I know I’ve mentioned it before but I am currently reminded that Samoans really know how to harness joy. The culture can be very childlike. Which has it’s definite advantages. Remember the joy of spinning in circles. Or singing at the top of your lungs. Or playing with bugs in the yard. Or best yet, being happy right now, right here, with only what you have in the moment. Everything past that is just irrelevant. So what if all the dishes in your house are dirty because the water isn’t running. You hate doing dishes anyway. So what if the humidity factor keeps climbing with no sight of breaking into rain anytime soon. Your office has AC and at home you can just take a nap. So what if nothing works at the shop. Let’s just go have lunch instead, there will be cold beer and good friends.
I think this; don’t worry about anything past right now attitude really alleviates a lot of anxiety in the population. Of course the day comes when the things we didn’t think through or just put off come back to pay, but really that is then… this is now.
Who cares.
(My own adoption of this concept in my life, will I am pretty sure cause my eventual re-adjustment will be painful and difficult. That is then, this is now.. so what. )
My very best friend in the world says I have a problem.
I make him tell me what he had for dinner the night before just about every morning. More often than not I am starving before he can finish. He is a word smith himself and that mixed with his own good food fetish, makes for some nearly erotic food conversations.
On the mornings that he mentions Mexican food I make him go into great detail.
While I miss Taquerias the most, I also miss the great variety of types of food available at home. And of course not to mention the affordably of eating out. Here is it is a lot more expensive to eat out than it is to cook at home. Tho that too can certainly get expensive as well if you don’t stick to the basics. There are a couple of special “Palagie” grocery stores here that get me into trouble. MD’s big fresh has a great selection of imported cheese that could send me broke in days.
Tonight some of the girls are coming over and I am going to make an approximation of the quasedilla suisa at Cancun (a great Taqueria in the city). I am hungry just thinking about it.
I am up to my earballs in Peace Corps social stuff. There are three major events coming up and I am going to be involved in parts of the new group training. It seems like the more I do, the more there is to do. Which I guess is the same with everything.
My housemate situation is working out much better than I expected it to. Having lived alone for many months I thought I might not be fit for sharing my housing. But as it turns out, it is working out great. Last night She made me this beautiful hemp necklace to replace the one that held my moon charm. She made it all pretty and sassy and I love it. It made a special thing even more special. We spent a long time outside talking and I had the opportunity to get to know her better. I am really blessed to be surrounded by so many Amazing people. I can see why RPVC friendships often last lifetimes.
So now I am looking ahead. The next four or five months are going to be exciting and busy. I have several big projects to accomplish at work. There is a new group of IT volunteers coming in less than a month. And along with that I have more PC obligations. Then there are overseas visitors and a trip of my own. So at least I have some things to keep focused on and looking forward to. I just hope it all doesn’t fall apart when I get back in March.
I like it when he stays at my house. Inevitably we will be up late talking. Friday night we were up until 2 am. We verbally batted around welfare, the correlation between Tobacco and oil addiction, abortion, the loneliness we face here as ex-pats and many other things. He is defiantly food for my mind.
He is a workaholic. He teaches at a good college (our equivalent of High School) here in town and often disappears for weeks at a time into his work, his students, and his life as part of the local culture of his school. Eventually he resurfaces and we get to hang out with him.. He recently had a visitor from the states and I assumed that after they left he would go back into his “Work too much and hide from the world” mode. But it turns out he is leaning on me and the other volunteers for comfort and support a lot more than he has in the past. It is nice to have him around.
Humans are amazing creatures.
The clock on the wall at the coffee shop began it’s slow tinkly chime at 8am this morning. We could hear it through the open door as we sat outside with our harbor view and gentle silky breeze. It was like church bells tolling out death for me. I didn’t want to go upstairs today. Things at work are busy, chaotic and there are many frustrations along with a few rewards. It can be very intense and overwhelming at times. I can’t really say a whole lot more about what I am doing at work but I will say that it is sometimes a big mental, emotional, and physical drain. But I guess anything really worth doing is.
Today is Friday so I am in my blue Pulotasi. It is my favorite and looks the best on me.
I wave Netta down and get her to pour me a cup of tea to go. I think I may need an extra cup this morning. She must see I am tired because when I get to my desk I find that instead of tea I got coffee, fixed up just the way I like it. It is a nice treat.
But first (before finding and enjoying my coffee) I open the door to my office and am assaulted by a smell that is reminiscent of the smell of a dead mouse. I quickly come to find that this is because there is in fact a dead mouse under my desk. I squeal loudly.
Just outside my office the meter readers gather every morning to get their reading assignments for the day. About 15 soles are treated to my squeal and come running. Since I look extra cute today, one of them kindly removes the dead mouse. I open the window and pray the smell vacates quickly. Eventually I take the lid off my Styrofoam coffee cup (I should remember to bring my own travel cup to work so I can stop using these) and find my treat. By then the expired mouse smell is gone.
The rest of the morning blows away like a chaotic wind storm and soon it is 11:53. This is the designated meeting time for Mo, Chris, Blaine and I too meet every Friday for lunch. Which means I am late. I find my wallet and rush down to the bakery/café for lunch.
There are many good places to have lunch in town these days. Everything from a 2 tala Samoa plate at Pinati to the fancy pasta lunch special at Sails. But we usually end up at The Bakery. The food is great and the owners treat us well, even if it does get packed and slow and full of Yachties.
I open the door and the smell of fresh baked bread wafts out. They make loaves of fresh white bread, by the truck full here. I usually buy whole meal, or dark rye bread for home, but I love the smell of white bread during the day.
My dad just sent me an e-mail telling me I received a KQED tote bag in the mail.
This is odd.
1. I haven’t donated to KQED in a year. Not since I left. I checked my bank accounts and CC to make sure that nothing auto deducted a pledge. I haven’t sent KQED any money.
2. The last time I did pledge I was living at SMV in Mountain View and I gave them that address. So I would think any pledge gifts would be sent there and not to my parents house (which it was, it was not forwarded, it was sent there).
I can only figure that KQED freakishly found me and sent me a “Hey we think you are neat” gift. That or someone pledged in my name. If it was you then, Hey Thanks!
The other things is… I really want a KQED tote bag. I know that makes me a big Dork, but I really don’t care. KQED was my favorite local NPR station at home and I listened to it constantly. All things considered, Fresh Air, Pacific Time, The California Report, Klick and Klack, PHC, City Arts and Lectures, Says You, The commonwealth club, I loved all of these shows! So I am more than happy to carry around a bag that says, “Hey I a ‘commie, pinko, Birkenstock wearing, sprout eating, liberal’ (as an ex boyfriend used to call me) and I support local NPR radio!
And besides I carry around this (once upon a time it was) white tote bag that I got in New Orleans a few years ago. It is just big enough for my wallet, a book, a water bottle and whatever shopping stuff I need to get during the day. It is the perfect size. But it is on it’s last leg, and getting pretty gross actually. It has served me really well, and I’m sure I will continue to use it (despite it’s grossness) until it simply disintegrates on me one day. But after that, I would LOVE to use my brand new KQED tote bag!
My Aunt is bringing it with her when she comes in November. YAY!
At 6 am the tropic morning the sun is just beginning to peek it’s tip over the watery horizon on the north east side of my island. I should get up since my alarm has just gone off. Instead I shut off the alarm and go back to sleep. (Despite the fact that I have had exactly 8 hours of sleep.) If I had gotten up I could have done some yoga and meditation. I could have watched the sun come fully into the sky as I sipped tea and ate breakfast. I think my body and my head may fight each other over their conflicting desires to be a morning person or not, for the rest of my life.
At 6:40 I re-wake and discover I am running late. I get out of bed to discover the water is off again. Fortunately I have bucket water saved so I can still shower. The water in the bucket is freezing and I shiver and cringe.
Today is Wednesday which means it is Green Pulotasi day (A Pulotasi is a matching top and skirt outfit that makes up the “Formal or Business dress” here, and is what I wear to work often. See previous posts for more descriptions). On Wednesday all the ladies in my office wear our matching green Pulotasi. I am running late so I get dressed quickly and make a PBJ on toast, just before I rush out the door, as my neighbor honks the horn in front of my house. I ride down the hill to work with him (he is an Engineer here at EPC) and his girls who go to school nearby, most every morning. The ride down the hill is quiet.
School is back in session which means the roads are full of children in brightly colored uniforms walking to school. We pass several schools on the way and each has it’s own colorful uniform. One is a bright yellow button down shirt with bright red jumpers for the girls and lava lava for the boys. Another has bright orange shirts with Navy Blue jumpers/lava lava. My favorite is the school with the bright pink shirt and the lime green jumper/lava lava combo. The Samoan sense of color is (well let’s call it) Brave. They have no fear of bold contracting clothing or homes painted bright pink or lime green. It is a very different ascetic than from where I come from.
Iese, (my neighbor) drops me off at the corner by the coffee shop and wish the girls good bye and have a good day at school. Then I cross the street to my sanctuary. Coffee with the Aunties. Today we are sitting outside. The view of the harbor is lovely and there is a cool silky morning breeze.
This morning Netta (the waiter) brings me coffee instead of tea. She doesn’t remember that I have switched. For a split second I consider drinking it anyway. The coffee is here, it smells good, why waste it and cause more effort and trouble for sweet Netta. In the end I make a very Palagie decision and ask her to bring me tea instead (From what I can tell from the aunties, taking what they give you is the FaaSamoa.) Netta brings me Tea and auntie Lea and Barbara chat about kids, dogs, a high-ranking official at the hospital who just got suspended and other gossip. I listen quietly and try to pick up as much FaaSamoa as I can. I think the suspension had something to do with Fish… but I am probably wrong. At 8 I get up and wish the aunties a good day, and head upstairs.
Within my group (and others I think) it has become tradition that whenever any volunteer’s parents visit from home, we arrange one night for the group to gather, meet the parents and let them (the parents) buy us dinner. My friend Mika’s mother is in town and on Saturday night; instead of going out she invited us all over to Mika’s house for a HUGE Korean feast. The food was amazing and Mika’s mom is a wonderful and fun woman. (and goes to church with Anne Lamont! How wacky is that.)
It was the first time we had gathered as a group in a while. We re-lived some of our finer moments from training. Marveled at how funny we were. And we discussed our approaching one-year anniversary in Samoa. It is shocking to think that we have been here 11 months and are already rapidly approaching one year. I can’t really say the time has flown by. Sometimes it drags along at the pace of grass growing or paint drying. Sometimes you blink and it is next month already. Samoa has it’s own time. As long as I keep trying to remember that the inconstancy of it all doesn’t drive me terribly nuts.
Anyway in honor of the approaching year I was thinking about what I was doing exactly one year ago today. One year ago today, I was unemployed and homeless. My last day of my job had been the day before and I had moved out of SMV 5 days earlier. I was probably spending the day up in the city playing with Max or my family. I was on the one-month countdown. I distinctly remember the feeling of sitting on the edge of something big. I knew something great and wonderful and painful was about to happen to me and as much as I wanted to enjoy my last month at home, I was really anxious.
I am not nearly as anxious these days.
I have mentioned that water at home has been sporadic for the last month or so. Which is fine (even if a little inconvenient). Sporadic water I can deal with as long as I get water at home for several hours a day (preferably hours that I am at home and not at work). This way I can do dishes once a day, fill up my buckets and properly flush that thing in the bathroom. If the water is on in the mornings I can shower and if not I have bucket water saved from the day before for a bucket shower. Unless of course the water didn’t come on at all in which case, my kitchen sink is full of dishes, I have no saved water to shower, and I have stopped using the bathroom through sheer force of will.
The water hasn’t come on at my house in 2 days.
This morning I stumbled out of bed (to find there still was no water) and dragged myself to the PC office for a shower. Getting my clothing and shower stuff together and down to the office first thing in the morning is not easy as an not really awake at that point.
I am not sure how much longer I can continue to live in my house with no water for days at a time. Maybe I need to just adopt a few more water-free living guidelines. Like stop cooking at home and eat out all the time, eliminating dishes entirely. Or don’t drink any liquids after 4pm, making the not using the bathroom thing easier. Or get a bunch more buckets and hire young tama (boys) Samoa to fill then and leg them up my stairs everyday. Is this sounding, ridiculous and lame to everyone else? Well I think so too.
I just keep telling myself… This is what you signed up for girl, this is what you signed up for.
I have been working on writing something to bring to the writers group I am going to on Sunday. Consequentially I have very little to say elsewhere. But here are just a few things of no interest at all anyway.
1. I got a package from Max yesterday. It had some yummy treats, a Bukwoski CD, My new Magic hat! and a very swoony letter. It was a good package.
2. I spent about 20 min of my day today trying to get my department an electric tea kettle (I had to write another proposal, get approval, and then find someone to make me a PO, it really did take 20 min!) so we can all have tea together. "Tea" skills are new for me.
3. Several weeks ago in a fit of passive aggressive anger over not producing any tomatoes (The birds or something was eating all the buds off my plants before they could become fruit, so I never actually got any tomatoes) I stopped watering my tomatoes plants. They of course then died. And last night I grew weary of dead plants on my patio so I pulled them all out of there little buckets and tossed them over the side of the porch. I hope to plant some more seedlings this weekend and try to start over.
So it looks like Molly and I are not destined to belong to each other after all. Apparently what the nice lady on the phone didn’t know is that Molly is a fisher dog and needs to be near the ocean so she can go fishing every day. I have never heard of a fisher dog before. And alas, I live on a mountain and not at all near the sea (though I can usually “Sea” it from my porch). So Molly will be staying were she is, and the APS vets are keeping an eye out for another dog for me.
I am sad and yet simultaneously impressed with the self-sufficiency and intelligence of a fisher dog. cest la vie.
I have been attempting to get a hold of someone at Samoa APS for the last week to see if they happen to have any shorthaired female puppies. I have called every week for the past few weeks and they haven’t had any shorthaired dogs at all. Today I put in my weekly call.
Turns out they have an adult female dog that belongs to an AUSAID volunteer who is leaving soon. She is apparently well behaved, has had some formal obedience training, is an indoor/outdoor dog, is used to being bathed, and in need of a new home. Her name is Molly. The lady at APS is going to contact the owner right away to set up a date for Molly and I to meet. If it works out I may get a dog real soon AND get to skip the little puppy phase! (Molly is about a year and a half old)
I will try and bring my camera so I can get pics of Molly and I on our first date.
YAY! Cross your fingers for Molly and I.
I would like to say that interesting things are going on that keep me busy and that is why I haven’t written much here.
But the truth is… very little of interest is going on and I am wrapped up in the super busy yet mundane life of a power company employee (sort of) in a third world nation. I am making good progress on multiple projects at work, none of which hold much interest if you don’t work here. Pisa is going on leave for six weeks starting today. She wasn’t at coffee this morning and that was… wacky.
Things at home are weird and fun and chaotic. I am still hoping to get a dog soon. And life moves on….
When my parents came to visit a few months ago they decided that they wanted to get me a new Radio. The one I had was a piece of crap that I found at the market for 45 tala, and could only hold a station for about 20 min before it lost it’s station and had to be re-tuned. So when they offered to buy me a new one, I gladly accepted their offer.
We looked at portable stereos in America Samoa and I kept protesting when my mom and dad wanted to buy the more expensive models. I just wanted one with a CD player and a radio that could hold its station (preferably digital).
My mother kept insisting we get one with a tape player. I though to myself… “Why don’t we get one with an 8-track while we are at it.” Eventually I bugged her enough to tell me why she wanted to buy me one with a tape deck since I didn’t own any tapes and there wasn’t much chance I would be buying any, anytime soon.
Yesterday I received two tapes in the mail from my mom.
Both are Sunday programming from KQED! A couple of Prairie Home Companion shows and if I’m lucky a little bit of Car Talk! WOOT. I am so excited!
The moral of the story is, listen to and don’t mock your mother. She is probably trying to do something nice for you.
Yesterday I had my first ever adventure to the National Hospital in Motootua. There is a palagie podiatrist from Australia working for the Diabetic clinic now and Dr. Atherton (or Dr. Fia Fia for those who remember him) recommended I go see him for my PF. So yesterday Teuila our wonderful Med officer and I went up to the hospital. The new Dr. is young but he recognized my PF right off and then (and this is the part I LOVED) he explained exactly what was happening and why precisely my feet hurt all the time. Basically I need better Arch support. Anyway he seemed to know what he was talking about and I am very hopeful for some sort of recovery and a long-term solution to my pain.
It was enlightening to see how a hospital in a developing nation works. There were no records, no appointments, and no bills. We got in, we got out, and it was free. In fact in most ways it was far superior to care that I received from the private Dr here. The only thing that I found lacking was the cosmetic aspect to the hospital and waiting area. It seemed old, cold, and unattractive. But it was clean and the Dr. helped me soooo I guess I really don’t care what it looked like.
I need to write something today so I figured I would just take care of mentioning a few random things that are happening.
1. It’s Teuilla festival time! Which is sort of like a big pacific island version of a state fair. Except different. The harbor is full of yachts (like 53 at last count). There are Kricket tournaments, dance completions, a whole Arts and Crafts market was set up, boat races and a ton of other stuff to see. However I have been so busy with work and fighting off illness that I have yet to actually partake in any of the Teuila Festivities.
2. Avocadoes and Mangos are back in the market. They got wiped out in the Cyclone and are just now coming back. Tonight there is guacamole with MY name on it.
3. My boss at EPC has left the country for a few months. I won’t say anymore on this.
4. I may have a roommate soon.
On Friday night I hung out with a woman whom while describing birthing told me “pain has no memory”. She went on to explain that yes she remembered that childbirth was painful but…. She has no recollection of HOW it was painful, or how potent the pain was.
Obviously she was speaking of physical pain.
I wonder if other kinds of pain share this lack of memory.
I have switched from coffee to tea in the mornings.
Yesterday was day 1 and as expected the Aunties were all up in arms.
“Are you sick?” “Do you need money?” “Why don’t you just enjoy your life?”
I then had to explain that it was NOT a decision based in Denial of something I want as much as a decision to make a healthier choice. That I know making a healthier choice now will help me feel better later, even if it means not having the coffee I want now. I think the point may have still been lost on them. Bless them anyway for wanting me to have everything I want… even if they can’t understand that sometimes it is bad for me.
This morning when I ordered Tea instead of coffee it was not nearly the big Faalavelave (big dramatic deal) that it was yesterday. I can only imagine what will happen when I switch from tea to water in a few weeks.
In other news, if you missed it I have been on a down swing lately, which is typical for this time in service and nothing to be too concerned with. A few days ago I got up cranky, mopped over coffee (it was my last coffee day) with the Aunties, and then hid in my office all day. At about three I had to go run some errands. As I left the office and my bus came right away. My favorite bus driver and I had a little chat about where I had been and why I didn’t ride the bus much anymore. Then he wouldn’t take my 50 sene piece when it was time for me to get off the bus. He insisted that the ride be on him this time. I got off the bus and went to cross the street were there is no walk way and a big oncoming taxi driver waved me across the street with a big circular movement of his arm as if it say “Run across the street, girly. I promise not to run you over”. People I knew in cars honked and waved to say hello (It seems I know a lot of people in town). And for the rest of the afternoon it seemed to me that people were extra friendly and went out of their way to be nice to me. It was wacky. I was in such a foul mood and then I got out into my town and remembered why I like this place so much. And really there is nothing unusual about this. The people here are really nice and pleasant to others all the time. I just have to get out and be among them more when I am down I guess.
My friend Carrie is going on something like her fourth year as a PCV. Prior to coming to Samoa with my group she served in Burkina Faso, in West Africa. We were roommates during training and she remains a good friend.
She was telling me last night that she received a much-awaited package from her mother on Tuesday. It was supposed to contain several textbooks that she wanted for work, some clothing and a few other treats from home. The package got sidetracked in shipping and went to New Zealand first. Where it was apparently pillaged. Someone had opened the package, taken the textbooks and replaced them with their dirty shoes in order to bring the package back up to a similar weight. The clothing, a brand new CD and snacks were all left. We were all baffled as to why anyone would want textbooks as opposed to a brand new pop CD. And why no one noticed a dock worker (because according to the postal service, it was likely someone in the shipyard in NZ) with no shoes.
On another note. I am coming home after all. In February, for a month. I have heard the warnings that it is bad idea from a few people. However I have also talked to many volunteers here who have gone home for a break and all of them have found it to be restful and renewing. So I have bought my tickets and I am going in exactly five months. Shockingly my time at home is already starting to book up. It looks like mom and dad have a family vacation in the works (Vegas Baby Vegas!). Max and I are going to PCON. There will be a birthday shindig at Menara. And I have to fit in some time in Windsor with my Aunt and the South Bay with friends. So yay, I am exited.