side of the coin, just imagine when it's lifted! Such an exciting time to be alive!"

Theory of Intelligence

2010-11-23T12:03:00.003+11:00

I shit you not, my mom sent this to me. Such a great woman.

Cliff's (from the TV show Cheers) theory of intelligence, as explained to Norm:

"Well you see, Norm, it's like this .. . . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

My brain, oh-ho, it's efficient. Thanks for the knowledge, Mom. Theory made practical has never been more enjoyable!

Nov. 5th-8th, '10--Riding the Nien Chuuk

2010-11-23T11:23:00.007+11:00

Here are photos from my ride in from on a fishing boat. Took four days, visited four islands, landed on three of them. It was pretty freakin' cool. Hope you like the pics!

Once a role model

2010-11-21T20:10:00.004+11:00

I was once a role model. Burgeoning Peace Corps Volunteers, bound for Micronesia and the many fascinating discoveries to made therein would search for their country of service on Google, on Youtube, on PeaceCorpsJournals.com. They found many blogs--some more well updated than others--some pictures, and a few videos. Some of this interweb media happens to have been generated by myself. The earliest of it radiated joy and fulfillment. More recently it's taken a turn for the somber. As was mentioned in an earlier post, at least one current PCV found himself excited at the possibility of emulating my service. Now... when I consider what I've accomplished/failed to accomplish, I come to a particular conclusion. I am both exactly what every incoming trainee should strive to be and nothing that any future Volunteers should hope to become.

On the rock solid side, I've persevered through hardship (not the pinnacle of hardship by any means, though) and stuck with Peace Corps--even still revering what Peace Corps does/strives to do. I've shared my experience to the best of my ability with people back in the States. My outlook on Micronesia has remained, by and large, sunny. Deep relationships have formed between host country locals and myself. I've learned and participated in several local cultural skill-events. I'm strongly considering a third year of service. I'm on good terms with my fellow PCVs and PCMicro staff. My language skills are conversational, for my original placement site. Outlook for the next year is highly optimistic. I'm physically healthy.

On the 'don't do as I do' side of things, I've moved sites, and due to that move (as well as personal shortcomings) I've hardly seen any achieved progress over the past five and a half months. I've lost a close friend, whose death is still surreal yet ever-present. My doubts, fears, frustrations, cynicism, ambivalence, and sadness are at all time highs (save for those 'heart break recovery' moments of adolescence/young adulthood). I'm in no better position to make a positive impact on my community than I was before I swore-in as a PCV. Withdrawing (from everybody and every place imaginable) has become one of my primary habits. My pride has me wanting to be known as a so-called 'super volunteer' while my self-loathing has me wishing I'd be revealed as the sham of a PCV that I am. I disappoint myself on a daily basis, so thoroughly, I'm not even upset, I'm impressed. I get lost in daydreams of what life would be like, had I been assigned to another country. My parents are worried about me, my future, and how I'll continue on with life, from this experience.

A very limited, select few, of my fellow Americans have wished to 'be me'. I hope they find the irrational Peace that is enveloping my life, but I hope they avoid so much of my experience in the Peace Corps.

A Day in Houk

2010-11-21T19:58:00.002+11:00

October '10 - Houk: The Return

2010-11-21T17:27:00.009+11:00

Holy Houk! Let's start with Houk Constitution Day, including my host cousin Stan sporting a bra and machete while conducting songs. Whoo! Having a constitution, yeah! Quick pics of the following feast and men's circle (a rarity on Houk, as it is a 'dry' island--we drank yeast, brewed STRONG). Follow with a walk around the island--primary interest = baby coconut crab. Check out my room. Then a back-to-school bbq, which they called the 'Farewell BBQ'. Go figure. Photos from around my family compound and the island finish this picture party off, including my 'weight room' (the assorted metal/concrete items in the yard), a miniature tree made from wood shavings and coconuts husk fibers, church and community center shots, my cheeky and ultra-traditional loincloth photo, school photos and some cool looks 'round the is-land.

A Sea- and Wayfaring Volunteer

2010-11-21T17:19:00.004+11:00

The John Butler Trio - "Nowhere Man"
Live music video

I’m in, and I’m out
Alien from somewhere else
Don’t know what the hell
I be on about
But from here and there
I belong nowhere

Seem so many know the name
Now things don’t seem to be the same
But they are some how
Cause all my life I lived on the outside
And now I’m in, but in nowhere

Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man

Strangely enough I’m more
like a lone tree
I love those forests
but alone better suits me but
I love to share just like the pollen loves to be free
And flying in through the air
nowhere better suits me

Somewhere down deep inside of me
I guess I always wanted to
be part of that we
And now I found that in my family
And now I’m happy just to be

Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man
Nowhere Man

As I knew him

2010-11-14T08:52:00.006+11:00