Bienvenido a Miami!

At the end of July 2007, I was on the plane to Miami for a three day, two night staging event for the new Peace Corps trainees assigned to the Eastern Caribbean. The good-byes were not nearly as hard as I thought they'd be and I didn't have as many panic attacks as I thought I would have so I was off to a good start! Upon arriving in Miami, I was absolutely starving, but if you've ever been to Miami International Airport, it is truly the toe jam of airports. Nothing to eat, nowhere to shop, and on top of this my luggage was lost. Great. It's late in the evening, I'd been flying all day and now I had to wait in this line with the million other people who hadn't received their luggage. Did I forget to mention that I had packed my entire life into these two suitcases that the airport couldn't find? I stood in the lost luggage line for at least two hours trying to suppress the urge to chloroform the person in front of me just so I could move up the line a little faster. Finally after making it through the line I hailed a taxi, had him take me to the nearest fast food restaurant, and finally checked into my hotel.

The hotel was swankier than any place I'd ever stayed before and it sure beats the Travelodge. Of course, it was mostly amazing because I wasn't paying the $500 a night rate. I knew that we would be assigned a roommate and I was anxious to see who my first Peace Corps co-volunteer would be. Let me just start off by saying that I was very very concerned that all the people I'd meet in the Peace Corps would be hippie types who I'd have nothing in common with. This, I realize now, is a complete stereotype. We do have the occasional tree huggers but for the most part, there is a very diverse mix of personalities. Anyway, back to the roommate. I opened the door and there sat Amy on the bed and next to her on the nightstand. . .a rum and coke. Yes!! I loved her already. After telling her my whole lost luggage fiasco, we got to talking about her boyfriend that she'd left back in the states and all the usual get to know you banter. The night was late already so we eventually called it a night.

Day one of staging had arrived and still. . .no luggage. No clothes, no clean underwear, nothing except for some toiletries I'd brought in my carry on. Peace Corps is all about dressing "business casual" so wearing the dirty outfit I'd worn to fly in the previous day was a no no. I knew that they would understand the circumstances, but still it wasn't the first impression I wanted to make. Bless her heart, Amy offered to let me borrow some clothes which I did. Since I didn't have clean underwear I was able to get a head start on the hand washing. Have you ever tried to hand wash a thong? Well, it's hard to do because there's not much material to work with. On the bright side though, it only took a few minutes to dry with the hotel blow dryer! Yes. . .this was the rugged Peace Corps life I was waiting for.

Staging is basically Peace Corps' way of giving you a last chance to bail out before dropping you in your region of assignment and some people took the opportunity to change their mind. Meeting the other volunteers was exciting but really nerve wracking. There were some people who I met and I didn't understand how Peace Corps would have accepted them. I wondered if maybe they were lost and wandered into the staging event by accident. It sounds judgemental I know, but I figured that social skills were kind of an essential trait for a volunteer to have and some people just didn't fit the bill at first. "Oh he/she will never make it," crossed my mind a couple times. Knowing these people a little better a year and half later, I am glad to say that I was wrong about them. One can't help but judge and if you say you don't judge people, you're lying. For the most part, however, I was really pleased with the group of people I met. The nice thing was that there was an immediate sense of commonality amongst the trainees even though the personality types were so different. We were all going on this adventure together and we all came into this needing to make new friends. Also, you realize that it is a certain type of person who will go on an endeavor such as Peace Corps, and in that there is an automatic amount of respect that is given and received.

One of my best friends, Colleen, whom I used to bartend with in Seattle had moved to Miami a few months prior to my arrival and I had arranged to meet up with her on my last night. The two of us, along with a group of other volunteers hopped on the bus and went to a shopping mall in South Beach. I had heard from Colleen that the people in Miami were beautiful but I had no idea. I got to South Beach and felt like the ugly kid at the school who no one wants to play with. The men were way too metrosexual for my taste, but nonetheless, so pretty! The women tan, tall, skinny supermodels. . .God bless plastic surgeons. There was much eye candy to be had and it was then and there that I decided that I would never move to Miami. After ordering far too much pizza and drinking some well deserved beers, we all went back to the hotel and I said good bye to Colleen.

The next morning I was on a plane to St. Lucia to begin phase one of my training. . .

The Isle of Spice and Knockin Boots

When I joined the Peace Corps I had to have a consultation with the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer,) and without skipping a beat she asked me what I planned to use for contraceptive. "Abstinence," I said. HA! In retrospect I'm thinking that perhaps I should have been insulted by the fact that the PCMO didn't seem to believe me. Without judgement, but with a look on her face that said, "Yah f*ckin right," she said, "Well, just in case. . ." and sent me on my way with a new supply of birth control.

I don't know why, but I really did think I could go 27 months without sex. Granted, not without much frustration and several batteries. For some reason I had this idea in my head that the men here wouldn't interest me or that being in volunteer mode would leave no room for hanky panky. Now, don't get the idea that I'm whoring around down here because I would have to say that quite the opposite is true. Most of the men here have girlfriends, a wife, and/or children. If they tell you they don't have anyone, they're lying. Now, I know this may just sound like a typical girl thing to say, "I hate men, they're all lying dogs." But, truly. . .they ALL have girlfriends. It is as though being single in the Caribbean is a contagious disease that no one wants to catch and for which there is no cure other than to snatch up the first man that tries to mark his territory on you. I figured this out the first few times I was hit on in Grenada, in which I would reply, "No, I don't have a boyfriend and no thanks, I don't want one." Men would sit there puzzled trying to dig into my psyche and figure out what was wrong with me, I mean. . .who takes care of me? And most importantly. . .who do I have sex with? Men would offer to be my boyfriend as though they were offering a free sample of hot pockets at the local Costco. No thanks, I'm full.

Now, with all of this being said I know that there are people in Grenada who have monogamous relationships but no one under the age of 40. I am usually not one to generalize, but men in the Caribbean are not known for their monogamous ways. Don't try to disuade me because it will be a futile effort. I have found this out the hard way a couple of times as I have been "the other woman" on more than one occasion, (unbeknownst to me at the time.) It is also usually the case that just when you may have thought you found one of the only decent, faithful, good men in Grenada; you find out about his girlfriend. I used to think that it was only a matter of time before one of these drunk make out sessions turned into an angry girlfriend coming to deliver a personal "welcome to Grenada" with a swift punch to the face. Yes, an ass whoopin was surely on the way. The more and more time I spend here though, it seems to me that a lot of the women know their men are cheating but as long as they are the girlfriend, they turn the other cheek. Hmm. . .interesting. Who am I to judge? Maybe it works for them? Really it's only a hop, skip, and a jump away from partner swapping, right? And I know that swinging has worked well for many couples. I just hope that while their men are out sowing their wild oats, that the women are doing the same, mind you with protection and discretion.

It is not as though I am blind to the fact that cheating happens everywhere and American society is certainly not the poster child for monogamy, this I know. I suppose the difference here is that people seem to have no shame about it. It is just what the men are expected to do and that is what bothers me. You should at least show you care about the other person's feelings by having the courtesy to lie and hide your affair. Haha. Okay, that was a joke, but really. . .

Truly Sleepless in Seattle

The end of July crept up on me rather quickly. I felt really unsure of what I was getting myself into, but I was excited all the same. I had just sold my car to a teenage girl who I hoped would give my car a good home. I was also going through some legal things for an alleged hit and run I'd committed. Okay, it's not as serious as it sounds. In Seattle the parking is horrible and people park so close together that you can barely open your door to get out. I had received a notice in the mail from some man's insurance company saying that I had scraped his car while parking in a lot about five months prior and they wanted me to pay damages. Well, I didn't recall this incident since, in my mind,it never happened. When I looked at my car, the scratches on my car didn't match up with the report. Long story short. . .my dad and I contested it for awhile and the problem just disappeared.

I took a little detour off my topic, but back to the preparation for my Peace Corps departure. One of the hardest things I had to do was sell my kitchen table. It was a beautiful, mahogany table with four high bar stools around it. I loved this table from the first time I laid eyes on it and I saved for months and months to buy it. I put it up for sale on Craig's List and it sold quickly for about half what I paid for it. The man who came to buy it was quite handsome and had I not been leaving the country I'm quite sure I would have shamelessly thrown myself at him.

A few weeks before I left for orientation in Miami, I went on a week long vacation with Jesse and his family to Montana. At this point in my life, Jesse and I were not "officially" together, but we might as well have been. We both knew that a long distance relationship was out of the question, and to be quite honest, leaving the country was what I knew I needed in order for me to finally leave this five year rollercoaster of a relationship behind. Nonetheless, the week was filled with bear tours, trips to Glacier National Park, swimming down the river, shooting guns, rope swings, and the most amazing thunder and lightening show I've ever seen. It will always remain with me that that will probably be the last really good memory I have where there is no love lost between Jesse and I.

After returning from Montana I had a farewell party with friends and one of my dearest friends, Lanny, took me out for a night on the town. We went out in style like we always do, dressed to the nines and on the prowl. On the way home I was sitting in the passenger seat thinking about everything I was leaving behind, my friends, my parents, Jesse, Jesse's family, everything. It's also fair to say that I was scared because I have never lived outside Seattle, let alone another country entirely. All of these emotions were flowing through me, (along with the loads of alcohol I had consumed,) and Lanny had played the One Republic song "Apologize" on the radio. I lost it completely. I doubled over in the car bawling my eyes out and boy did it feel good! I was a sniffling snotty mess of runny mascara and boogers but I didn't care. To this day, when I hear that song it transports me to that moment in the car where I finally realized how much I was going to miss my life in Seattle and how unprepared I was for whatever was going to happen next. I realized that if there were ever a time to have faith, this was it. Just close your eyes and jump.

Tow-Mater

My car got towed. It got towed on the day of my college graduation. I came out in my cap and gown, beaming from ear to ear and I think to myself, "Hmm. . .that's funny. I thought this is where I parked my car." I spent a few minutes thinking about what may have happened to my car other than the obvious. Did some thug steal it? Maybe I was being Punked? Perhaps a small flock of birds carried it away to make a more durable nest? Nope, nope, and nope. After giving a call to the towing company I came to find out that it would cost $450.00 to get my car out of the lot. Squeeze me? Uh. . . let me break it down.

cap & gown + diploma = the end of 4 years of midterms and finals

the end of 4 years of midterms and finals = time to party

time to party = $$

car being towed = no money, no party, no fun.

I was not a happy camper.

Upon leaving the graduation ceremony, the University of Washington decided to give us a very generous gift. . .a purple nalgene bottle. Yes folks, this is what you have to look forward to after spending thousands and thousands of dollars! Well, as it turns out, the nalgene came in handy because once I heard about how much it was going to cost to get my car out of prison, I threw my nalgene bottle at an innocent automobile, hitting its windshield. Unfortunately there was someone sitting in the car, but he took pity on me, (and there was no damage to his car. . .whew!) I was able to get a ride to the impound lot and I thought that maybe, just maybe, that this man would see me in cap and gown and say, "College graduate? You know what. . .congratulations! Forget the impound fee. Go out into the world and spread your wings." No such luck. He was a nice man though, although his suspenders looked like they were cutting off the circulation in his rather large stomach. It was distracting to say the least. Then I thought, if I was lucky, his suspenders would somehow block the circulation of blood to the rest of his body and he'd faint. I could steal my keys and my car out of the lot and begin my new life as a fugitive on the run but only after a night of celebrating.

Snapping back into reality, I realized he wasn't going to give me a break and I was about to fork over my visa when my ex boyfriend's mother pulled her credit card out and said, "Happy Graduation." Yes. . .she posted bail for my poor Honda. I tried to pay her back later and she wouldn't accept it, so to Kathy I say thank you for turning what could've been a very bad day into a good one.

A Change Would Do Me Good

You know how there are times in life when you don't really know which way is up and which way is down? In all actuality, it seems as if everything in life is a just a big cluster f**k of uncertainty. Well. . .this was how life was for me about two years ago. I was about to graduate college with a degree in Sociology and I saw graduation as a sort of impending cloud of doom that kept creeping closer and closer. All I could think was, "crap. . .my parents are going to make me get a real job." Up until this point, I had been happily passing countless hours bartending at various bars and nightclubs feeding alcohol to anyone from the crazy bag lady who laughs hyterically during conversations held with herself to the high powered, suit-wearing businessman who came in to sip a cocktail while discretely slipping his wedding ring into his pocket. Dirty martini? Sure.. .anything to help you forget about your wife so you'll spend more money. Perhaps not the most ethical thing to encourage, but business is business and the rent is due! Yes. . .this was the life.

We all have to grow up sometime and I knew my party girl days were coming to an end. Part of me was glad to have something else to look forward to, but the problem was what? What was there to look forward to? A 9 to 5 job that I hate? Being stuck behind a desk getting paid every other week with a paycheck that amounts to what I would make in a weekend at the nightclub? Great. Real life here I come! Okay, so I'm not as cynical as this probably makes me sound, but really. . .what was I going to do with a Sociology degree? Then it hit me. . . Peace Corps! I'm not sure how this stroke of genius came to me, but it did. To be honest I had known about the Peace Corps for a really long time and had always been interested in joining. At some point in my life I knew I wanted to do some type of humanitarian aid work so signing on to volunteer two years of my life seemed like the perfect fit. Applying for Peace Corps proved to be very costly with all the medical screenings and no health insurance, (the one drawback of bartending,) but it only took a a few months for them to look everything over and give me the seal of approval.

So the next decision. . .where do I want to go? I got to choose five possible regions, but no specific countries. Did I want to go for something really rugged? No electricity, living in mud huts, shitting in holes dug in the ground? Haha. Oy. Anyone who knows me probably can't imagine me living in conditions like this which is part of the reason I wanted to go somewhere where a shower would be a special amenity and not the norm. I wanted to prove to myself that I could live like this and be okay. Life had gotten so crazy the last few years that I was ready to shed my skin and move on to something drastically different. I finally decided on the Pacific Islands/Caribbean, with Africa and South America coming in a close second and third. At the end of May I received an envelope from the Peace Corps that officially invited me to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Eastern Caribbean with my departure date set for the end of July. Upon reading this, I felt so many emotions at once I'm surprised I didn't spontaneously combust into a ball of flames. I was excited at first, then panic. . ."oh shit, what did I do" was the next thought to enter my mind, followed by. . ."I'm not going to eat Taco Bell for 27 months!" It's one thing to go through the motions of making a huge life change, but once you're committed, that's a whole other issue. I essentially had two months to graduate college, sell my car, sell/donate my furniture, pack up all of my belongings and say good bye to friends and family, but. . .I was ready.

Chapter two of my life was coming to an end, and the great unknown was staring me in the face daring me to back down. Not a chance.

Welcome!

Blogs. . .I never really thought I would start one, but the more and more I think about it, it's a great way to keep friends and family updated on what's going on in my life. (This is me assuming that someone cares.) I also have an irrational fear of losing my memory in which case this blogspot will serve me well if the unthinkable should ever happen and I lapse into a spontaneous state of amnesia. With that being said. . .here I am. TA-DA!

So this is my warm welcome to anyone who reads this blog. . .