"And I've always felt that the beauty of being surrounded by the foreign is that it slaps you awake. You can't take anything for granted. Travel, for me, is a little bit like being in love,because suddenly all your senses are at the setting marked 'on.' Suddenly you're alert to the secret patterns of the world.” - Pico Iyer

The view from the docks behind our hotel in Langkawi

With the end of my first semester teaching at MAN Ngraho, I was ready for a well deserved vacation. So my new minimalist self, armed with just a backpack, headed to Malaysia with Terrence for 10 days. We passed through sparse security checks in Surabaya, boarded a flight to Malaysia and after a quick 3 hour nap, we landed in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur. The airport wasn't much to look at, but there was a distinct difference from the airport we had departed from: English was everywhere! The language of Malay is very similar to Indonesian, a language I have spent the last 8 months learning and feel relatively comfortable with, so I wasn't worried about communication. But when it came to interacting with not only people at the airport, but those in restaurants, when asking for directions in the street, when buying train tickets, they all spoke English. Aside from saying terima kasih (thank you), we barely spoke Indonesian for the duration of our vacation.

City Streets: Kuala Lumpur

Batu Caves

The first two days were spent in Kuala Lumpur. We stayed at a hotel in Bukit Bintang, a lively, young neighborhood within walking distance to the center of the city. The location of our hotel was perfect and the food was varied and delicious. Every street was lined with restaurants and bars boasting happy hours and daily specials and they came to life as the sun went down, filling up with locals and tourists alike. During the day we walked the streets, went to the Petronas Towers, ate in Little India and visited Chinatown. We also went to the Batu Caves, which house Hindu temples in a beautiful setting. Compared to the Indonesian cities I have been to, KL is organized, clean and easy to maneuver. Public transportation was easy to use and took use where ever we needed to go, the city streets were more or less trash free and there are sidewalks making it easy to walk around.

Hippie Towns: Georgetown, Penang

Gurney Drive

Temple on Penang Hill

After a longer than expected bus ride, T and I finally arrived on the island of Penang. Too exhausted to try finding a bus into Georgetown, we jumped in a taxi and asked to be taken to our hotel. I thought taxi drivers in Indonesia were chatty, but they got nothing on the driver we had that day. Once he found out that we are American, he excitedly told us about some Americans he had meet a while back who had come to Penang in search of weed and had spent many night smoking up with our taxi driver and his friends. Coming from Indonesia, where drugs laws are so strictly enforced, this conversation was a shock to my system. To top it all off, as he dropped us off in from of the hotel, he let us sneak a peek at his homemade bong made out of a plastic bottle. He left us with his calling card, and while tempting we decided it would be best not to get into any trouble.

After dropping off our bags and freshening up, we hit the streets in search of food and drink and we found some amazing places. Wandering the streets, we found our way to a lively Indian neighborhood, where music was blaring in the streets and incense smoke was wafting out of every store. We kept walking, making our way to Fort Cornwallis, built by the British East Indian Company along the water. We were starting to feel as though we had taken a wrong turn and ended up in a deserted part of town, but we wandered down to the end of a dock and found a beautiful, secluded bar sitting at the end of the dock, over looking the water. We sat, talking over wine and beer, enjoying the view and our wonderful surroundings.

Penang Hill

Christmas Eve in Penang, T and I went to Penang Hill, taking a cable car to the top where you can walk around, eat and enjoy the view. The views from the top were incredible. We sat at the restaurant for a beer and snacks before heading back to Georgetown. Once we had showered and changes, T and I got in a cab to the Gurney Drive hawker center. While we were wandering the streets of Georgetown that evening, we decided to get drinks at a place called Reggae Bar. The people seemed friendly, there was outdoor seating and it had a cool vibe. We joined a growing group of foreigners sitting outside, while the friendly proprietor eagerly introduced us to everyone at the table. Some Germans, some Italians, some Brits, the list goes on. T and I started talking to a pair of students Julia and Abdol. She is a German student and he a Libyan student studying in Georgetown. We made a plan to meet them the following morning and spend the day at the beach.  

Left to right: T, Julia and Abdol at the bus station

T, Abdol and Julia at the beach

Getting served Arabic coffee

 Our second day in town, we joined up with Julia and Abdol and spent Christmas day at Ferringhi Beach. After a late start and a stop at a bakery for the first bagel and cream cheese I've had in 8 months, we hopped on a bus to the beach. What a great way to spend Christmas away from your family. We swam, we lay on the beach and for dinner, we went to an Arabic restaurant recently opened by Abdol's family friend. I had an Arabic salad and it was delicious. We finished the meal with some of the famous Arabic coffee, which was the strongest and most flavorful coffee I've ever had. After our meal, we wandered back to the beach as evening fell, then walked along the main street, now taken over by a night market. It was such a relaxing Christmas day, but busy enough to distract from the fact that my family was on the other side of the planet, celebrating at home without me. 

Island Getaways: Langkawi

The boats we took to the islands

Island beach

Dayang Bunting Lake

The next day, we took a three hour ferry ride from Georgetown to the island of Langkawi, known for the beautiful beaches and secluded smaller islands surrounding it. Our first full day there, T and I went on an Island Hopping tour. We joined a group of about eight others on a boat and cruised over to a small island with a beautiful beach. We spend an hour swimming and lying on the beach, then we got back on the boat and cruised to a secluded alcove full of eagles, diving into the water, catching fish. We snapped a few shots then headed to the last stop, and the one I was most looking forward to, Dayang Bunting Lake. Our captain dropped us off at the docks and we followed the trail, up into the island. Followed by monkeys searching for food, we hiked our way to the fresh water lake, isolated in the middle of the island. It was breathtaking. The pictures do not do it justice. We swam, bought some snacks and relaxed on the docks. It was the perfect end to our island adventure. Once we were dropped off in Langkawi, we walked back to our hotel, got dinner next door and walk down to the water to watch fireworks celebrating a festival in town.

On the boat

Look out point at the top the mountain

Our second day in Langkawi, we rented a car and drove to the Oriental Village, where we took cable cars up into the mountains. While there was a great view from the top, there wasn't anything to do at the top, so we took a few pictures and headed back down the mountain and drove to Cenang Beach. First stop in town was to a Mexican restaurant. I was somewhat wary at first, but the food turned out to be amazing. We filled up on nachos, quesadillas and fajitas then, with full bellies, we walked to the beach for the evening. Before heading back to our hotel for our last night in town, we stopped by a falafel and shawarma stand for dinner. The next day we took a bus back to KL for two days, then took a flight back to Indonesia.

Cenang Beach

Homeward Bound: Readjustment in Surabaya

We've all heard of culture shock. While Indonesia and Malaysia are similar in certain aspects, my personal experiences in each country have been radically different. Going from vacationing in hotels, taking hot showers, relaxing on beaches and eating a wide variety of delicious foods to a little desa (village) with bucket showers, squat toilets and mice is a hard transition, no matter whether you've made the transition before or not. So before heading back to my desa, I spent a few days in Surabaya, the provincial capital of East Java where the Peace Corps office is located, getting back into the culture and language of Indonesia. After the winter holidays, the volunteer lounge at the PC office was full of return travelers recounting their adventures and taking some time to readjust to Indonesia before getting back to the desa life. It was great to spend time catching up with friends, but hearing all about their awesome adventures made me realize how much there is to see and experience. I have barely scraped the tip of the travel iceberg.

Back to reality

My ibu and host sister sitting on the porch

My host brothers washing their motorcycles in the rain

Ending vacations are always bittersweet. You don't want the excitement of traveling and the relaxation away from our daily pressures to end, but you're also exhausted from traveling and long to return home to your family and daily routine. My favorite part of returning home, is realizing the differences travel makes. Once back in this neutral place, or at least one you have adjusted to, you see how you have changed against the backdrop of your home. The interactions between you and your family change ever so slightly, almost undetectably, and the space you are surrounded by holds a slightly adjusted place in your heart. Depending on the person you are, home will feel either more significant or more insignificant.

Soaking wet and happy

“The real voyage of discovery, as Marcel Proust famously said, consists not in seeing new sights, but in looking with new eyes. And of course, once you have new eyes, even the old sights, even your home become something different.” -Pico Iyer

The apple tree in the backyard of our Tiburon house

Up until the age of 14, home was a specific place to me. My family had lived in the same house in Tiburon, California since I was a year old and was a place I could claim as my own. I knew that house like the back of my hand: the grassy front yard, the apple tree in the back, the finicky heater in the hallway next to my parent's bedroom. The physical space that was our house had meaning. I'm not sure if this meaning came from all of the significant events that took place in the house or simply because I had no other idea of home to compare it to, but that house was home in every sense of the word. The physical and the ideological. And then we moved. I no longer resent my parents for moving our family to Connecticut and have grown to love the east coast for what it is, but my initial idea of home lost its meaning once we left California. Home was no longer a physical location, building or apple tree. Home had transformed into wherever my family was. Connecticut became my home because that was where my family was. The specific location or house didn't have much significance when it came to my new idea of home. The important part was the WHO, not the WHERE. 

The three Akinyemi children

  Then we started to spread out. We were no longer a compact unit, instead we functioned as a family from different corners of the country and sometimes, different corners of the world. Since I no longer had a concrete sense of home, whether physical or familial, I took a page from Lion King's Pumba. “Home is where your rump rests.” So home turned into wherever I happened to be living, whether that was Manhattan, London or Greenwich. This way of thinking about “home” worked for me all through college and the year I spent working before joining the Peace Corps.

Senior year dorm room

But now, living in Indonesia, that definition of home no longer works for me. If you ask me where I am living or where my house is, I would tell you that I currently live in Desa Tinggang, Kec. Ngraho, Kab. Bojonegoro on the island of Java, Indonesia. This is pretty specific in terms of location, but the house, the village and the culture are not mine. And for that reason alone, I cannot call Indonesia home, no matter how much I love the people, the culture, the village, my host family and the school where I work. I know I belong here at the moment, but Indonesia is not my home, it is where I currently live. So where does that leave my definition of home? I'll let you know once I've figured it out.

Temple outside of Malang with my ibu and her daughter

 “We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed.” - Pico Iyer

Buddah statue at Borobudur Temple

"And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.' "

Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

Making kue with my ibu

My new host family!

Me and my host sister

On Sept. 11^th, I moved to my new house. Further removed from the main road, it is quieter and a more comfortable location. I live with Bu and Pak Sukarno. All of their children have either already moved out or are in a boarding school, so there are 5 students who board with them. Four of the kids attend the school where I teach and 3 of them are my students. While they all have their individual lives, they function as a family, eating and praying together and taking care of each other. Diana goes to a middle school down the road. Marpuah is a senior at my high school and she is quickly becoming a close friend. The boys are Andik, Adit and Sujianto, three of my 10^th grade students. From the day I moved in, I knew this was a perfect fit. The family is easy going and well connected in the community. There is a musollah, small mosque, outside the house that is run by my host father, making it easy to meet people from the neighborhood. This is also where I hold my LES (tutoring) for the neighborhood kids.

The boys of the house

From Jogja with love.

Mt. Merapi Jeep Tour

The easiest way to travel in Indonesia is by bus. The way these buses are run are nothing like in America. Let's just say it is not very comfortable and there is little concern for safety. The seats are tiny and as long as there is room on the bus, people will continue to pile in until they are hanging out the door. It gets tight in there. It doesn't help that people are allowed to smoke on non-air conditioned buses and dust is flying around from the roads. Traveling can be stressful and uncomfortable, but the idea of going on an adventure to somewhere new more than makes up for it.

Parangtritis Beach

For my first vacation in Indonesia, Terrence and I went to Jogjakarta for 5 days. We took a bus from our villages to Ngawi, then transferred at the Ngawi terminal for a bus to Jogja. In total, the trip took about 6 hours. We arrived at our hotel around 1pm on Saturday and having not planned anything for our travel day, we settled into the hotel then ventured out to explore. We made our way to Malioboro St. which was about 15-20 minutes from the hotel and explore the main road full of vendors, shops and restaurants. That evening as we wandered around, we lost ourselves in the heart of the city. Not really sure how to get back to the hotel, we jumped on a becak and enjoyed the city streets from the tightly squeezed seat of the pedicab.

Pak Imam

For our first full day in Jogja, T and I planned to go to Borobudur temple, Mt. Merapi and if there was time, go to the beach. To get this all done in one day with little stress and confusion, we rented a car and driver. All of these locations are about an hour outside the city, so driving was the easiest way to get around. Our driver's name was Pak Imam. He is a soft spoken, knowledgeable father who can speak not only Indonesian, Javanese and English, but also a little French and Japanese as well. It was a wonderful day. Incredible beauty, delicious food and some adventure. I will let the pictures attest to this.

T and Marie-Paule at Ratu Boko Temple

Statue at Plaosan Temple

On the second day of vacation my true love gave to me...more temples! To get the the Hindu temples of Jogja, T and I took local transportation. The city bus system was much better than the buses we took to Jogja. The were clean, well organized and efficient. The Prambanan temples were only about 30-40 minutes by bus, then T and I joined with a tourist traveling alone from Brussels named Marie-Paule and took a dokar, horse drawn carriage, to to visit five Hindu temples in the area. They are all still being renovated but are beautiful in their partially ruined state. Ratu Boko, Ploasan and Prambanan were the three big ones. After Marie Paul kindly treated us to lunch, we parted ways and T and I returned to the hotel for a well deserved rest. After a quick swim in the late afternoon, we headed back to Malioboro St. for dinner and drinks.

T looking at batik art work

Underground Temple

The last full day in Jogja was our city day. We slept in a little and had a late breakfast before taking a taxi to the Sultan's Palace, which was a little disappointing. There wasn't much to see an the tour guide speed through the tour. We then saw the water castle, which was ruined by a bomb during WWII, and the underground mosque which was pretty cool. Our tour guide then took us to some batik factories to show us how batik is made and sell us some artwork. It was hard to resist buying everything I saw, but I was able to stick to 2 pieces I really enjoyed (which are currently on their way to the US). From the palace area, we took a becak to see more batik factories and then to the Prawirotaman neighborhood for some Mexican food and good coffee. Even though he was tired, T joined me to check off the last item on my list: The Affandi Museum. Definitely worth the visit. That night, we were focused on buying oleh-oleh (souvenirs) for our friends and family back in our villages.

Its was a wonderful few days getting to hang out with T and see the sights, but I am happy to be back in Payaman village. It really felt like I was coming home.

Batik factory

Traditional puppets made out of leather

 Assalamualaikum warohmatullahi wabarokatuh 

 

 

Part 1:

 

As most people know, I am not a religious person and, coming from America where there is supposed to be separation of church and state, religion was not part of my schooling while growing up. I'm not saying the separation of the two is complete or perfect in our country, but from my school experience, public schools have done a pretty good job keeping the two separate and refraining from encroaching on our religious freedom. To be clear, I am not anti-religion. I fully respect other people's faith in religion and enjoy learning about the different religions of the world; I just don't subscribe to one. So, why did I choose religion as my topic for this post? Because the Islamic religion is part of my everyday life in Indonesia. Most Americans acknowledge religion as one of those topics not to be discussed unless you are amongst friends. This is in drastic contrast to how people in Indonesia view religion.

In Indonesia, religion is a key part of personal and national identity and is one of the first questions out of someone's mouth when you first meet. Having been warned about this, I was prepared to say that while I went to church every once in a while as a child, the Christian religion never stuck and that I was simply not religious. In my mind, this seemed easy enough to explain, and if anything the people in my community would brand me as the non-religious volunteer who is excused because she is American. While true, relying on the excuse of being American was not how I wanted to define my time in Indonesia.

Yes, as Americans we are thought of as outsiders in our communities and, for multiples reasons, we will never fully be able to integrate. While this affords us some exemptions to cultural norms, this is not to our advantage. It is everything we have to fight against in an effort to disprove our differences and integrate into our communities. As volunteers, becoming trusted members of our villages is a key step in ensuring the success of our mission. Relying on the fact that as foreigners in this country, we will be exempt from the acceptable behaviors in Indonesian culture will automatically set a volunteer up for frustration and failure. It is not the goal of the Peace Corps to make volunteers forget their former selves and “go native” as we call it, but there are aspects of our lives in America that cannot be carried over. Some volunteers struggle with their religious identity and do not feel comfortable saying they follow any belief other than their own. To other volunteers, this is not an issue, either because their religion falls within the expectations of Indonesians or because they have decided that even though they may not be portraying their true selves, the topic of their religion, or the lack there of, was not a battle worth fighting. I fall into the latter group and don't mind saying that I am Christian if it allows me to focus more on my mission and creates one less obstacle in my way to completing it. Even though Christianity is not the main religion here, it is one that is recognized and stops people from worrying about my spiritual welfare.

As I explained in my first blog post, and as cheesy as it sounds, Peace Corps volunteers are sent on a mission with set goals we hope to accomplish. It is normal for volunteers to start their service wanting to change the world. This shows great drive and dedication, but is unrealistic. We have to focus on the goals at hand and the reasons we were set to our sites. While there is time to impact more areas than one, we have to pick and choose our battles, understanding that we cannot change everything in two years. And we shouldn't want to. Indonesia, with it's quirks and culture, is an amazing country full of unique treasures, which should be preserved for the generations to come.

 

 How religion works in Indonesia: the bare minimum explanation

 

Every Indonesian citizen is required to claim a religion. Being agnostic or atheist is not legally an option. The Indonesian government has recognized seven religions: Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism and every citizen must claim one of the seven as their own. A vast majority of the population is Muslim and, at least on the island of Java, the Islam religion is present where ever you go, whether it is the call to prayer, which is played over loud speakers five times a day, or it is the Islamic sayings that are present in everyday conversation.

When teachers walk into a classroom at MAN Ngraho, where I teach, they open the class by saying “assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.” This roughly translates to “peace be upon you with Allah's blessings and prosper." This is quite an adjustment for someone who used to feel a tinge of annoyance whenever “praise be to God” or “God willing” or anything to that affect was slipped into conversation. (This is most likely because of my personal experience with the Christian religion, not because of the religion itself.) I am now surrounded by a religion I know little about and oddly enough, I don't get annoyed, uncomfortable or feel pressured by the religious presence here. Maybe because I am constantly aware that I am a visitor here and so should respect the local culture, but part of is comes from the fact that not once has anyone ever tried to convince me of the “rightness” of their religion or pressure me into a religious lifestyle.

Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, the official national motto of Indonesian, translates to Unity in Diversity. Not only do the Indonesians uphold this motto in the acceptance of people from all different backgrounds, but their welcoming nature is an exceptional test of their religious acceptance. Yes, there is religious conflict going on in certain parts of the country, but from my personal experience, the Indonesians I have come into contact with have upheld their nation's motto.

Part 2:

 

"You think the only people who are people, are the people who look like you. But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you'll learn things you never knew." Pocahontas 

 

Seeing firecrackers light up over a skyline of palm trees is an unforgettable sight. The last morning of Ramadan started at 2:30am, when a traditional Javanese band, loaded onto a truck, woke up the neighborhood for the last day of fasting. The day stretched out as everyone waiting for the call to prayer, marking the setting of the sun and the final buka puasa (breaking fast). At the first sounds coming from the mosque, the kids in the house ate as fast as they could before rushing outside loaded with enough ammunition to go to war. Every type of firecracker imaginable was cradled under these kids arms as they prepared for battle. For the next few hours, the kids laid everything they had on the line. As you can imagine, it was a noisy few hours with firecrackers going of in every neighborhood and prayers were played over loud speaker from every mosque celebrating the end of Ramadan. At first I was overwhelmed and nervous about a house catching on fire as little regard was taken for safety. But once I adjusted and reminded myself that there was nothing I could do but sit back and watch the show, I was able to look up to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings and the sense excitement in the neighborhood.

During the month of Ramadan each day starts around 3:30am with Sahur, early morning breakfast before the sun rises. The man at the local mosque will call out over loud speakers waking the neighborhood and inviting everyone to eat before prayer. Once eating and praying is over, most will take a quick nap before rising once more to start the day around 5:30am. Once the sun rises, Muslims do not eat, drink, swear or have sex until the sun goes down around 5:30pm. I didn't want to allow myself to make excuses for not fully experiencing the Indonesian lifestyle so I decided to give it a try. Not for any religious reason, but to see what it felt like for the teachers, students and other people in my community to make it through the day without food or drink. This was a chance to bond with my community and make it through each day in solidarity with one another.

Ramadan only lasted 2 weeks for me. The first week started out strong: waking up at 3:30am for breakfast, then not eating or drinking until 5:30pm. On hotter days, I would drink water but I more or less stuck with it. Week two started the same way but there were a few days I couldn't make myself get out of bed for breakfast, so I would eat around 6am, then fast for the rest of the day. By week three, this was happening everyday. Then came week 4: the endless snacking and drinking through out the day. I could no longer pretend that I was fasting and had to admit to myself that Ramadan was over for me. Without the religious willpower behind the action, fasting didn't mean as much to me and so ending it early much more likely. This got me thinking about how much of the Indonesian culture I’m actually able to experience. Because I am not Muslim, there is only so much of the religious activities I can partake in and no matter how open the people are to sharing their lives with me, there are some things I will never be able to fully understand. There is a limit to how much I can integrate and, while I'm no where near that limit yet, I have accepted that there are certain parts of this culture I will never be able to experience.

For a while this got me thinking about what defines a community. I would think to myself "isn't that a foundational part of what a community is? People being bound together through common experiences and circumstances?" A community is built to support the people in it and bond them through commonalities. I have founded my own community here, brought together by shared silliness, confusion and dedication to understanding the unfamiliar, but I will never be part of the Muslim community that I am constantly surrounded by. But just because I am not part of the Muslim community, does not mean that it does not affect me. I interact with the Muslim community everyday. My community if built on the Muslim community, neighborhood community and school community that preexisted my arrival. The slate isn't wiped clean every time someone enters a new space. Relationships build on one another and so do communities.

While I've enjoyed the opportunity to learn about a religion generally feared and misunderstood in the US, the more I come in contact with different religions, the more I question organized religion as a whole. It's hard to feel like you can be fully open and honest about religion here when it is such an important part of the culture, but every once in a while, you find someone who is willing to ask the questions they don't already know the answer to. To really want to know what your life and experiences are like, without being afraid of what you might say, accepting the answer no matter what. These are the people, open-minded and willing to accept everything about you, I want as my friends.

I know that this post may not sit well with some readers, so please accept these thoughts as my own personal experience with religion, not as an attack on anyone's beliefs. I believe everyone has a soul that needs tending to, so whether you take care of your soul through religion, yoga or listening to good music, do what feels right to you.

I also acknowledge that religion, culture and community are all separate concepts, but they are so closely linked especially where I am living now. I think most will understand my flow from one to the other but if not, let me know and I will try to clarify! I would love to talk more about these things. My blog posts reflect conversations I have had with myself and I would love to continue these conversations with you!

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign language. Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” -Rainer Maria Rilke

MAN Ngraho, where I will be teaching

So I've made it. I was officially sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer and safely traveled to my permanent site...where I am unbelievably bored. It has been about three weeks since I've been living in Ngraho and I've got nothing to do. School is on break until next week and with the start of Ramadan, the people of Ngraho spend their days resting and doing little else.

My 5 year old host brother

We've been warned that this would happen. It is called a “duka” and I'm in one. The phrase “suke dan duka” is the Indonesian version of “ups and downs” and I've hit the down. We have an amazing medical team who warned us that there is usually a dip in moral around this time, but after an amazing 2 months of training I didn't see it coming. The first few weeks at site have been tough. The environment is different, new relationships need building and I am no longer surrounded by my support team of other volunteers within walking distance.

Men's prayer meeting held at our house for the start of Ramadan

Over the past few weeks I have contemplated why I felt unhappy at site and came to realize that it was because I was looking for an end result, when this is just the beginning. I was feeling so alone and isolated at my new site. I had gotten used to the tight knit community during training and forgot how hard it was when I had first arrived. I was looking for the 2 months of integrating I had accomplished in Batu, to simply appear intact in Ngraho. While that is not the way the world works, there is an entire new village and school community waiting to build relationships at my new site. It is time to put in the work and, while this will never be easy, building relationships now will not only help me integrate into the community, it will also push me towards my happy (whatever that may be).

No one every said the Peace Corps was easy, so I am determined to work through this adjustment period and find the joy in “living the questions now,” whether it is dealing with the mosquito larva in the mandi, the rats running through the walls or the noise from the main state road I live on. This village, my school and my host family have welcomed me into their lives, their community and their hearts, and I will strive to show my gratitude every day of my service. 

No experience is ever perfect. Finding the light in the darkness.