Sleepless in Seattle

I realize that my blogs are not chronologically correct, but so what! Picture it. . .December, 2008. It was a hot day in Grenada and I was about to board the plane for my first visit home since joining the Peace Corps in July of 2007. My anxiety was high but so was my excitement about the endless Taco Bell double decker tacos I would be consuming in a matter of hours. The day of flying went smoothly but it was a trip I would like to avoid doing too often since it took about 22 hours for me to get from Grenada to Seattle. First, it was Grenada to Miami, then Miami to Chicago, and finally Chicago to Seattle. Not only was I exhausted but I almost got frostbite the minute my poor ankles felt the cold Chicago air. As I sat in the O'Hare airport in Chicago I watched as the snow fell and blanketed everything in the most beautiful and serene layer of white dust. Little did I know that this beautiful snow would turn out to be such a huge pain in the ass once I reached home.

Seattle is not a place that gets a ton of snow. But even so, if snow falls, the city overreacts and shuts everything down, while the media coins the 1 inch of snow as "Blizzard 2008" or some other equally over dramatic phrase. Then the next day the snow usually melts, the meteorologists are a little embarassed, and life goes back to normal. Well, of course I come home for a three week vacation, eager to spend time with the friends who I have missed more than I could've imagined, and it snows non-stop for about ten days. It doesn't melt, but it keeps compounding on top of the layers that are already there. . .which I suppose is how it usually works isn't it? Well anyway, I spent the first couple days of my "vacation" getting blisters from shoveling the driveway. Also, keep in mind that I hadn't driven a car for a year and a half and my parents were allowing me to borrow their ugly PT Cruiser. (Ugh, seriously, who designed that car and said, "Yes! This is a masterpiece!") Driving in snow was not really what I had in mind and of course my parents weren't too keen on my driving the car in snow and ice either, but I did anyway and fortunately I was accident free! Even though I was stuck at home for a few days it gave me the opportunity to spend quality time with my parents which I really enjoyed. Once the snow melted a bit I was nowhere to be found.

I expected my visit home to be a bit overwhelming since I had now adapted to the "simple life" of the Caribbean, but I fell right back into the swing of things as though I'd never left. I chowed down on some amazing mexican food, drank a lot of microbrews, and went out on the town with friends in Belltown. I ran into an old flame, (and unfortunately his girlfriend,) reconnected with friends I hadn't seen in years, made anatomically correct snowmen with mom, watched football with my dad, and spent a truly enjoyable Christmas Eve and Christmas with just my parents and I. I was even able to have a little piece of Grenada with me in Seattle due to the fact that my Grenadian friend/"it's complicated" Kerry was also in Seattle spending Christmas with a friend. All in all, I had a fantastic time and I realize how much I miss my friends and the social life I gave up to join the Peace Corps. Even so, by the end of week two, I was getting anxious to get back to my life in Grenada. Before I knew it, my vacation was finished and I returned to Grenada feeling newly inspired, refreshed, and truly happy to be back in swamp-ass weather conditions.

Isle of Spice and My Identity Crisis

It has occurred to me that I haven't really talked at all about Grenada. Allow me to introduce you to Grenada, "The Isle of Spice." A small island in the Eastern Caribbean (Windward Islands)about spitting distance from Trinidad and Tobago and a stones throw from Venezuela. My first impression about Grenada was. . .damn, it's hot. It is consistently between 80 and 90 degrees and there are only two seasons. . .wet and dry, (or tourist/non-tourist season.) If you were here you would see by my rat's nest that I call hair, that it is quite humid as well. I have gotten used to the constant sweating and have actually acclamated for the most part, or at least I think I have until I realize some random day that I am dripping beads of sweat down every undiscovered nook and cranny on my body even though I am doing absolutely nothing. Ha! Such is the life. Grenada is about 23 miles long or something like that and about uh. . .14 miles wide? The population is just about 100,000 which makes me laugh when I think about the fact that my entire hometown of Marysville, Washington was probably bigger than that. The terrain reminds me of a huge pimple. Big and rough in the middle but smooth and flat on the outer banks. Actually, the roads are pretty hilly and even though the island is only 23 miles long it takes me an hour and twenty minutes to get from one end to the other by bus, or as they are often referred to, coffins on wheels. Beautiful lush greenery and white sand beaches are something I never get sick of seeing.

People say that Grenadians are known for their hospitality, which in some cases is very true and in others, it's not true at all. I live in a town called Sauteurs in the parish of St. Patrick's. It is located on the northern tip of Grenada and is the furthest away from the tourist belt and capital of St. George's. I am said to be "Behind God's back," which means I am a country bumpkin. Who would've thought? I live alone in a two bedroom house that has a veranda overlooking the ocean and Grenadine Islands. Not bad at all. The closer you get to St. George's the more white people you'll see due to the tourists and St. George's University which is a medical school attended by a large American population. As for me, however, being in the country has come with it's own challenges but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else on the island.

Since I have lived here, I have been lovingly given a new nickname which is "Chiney." There is a sizeable Chinese population here and Grenadians are obsessed with kung fu movies. If I had a nickel for every "Ching a Ling" comment I received, I would be rich enough to fly around the world on my private jet filled with Shemar Moore look alikes, drinking bottles of Cristal. It used to really offend me and get me down, but it doesn't too much anymore unless someone is saying it to be malicious, which is most often not the case. People really can't figure me out. So far I have been asked if I am Italian, Czechoslovakian, Mexican, and Venezuelan. I get called "white girl" just as often as I get called Chiney so I suppose that I'll just keep them guessing. I used to try and explain that I am Korean American, but I found it took too much damn time and it was impossible for me to do a Geography lesson every ten minutes. To many Grenadians, there's three races; white, black, and Chiney. Some other interesting facts. . .I am CIA. There was a police officer who was a friend of a guy I dated here and he would ask all these questions about me because he sincerely thought I was a CIA agent. Then, on some random evening in St. George's, I was out at a club with my friends and a different guy came up to me and started pointing at me yelling, "CIA! CIA!" What gave it away? In any case, it's entertaining.

The one thing I do miss about Seattle is being surrounded by my female friends. It has taken me a long time to make the few female Grenadian friends that I have, but thank God even for those few. Although it has taken some time, I love Grenada. It has truly become my home away from home and the people I have met thus far have been amazing additions to the story of my life.

I'm So Paid. . .

I have been in Grenada since August of 2007 and it is now May of 2009. How the time flies! For the duration of my time here, I have worked at three different places, one place that I love, one place that I like, and one place that I really can't stand. I guess you could say that I have a little of everything. When I first received my community partner assignments I was thrilled, but confused as to what the hell I was supposed to do. To be quite honest, I didn't feel that my Sociology degree had really prepared me to do anything astounding and, truth be told, most of the work I've done here has been made up along the way. Peace Corps has been on the job training in every sense of the word. You need a teacher? Great. . .let me go online and figure out what curriculum I'll be needing. You need a social worker? Hmm. . .I guess I could give that a shot! You need a counselor? Well okay. . .I guess I'm a pretty good listener! Of course I am exaggerating a tad, but it is a bit like this from time to time which has forced me to become a jack of all trades.

One of the places I work is called NCH. It's a social work agency that is responsible for foster placements, parenting programs, and other matters related to children's welfare. When I initially began working here I was really excited since my specific assignment was to work with the youth group. Most of the youths are from Saueturs or the surrounding areas and they range in age from 13-20. Like most volunteers, I went in with all of these great ideas and I soon found that many of my efforts and ideas would all be in vain. There isn't funding to do anything, fundraisers are difficult because the kids aren't committed, and so on and so forth. My co-worker Mrs. Francis is great and she is really the one who holds the youth group together. While the kids are in school it is hard to plan anything, but we do try to have meetings at least twice a month. Yes. . .twice a month. Now you see my dilemma? What am I supposed to do with a youth group that is never around? I go into the office once or twice a week out of obligation and I use that time to work on other things or brush up on my Minesweeper skills on my laptop. The one useful thing I have learned here is how to write a grant proposal. Considering I did it without anyone's help, I would have to say that it was a very valuable and time consuming experience that I hope to never have to do again.

Aside from NCH, there are two other places that I work at throughout the week. The Grenada National Organization of Women is one of the most progressive NGO's on the island, thanks in large part to it's very driven and inspiring President, Elain Henry-McQueen. With this group I have been fortunate to gain many new skills and specialized training in areas related to gender based violence, sexual harassment, HIV/AIDS, etc. The women who I work alongside are incredible, strong, determined women and I am so thankful to play a small role in what is such a large movement for women's rights.

In July of 2008, I volunteered to be a camp counselor at a five day camp organized by a fellow PCV, benefitting the youths who reside at the Father Mallaghan's Home for Boys. The home is a church run facility where boys are placed when they have been removed from their family home because of abuse or neglect. Most of these boys have lived between various institutions and shelters for years and years and they have seen and experienced things that no child should. Over the course of the camp I became very attached to the boys and decided to begin volunteering there on a weekly basis. It has easily become my favorite place to work and it is the one place where I feel my passion for what I do has really come alive. It has been a tough and emotional roller coaster but the boys at this institution are amazing, vibrant, often troublemaking, but nonetheless delightful. The boys range in age from 8 to 18 years old and, until recently, I had been concentrating on remedial education and some life skills development. At present, however, my friend Annie Clift, (who also volunteers at the home with me,) and I are looking to build an entirely new home on some land that the church owns. We believe that we have located funding sources and now it is a matter of getting the okay from the necessary people. Aside from this, we have also been faced with some internal issues concerning the staff, the church, and the Child Welfare Authority. To make a long story short, there are a lot of things going on that shouldn't be and we are on the war path to make things right and hold people accountable. Enough said.

Finally, in December I was flown to St. Lucia by Peace Corps to attend a three day HIV/AIDS workshop facilitated by the ASHE Performance Group based out of Jamaica. It was the most entertaining and lively workshop I have ever been to and I was sad to have it end. Peace Corps has begun an initiative called "Men as Partners" and the goals is to prevent the spread of, and sensitize people about, HIV/AIDS by involving more men in the education and information sharing process. Throughout the Eastern Caribbean "teams" have been created consisting of PCV's and island nation counterparts. Each island is to take the training they received and create a plan that speaks to the goal of the Men as Partners initiative. In Grenada we are applying for grant funding in order to begin a series of train-the-trainers workshops with the obvious target being males. It has been a slow start thus far, but hopefully things will pick up once the grant is approved.

So yes. . .I do actually work. It's not all just about being a "beach corps" volunteer. Even though nothing I'm doing is necessarily monumental or even tangible yet, I know that I am doing my part to "plant shade trees that I will never sit under."

Party Time. . .Excellent

When I was accepted into the Peace Corps I thought, "That's it! My partying days are over. . .for now." I was sure that my new status as a representative for the United States of America would require that I be a mature, responsible, no flip-cup playing, no beer-bonging, no toga wearing individual. In order to compensate for all the non-drinking I would be doing during my two years as a volunteer I made sure to tie one on in the nights leading up to my departure from Seattle. It never occurred to me that people in the Caribbean, men especially, have no qualms about drinking rum at 8:00 in the morning. It never occurred to me that no matter where you are in the world, or what it is that you're doing, when you have a group of 20-somethings who are fresh out of college, it is inevitable that a rousing game of flip cup or kings will be played at some point in an effort to get completely and totally blitzed. Now, please don't misunderstand. . .most of us work very hard at the jobs that we do and we don't act like a bunch of college students on Greek row all the time, but like anybody else, we need fun too.

The first party we had was at my house for Halloween 2007. Fellow PCV and friend Lauren and myself planned this party for weeks in advance from decorations to costumes. It was especially important that this particular party be amazing since we were all feeling a bit nostalgic and sad about being in a country that doesn't celebrate this "holiday." Long story short, the party was amazing and a I do believe that some memorable moments were made during a game of farkle. Paul ate a grasshopper, Alex splashed her face with toilet water, and there were other things that would make a linebacker blush but I won't mention them here.

Since that Halloween party, we have had others such as the white t-shirt/graffiti/moustache/my 25th birthday party, a toga party, a Mexican theme party with the new E.C.79 volunteers, the Halloween 2008 party, and finally St. Patty's Day, Christmas, and Thanksgiving Day parties. All fanstastically great times with good food and good friends.

MoPo

For the first three weeks of my Peace Corps career, I lived in a village called Mon Repos (MoPo) in the beautiful island of St. Lucia. This was my first time in the Caribbean and when my feet hit the white sand for the first time I had one of those awe inspiring moments where, for a moment, you just want to run around laughing hysterically while leaping in the air out of pure joy. I imagined myself to be like Leonardo Dicaprio's character in the movie "The Beach" when he first found paradise. I was soon snapped back into reality, however, when I met my host mom Prisca. I was to spend three weeks under her roof and I was petrified.

The first time I saw Prisca I was surprised by how young she was. As it turns out she was in her early 30's and living in a home by herself, which I figured would either make it an ideal host family situation or it would be an awkward three weeks spent staring at each other should things not go well. Her home was small with barely enough room for the two of us and I got used to cold showers pretty quickly. Other things I got used to; cheese and carrot sandwiches, insects, spending countless hours sitting on the porch doing absolutely nothing. I was in training everyday so the only free time I really had was in the evenings and during the weekends. I met the rest of her family as well and every time I went to her mother's home, she tried to feed me. This is where I was introduced to the cup of sugar that locals sometimes refer to as juice. I remember tasting this "juice" impersonator and it became glaringly clear to me why type 2 diabetes is such a problem in the Eastern Caribbean.

All in all, the homestay experience was fantastic. Prisca and I didn't always see eye to eye. . .actually, we never saw eye to eye, but in comparison to the home stay relationship I have with my host mother in Grenada, Prisca is a saint. The most difficult thing was feeling as if I were a kid again living under my parents roof. I had to ask permission to do everything, but this was no fault of Prisca's. Peace Corps should really just implant tracking devices on us. . .it would be much more efficient.

MoPo will always hold very special memories for me, especially the karaoke nights at Rosemadin's BBQ/rum bar which was our Friday night hang out spot. Many talented Peace Corps trainees were discovered at this establishment and it is where we all hung out and played dominoes before being on lockdown in preparation for hurricane Dean. Yes. .. I experienced my first hurricane, but it wasn't all that exciting. Okay, it was kind of cool to hear the howling wind and pelting rain, but had I been allowed outside I would have tied myself to a tree and that would've made for a more interesting experience. But, I did read an entire book during the course of the storm and I took my first bucket bath so it wasn't a complete loss.

Onwards to Grenada!!

I'm Back. . .

I have neglected my blogging duties. . .I apologize profusely to my thousands of followers who religiously read my blog entries. Haha. Well, to be honest, when I first thought about blogging it seemed like a great way to keep track of my experiences in the Peace Corps but it soon became a daunting task instead. Here I am, about four months away from what should be my close of service date and I haven't written hardly anything about my time here. I am a later bloomer and I'll be damned if I'm going to try and catch up on every detail of the last two years. . .not that I don't probably have the time to do it. In any case, I am going to back track a bit and pick out the memorable pieces of the last two years and attempt to piece them together humpty-dumpty style.