It's Peace Corps - there WILL be drama!

So now that training is wrapped up and we're all at sites, things SHOULD calm down. To an extent. There are always challenges when you plop 40+ Americans down in new countries, away from friends & family, many for the first time. While our 3 night staging in DC went off without a hitch, our drama started right after on the plane ride to Albania.

I can no longer really sleep well on planes - even on red-eyes (unless I've saved up the miles to splurge on biz class/lie flat seats). However, on the flight to Albania, at one point, maybe not quite halfway through the flight, I'd managed to drift off a bit when I was jolted awake by the sounds of a kerfluffle. I looked around, glaring, to find the source of the disturbance, and saw that about 3-4 rows back from me, in the middle group of seats, several Trainees were gathered around a passenger (NOT a Trainee) who was having some sort of panic attack or something. As you can imagine, Peace Corps types are naturally drawn to "help" - and we had a cohort of Health Trainees, so naturally there was  lot of "assistance." Until someone finally said, "It might help if most of you stepped back to give this person some air."  Of course, in the moment, all I could think about was me me me and my ever-so-rare airplane sleep, but as it turned out the person was okay so I didn't have to feel TOO guilty about my selfishness!  lol

Once training commenced, it was actually fairly chill for a while. And, at the end of the day, we ended up losing NO ONE during training - which is a rarity. But, again, that doesn't mean we missed our share of drama.  Over the course of the 11 weeks of our language classes, for example, fully 70% of our group in Montenegro had at least one meltdown/breakdown in class. As you can imagine, 5 hours a day of language, while coping with a new environment, new home, different culture, living with strangers, spending all day long with a variety of folks you've just met - both locals and Americans, can be stressful. And 5 of the 7 of us Lost. It. in class at least once over frustration with the language (often triggered by other Trainees "just trying to help"), and/or breakdowns due to external factors (e.g., family issues back home). While I don't know the percentage for the Albania Trainees, I know from talking with some of them they had their own fair share of drama during language - particularly thanks to some, er, "large personalities" in their group ("Shut up!" "No, YOU shut up!" "You're a racist!" "You're a victim!" etc.).  

All but one of us missed at least one training day due to illness, with one being (briefly) hospitalized. But, honestly, it wasn't a lot.

Host family drama was pretty rare on the whole, but there was more than one "interesting situation:" Like when one Trainee (Albania) had to be moved to a different host family after his host brother (early 30s) got in a huge fight over the phone with his ex wife, and then proceeded to DESTROY his parent's living room in a psychopathic rage. Said Trainee shared pics of the destruction, which is not appropriate for me to share, along with an audio recording of the dude losing his shit and tearing up the house. To be fair, something like this could easily happen in, say, Appalachia, but when you're living abroad with total strangers, it can be a bit scary, to say the least. Luckily, the Trainee ended up sharing with another Trainee, with a very nice host family.

Another Albania Trainee had a host family desperate to find her a husband. One of the very first questions the locals ask here - in Montenegro & Albania - is, "Are you married?" And woe to you if you're not because then it's game on to find you a spouse! This trainee was chatting with the host fams one evening when they asked her if she'd like to go into town with them on the weekend. She readily agreed, thinking it was a chance to do some shopping, maybe have a meal out, etc. No such luck. They drove into town, dropped off said trainee at a park (I think?) for a "surprise blind date" with a local and then took off!  Happy ending where they hit it off and ended up getting married?? Um, no.

As for me, I managed to Break. My. Bed. one night. I had a pretty nice set up, as I've already shared, with an airbnb type set up above my host parents' house. The one down side was I had no comfortable "lounging" chairs - only some kitchen table type chairs that weren't comfortable for extended sitting to watch TV, read, play on my phone, etc. So I generally sat/reclined on the end of my bed for that kind of stuff.  Well, one night, I sat on the bed, leaned back to read, and then SNAP/CRACKLE/POP,  one of the wooden slat supports collapsed. I was SO. Embarrassed. Even tho I hadn't flopped down on it or anything. Too embarrassed to tell the host fams, so I put it on the Peace Corps Homestay Coordinator who is an awesome human being, he was very amused by it, and offered to "break the news" to my family to make sure there was no language miscommunication (my excuse in asking him to tell them! lol). Of course my host parents were very chill about it, teased me about not telling them myself, said it had probably been weakened by a tourist stay or last year's trainee (the infamous "fat policeman" who ended his service early).  And they promptly hired a local guy and his friend to come and fix it promptly.

Our last bit of drama actually occurred the night before swearing in, while we were in Podgorica. As part of the swearing in, a member of one of the host families speaks as part of the program. Unfortunately, said member was rushed to the hospital the night before for an emergency appendectomy! Talk about timing - although, imagine if it had ruptured DURING the ceremony/while she was speaking. THAT would have been a trip!  And, luckily, another family member of another Trainee was able to step in. And we're official!

So training is done!  Coming soon: reflections on my new site, my school, my new host family, etc.  And hopefully a pause on too much drama......ooops, school was canceled my second day here due to a called in bomb threat! Duh duh duh! Apparently, these happen on occasion - always a hoax, and "coincidentally" always occurring near the end of term!  Stay tuned for more exciting adventures in Peace Corps!  :) 

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

PC Flashback - Kazakhstan - My Host Mom Tries to Kill Me - August 1997

Miscellaneous notes/cultural tidbits as I wrapped up PST in Kazakhstan:

They actually sell lottery tickets here. I thought it'd be a hoot if I hit a jackpot here! I wanted to buy one when we were at the post office on a field trip, but the woman behind the counter said SHE couldn't sell me one because SHE is not the lottery person. When I just asked how much they cost, she still couldn't help me because SHE is not the lottery person. It was very Soviet. Had a similar experience at the post office on another day when a woman couldn't help us because she wasn't sitting in the right CHAIR. I mean, whatever.

Another “fun" culture tidbit: since they don't really have grocery stores here, you go to bazaars and meat markets for food. There's a big bazaar/meat market in Almaty (the capital) that's just amazing. It's really clean and doesn’t smell at all, but the quick way to identify the major meat sections are by the heads of the animals, So yeah, they'll have big horse heads hanging over the relevant meat section. Sometimes the skin is still on said heads, sometimes not. It's amazing how big a horse's head looks when separated from its body! Same thing with sheep's heads. No cow heads, though. But pig heads. But it's amazing – it doesn't smell in there.

My host mom was upset to hear I’d be going so far away; she was hoping I’d get the TEFL spot here (ugh!). She’s already cried once, so I can imagine what Saturday will be like. Sigh. She’s really nice – all my friends are jealous. Unfortunately, to punish me for leaving, she fed me some poisoned meat the other day and I was REALLY sick for a couple of days. But seriously, I don’t know HOW I got sick, but it was most likely from some meat one day. Anyway, it was definitely my lowest point since I’ve been here, as I was spewing from both ends and I basically wanted to die. My host mom felt bad and was crying outside the bathroom door while I was spewing, and she kept saying, "Don't tell Peace Corps! Don't tell Peace Corps!"  But of course I had to coz I missed the counterpart conference and the PCMO had to come and give me some stuff and I am finally feeling better today. Just in time for that 30+ hour train ride to Leninogorsk. Bleh.

After my sickness, I’m now terrified of the meat here, which is bad news coz I’ve discovered the secret of Russian cuisine: meat & onions and some kind of dough, then fried or baked or boiled. Oh, and potatoes and cabbage and beets. And dill. They WORSHIP dill and put it on everything – they even use it in their flower arrangements! I would kill for some Mexican food – or Chinese/Hunan, or Italian, or BBQ. 

We ended up losing 3 folks during training – not too bad, as per the usual averages, we should have lost 5.2. Paul (the older guy) I told you about. Naomi & David Hall left within a couple days of each other. Naomi just wasn’t coping well at all, and I figured she’d bail. David was pressured to “resign.” He has some serious "issues" and was basically sleeping his way through Kapchagai – and with a wife back in the states! When he tired of the local girls (including his host sister!), and started hitting on fellow PCTs, that was pretty much it. The guy was a slimeball, so no big loss.

Your small world story about the prisoner was interesting coz just last week I had another one. I got a letter from my friend Jill in San Francisco and she was telling me that her sister mentioned she works with a woman who has a son in the Peace Corps and guess where he is? Kazakhstan, with the Kaz 4 group! She sent me his address and name and I had just met him the month before coz he came to Kapchagai w/some other current PCVs to give a talk on daily life here! Also, it turns out he’s in a city close to where I ended up being placed! Isn’t that wild? So yes, indeed, it is a small, small world we live in.

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

Adventures in Teaching - Practicum

So a couple weeks ago we did our  "practice teaching" (i.e., Practicum) where PC arranges with a couple of local schools to let us teach some of their classes over two weeks.  We each taught 8 lessons, paired with another trainee, and then each observed 3-4 lessons of our peers to provide feedback alongside the program staff.

I lucked out and was paired most often with sweet, chill Elaine, but I also taught at least one lesson with 3 other trainees, as well. I did have to do a 1st and 3rd grade class, but only one time each thank god (lol) and did one 4th grade class, which I enjoyed, then two 5th grade classes, one 6th and an 8th and a 9th. I just do better with older kids and those lessons went the best. Here we all are at the school in Bar where we taught the older kids:

But, funny thing, the 2nd grade class I did (with Elaine) is apparently THE most difficult class at the school due to behaviors, and having 3 special needs kids in the class (with no paras).  But for some reason, they were actually really well behaved the day we taught. I think partly it was due to Elaine's "grandmotherly" presence, and partly due to us not knowing ahead of time it was a "problem" class and I worked to engage the really disruptive girl - who sits at the front at a small round table with another challenging girl and a smart girl.  "Sarah" was taken aback by me treating her like all the other kids and meekly sat saying nothing until about the 4th time I tried to engage her and then she whispered out some of the vocab.

Fast forward a week.  Parker & Rob "get" to teach that same class and I "got" to observe. It did not go well. Sarah was out. of. control. Spent most of the class running around the room, being disruptive, bolting from class a few times, knocking on the door when out and then running away, etc. The other kids know she has issues and often try themselves to get her to stop, but it devolved to a point where they were all chattering away and goofing off with one boy who sits behind Sarah just full on slapping her across the face to try and get her to calm down! THAT finally elicited the regular teacher stepping in, while poor Rob & Parker gamely tried to keep the rest of the class engaged and finish the lesson. At one point, Parker was just PLEADING with the kids, "Please listen to me!  PLEASE listen to me!"  I actually got a significant headache just OBSERVING.  But the Peace Corps staff said how lucky they were to have had that experience so they could know the worst that could happen!  lol

In the 6th grade lesson I had with Rob we were teaching healthy and unhealthy foods. We were each going around the room with tablets showing kids random pics of food and asking if they were healthy or unhealthy. I showed a solid, solemn looking boy a pic of a can of Coke and asked, "Is it healthy or unhealthy?" and he looked me right in the eye and deadpanned, "It's unhealthy and I don't drink Coke because it's made in Israel and they are bad." I was like, "Whoa, good English!" gave him a fist bump, and moved on.

Elaine taught that same class later in the week with Parker and I was observing. As the kids were getting settled, a girl came up to me in the back and asked, "What is that old lady's name?" and I lost my shit. She was all confused at my laughter and said, "What? I want to know. I like her. I want to give her a hug."  Elaine was quite amused when I shared after and she mentioned she got a lot of hugs from kids.  Awwww!

In the 3rd grade class I taught with Harper there was a Russian boy on the spectrum--speaks no Montenegrin OR English, only Russian--and likes to occasionally roam around the class, rearrange the chalk, pics on the wall, etc. We were given a heads up about him so let him do his thing as long as he wasn't disrupting or distracting, but at one point, he made for Harper's phone on the teacher's desk while she was in back helping another kid. Without even thinking, I asked him in Russian what he was doing and he responded, "I want to listen to some music" and I said, again in Russian w/o really thinking, "Why? No. Leave it alone" and then it dawned on him that I had spoken Russian (his regular teacher only knows Montenegrin & English) and he startled, looked at me, narrowed his eyes, and then slowly backed away and sat down and behaved the rest of the class.  Ha!

Ironically, one of our most successful classes - a 5th grade lesson I did with Elaine - got us some disapproving feedback from the local teacher who harrumphed, "They had too much fun with the exercises you gave them and they won't remember the vocabulary, just that they had fun!" When she left, the PC Program Staff Managers/Observers said we were lucky to get that "local taste" of how they think lessons should be boring and are only successful when they end in tears and that the lesson we'd done was actually a most excellent example of how to engage kids while also getting them to learn, and they would be giving some feedback of their own to said teacher later.

Finally, as mentioned, the 8th and 9th grade classes were my favorite. I have a better rapport with older kids, and like in Kazakhstan, boys don't see male teachers here so otherwise normally checked out kids pay more attention - and after the lesson I got several selfies requests with students and the teacher raved.  We'll see how things go at site and am hoping I'll get mostly older kids. Think good thoughts for me!

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

PC Flashback - July 1997, I Amost Die

So Peace Corps had us practice getting around the country on our own. We self-selected/split into groups of four, and each group was randomly assigned a city in southern Kazakhstan. PC gave us money for transportation, lodging, and incidentals, and sent us off with no escorts and a list of tasks to accomplish. To help us become independent! My group drew a smallish town called Merke, about an 8-9 hour bus ride from Kapchagai. Our adventure started right away.

We decided to leave at night, so we could avoid traveling in the heat of the day and maybe sleep on the (scary, non-air-conditioned) bus. Well, I was having problems sleeping, and at about 2-3 in the morning, as our bus was trucking down the road, the front door comes flying open—the wind catches it and is pulling the bus so that we’re CAREENING back and forth across the highway because the bus driver is not clever enough to let up on the gas. So the “co bus driver” is clawing for the door when I suddenly see the headlights of a large truck bearing down on us from the other lane – well, actually, I shouldn’t say OTHER lane, coz our bus driver was making use of both lanes. Finally, Einstein discovers that if he lets up on the gas, the bus will actually slow down so the other dude can get the door closed. At this point, a couple of other trainees from another group going to a town near ours wake up and are all like, “What? What?” And I turn around and screech, “We were almost killed! We were almost killed!” But we continue on our merry way.

The way the highway goes, we have to go through the northern part of Krgyzstan and make a stop in their capital, Bishkek. So we stop there about 4-5 a.m., and a Kirghiz militia guy gets on to do a random passport check – and of course he heads straight for the group of Americans. This wouldn’t be so bad except that Leo (from the other group) realizes he’s forgotten both his passport AND kartochka. So while the Kirghiz cop is checking Michael & Peter’s documents, Leo starts blubbering “Korpus Meera! Korpus Meera!” which is Russian for Peace Corps – as if that is going to prevent the lot of us from being hauled off to a police station to be  beaten and robbed (standard procedure for former Soviet countries if you give them half a chance – at least according to our always scary safety & security lectures – even in Krgyzstan, the most “Democratic” of the former states/stans). Anyway, “luckily,” gunfire outside the bus forces the Kirghiz militia guy to dash off the bus  and we’re able to continue on our journey. That’s the good news. The bad news is we thus made it safely to Merke.

You know how the streets sound after/during the rain? When cars are driving on them? That’s what they sounded like in Merke, but we couldn’t figure out why, coz it CERTAINLY wasn’t raining – it was horribly hot. Well, the reason for the noise was coz the tar on the streets was melting! Jenny had a shoe get stuck in it while trying to take a picture. It was between 115 - 120 degrees the whole time we were there. Our “hotel” had only one toilet and it was out of order. One shower stall and it was only cold water and it sprayed UP and not down. And of curse no A/C.  We took a bus to the nearby mountains for a little diversion, but when we got out and asked the driver when the last bus back to town was, he said HIS was, due to “shortages.” So we went straight back.

We walked around town a bit and got all excited when we found a movie theater! We translated the “marquee” to say they were showing, “Live and Let Die” so we thought it’d be fun to see a James Bond movie dubbed in Russian—plus the matinee was only 20 tenge, which is about 30 cents U.S. Well, surprise, surprise, the movie was actually called “To Live and to Die” and had Gene Simmons from Kiss as an Arab terrorist who dies at the end when a grenade explodes in his mouth. For real. And the dubbing was a hoot – it was just one guy’s voice, even for the female characters, and a couple of times he screwed up and said half a line Russian and half in English: “Ya neez nayu where they went!” I slept through half of it and ripped my shorts on a nail sticking out of their crappy seats. But it certainly was an experience! There was also a full-sized 727 Aeroflot PLANE parked next to our hotel for some reason. Aeroflot is the Russian national airline that is so dangerous people call it Aerosplat—always crashing into the mountains.

Koni & I were so over the heat – one day I drank 6 liters of liquid and didn’t pee ONCE – that we decided to leave a day early as we’d accomplished all our tasks, leaving the “good” PCTs in our group (Jenny & Joan) to stay one more night as originally planned/scheduled. Again, we took an overnight bus to sleep/spare us from the heat, but there was a large hole in the floor of the bus right in front of my seat so I couldn’t sleep for fear of sliding out onto the street and being run over by the back wheels of the bus. Well, apparently, I did drift off, coz I wake up at who knows what time and see people getting off at the bus station so I wake Koni and tell her we’re there. We stumble off and notice the bus station looks just a little bit different before we see KIRGHIZ and not KAZAKH militia around, realized we’re pit stopped in Bishkek again, and barely make it back to the bus before it takes off for Almaty.  When I got home, my host mom said it was just as hot back home – so hot her thermometer broke as it “only” goes up to 50 degrees centigrade.

Seriously, how can my site compete with this excitement?

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

Food in Montenegro

So yeah, they love their meat here. Just as I'd been cutting back in the states, I now get it pretty much every meal, outside of dinner on Wednesdays & Fridays coz host family is Orthodox and kinda/sorta fasts on those days. Bread, too - I eat a SHIT. TON. of bread. Although lately I've been able to stave off SOME of it.

Other than that, I'm definitely eating much healthier than in the states. Firstly, coz there's no fast food here. There are two Burger Kings in the whole country - one in Bar, one in Podgorica - and that's it. I mean, you can still get chips and candy and soda, but my host family doesn't eat any of that so if and when I want it, it comes out of my "walkaround" money.

I was drinking Fanta orange a fair amount when I first got here - partly coz it's better than in the states. Europe requires them to actually put a little orange juice in it, AND they don't allow the cancer-causing dyes or high fructose corn syrup. But after awhile, I just got tired of soda.  Your body adjusts pretty quickly once you start eating healthier and shitty food just tastes, well, shitty.

Speaking of Fanta, and ALL their plastic bottle-capped drinks, they actually make them so that the cap screws off but stays connected by a strip of plastic so the cap doesn't roll off or get lost. Clever thing that of curse they can't do in America because, um, er, because it makes sense?

In general, food is about 33% less than in the states. And I figured that out by buying a mix of stuff during that ten day period my host family was off at the thermals, and then compared prices to Wal-Mart online. So let's say AT LEAST 33% less - and I'm in a coastal town that is more expensive.

I've also eaten more cabbage in the past 6 weeks than I have, literally, in the past 25 years - and I know that because that's when I was in Kazakhstan! lol  Still not my favorite, but I can get it down, mixed with meat (of course) and other stuff. On the plus side, I've also eaten WAY more mandarins since the trees are all over the place here - including a few in my host family's front yard.  Also happy to see they love cherries here so I've had a lot of cherry tea, cherry jam tortes, cherry juice, cherry chocolate, cherries in my yogurt, etc.  

Unfortunately, they're not big on spices. Some of the local dishes are good enough, but, again, just not spicy at all.  You'll get garlic, the occasional peppers (but noramlly sweet peppers) and maybe some salt.  They don't have salt & pepper on the table in shakers, but will sometimes have a small bowl of salt on the table fot you to get a pinch or two to sprinkle on your food. Curiously, they have a LOT of different spicy chips. Doritos are here, in multiple flavors, and there are a lot of local chips that are spicy cheese flavored, or taco flavored, or paprika, or chili, etc. I feel like that's a hint to folks to spice up their food more since the spicy chips are popular. So I do eat a fair amount of chips, still - and, again--and like the local crackers--they taste better than in the states coz there's not so much junk and presevratives in them. Actually came across a bag of "hot dog flavored!" chips the other day and tried them just to try them. It was disturbing how much they did, indeed, taste like hot dogs, and I get more than I want of those anyway so haven't bought them again.  Their chocolate is good.

A lot of folks only eat twice a day: breakfast and then a large lunch in the mid-to-late afternoon. Some folks will have a light meal or snack in the evening. Fun/weird thing: margarine comes in tubes like toothpaste. And eggs come 10 to a carton, not 12. And they also love hot dogs.  Have eaten more of those in the past 6 weeks than in the past, oh god, at least 10 years or more. 

Will end with a pic of the exterior of my host family's place, as requested by some folks. You can see my purple bouganveilla upstairs! My door is on the left:

My Host Family and Training Site in Montenegro

So as already mentioned in my "Posh Corps" post, I definitely lucked out with Montenegro - at least so far.  As for my host family, I got pretty lucky there, too - although all of us seem to have scored as no one has had any real complaints to date.

I'm living with a retired couple - Zhivorad (Zhika) and Lyilina (Leela). He is a retired Orthodox priest (!) and she is a retired banker. Zhika makes his own wine, which is great, and Leela is a good cook - altho the cuisine here in general is VERY light on the spices side. Like most Montenegrins, they LOVE meat, but luckily they don't eat it on Wednesdays and Fridays so I get a break then. Here's a pic:

I'll talk more about the religious conflicts here later (in the Balkans?? can you believe it??), but, I guess somewhat understandably, as a Serb and as a retired Orthodox priest, Zhika has some, er, rather "uncharitable" views on Muslims. I made the mistake of mentioning I was glad to be living in a household that eats bacon and he used that to get a dig in on the "crazy" Muslims (5 of the 7 of us live with Muslim families).  But they're both good people.

A couple weeks ago he asked me the dreaded, "What religion are you?" question, but I was relieved they seemed to take it okay when I said none and I quickly followed up with a story about how difficult it was (confession: it wasn't that difficult) when I was young and would go with my Grandma - who was 7th Day Adventist - to church on Saturdays while my friends were out playing, and then THEY would be in church when I was ready to play on Sundays. They had heard of 7th Day Adventists, but didn't have anything to say about them one way or the other.

This past Saturday at dinner he told me it was a day of remembrance for their loved ones who have passed. In addition to the usual prayer before dinner, he lit a candle and also some incense and chanted and sang before we sat own to eat. 

My very first night with them, their daughter was down from Podorica to help with settling in and translating (she speaks excellent English, they speak none). They asked what I had been doing before Peace Corps, so I explained what an Intensive Therapeutic Foster Parent was, started talking about Roy, and proceeded to cry a bit missing the little monster. This caused the daughter to cry a little in sympathy, and when she translated, Leela teared up a bit while Zhika put his hand on his heart and said I was a good Christian.  Probably the first time I've been called that!  :)

Since then, we use google translate as I struggle to pick up the language, and it works pretty well on the whole, although there was a fun moment some weeks ago when Leela chattered away at my phone, hit a button that switched it to another language by mistake and when she handed it to me, the English translation read simply, "I'll kill you." It took me awhile to stop laughing while they looked confused before I was able to explain what happened.  Huge laughs from Leela over that!  :)

They both like me, have told the daughter (who came for dinner last Sunday) they are fond of me, etc. They adored their first volunteer, Bonnie, from year before last, but last year they were stuck with, in Leela's words, "a fat policeman" who was a bust and didn't complete his service.  I think they were "surprised" that a police officer could not handle Peace Corps.  Me, not so much.  Lol.

As I think I mentioned, our house is barely a 10 minute walk from the beach, I have a sea-facing balcony overflowing with a large purple bougainvillea, and their driveway has a trellis overhang covered in grapes, along with a few mandarin trees next to the driveway, flowers, and pepper plants.  

We are in a collection of small villages that are in the Bar metropolitan area. Bar is the 5th largest city in Montenegro, with just under 20,000 people, and about double that in the metropolitan area. While all of us are within a couple of miles of the school where we do training, we're techincally spread among 4 different villages. Mine is a more or less straight shot down the mountain from the school, and a 30 minute walk home. I don't walk TO school, because, as mentioned, it's up the mountain from me.  Steep. I need to try to figure out the difference in elevation.

The streets are very narrow and very twisty and riding in the van to school each morning is just this side of a thrill ride with blind turns and frequent stops/manuevering if/when two cars approach in opposite directions and need to squeeze by each other. We're all amazed that we have not seen - let alone been in - any accidents. Reverse jinx! EDIT: Literally the morning after I typed this first draft, as we were headed to school, some dumbass came down the mountain on a blind curve in the middle of the road and our driver had to swerve to the right where - LUCKILY - there was a rare bit of a shoulder on the side of the road. Had we been less than 100 yards further up the road, we would have careened off the side of the mountain and tumbled down a sheer cliff.  Fun times!

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

PC Flashback - Kazakhstan, June 1997

It's ungodly hot and muggy here today. My assumption was that Kapchagai – being in the desert – only experienced dry heat. WRONG. And of course there's no A/C here, so we get no relief. Then, we spend all afternoon running around town on this scavenger hunt thing trying to figure out how to mail letters, make phone calls, and send telegrams. THEN, after school, a bunch of us decided to try out this dance class being offered by a Russian dance instructor. Except for the (curse word) heat, it was fun. She started teaching us a traditional Kazkah dance and everyone really enjoyed it.

I don't know if I mentioned the weird smell in the air here in my last letter, but I've finally figured out what it reminds me of. You know those little black “snakes" we used to get on the 4^th of July? Those small black round things that you lit and they spewed out a black ash “snake"? Remember how those things smelled? Well, that's what the air smells like here. Partly coz they burn their trash here and partly for some other frighteningly inexplicable reason (leaking gas?). But one thing I've noticed over here is that there's not as much trash in the first place. Unlike America, they don't have tons of pre-packaged goods here and they don't buy as much stuff, so, duh, not as much to throw away.

I often have random intense thoughts/realizations. Example: I was helpng my host mom make borscht the other day - we're supposed to learn a new local dish every week – and we're standing in her little cooking alcove/annex off the kitchen when all of the sudden I just thought, “Wow! I'm in the former Soviet Union making borscht with a Russian babushka!” Then, immediately after that, I thought, “My god! Look how much oil she's using!” Ha! I think the Russian RDA for oil is about 3 cups per day. On the plus side, I'm eating way more vegetables than I normally do. But this will supposedly come to an end when winter hits. Here's a pic of me with my host mom:

Okay, time for me to bitch a little more about our Kazkah language classes. Bleh. The language is very difficult. The alphabet is even longer than the Russian one – 42 letters – and, just as an example, a brother and sister call their same little brother two different things/use different words. That is, a boy would call him his little bother, but a girl would call him, say, her little brinner or something. I mean, I'm trying to be culturally sensitive and what not, but that just seems silly to me. And I'm sure there's probably some bizarre sexist reason for it.

Speaking of language fun, there's a boy (he's 15) in my apt. complex who speaks a little English, which is cool. He's taught himself, so it's not too much, and it's fun coz he's always so formal when he's speaking English. He always looks dreadfully serious, even when he says something like, “I think Hollywood is very beautiful and wonderful.” I was playing chess with him the other day (of course chess is big here, but I actually won – mostly by playing in a bizarre, impatient, ‘not normal' random way that completely flummoxed him) – and he asked if I wanted to see the local “muscleman church.” I was like, “Um, the muscleman church? Muscleman?” And he got a little offended and said, “Yes, muscleman. I know I am saying it correctly.” Anyway, of course I agreed and the next day he and a buddy took me to see their brand new…..Muslim church.  Ha! His name is Stas and the little neighbor kids are always firing questions at him to ask me. There's always a group of them around my apt. building when I get home and they all take turns saying, “Hi, David!” “Hi, David!” And that's the extent of their English. Ha! Here's Stas (the taller one) and his buddy at the "Muscleman" Church:

I tell you what, though, the kids are the only friendly people here – at least when you see them on the streets. Kazkahs do NOT greet strangers on the street and are, in fact, extremely sullen in public. If you go down the street smiling, they assume you are either drunk or insane. No lie. They're wonderfully friendly and warm when you're in their homes, but on the streets….yeah, not so much. We've been told if a stranger approaches you on the street and is friendly, or even just says hello, we have to immediately beware as they're most likely getting ready to jump you or trying to pul the “Tenge trick" (Tenge is the local currency) or something.

We got that info. From one of our ENDLESS and BORING medical lectures. Every couple of days, they get us all together to warn us about the water, the food, the air, surrounding countries, being gassed and robbed on the trains, etc. Then we get a shot (so far, we've had rabies, tetanus, diptheira, encephalitis and I think we've got another fourteen coming – yay!).

Aside; GAWD I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH DIRT THERE IS!!

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

Posh Corps

So the Montenegro Peace Corps post has earned the moniker "Posh Corps" and I'm so there for it - figuratively AND literally.  It starts with the fact that the country is just so dang purty! The mountains, the coastline, the weather, the picaresque houses overlowing with bougainvellia, etc etc etc.

But wait, there's more! All Peace Corps trainees/volunteers here are issued a tablet - complete with mouse and keyboard and a SHIT TON of data (something like 40 gigs). We also all get fire extinguishers, water filters, and space heaters. We also get local sim cards with, again, tons of data and minutes and the country, in general, is pretty wired. Now, many other posts get some/all these things, too, so on the whole Peace Corps, in general, is way more "posh" than when I did my first go round back in the late 1900s.

But again, the beauty of the country, and the Mediterranean climate, give us a leg up for sure on the mud hut villages and other less posh places of PC yore.  I mean, check out these pics of the beach that is, literally, a 10-12 minute walk from my place. 

And speaking of my place, like all trainees, I DO have my own room, BUT it's actually more like a studio apartment, with it's own entrance, up on the second floor above my host family, and I have my own bathroom and kitchenette in addition to the bed, table & three chairs PLUS a bunk bed. And did I mention the TV with about 50 cable channels? Granted, those channels most all broadcast in Montenegrin or Serbian, but there's a couple of channels that will have the odd U.S. show and/or movie, in English, with Montenegrin subtitles. Here's a couple of shots of my host family's home - my place is on the second floor, with the white door on the left:

That second shot is the entry drive, overhung with grape vines - with grapes my host dad uses to make his own - amazing - wine. They also have a couple of mandarin orange trees, pepper plants, etc. In fact, most every house here has the requisite overhang with grapes or kiwi, and then mandarin orange trees, and/or olive trees and/or apple trees and/or various other fruits and vegetables. So yeah, talk about direct to table!

Now, we have been "warned" not to expect this kind of stuff once training is over and we ship off to our posts - esp. if we're posted further north, which most of us will be.  But this definitely makes the transition a bit easier. So I'll enjoy this while it lasts and hopefully reflect back on how lucky I was once I start whining down the road!  :)

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

Peace Corps, Take Two!

 So Peace Corps is hard. I knew this, of course, based on my previous volunteer experience, but "living it" again has reminded me of how mental and sensory exhaustion can be just as challenging as your basic physical exhaustion.  As we wrap up our 5 day orientation in Albania at the Monastery of St Vlash (click HERE for a history of the place - pretty interesting), here are some initial thoughts/observations:

• As soon as we exited the airport, there was that wood burning smell. Same thing I experienced in Kazakhstan and other "developing" countries. Still a lot of trash burning. It's not necessarily that unpleasant, just odd.
• The monastery has its pros and cons as an orientation/host site. The food is good and naturally locally sourced. They have goats, sheep, chickens, fruit trees, etc. (a pomegranate tree with the biggest pomegranates I've ever seen!) They make their own butter, yogurt, jams, etc. so I'm already eating healthier and eating more veggies than I did in the states.
• On the downside, they also have a fair number of dogs to guard the compound and the animals. When we first arrived, I was like, "Awwww, doggies!" But after a few nights of them barking their fool heads off, I've progressed more to an atittude of, "Those fucking dogs!"  :)
• Back to the food: one night they served what they called "Potato Puree" - which, as you may have guessed, is basically mashed potatoes. But I like their phrase better and hope to remember to always refer to mashed potatoes as potato puree in the future!  :)  I have also eaten more eggplant in the past few days here than I have in....well, ever.  Lol
• The trainees are just as interesting a mix - if not more so - than my first go round. Definitely more POC. We even have a very proud drag queen from Arizona. Lots of whip smart folks, as well as a few of your usual PC hippy dippy types (like me!). At least four LGBTQ folks, including me, and probably more who have not yet "announced." I am actually the 4th oldest volunteer, as we have an 82 year old woman, a 71 year old woman, and a 63 year old man. There's a few other folks in their mid-late 50s and then the remainder of the 42 total (35 Albania, 7 Montenegro) are a mix of recent/semi-recent college grads and folks in their 30s.
• One thing that is very different from my last go round is the technology, and what PC provides to facilitate connectivity. We were each given a Samsung tablet with headphones, wireless keyboard & mouse, and a 60gb data plan--partly to aid in ongoing online training.  We were also given sim cards for our phones with a data plan that left the one I had in the states in the dust. I wanna say it's another 40gb for the phone for data and gobs of minutes and texts. Accordingly, PC expects - and provides - pretty consistent communication with volunteers. 
• Tomorrow, we leave for the Pre-service training villages and the Albania and Montenegro trainees will thus split up (expect for periodic joint training when we come together - sometimes in Albania and sometimes in Montenegro). I have been told my host family is an older couple - a retired priest (!) who is 73, and his wife is a retired banker of 68. 
• As it so happens, these folks just found out they've come up in the "queue" to be able to go to a thermal spa for a week or so and will be leaving soon after I arrive, so I will actually be settling in to THEIR house alone. Kinda trippy, but I'm actually glad to be able to acclimate a bit, figure things out etc., w/o having to bother them.

Will probably post again right before they return with initial observations on Montenegro and our training site, my homestay, etc. Onward!

Disclaimer: Any thoughts, observations, opinions, etc. are of course mine and not necessarily the views of Peace Corps.

FAQs (and answers!) about my upcoming Peace Corps service.

 Q: Where are you going?

A: Montenegro!

Q: Monte...what?

A: You know, one of those former Yugoslavian Republics in the Balkans.

Q: Yugo...what?

A: Okay, back in 1918...

Q: History! Not interested! How long will you be there?

A: Heading to DC or Philly on October 1st for a couple of days "staging," and then off to Montenegro/Albania for about 3 months training before two years actual service. My service ends early December 2025.

Q: What's this about Albania?

A: Montenegro is a very small/very new country for Peace Corps, so right now the post is jointly run with neighboring Albania; much of training will take place in its nearby capital city of Tirana  

Q: Okay, and what will you be doing?

A: Teaching English. Most likely in a primary school (K-9th), although they have some placements in secondary schools.

Q: Just teaching? Is that it?

A: Pffft, Not even. Also seminars for teachers, as well as developing and implementing other "non-traditional" learning events like English clubs, setting up English language resource centers, English teachers associations, etc. During the summer, developing and implementing summer camps and other youth development activities. PLUS secondary projects of my choice (I'm thinking of a drama club putting on two productions a year, and some authentic/sustainable tourism things).

Q: Cool. Can I come visit?

A: Absolutely! Give me a chance to get settled, find out where I'll be, etc.

Q: Okay, but is it WORTH coming all the way over there to see?

A: Well, sure, IMHO. But click HERE to see some pics and decide for yourself. 

Q: Looks cool, but what else is in the area?

A: Well, personally, I'm excited to check out a lot of the "IA" countries I haven't yet been to while I'm over there: Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Macedonia, Albania, Bosnia, Slovenia, etc.)

Q: Awesome, but what if I don't want "roughing it" travel?

A: No worries. I'll be doing an NCL cruise some time in the summer of 24 in the area and then another one with Virgin Cruises in the summer of 25. And then happy to coordinate some extra time before and/or after any of those cruises for folks who want a more "in depth" look at Montenegro/other countries in the area.

Q: And can you help coordinate said travel? Will you still be doing your travel agent gig?

A: Absolutely. Still gotta make a little money to save for retirement--and one of the reasons I chose Montenegro was to check out the region as a possible retirement spot.  

Q: This all sounds amazing. How can I help support you/your service?

A: I'm glad you asked! You can send me care packages of things I miss from the states/can't get over there (TBD), send books and/or other school supplies and/or fun little gifts/incentives for my students, get your kids/relatives' kids/school class to coordinate pen pal exchanges, etc.  

Q: So you'll keep us posted om what you need?

A: Yep. I will be blogging from country a couple of times a month PLUS "retro" posts a couple of times a month comparing my service in Montenegro in the 21st century with my service in Kazakhstan way back in the late 1900s!  😁

Q: Cool, now I'm ready to join Peace Corps myself!

A: Awesome! Just click HERE.  

Q: Okay, that last one wasn't really a question (smug snicker)

A: Piss off, hater!  😈

The Paradox of My Little Monster

My Little Monster came to me fresh from his latest stay in a facility. He had recently turned 9 and been in care almost 3 years but had moved TWENTY-ONE times - from foster home to foster home to facility to group home to another foster home to a facility, etc. He had recently gone back to the birth dad for a trial reunification but it didn't "take" as birth dad still was too messed up. The poor boy was taking SIX different meds - including some that were prescribed solely to address side effects of other meds.

He was removed from the home due to neglect and abuse. Mom & dad would often leave him home with adult siblings to spend long weekends in a casino. Police were called to his house at least weekly because of domestic violence. Siblings  would get in violent physical fights in front of him, terrifying him, with 1-2 siblings caring enough about him to sometimes remove him from the living room/scene - by locking him in a dark closet. Once they forgot about him and left him there hours as they all left the house (he's still scared of the dark).

One of the first things he asked me was if he could call me "Daddy." He had unruly, badly cut hair, bags under his eyes and dark circles, and a protruding "medications gut" (his doctor would say later he'd never seen a kid so constipated). He cried frequently about missing his mommy & daddy, and his bubba and sissies (bubba was in jail, like various other family members would be in and out of). In short, he tore my heart out and I bonded with him quickly - initially, admittedly, out of sympathy/pity, but also because of his natural temperament, and because he SO. BADLY. wanted/needed to be loved.

As with most foster kids, he went through a "honeymoon period" where his behavior wasn't too bad. I quickly discovered he was/is an emotional boy at heart (and definitely a drama queen), so he cried quite a bit over his family, argued and whined a lot, etc. And once he was more settled and felt more "secure" in the placement, he then felt safe enough to "let go" and express the rage and frustration he felt over being denied a place in his family, thinking he was a "bad kid" and it was all his fault he'd been removed, wondering why his mommy & daddy wouldn't/didn't do more to keep him (most likely, he reasoned, because he'd been "bad" and so they didn't love him anymore - they would actually say this to him when he'd act out).

Escalating behaviors mostly included running away, EXTREME tantrums that would last an hour or longer, endless crying/whining/arguing/defiance, self-harm threats and half-hearted attempts, etc. The self harm threats/attempts were particularly useful for him at school as of course they had to take them very seriously - and it was these threats/attempts that would land him in a facility for a week or more where they would just add more drugs or try different ones.  He was too "dysregulated" to understand how his actions were harming him and not helping, and he was too dysregulated because of all the meds, all the moving from placement to placement, his fear and shame, etc. It was a vicious cycle.

The self harm threats initially freaked me out and I responded as most people would when a pitiful, cute 9-year-old boy says he wants to die and tries to find a knife in the kitchen (or swallow stuff at school or wrap cords around his neck). I would panic, respond forcefully and yet sympathetically that he shouldn't even think of such a thing, keep him from grabbing anything he could hurt himself with, etc.  Eventually, I realized these threats/attempts were really just pleas for attention - particularly after I noticed the careful way he made sure NOT to cut his arm with the butter knife he was vigorously making like he was rubbing on it. So I then would say, once he ran into the kitchen, wearing his flannel robe, and making like he was going to cut his arm open, but not touching it, "Well, let me know when you actually break the skin and I'll call the hospital." He glared at me, threw the knife down angrily, and stomped out of the kitchen. And then that was pretty much it for the self harm threats at home with me - altho he'd still use it quite a bit at school.

The running away was more difficult to deal with. I had said up front I didn't want "runners." Not sure why, but it really sets me off and it didn't take many instances of him running before I was Over. It. He was very fast (when he wanted to be) and so could easily lose me and I'd spend way too much time roaming the neighborhood, calling & looking for him.  So I finally quit chasing him, and dutifully reported it to his worker, counselor, and the police when he'd run and then sit on the front porch and wait for him to come back - which he would almost always do within an hour or two, sometimes with a police officer who'd managed to find him, sometimes on his own.

The first time I didn't chase him, he came back after an hour, sobbing, apologetic, saying he didn't know why he was such a bad boy, and then crawled into my lap as I sat in the rocker on the front porch and pitifully asked into my chest, "Am I still your little monster? Can you give me another chance?"  And I did. I always did coz I loved him so much.  

I gave him another chance when he ran again some months later, and told the police when they found him that I was trying to kill him - which prompted them to block off both ends of my street with cop cars, and then approach my house with guns drawn while I stood on the porch, gaping, on the phone with his worker (the running finally stopped - at home - when I finally got the police to stop patting him on the head, giving him toys and stickers, etc. when they found him).

I gave him another chance when he found my car keys while I was in the shower, stole my car, and led a good chunk of the local police force on a merry chase around town, never going more than 15 miles an hour, and using his turn signal and following the rules of the road, yet the keystone cops still couldn't manage to surround him and ended up "executing a pit maneuver" which smashed up the back of the car and left it in the shop for four months.

I gave him another chance when I had to go to school time after time after time to pick him up because of hysterical meltdowns, sometimes necessitating multiple people to manhandle him out of the school and into my car, with one time him biting me in his rage and frustration  and then immediately freaking out upon realizing what he'd done and break down into "I'm such a bad boy" hysterics and sobbing.

I admit there were many times I thought I was NOT going to forgive him - that I would not take him back from his latest facility stay, that I couldn't deal with the stress and the drama anymore. But the little monster had wormed his way into my heart and in between all the bad there was so much good, and I could see what a good kid he was/is at heart, and I'd just grown to love him So. Much. I couldn't let him go.

Things like him seeing a kindergartener at school sobbing and afraid in the hallway early in the school year, and my little monster going up to him (on his way back from the bathroom) to take his hand and tell him it was going to be okay, that he was also scared of school at first, and giving him a hug.

Seeing how much it tore his tender little heart when he first encountered homeless people and crying over it and wanting me to give each of them all my money ("What's going to happen to them? What's going to happen to them?" he fretted for hours after).

Using his own money (which he loved) to buy a little girl something she wanted that her mom wouldn't get for her. He did this on more than one occasion.

The joy on his face and his laughter when I first took him to the beach and he took off his shoes and started walking on the sand, giggling and squealing "Daddy, it tickles!" And I realized it actually DID tickle, and loving him all the more for opening my eyes to the joy of something I'd taken for granted. He always got SO excited over so many things that it made them that much more enjoyable - or, again, opened my eyes to things I'd previously dismissed as mundane.

His constant concern/worry for me, often asking "Are you okay?" if I spent too long in the bathroom (hey, I'm old), or stubbed my toe in the kitchen and cried out, etc. I realized eventually part of the concern was I'd leave him/be taken from him as he frequently had nightmares where I died.  :(

And then there was the pride I'd feel when he'd conquer a fear or try something he was afraid of - like when we were in a bird sanctuary in Colombia and he kept wanting to feed the birds but would Freak. Out. if they tried to land on him. I kept chastising him/encouraging him to gut it up and he finally did and one of my favorite pictures of him is him beaming proudly while three small parrots perched on his hand/arm, eating the seed he had. 

Beyond the behaviors and drama and outbursts there was also the constant neediness. Multiple people would ask how I could deal with him almost constantly needing my attention, crawling and hanging all over me, telling me he loved me 30-40 times a day just so he could hear the "I love you more" in return. He was super affectionate and loved snuggles on the couch while watching TV together or in my bed on the weekend mornings just before getting up. He made it super easy to love him, but also super hard.  Thus, the paradox.

Not long after he was placed with me, he made it clear he wanted me to adopt him.  I told him from the start that I only came back to Oklahoma because Covid forced me to, in part, and in part to spend time with my dad before he passed.  After two years with him, my dad passed but I decided to stay one more year to help my mom deal with the transition, and because my little monster would be finishing elementary school.  I did break down and tell him (foolishly, in retrospect) that if he could make significant progress over the next year, and assuming they'd let me, I'd adopt him and take him overseas with me. And while he certainly has made progress from when he was first placed with me almost 3 years ago, he still has a long way to go.

He himself became conflicted over the idea of moving overseas. He loved me, he wanted me to adopt him, but he was also afraid of leaving Oklahoma, of being away from his family (altho he only had contact with the one sister closest in age to him - and still 8 years older), etc. And of course he still had issues and behaviors - esp. at school.  The defiance and the drama were still hampering him, and as I hit 60, I realized I didn't have as much energy to deal with his CONSTANT neediness, and also found myself worrying about what would happen when he became a teen and could, literally, hurt me in one of his rages.  

Then, it turned out it was difficult for me to find a paying job overseas, my travel agency business wasn't taking off enough to support me, and so I couldn't support him even if I wanted to overseas. BUT I still needed to get overseas to figure out where I could retire, thus the return stint as a Peace Corps volunteer.  But I made sure to tell him that if he continued making progress while I was overseas, and if he didn't end up in a home he might like more, with 2 parents, with kids his age to play with, etc., I would come back and adopt him.  And I still would.  But based on the struggles he continues to have, I don't know that that will happen. And it tears me up.  

I've NEVER had such a disconnect between knowing in my heart I'm doing the right thing for me, for my mental and physical health, for my future, while at the same time HATING that it is so and STILL wanting to forget all of it and get him back and somehow deal.  I've never loved anyone like I love this little monster and it is Killing. Me. to be without him now.  So just waiting desperately for the "time heals all wounds" thing to kick in, and waiting for the distraction of Peace Corps service while simultaneously hoping beyond hope my little monster can turn it around, stabilize, and either end up in a better place or be ready to re-join me when I'm ready to retire.  Sigh.