Out With the Old, In With the New!! Welcome E.C.79!

In February of 2009 we finally got our new group of Peace Corps Volunteers on Grenada! It was a long awaited arrival considering that we were expecting them to come in August of'08, but that didn't happen due to budget cuts and restructuring of the training program. In any case, they're here now so HOORAY! I'm not going to lie. . .I was like a 007 trying to figure out who these new volunteers were before they got here. I was able to figure out who a couple of them were and I Facebook stalked them until the day their little feet landed on Grenadian soil. I'm not ashamed, but as I'm sure they will feel when it is their time, I have grown to love Grenada as my own and I wasn't about to have any crazies up in here!! (At least not without warning.) Luckily, they're all great! We started out with eight volunteers and one dropped at the orientation in Miami, and another early terminated right after swearing in. As of June, we are down to six E.C.79 volunteers, all with their own talents and it seems that they have easily integrated into Grenadian life.

As is traditional when new PCV's swear in, we threw a couple parties for them to celebrate their first night of freedom away from their homestays. The first one was on a weeknight right after the ceremony so it was more of a relaxed atmosphere with no real craziness to speak of. Don't you worry though. . .when that Friday rolled around, we had the big blowout at my house. It was a Mexican theme because we were including Karla's (new PCV) birthday celebration and well, she's Mexican so it only seemed right that we should latch onto every heinous Mexican stereotype that we could think of and make a party of it. Inluded was a pinata, a bucket of margaritas, many tequila shots, and some creative, (yet slightly offensive,) costumes.

So to EC79. . .welcome and congratulations!! We're happy to have you join our dysfunctional family!

Sauteurs. . .Home Away From Home

It seems like just yesterday I was busy being a complete nuisance to our Associate Peace Corps Director, Franka. Every time I saw her I begged her to tell me where I was going to be placed in Grenada and finally, she showed me on a map this tiny dot of a village called Sauteurs, located in the parish of St. Patrick's. Now, to be completely honest I was a little disappointed because I was placed about an hour and a half away from the capitol of St. George's where all the tourist resorts are, where the American style nightclubs are, and where any sense of familiarity might be achieved in times of homesickness. I immediately began to wonder, will I make friends? Am I going to live in a shack? Will I have to draw my water from a well? Forunately for me, all of the these worries were just that; worries. I live more comfortably than I did in Seattle, (aside from the constant beads of sweat rolling down my every unmentionable area,) with my high speed internet, cable, and guaranteed money in the bank on the first of every month. Once the economy started to take a nose dive, I knew that there was no place I would rather been then here.

To give you an idea, Sauteurs is what people refer to as a "historical" village which is located on the very northernmost tip of the island. The population remains at around 1300 in Sauteurs alone but there are numerous smaller villages surrounding Sauteurs. One of the main tourist attractions is called "Carib's Leap," and it marks the spot in which the Carib natives jumped off a cliff to their deaths rather then surrender to the French back in the 1600's. Although the brain matter, blood, and guts have been washed away, there now remains a museum and lookout point. (Romantic, huh?) Sauteurs is referred to by locals as "the country," or "Behind God's Back," but even so it is not completely desolate. There are a couple of nice bars, a few rum shops, clothing stores, internet cafe, and even a nightclub which is not like any nightclub you'd find in America. It is more like the basement of a frat house, sticky floor and all. On most days you will find street vendors selling anything from produce, to clothes, to freshly butchered "street meat." The decapitated head and limbs of the animal will usually be sitting on the cement staring up at you while you contemplate the various health code violations that are being broken. One of the best things about Sauteurs is that it is located right on the water. There are beautiful beaches within minutes of my house although it is rare that I ever spend time on them.

If you know me at all, then you know that living in Sauteurs was a huge change from my fast paced lifestyle back in Seattle. Here, I found that I had way too much time on my hands and I usually occupied myself by overanalyzing various aspects of my life. Once I began to integrate and make friends I was able to comfortably go out to the club or go kick some ass on the pool table and I am proud to say that I have made a name for myself in Sauteurs by being virtually the only girl who can beat the men at pool. Sometimes though, the men don't appreciate my mad skills. :) I have tried every brand of local rum, even the "under the counter" which is a local homemade rum made from various herbs and spices. Sometimes you will also find scorpions and cockroaches floating around in the mixture to add that little special something. Needless to say, the rum here is not my friend. It is about 80% alcohol which is uh. .. something like 160 proof? On most nights, I stay far away from the local rum.

As for the people who inhabit this village, they are wonderful. It has been difficult to live in this sort of "fishbowl" environment, and if anything, it has solidified the fact that I do not want to ever be famous. People I've never spoken to know exactly where I live and what I do, and God forbid I let a man into my house! If I let more than a couple men into my house within a given period of time. . .the eyebrows start to raise. I will say though, that the people here are refreshingly hospitable. Once when I was cleaning my shower, my big ass broke the pipe and water was spraying everywhere. My neighbors, whom I'd never spoken to, came right over with their tools and had it glued back together within the hour. Who in the United States would do that for a complete stranger unless they were getting paid?

I am woken up by sheep, chickens, loud music blaring from my neighbor's industrial sized speakers, or the blowing of a conch shell by someone selling fish out of a wheelbarrow. . .and to me, these have become the sounds of home.

It's Raining Men. . .and I Need an Umbrella.

When I tell people that I am living in the Caribbean working as a Peace Corps volunteer, you would think that their primary interest would be in relation to the work that I do. Wrong! I have found that people want to hear a very brief account of the actual work experience and most of the time they will politely say "mmhmm. . .really?" every few minutes to give the impression that they are, in fact, listening. In actuality I know it is difficult for people relate to my life here and the work that I do, so for those who have faked their interest. . .thank you for trying. I don't hold it against you and when I get back home I will still consider you a friend. What people are willing to sit and listen to, however, are the details of my romantic encounters. Maybe it's because people think of the Caribbean as such a romantic place running wild with half naked, nicely chisled men with accents and dark chocolately complexions. While this is certainly the truth at times, romance and love have been a stranger to me here.

It is quite common that Peace Corps volunteers meet and "date" locals. It is only to be expected since our stay here is substantial enough to foster a real relationship should the volunteer be so lucky. Actually, in my group alone, 9 of the 13 volunteers have all had relationships at one time or another. Three of those have turned into long term relationships, and I have no doubt that one of those three will end in marriage. I wasn't as fortunate, but don't feel sorry for me. I think I was probably my own biggest enemy in finding a happy and healthy relationship. As an American, I am always having to be very cautious about a man's intentions because unfortunately, many of the men here want a "white girl" just for the bragging rights and it is highly likely that one day you'll be woken up at 8:30 in the morning by a phone call from his girlfriend inquiring as to why her boyfriend doesn't come home at his normal time anymore. (Insert nervous laughter here.) Obviously, this is purely hypothetical.

The first week I lived in Sauteurs I introduced myself to a man on the side of the road who sits day after day selling various things. Sometimes roasted corn, sometimes fruits, sometimes local wine, etc. He has a glass eye that is a bit odd to stare into at first, but you get used to it after some time. After two minutes of leisurely conversation he asks if I have a boyfriend, and not knowing any better yet I say, "No." He says, "Can I be your boyfriend?" To which I respond to with overly nervous laughter and I walk away saying, "Alright," which is the common way to end conversations here. But this is not uncommon, men wanting to be your boyfriend, men wanting to know if you need "company." I am used to what Peace Corps calls "unwanted attention," and I fear that upon my return to the United States, I may actually miss it. I mean. . . where else in the world can you come home from a long days work, sweat rolling down every nook and cranny, clothes haven't been washed in weeks, maybe you've packed on a few pounds, and yet. . .there is some man desiring you in all your fat, stinky, dirty glory?

Anyhow, I digress. (Is that how it's spelled?) I have found myself yearning for companionship especially these last few months. At the same time, as I've gotten older, I've also realized how much lonelier it can feel when you fill the void with meaningless encounters in hope of feeling something more. Therefore, I will wait for someone special, someone who deserves all the love that I have to give. So no. . .I have not fallen in love here and that is okay. I think if I had been more open to the possibility earlier in my service there was potential with one man, but I stupidly let that opportunity slip and there is nothing I can do now but wish him well and that is what I will do. No time for regrets. . .

Family Fun

The last week and a half I have been reminded of how lucky I am to be surrounded by such good friends and family. I went home May 17th for what was truly a “family reunion.” I am the youngest of four in my family and it is on rare occasion that I am fortunate enough to see my siblings. It is an even rarer occasion that we are all in the same place at the same time. But this week, we all came to my parent’s home in Marysville, Washington to help our mom and dad celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. I haven’t seen my oldest brother and his family for about four years, my other brother for three years, and my sister for about 3 or 4 years. My sister Tara is currently deployed in Iraq but was able to take leave for a couple weeks which is nice since it wouldn’t have felt complete without her. My oldest brother David lives in Colorado with his wife and three children. My other brother Peter lives in Tampa with his fiancé who is pregnant with my new niece or nephew! My Aunt and Uncle also flew in from San Diego for the occasion, so for the Andes family. . .it was an event!

Unlike the blizzard I encountered when I came home in December, the weather was amazing! Sunny and warm for pretty much the entire duration of my visit which, I must say, made the reunion that much more enjoyable. Since living in Grenada, I truly have a new appreciation for Seattle and the wide diversity of people that live there. I took my family to Seattle’s annual Folklife Festival which is a huge event characterized by tons of live music, greasy food, street performers, vendors, and people out and about unafraid to be who they are. My family hated it because of the massive crowds of “strange and freaky” people, but I loved it. To me, it was a symbol of all the things I have missed about Seattle; diversity and freedom to be who you are.

A couple weeks before I left to visit home I had turned in my letter to the Peace Corps requesting a one year extension of my service, however, I have withdrawn that request. I have had a lot of great memories and experiences living in Grenada but I am beginning to the feel that all too familiar itch of needing a change of pace. I realize my Peace Corps service has been so wonderful partly because of the other volunteers with whom I have shared this experience and without them here, I know it would be difficult and even more lonesome than it is already. Being back in Seattle around my family also reminded me of just how much I miss them. Grenada will always hold a special place in my heart, but I am ready to begin the next chapter of my life, whatever that may be. Now I am looking at just two and half more months on this beautiful island rather than another year and four months so in the meantime I plan to enjoy every last moment.

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."