Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey: 21 months down, 4.5 to go.

School is out, holiday season is upon us, and we only have five months to go.  I wish I knew what this meant in a more holistic way, however at this point it seems like the countdown to something that is not yet real. I am not entirely positive when the gravity of “we only have 147 days left in country” sets in, but I know for me it happens somewhere after the five-month mark (I know 5 months seems like a long time, but I am continuously told that it goes by very quickly, which works for me because I have no idea given time being all wibbly wobbly).

We recently got a batch of newbies, so exciting! So many faces of joy/fear, so many questions and novelties for them. Mostly though, so many questions. It’s so strange to go from being around people in our community to meeting up with fresh off the plane Americans, and I mean real Americans, like their clothes are still clean and they are using the newest slang words, which I am both too white and dorky to even attempt.

Surrounded by these Americans, puro-Americans is so strange. Seeing our former selves in them. Their glee and excitement, it can be intoxicating overwhelming…but mostly it is really nice to see the country that we have become so accustomed to through the eyes of someone experiencing its wonders for the first time.

As amazing as the newness and excitement of the surroundings are, at some point during the conversation the topic turns to how long we have each been there and in many cases what are our plans next. If I may give a suggestion to anyone who ever meets someone while they are serving in the Peace Corps: never ask this question. Odds are that person has thought and stressed about that question until they feel like they are drowning in stagnancy, options, and feeling option less.  Asking someone that question at this particular stage in their life would be like asking someone who had just been dumped after a long-term, live-in relationship who they are going to marry. Personally it just makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry.  Instead, I generally say whatever pops into my head at that particular moment. Well you see…first I am going to join a drug ring while traveling through Columbia, after I reach drug lord status I will probably get bored and maybe go to Argentina…on camel back, there is no  other way to travel *insert hoity-toity condescending laugh here (this is a joke, I know camels don’t live in Argentina, right?) I will sustain myself by becoming a belly dancer and juggling knives. When I tire of that I suppose I will go back to the US of A and maybe be an Econ teacher or something. At this point all of that seems just as likely as going back to grad school and being accepted to a social work program.

The moral of this ranting pseudo-story is that America and Americans are scary and want answers to questions that I don’t yet have. Suddenly I find myself wistfully longing for the questions I normally get here: “Are you a catholic or Evangelical”, “Do you have insert random thing here in America?”. Questions here are mostly simple. People are looking for human to human connection. Rarely, if ever, will someone talk to you with a phone to their face or while texting. Things feel genuine (sometimes code for nosy) and generally comfortable, and sometimes during these random conversations about there being corn AND tortillas in the United States I am reminded that I only have 147 days until I am dropped back into the reality of our fast pace life where most conversations are held with people never looking up from their screens. Back into a life of unknowns and question marks, and I am reminded that I felt the same way when coming here. I suppose at least going back I know more people there than when I came here, I speak (most) of the language, damn kids with their fancy new words, I know the customs (I just choose to ignore them), and I mostly know what is expected of me (which I also chose to ignore), and everything will be okay. Transitions will always be rough, I am glad with this particular one I will have friends on both sides for support and companionship on the days when I regret giving up my drug lord status so soon.