Dumalang borra le bomma! That’s hello ladies and gents, to those of you not yet schooled in Setswana! I cannot believe how much has happened in the last 72-ish hours of my life! As a result, this blog may be a little disjointed! Here’s a rundown of my last couple of days:
April 10/Day 1: Spent the morning driving to Philly from DC with a dear friend.
12:00-7:00pm: Staging—a brief run-down/get-to-know-you session with your Peace Corps Class and some stateside PC staff.
7:00-8:00pm: Waiting to check in for hotel room.
8:15pm: Informed that there was an error and that
I and one fellow volunteer actually don’t have a room. The beginning of my education in one of the big 3 PC values: rid yourself of expectations! Pfft, who needs a bed anyway—I’ve got my sleeping bag and all my gear, right?
8:30-ish: Situation resolved, received cot in the room of a pair of kind volunteers. Decided to forgo dinner; too much stress and…(see next event)
April 11/ Day 2: 1:20am Yes, 1:20 am. Woke up.
1:45am Checked out of hotel.
2:30am(EST)-7:30pm (Botswana)
35-ish hours of transit to Botswana, which included a 3 hour bus ride to JFK from Philly, waiting for 5 hours in JFK for plane to board, 15 hour flight to Jo’berg, an 8 hour layover in Jo’berg, 45 minute flight to Gaborone, and a bus ride to our lodge.
7:30-10pm-ish: Checking in hotel/brief orientation.
Today/rest of week, lots of training, but some downtime in the evening…Friday move in with host family! AHH!
So here are a few quick observations:
Peace Corps Volunteers are pretty much the coolest people ever…LOVE everyone I’ve met, so genuine, caring, great senses of humor and perspective on life…love it!
Language training is awesome so far. I SUCK at learning languages, but I feel like I might actually be able to pick this up—they break us up into small groups of 4-ish and put us with an instructor who is FULL of patience and creative teaching skills…don’t know much so far, but it’s the first time I’ve felt optimistic about my chances of learning! Fingers crossed!
Botswana is SO beautiful. Gabs (short for Gaborone, where we are now) is so much more lush and green than I ever expected, and there are actually…I won’t say “mountains” but definitely some big hills which make the landscape even more beautiful. Arriving in fall is excellent, because the weather is just dreamy, and so far the mosquitoes haven’t been as bas as I’ve feared (although I know it’ll get worse).
The dirt is all red here! Pretty, but I can see how it will get tiring once I have to wash all of my clothes. It also smells really different here, really pretty. I don’t know if it’s the vegetation or something else, but it’s nice…
Although we haven’t had much exposure to the Batswana people, they seem really nice—lots of smiling and laughing; I LOVE that!
I got to go for a run/workout with a few volunteers…it was SO excellent…it’s kind of cool because it’s like…”hey, guess what I’m doing right now. Running. In Africa. Yeah. Africa.” Hehe.
Food hasn’t been an issue yet, but only time will tell on that one. Already missing chocolate a bit. ;o)
We’re definitely still in the cushy easing-us-in stage—nice hotel with running water and internet (expensive) and a TV, so I think it still hasn’t quite hit me. I sort of just have vague feelings of excitement and being totally overwhelmed lurking in the background. I can’t tell whether the whole shock hasn’t set in, or whether it just doesn’t feel as strange as I expected it to. I actually do feel a lot of sadness and homesickness—I really didn’t expect to feel so much so soon…darn you guys for being so awesome and making me miss you!! Anyway, I apologize for the long disjointed mess that this blog has been, but I’m alive and you all love me soooo much that I’m sure you don’t mind, right?! Hehe ;o) I have NO idea how often I’ll have access to the web, or how much I’ll be able to do when I’m online (here you pay based on time, and it’s not cheap; plus our training schedule is INtense), but I’ll do my best to stay in touch!
April 13, 2010
April 8, 2010
A Case of the Three’s
It’s funny how sometimes right before something big happens, everything seems to coalesce rather profoundly around something which would otherwise feel entirely insignificant. This morning, as I stare out the train window, enjoying my first and last (for a while) views of the Eastern Seaboard, gazing upon the early morning sunlight flickering through branches of trees about to burst with new spring life, I find myself fixated on the number three.
Three days until I leave.
Three cities left in America (D.C., Philadelphia, New York), then three cities in Africa (Johanasburg, Gaborone, Molepolole).
Three BIG bags.
Three impending goodbye calls to family.
Three Peace Corps values—patience, flexibility, and never forming expectations—which are prudent to success as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
The three-part Peace Corps Mission which I hope to manifest throughout my service and beyond:
1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting the need for trained men and women.
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people served.
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of all Americans.
And finally, the three simultaneous emotions, each spectacularly intense, which seem to be holding my sanity hostage: excitement, terror, and absolute confidence that whatever the end result, I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
Three days until I leave.
Three cities left in America (D.C., Philadelphia, New York), then three cities in Africa (Johanasburg, Gaborone, Molepolole).
Three BIG bags.
Three impending goodbye calls to family.
Three Peace Corps values—patience, flexibility, and never forming expectations—which are prudent to success as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
The three-part Peace Corps Mission which I hope to manifest throughout my service and beyond:
1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting the need for trained men and women.
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people served.
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of all Americans.
And finally, the three simultaneous emotions, each spectacularly intense, which seem to be holding my sanity hostage: excitement, terror, and absolute confidence that whatever the end result, I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
March 20, 2010
Last Lasts
Over the past year, many of you have become painfully aware of the toll that the lengthy Peace Corps application process can have on future/potential volunteers (and our dear friends and family, who bear the brunt of our worrying, whining, and obsessing . . . did I mention how much I love you guys?!). Indeed, a year, give or take a few months can feel like an extraordinary amount of time when you are literally not sure whether you’ll be moving to Seattle or Africa. Even the most seemingly mundane decisions like whether to eat out or stay home and settle for lentils and rice suddenly require an absurd level of scrutiny—do I enjoy the luxuries America has to offer while I can, or should I be responsible and save for the future? While this sort of thinking can drive a person mad, it was also the catalyst for what was almost certainly the best year of my life (up to this point, anyway).
Though I still unabashedly argue in favor of a shorter application process for volunteers, I must say that I can think of few other life circumstances that produce a similar sense of urgency for everyday situations. It is so easy to become complacent in our day-to-day lives that it has become a cliché movie plot or party game scenario to imagine what we would do if we were suddenly told we only had six months to live or won the lottery and had only a limited time to spend it.
The Peace Corps is hardly akin to death or Power Ball (upon which end of that spectrum it falls depends who you talk to, although it goes without saying that I consider acceptance a big victory :o), yet it inspired me to closely examine how I was spending the time before my possible departure and gave me an excuse to take advantage of the opportunities that are easy to pass up under normal circumstances. For the first time in my life, I actually made every decision a conscious decision, and stopped putting things off—I went to the big fireworks display on the Fourth, I ran a marathon, learned to ride a bike, went camping and hiking nearly every weekend over the summer, enjoyed the Farmer’s Markets, volunteered excessively, took roadtrips on a whim, went to concerts, made new friends, and generally didn’t let anything hold me back. Admittedly, this approach has its drawbacks—it can be quite selfish, and didn’t exactly help pad my savings account—but it enabled me to become a stronger, more empowered, and ultimately happier person.
Strangely enough, though, over the past year my preoccupation with last chances and living in the moment evolved away from the notion from which it originated—my impending departure—and morphed into a habitual change in thinking. I have maintained an awareness of what little time I have left with family, friends, and animal companions. I have participated in the ritual frenzy of packing and preparation (see previous entry :o). Yet my acceptance into the Peace Corps still felt like an abstraction.
It was not until I received an e-mail from the Peace Corps Staging Department that the implications and impact of my acceptance truly set in. I am actually going to Africa. Not to some romanticized land in some hypothetical future. I am going to Botswana. On April 11th. I am taking United Airlines Flight #9816 then Air Johanasburg Flight #38 to Gaborone, Botswana. Where I will live and eat and drink and sleep and work and play and get sick and make friends and get lost and learn and cry and experience the world in a whole new way. For 27 months.
These next few weeks will be full of my real lasts before my entire life will be turned upside-down, and the emotions surrounding it all are genuinely beginning to hit me—excitement for the experiences I will gain, sadness for things I will miss, anxiety for the change, and hope that my experience will be a success, whatever that means. I’m down to my last few lasts before I have a whole lot of firsts, and I think it’s finally set in.
Though I still unabashedly argue in favor of a shorter application process for volunteers, I must say that I can think of few other life circumstances that produce a similar sense of urgency for everyday situations. It is so easy to become complacent in our day-to-day lives that it has become a cliché movie plot or party game scenario to imagine what we would do if we were suddenly told we only had six months to live or won the lottery and had only a limited time to spend it.
The Peace Corps is hardly akin to death or Power Ball (upon which end of that spectrum it falls depends who you talk to, although it goes without saying that I consider acceptance a big victory :o), yet it inspired me to closely examine how I was spending the time before my possible departure and gave me an excuse to take advantage of the opportunities that are easy to pass up under normal circumstances. For the first time in my life, I actually made every decision a conscious decision, and stopped putting things off—I went to the big fireworks display on the Fourth, I ran a marathon, learned to ride a bike, went camping and hiking nearly every weekend over the summer, enjoyed the Farmer’s Markets, volunteered excessively, took roadtrips on a whim, went to concerts, made new friends, and generally didn’t let anything hold me back. Admittedly, this approach has its drawbacks—it can be quite selfish, and didn’t exactly help pad my savings account—but it enabled me to become a stronger, more empowered, and ultimately happier person.
Strangely enough, though, over the past year my preoccupation with last chances and living in the moment evolved away from the notion from which it originated—my impending departure—and morphed into a habitual change in thinking. I have maintained an awareness of what little time I have left with family, friends, and animal companions. I have participated in the ritual frenzy of packing and preparation (see previous entry :o). Yet my acceptance into the Peace Corps still felt like an abstraction.
It was not until I received an e-mail from the Peace Corps Staging Department that the implications and impact of my acceptance truly set in. I am actually going to Africa. Not to some romanticized land in some hypothetical future. I am going to Botswana. On April 11th. I am taking United Airlines Flight #9816 then Air Johanasburg Flight #38 to Gaborone, Botswana. Where I will live and eat and drink and sleep and work and play and get sick and make friends and get lost and learn and cry and experience the world in a whole new way. For 27 months.
These next few weeks will be full of my real lasts before my entire life will be turned upside-down, and the emotions surrounding it all are genuinely beginning to hit me—excitement for the experiences I will gain, sadness for things I will miss, anxiety for the change, and hope that my experience will be a success, whatever that means. I’m down to my last few lasts before I have a whole lot of firsts, and I think it’s finally set in.
March 11, 2010
It fits! (Kind of…) or Typically Laid-Back Chelsea Enters Crazy-Over-Achieving-Organized Mode
It is a strange experience trying to anticipate each and every thing I might use over the next two years, whittling that list down to only bare necessities, and squeezing it into only two bags (not to exceed 107 inches total bulk and 80 pounds total weight, plus a carry on, of course :o). It is stranger yet to think of all of the things that I have categorized as necessities, but that cannot even be purchased in Botswana—meaning that they are not only unnecessary, but they aren’t even frivolities for most people throughout the world. Thus, even in these early stages of Peace Corps preparation, elements of the culture-shock that I am about to experience are beginning to set in. As an American, raised in a materialistic culture, it feels both unsettling and strikingly empowering to condense my belongings into two bags that wouldn’t even fill the trunk of my car. Despite the comfort provided by the possessions that I won’t be able to bring (the blanket my mother made when I was a child, my band memorabilia, paintings, etc.), the excesses and the constant subconscious need for more is a weight that I am happy to be rid of, at least for a couple of years. (Of course, ask me if I feel that way in 6 months, and we’ll see whether my “hippie” anti-materialistic idealism holds…I hope it will, though!)
All that said, even in the paring down of my possessions, my American tendencies toward control, precision, and order have been out in full force—strangely more so than in my everyday life—perhaps as the final attempt to exert authority before being hurled into a foreign world in which I will inevitably feel quite vulnerable and helpless at times. These tendencies have manifested in a near compulsion to create the perfect packing list, get the perfect bags, and create the perfect organizational system (along with a corresponding chart which diagrams each item on said perfect packing list and its exact location within said perfect organizational system in said perfect bags). I would love to say that having seen through this thinly-veiled attempt to exercise control over my soon-to-be tumultuous life, I rose above this impulse and packed calmly and rationally like a normal person. But sadly, as I sit amidst my entirely packed, perfectly organized bags, staring at my color-coordinated and numbered itemized packing chart, just under a month before I am set to depart, I think it is quite clear that this is a battle that was not won.
I will admit to feeling a twinge of smug self-righteousness (as one of my dear friends often puts it) over my apparent over-achieving packing success (I say “apparent” because I am quite sure that once in country, I will find I have fallen into many packing pitfalls. And that’s okay.) However in all truth, as I stare at these bags and think of my two years to come, the thing that strikes me the most, trite though it sounds, is how blessed I am to have the love, encouragement, and support from so many friends and family members. You all mean the world to me, and I know I honestly would not be on the verge of embarking on my dream experience without all that you have given me. And that is something I can neither control, nor fit into a pack. (Awww.) Thank you, everyone. I am in constant awe of how lucky I am to have each of you in my life.
All that said, even in the paring down of my possessions, my American tendencies toward control, precision, and order have been out in full force—strangely more so than in my everyday life—perhaps as the final attempt to exert authority before being hurled into a foreign world in which I will inevitably feel quite vulnerable and helpless at times. These tendencies have manifested in a near compulsion to create the perfect packing list, get the perfect bags, and create the perfect organizational system (along with a corresponding chart which diagrams each item on said perfect packing list and its exact location within said perfect organizational system in said perfect bags). I would love to say that having seen through this thinly-veiled attempt to exercise control over my soon-to-be tumultuous life, I rose above this impulse and packed calmly and rationally like a normal person. But sadly, as I sit amidst my entirely packed, perfectly organized bags, staring at my color-coordinated and numbered itemized packing chart, just under a month before I am set to depart, I think it is quite clear that this is a battle that was not won.
I will admit to feeling a twinge of smug self-righteousness (as one of my dear friends often puts it) over my apparent over-achieving packing success (I say “apparent” because I am quite sure that once in country, I will find I have fallen into many packing pitfalls. And that’s okay.) However in all truth, as I stare at these bags and think of my two years to come, the thing that strikes me the most, trite though it sounds, is how blessed I am to have the love, encouragement, and support from so many friends and family members. You all mean the world to me, and I know I honestly would not be on the verge of embarking on my dream experience without all that you have given me. And that is something I can neither control, nor fit into a pack. (Awww.) Thank you, everyone. I am in constant awe of how lucky I am to have each of you in my life.
PACKING PHOTOS BELOW:
The inside of my big blue rolling duffel. Note the crazyawesome organization, including numbered bags. Be impressed.
The outside of my big blue rolling duffel.
Inside of the perfect backpack. Again, note the extreme level of organization. Also note that it opens like a regular pack, instead of at the top, like most backpacking packs. Way better for packing/unpacking/repacking.
The front outside of my pack, without the extra daypack attachment. This is how I will have to check it, with the daypack as a separate carry-on. This pack is SO versatile!
Outside side of my pack. Note the heavy-duty handles at the top and side, in case you want to carry it as a duffel instead of a pack.
Outside back of my pack. Where are the straps to carry it?
Oh, THERE they are. That’s right, this pack kicks butt. Well worth the intentionally undisclosed amount of time I spent researching to find it.
The back of my big pack’s companion day-pack with the straps all tucked in cute-like. Aww. What a pair these two make.
Front of the daypack.
Inside of daypack—even more crazy organizational madness.
Big pack with daypack attached. This thing is bigger than it looks, I promise!! (Also notice my cat Pierre, offering his moral support or condescension [could go either way] in the background.)
My bags, along with my carry-on all together…that’s my next two years in there, folks!
Happy Chelsea carrying her pack (happy, considering I JUST put it on).
I only hate my life a little bit when I have to carry all this. ;oP
Me and all my stuff.
PACKING LIST: (in NO order and with NO structure whatsoever. My advanced tables and graphs would not translate into the html box :oP):
6 dress shirts 2 cardigans Mirror Sleeping bag Sheets Protein powder Window screen material FM Radio Jump rope Seeds Can opener Vegetable peeler Rope Scissors Plug adapter/converter Rechargable batteries Pepper spray (at the suggestion of several returned volunteers. Not sure whether I’ll use it) Extra camera memory iPod speakers/plug iPod computer connector Duct tape Swiss army knife Chargers (for everything that needs charging!) External hard drive/cord Sewing kit Flash drives Extra headphones Camera tripod Headlamp Tennis shoes Dress/work shoes Sandals House Shoes Casual clothes 2 Skirts, past knee Socks Tights Underwear Undershirt Pajamas (for warm and cold weather) Tea Green produce bags Reusable shopping bags Rx Glasses Rx Sunglasses Sketchpad Pencils Paintbrushes Wildlife guidebooks Botswana guidebook Seattle books Stargazing book/star chart NGO Development book Earplugs Tampons Meds Vitamins Sunblock First aid kit Toothpaste Toothbrush Dental floss Hair brush Hair scissors Hairbands Lip balm Contact lenses Contact lense solution Deodorant Facial toner Facial moisturizer Grapseed oil (moisturizer) Razors Microfiber towel Face soap Shampoo Conditioner Long underwear Baselayer jacket Fleece jacket Rain shell Running pants Running shorts Running top Scarf Gloves Sunhat Index cards Sharpies Pens Journal Day calendar UNO Regular cards Dice game Blow-up globe Copies of all personal documents Laptop Camera FlipVideo iPod Binoculars Coffee press Water Bottles Sunglasses (non Rx) Toilet paper Pillow Travel alarm w/ thermometer and flashlight GPS w/ Africa chip Maps
If you have questions about anything on here (why it's on here, why something's not), I'm more than happy to answer. Botswana is a country where (according to volunteers) you can get most things you need (pots, pans, etc.) at stores in the bigger cities.
PACKING LIST: (in NO order and with NO structure whatsoever. My advanced tables and graphs would not translate into the html box :oP):
6 dress shirts 2 cardigans Mirror Sleeping bag Sheets Protein powder Window screen material FM Radio Jump rope Seeds Can opener Vegetable peeler Rope Scissors Plug adapter/converter Rechargable batteries Pepper spray (at the suggestion of several returned volunteers. Not sure whether I’ll use it) Extra camera memory iPod speakers/plug iPod computer connector Duct tape Swiss army knife Chargers (for everything that needs charging!) External hard drive/cord Sewing kit Flash drives Extra headphones Camera tripod Headlamp Tennis shoes Dress/work shoes Sandals House Shoes Casual clothes 2 Skirts, past knee Socks Tights Underwear Undershirt Pajamas (for warm and cold weather) Tea Green produce bags Reusable shopping bags Rx Glasses Rx Sunglasses Sketchpad Pencils Paintbrushes Wildlife guidebooks Botswana guidebook Seattle books Stargazing book/star chart NGO Development book Earplugs Tampons Meds Vitamins Sunblock First aid kit Toothpaste Toothbrush Dental floss Hair brush Hair scissors Hairbands Lip balm Contact lenses Contact lense solution Deodorant Facial toner Facial moisturizer Grapseed oil (moisturizer) Razors Microfiber towel Face soap Shampoo Conditioner Long underwear Baselayer jacket Fleece jacket Rain shell Running pants Running shorts Running top Scarf Gloves Sunhat Index cards Sharpies Pens Journal Day calendar UNO Regular cards Dice game Blow-up globe Copies of all personal documents Laptop Camera FlipVideo iPod Binoculars Coffee press Water Bottles Sunglasses (non Rx) Toilet paper Pillow Travel alarm w/ thermometer and flashlight GPS w/ Africa chip Maps
If you have questions about anything on here (why it's on here, why something's not), I'm more than happy to answer. Botswana is a country where (according to volunteers) you can get most things you need (pots, pans, etc.) at stores in the bigger cities.
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