In conversation with a friend today, he voiced the opinion that he was a little disappointed because Peace Corps Dominican Republic is not as "intense" as Peace Corps in some other countries, and therefore not as challenging/rewarding for him. I'm of a different school of thought - one that says it's all relative, and it doesn't matter that I don't live among loin-cloth-wearing, teeth-sharpening-aborigines (my anthropology professors will surely kill me after reading this), because I still work hard and do my best to meet adversity head-on every day. Little did I know what THIS day had in store for me.
I had to go to Santiago today, about an hour away, for a meeting about a youth conference that we're planning in my region. Although most of the volunteers at the meeting had planned to stay the night in Santiago, I headed back to my site around 6:00 because I have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. About 15 minutes into my trip, it started to rain.
We climbed the mountain in a bus. It rained harder. It got a little darker. When I arrived to the point in my journey where I have to switch from bus to motorcycle (really, there's no other way to get home), the sun was setting and the rain was hard and steady. I took shelter under a little palm shack with other travelers and motorcycle drivers, and prepared to wait out the storm. An hour later, in the complete darkness (even summer light doesn't last past 8:00), fully aware that there is a hurricane off the northwest cost of the island that would probably mean steady rain for the rest of the evening, I took the plunge. In a light cotton dress (clearly), with my computer (of course) wrapped in a plastic bag, I set off on the most miserable 15 minute trip of my life. Barreling up and down the mountain-side, soaked to the bone, clutching my bad in complete darkness, I thought about all the other volunteers in the country and what they might be doing at that moment. I happened to be aware that at least 15 were staying the night together in Santiago, and another 15 or so were hanging out and working together in the capital, so I couldn't help but think: dang, somewhere along the way, I made a wrong turn.
When we got to the bottom of the hill where I live, the motorcycle driver left me to complete the rest of the journey on foot. (He wasn't being a jerk - even on sunny days, it's nearly impossible for them to get all the way to my house.) Praying for lightning to light my way with every step, I talked myself home through the pitch-black puddles, calf deep in muddy water. "You're almost there. Come on lightning. I can see the house now." That sort of thing. In the final crossing of the street-turned-river in front of my house, I lost both of my flip-flops.
Well. That was just more than I could take. I stormed (ha) barefoot and dripping wet into the house, put down my soggy belongings, grabbed my headlamp and headed back out the door. I found one flop immediately, and although the other had been carried quite a ways by the raging mud stream, I let out a triumphant "aha!" when I saw the red straps ahead lit up by my headlamp.
The rest is details. Showered quickly, set things out to dry on every surface in the house, ate dinner and talked a bit with my host parents. Unfortunately, in the hustle and bustle of mounting the motorcycle, the books in my backpack did not get covered by a plastic bag. Oh well, they'll dry in the sun.
Moral of the story: it's impossible, and even dangerous to one's stability, to try to compare one's Peace Corps experience to that of anyone else's, in the same country or otherwise. There are good days, and there are bad days. We count our losses and hope for the best. In my case, it was worth it to take the plunge, and the right decision, because had I waited until just this moment, the rain would have still been steadily coming down.
1 comment:
I agree with your school of thought. After all, that other person seemed to be holding the Peace Corps on some exotic pedastal. In reality, anywhere you go in the world, it's someone's daily life. If you're there for 2 1/2 year, it's going to be your daily life. It's romantizing the Peace Corps to imagine everyday as some safari adventure or whatever. I think you'll measure your experience on many meaningful levels besides just pure intensity (which I think you have plenty of, by reading your posts!). Enjoy yourself, amazing Mica! I am so eager to hear more!
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