Season's Greetings

Merry Christmas!
Marau na siga ni sucu!


Happy New Year from Fiji!
Marau na yabaki vou mai Viti!

word jumble

An example of how easy it is to mix up Fijian words/phrases:
Amy: Wananavu.
Mike: Au na wavu.

Translation:
Amy: Fantastic.
Mike: I'm a bridge.

as promised:

My favorite kid ever. This is Mo. He's deaf, but still taught and led the meke of about 30 kids from my village at Kids Games (explained in the next pic). He was so much fun to watch because he was so serious and intense about the dance. He's also incredibly smart. He's fluent in English, Fijian, American Sign Language, and Fijian Sign Language. He became deaf a couple years after birth so he can still speak really well and can read lips so well, you wouldn't know he was deaf if no one told you. A couple months ago he came home for a school break from the deaf school he attends in Suva. He taught me a bunch of signs and gave me a sign name so now we show that off to anyone who will watch.


THE ugliest picture of me and Sarah ever so it must be shared with the world. We were painting faces at an Aussie-led, Jesus-inspired full day of games with kids from 8 villages, KIDS GAMES it's called. Many taboos happening that day. Fijians don't like their heads or faces touched. It's taboo. So here we are rubbing red paint all over their faces, they're wincing like crazy (the equivalent of putting eye liner on a 5-year old), so that there are eventually about 25 spidermen running around this village. Then we played duck-duck-goose, another incredibly inappropriate game for a culture who doesn't touch heads. Alas, it was fun and the kids enjoyed it so chalk it up to another life experience and a random time with other white faces in PCFiji.


I found Sarah here in front of the cupboard looking for some grub and I cracked up because I assume this position at least once a day wondering "what should I eat next..."


Buna collecting lots of mangrove seedlings during our workshops last week! She really did her part. We planted over 400 seedlings in our mangrove nursery.


Lutu gloating over his dead, dried frog from the road. (What Ashley so appropriately deemed "toad jerky".) He brings home all sorts of disgusting treasures, gnaws for a bit, then leaves on the mat for me to discover and clean up later. It's always an adventure, I tell you.


My village rugby team, Team Paisoni (Poison), won the rugby sevens match and $1500. We're totally partying the 22nd of December! Grog and guitars and songs and a gift exchange. It really is christmas!


The kindergarten graduation ceremony. They call it prize giving because the kids who scored highest on their exams get prizes and public recognition for the subjects they led. Each class also performs a meke or song or drama.


I ate chicken feet. Only 2 though because they look too much like hands and I started feeling like a cannibal. I also ate bat the other day, but have no proof. It tastes like really gamey, greasy, pulled pork.


My favorite girls working on some environmental posters.


A crazy hair pic and the epitomy of how crazy I feel sometimes living in a village.

yes, i paint my nails in peace corps.

I held my first workshops in the village! They were for 2 hours (but usually ended up being 3) from 10am - noon, Monday - Friday. They were a bit of a mess, but not everything is a raging success in PC, right? The workshops were for the kids since they are on school break now. We talked about water, trash and the mangroves. Those may seem like random topics to put together, but those are all the projects for the adults that are happening here. So I wanted to include the kids.

I'm not sure how effective they were, but we had fun. I did have about 10 kids over to my house every night talking about these issues and preparing flipcharts for the next day, though. That was a lot of fun--making up activities, and one of the girls had some incredible ideas like making a drama about pollution in the river.

Each morning we sang a new song to get us pumped and excited. We learned lots of mekes and american action songs like the hokey pokey and this song I learned in PC called "making melody in my heart". Let's just say the kids love making melody. They make it all day long. I no longer have melody in my heart for this song.

But it's a fun one. You sing Making Melody in my Heart (x3)/Melody in my Heart. Then you put your thumbs up and have your arms straight out. Then sing again. Eventually you end up with your thumbs up, elbows out, feet apart, knees together, chin up and tongue out. You look and sound ridiculous! Just the kind of thing kids dig.

Speaking of digging, the best part of the week was Friday. We trudged through the mangroves to find seedlings to plant in the nursery. We got dirty. One of the little boys tripped and fell face first in the mud! He looked like he just had a $400 mud bath. Lucky him, it was free.

It was a pretty stressful week, but it was fun. I'm definitely closer to all the kids and even the other members of the village. It's taken me awhile (4 months or so...) but I'm warming up. And there are some people here that I would call friends. I've also got some more ideas like starting a reading club to help the kids learn English. English is a compulsory subject in school and school is taught mostly in English. Many kids don't learn the language as quickly and therefore do poorly in school--one of the major reasons for dropouts. I also want to start a girl's night where all the girls come over and just chat about life and boys and paint our nails and do crafts. But we would also talk about puberty and HIV/AIDS and sex and how to get a job and all the tough stuff that girls should be talking about but aren't.

My PCV friend, Sarah aka Swaz is coming to visit for a couple days and I'm totally stoked. She's one of my fave volunteers and my village is excited to host her too. They've already got the grog bowl out! Once she leaves, Mike will be here for 16 dayz! I can't believe it. It's been 7 months since I've seen (excluding skype) any of my loved ones. I also sort of need a vacation. I love my village, but it'll be good to have some time away.

P.S. I'll try to post pictures soon. These verbose blogs are getting on my nerves.

For those of you who were worried...

I ate an entire pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.

There's no equivalent for Thanksgiving here and the food could not even compare to the banging-ness of the feast the PCV's prepared. We started with wine and cheese and danish sausage (ingredients included pork, beef, dextrin?) around 330pm. I finally stopped eating around 1230am. I am a marathon eater apparently. I had been saving room for days. We had cornbread, broccoli casserole, fruit salad, fish, chicken, stuffing, cookies, brownies, pumpkin pie, guacamole, and lots of other goodies that I can't remember I ate.

So don't worry, friends and family, I still am eating right at the holidays.

I also got to talk to the family on Skype! Amazing! It was just like old times. The women chatting with me about Fiji and all the absent family members, while my uncles and dad argued in the background about who was helping pick up the furniture for the new house. Things like that. It was basically the best phone call ever.

Mike comes in 17 days, so I'll be spending Christmas with him! These holidays will still be special even though they are very different from all the ones I've had in the past...

Happy Holidays!

full circle

I don't know if I believe in fate, but too much has happened in my life for me to discount the idea that things happen serendipitously.

Yesterday I was told that the one reason I'm in my village, THE main reason they asked for a PCV, is because they wanted to empower women! The people who filled out the application wanted someone to come in and get the women involved.

In one sentence this Fijian man validated everything I have studied and based my adult life around. Everything I was ridiculed for in college, "women's studies? Bah! What are you going to do with that?" I, Amy Hirtzel, can help. Yes, I can. I have studied gender studies and women through almost every lens and scope (historically, psychologically, socially, sociologically, through literature and philosophy, through feminist theory and memoirs, through art and theatre, and in daily life through the relationships I've had). This opportunity gives me the chance to bring women into development! A passion that was sparked sophomore year in Julee's International Women's Issues class.

So to all of those who laughed in my face in college and for all those who thought that me joining Peace Corps was just me postponing my inevitable growing up, suck it. That's right--I wrote suck it. For the first time in my life, everything I've worked towards and believe in will finally be combined into something meaningful. I can hardly wait to get started.

Party party party

The celebration!

First we waited 2.5 hours past the start time for the day to begin. Fiji Time. But I spent most of it going around and greeting all the villages and chatting with the teachers from the primary and secondary schools. Looking fly in my sulu jaba. Then there was a beautiful procession from the church with the newly translated book of Mark into my dialect leading the way! It was a very moving experience to witness and hear 100 voices singing and moving all in celebration of their dialect and religion. They walked from the church across the playground where the crisp pages were presented to my chief. This is the first time any of the books of the Bible have been translated into a South Pacific dialect. This was a major feat considering it took a committee months of work.

Next all the villages performed mekes, the traditional Fijian dance. Here is a video of my favorite meke performed that day. The women wore their traditional fabrics and the men adorned themselves in leaves, like in the video. These are the secondary students and one of their teachers. You can hear and see the intensity of the dance. It is incredible to witness.

After the mekes, there were lots of games. The men wove coconut leaves and scraped coconuts. The women competed for who could juggle limes the longest (my village won this one!) The juggling was my favorite and my clandestine love for circus acrobatics was fulfilled. Then there were some games for the kids and they were rewarded for participating with picture books! Yay for books. We were supposed to play a game called vaqiqi moli, where a girl rolls a lime across the play ground to her secret boyfriend. Back in the day, this was the only way two people could let the elders of the community know the couple was serious about each other. The game would usually end in a marriage ceremony. Today, this is mostly played for fun and I had been joking all week about getting married on Friday. There was much discussion amongst the villagers who my "husband" would be, but for some reason vaqiqi moli got scratched from the program. Probably for the best.

That night we drank lots of grog and ate lollipops. There's something fundamentally fantastic about a grown man enjoying a strawberry bonbon, as they are called here.
All in all it was a great day of cultural entertainment. A wonderful paradox -- the prizes to the games were new vodafone mobiles. That was a funny reminder of how Fiji is developing, but still trying to retain their traditions and culture.
vido

Lutu, he's like the village dog...

This is my dog, Lutu. He is precious and brings me much joy. My villagers love this dog as well, which is funny because they are scared of most other dogs, for good reason. They are terrifying, flea-infested mongrels and are just another mouth to feed. But for some reason, they love to pet Lutu, pick him up, watch him, joke about him, and such. He's been a great integration tool for me because now I have something to talk about with everyone. In fact, many times I won't be able to find him and he'll be asleep in someone else's house on a pile of dirty laundry with a full belly of whatever the villagers feed him. He's integrating nicely as well.

In Fiji, family relationships are very important and there are about a million different words for random relations. Relations like your uncle's wife's sister we would just say "we're related" and leave it at that. Here she is your Nana Levu (or big sister if she is the oldest girl in her family), or Nana lailai (little sister if she is the younger sister in her family). And that's if the uncle is on your dad's side. If the uncle is on your mom's side, his wife's sister is just Nei (auntie).

As a sign of respect, we call certain people certain names. I have learned most of my family, and call them by their appropriate names. It is not necessary to know someone's first name and is actually much more respectful to call them auntie or uncle or grandfather. One big cultural difference is how we refer to parents of children. For instance, my father would be called "Amanda's father" or Tamai Amanda because Amanda, my oldest sister is my father's first born child. And likewise my mother would be called "Amanda's mother" or Tinai Amanda. Everyone in the community would know my parents as this and would ask for clarification if someone said John and Lee Anne. So the best part of this story is now people have started calling me Tinai Lutu because he's my first born! Ridiculous but just another example of how fun-loving Fijians can be.

Lutu enjoys eating tinned tuna and milk. Both are expensive here so he eats like a king. He also enjoys chewing anything that moves, or doesn't. His favorite chew toy is my elbow, but I'm trying to wean him into chewing on the rope I fashioned out of an old t-shirt. I'm battling his flea situation now, and although I think he has too many, the villagers are all impressed that he only has 8 or 9 fleas. Apparently they are accustomed to more? His favorite place to sleep is on my face or on my suitcase.

Welcome to the family, Lutu.

some recent news/miscellaneous sentences

The american economy is shite and I'm nervous for my family.
I've spent some time on vacation and I'm scared to go back to my village.
Fiji is indescribable.
I have a dog. his name is lutu, which means to fall because he's still a pup and he falls a lot. I like to watch him eat because his belly gets so fat that all 4 legs can't touch the ground at one time, so he kinda hops around after that. beautiful.
I'm ready to jump into some projects I've been working on. Including but not limited to life skillz workshops at the high school, obtaining a water tank for my village, the mangrove and fruit tree nurseries, clean-up days, etc.
Fart tubes are immature and one of the funniest things about fiji. (Instructions for fart tube: Roll up a piece of paper, a poster works best. Sneak up behind your unsuspecting victim, place prepared fart tube beside their ear, your mouth on the other end. Make fart sound in tube. Laugh hysterically with your friends.)
I've been snorkeling a lot this week and I saw an octopus, a lionfish, a sting ray, a moray eel, a crown of thorns starfish, lots of parrotfish, and a myriad of brightly colored school fish. I'm wondering why I didn't become a marine biologist...there's still time.
I've met many interesting people at this hostel and I'm sad that I will probably never see them again in my life.
I'm growing up.
I'm proud of my friends. In Fiji and in America.
Life is moving.
I want to wear American clothes in my village because wearing long skirts stiffles my movement/body comportment.
My feet are all cut up from the reef. It was worth it. I need to invest in some reef shoes, but the other day I learned how to farm coral and make fish houses. Restoring the reef is extremely important to prevent beach erosion and to preserve the wildlife of Fiji's oceans. We spent an entire day at the Shangri-La resort learning and doing hands-on activities with corals. It was one of the coolest things I've done while here. I got to touch live coral and plant it in the ocean. We also made a fish house out of concrete and old washed up rock. (and we put our names on it so in 30 years I can come back and find it on the reef.) It'll be put into the ocean and will eventually house the coral we planted. A very sustainable project and it was exciting to be a part of it.
I want to speak the language of the Scots, or the Irish. Their English is so different and very expressive in a unique way. It's fun to talk to them.

the real deal.

So far my blog posts have been pretty up-beat and the way I represent my life to people back home is that everything is great/exciting/new. Now for the big slap in the face. Life on a daily basis kinda sucks. Thwap.

Sometimes it's hard to get out of bed. Sometimes knowing that everything I do will be watched all day long is enough to make me crazy. Sometimes I cry to strangers on the bus when they ask if I like Fiji. Overall my feelings are under control. I am happy on a daily basis because that's just how I am, but there are days when I'm the "bitter bush bitch" or B cubed as we have so aptly named our status as rural volunteers. And I've found that many other volunteers are also experiencing the same types of culture shock (hence the group name B3). It is getting easier to deal with some of the cultural differences, but there are some (ie gender roles) that still get under my skin. And that's when I call another PCV and bitch about how hard it is here.

Maybe it's living alone in my village with no real support group. Maybe it's not understanding the culture. Maybe it's me being stubborn and ethnocentric. Maybe it's because all the little annoyances add up and start to look like overwhelming obstacles when there's no one to help me put things back into perspective. Maybe I'm just not patient enough. Smash would tell me to just wait and be patient and things will work out. I know it's true because Smash is always right, but I've already waited 2 months. Yes, things are starting to become easier, but there are constant daily struggles. Here's a basic recap of my situation so far.

The villagers still have not started building my official house. I have been in the village 2 months now. I am living in a nice, big house with everything indoors-- the kitchen, toilet and shower room, but it's still the chief's son's house. Thursday morning, my neighbor barged in and apologized but still continued to remove the mats from the main room and put a new layer or padding (coconut leaves) down. All this while I was taking a shower and getting ready for the track and field day at the school. So the fact that the house is on loan makes it much easier for neighbors to barge in.

I started farming with one village youth, but the chief disapproves of me going through the bush to farm everyday with one guy. A simple solution would be to give me a small plot of land close to the village. He has the power to do this, but refuses. The reason being the word "vakamalua" which means slowly. Everything must be done slowly. But I feel that 2 months of basically nothing is slow. And my patience towards waiting on a farm is eroding. Another reason for my impatience is there are very few vegetables grown locally and to get veggies like carrots, cucumbers, beans, pumpkins, or fruits like bananas, apples and papayas I must take a 2 hour bus ride. (All of these veggies will grow here and the seeds are provided by the government. It's just a matter of planting them.) Therefore, the need for a small garden is absolutely neccessary for my physical health (and pocketbook).

There are ups and there are downs. I seem to have more downs than ups, though. That's hard for me because I consider myself to be a positive person. I'm learning to ride my emotions better and try to just get through the bad days, try and identify why they're bad and then move on. Basically what I'm saying is I'm growing up. And (I think) becoming a better person in the process. Overall, I'm glad I'm here. I just thought you all should know the...well...the real deal.

How disappointing: No dead animals in this one.

Since the villagers insist on reminding me I'm getting levulevu/fatty fatty on a daily basis, I decided to introduce them to Lulu. Most of my friends know and love Lulu. For those of you who don't know her, it's probably because I haven't drank enough beer around you for her to emerge from her slumber. Lulu was my beer baby in America. She likes to party and is a great date. Here, Lulu is around after every meal of kassava, rourou (boiled dalo leaves), and a bowl of tea. Yes we drink tea from bowls. It helps cool the scalding hot tea cool faster I've found.

So after dinner one night the chief was laying on his back rubbing his big belly. I did this too and the chief's wife made a joke about how I look pregnant. And I say the chief looks preggers too. Then I asked him what his baby's name was. He just laughed but I said mine was Lulu.

This story gets passed around a bit and a couple days later I'm telling story with some lady friends and they say Emi is so fat. I agree and say she's going to be beautiful. Who they ask. Lulu I reply. And then they ask who's the father and I reply kassava, fish, buns pancakes and curry. Thus introducing more villagers to the wonderfulness that is Lulu. Now instead of asking me to eat more or asking if I'm full, they ask about Lulu and if she's full. Pretty hilarious.

Some of you may be wondering how fat is amy getting, considering I've spent most of my life as what one may call thin. I'm actually back to the weight I was when I left America, finally. If you remember, I was very sick the first couple weeks here. I lost about 10 pounds or so and now it's all back plus 2 or 3 more. I'm finally strong enouch to do some of the daily chores people do here (ex: weeding with a machete) without struggling because I'm so weak. Considering I was emaciated when I got to my site, no wonder I look fat to the villagers now. I feel great though. Healthy and strong than I've been in a long time. Thanks to the handwashing my clothes and the scrubbing, weeding around the house, farming and walking up all the steep hills around here.

I wish I could think of some more interesting stories to tell you all. Feel free to ask me any questions about Fijian life. Sometimes I forget that you don't know what it's like on a daily basis here and you only get a tiny glimpse of Fiji from the blog. I'll do my best in the future to give you more about Fijian culture. But I'm still learning and figuring out why they do what they do. But I'm definitely learning. Until next time, stay safe and I'm heading back into the bush.

wrote a lot -- didn't say anything.

I'm not sure where to begin. I feel like so much has happened in the past couple weeks, but really nothing has happened. I think I might be through the initial phase of culture shock and moving into the general acceptance phase. Apparently this is an ongoing cycle and I will be experiencing this for the next 2 years. Super.

I realized that I might be able to make this place somewhat of a home. (Don't freak out! I saw your face freak out a little. America will always be my home.) Two years here won't be too bad. I'm starting to make friends in my community and I've even taught some people some slang like "I hate you" and "Don't you even think about it" and "step" said like when you're about to fake fight someone. I never realized how fun the English language is and how much slang we actually use on a daily basis without realizing. Try explaining the phrase "rotten to the core" to a non-American. It's pretty tough. But once I got over my I absolutely must speak only fijian and nothing else phase, I'm much happier. I can't express myself very well in Fijian, so I do the best I can and then I resort back to English. I find that I'm much funnier in English and I'm much happier when I mix the two languages. Most people understand English as well because school is taught in all English so even if they can't speak it back to me, we can communicate on a basic level.

We've started a big clean-up campaign. The areas around the outside of the village are overgrown and are mosquito breeding grounds to the extreme. There have recently been 50 cases of Dengue fever in Fiji so making sure we limit the breeding places is extrememly important. These mosquitos breed in tires, empty tins and bottles, and any other standing water. So every Monday we grab the machetes and hack down the overgrown bush. The village is starting to look really nice and people are really proud of the work they've done.

I'm trying to figure out ways to fit into the plans of my village. (Which I will from now on refer to as Koro because it means village in Fijian and gives more of the feel I'm looking for in my writing. Plus it sort of gives the village a name because I can't explicitly state it on the internets.) The Koro has a 6 year plan already in place, but they need to prioritize. There are so many big projects, like a fish pond, beekeeping, eco-tourism, mangrove reforestation, etc, that accomplishing all the tasks will be fairly impossible. Especially because development moves very slowly here and there are some projects that were started last year that still aren't finished (ie the concrete footpath).

I'm excited to work with my community, but I understand it will be hard. I think I'll end up doing small workshops and a lot of networking people for the projects already in place. I hear about all the other volunteers doing cool projects and it makes me wonder if I have the creativity for this. I'm doing my best though and I figure, there's got to be a volunteer who's worse than me out there. So I'm fine.

One quick sotry about more dead animals before I sign off. I think a cat adopted me. My house has a lot of rats living between the walls and under it. Ever since the cat moved in the rats have been much quiter so I'm thrilled. Except for Tuesday morning when I woke up to find the cat nibbling on a rat. Cool. But please next time, puss, don't leave its back leg and tail in a bloody heap on my mat. It's tough to clean out those blood stains.

caught in a landslide no escape from reality

Fiji you never cease to amaze me.

Yesterday we were having a feast in our village. Our regional pastor lives in my village and his house was finally completed. So the men and women from the surrounding 4 villages came and they killed a cow and we were going to have an afternoon feast of bulumakau kari (beef curry, yummy)!

So I took advantage of the morning. I had some men in the village fix my shower because the metal sheeting side had fallen down the previous night and there was a huge hole exposing my naked body to the house behind mine. Free accidental, kerosene lamp-lit peep show. The men re-hammered the metal sheeting walls and I washed my clothes with the outside tap. As I'm scrubbing my work sulu, a man walks around the corner and places the cow head at my feet. Looks up at me. Smiles.

My mouth is agape. There is a bloody, brainy cow head at my feet and I'm trying to wash mud out of my clothing. I'm utterly disgusted as it proceeds to bleed all over the dirt less than a meter from my feet. The man who brought this incredible offering just chuckles and walks away. Leaving a bloody stump near the white face.

I finished washing my clothes and mustered up enough strength to go to my house and lay down for a bit to process the recent events.

And then 3 hours later I ate my fill of spicy beef curry and never looked back. I'm not sure what happened to the cow head but I'm sure the villagers will find some useful purpose for it. As for me, I've had my fill of cow brains.

I peed my pants!

I knew that would get your attention! Now on with the details.

Saturday, my villagers decided to show me a good time. About 6 of us hopped on a bamboo raft called a bilibili and used a bamboo pole gondala style to get to the ocean. We glided under the shade of the mangroves through murky water out into a small bay. The ocean was so close and I could hear the waves pounding against the black sandy shores, but we "dropped anchor" near the mangrove shore.

My uncle, Vili, snorkeled around for about 2 minutes then speared a big flat fish! He told me that I would be eating it later with the chief! So then my auntie and I got out the fishing poles--plastic coke bottles with the fishing wire wrapped around them. There is a hook on the end and a small rock attached about an inch from the hook to act as a sinker. We slid a small prawn on the hook as bait, ripped off the head and plopped it into the water. Not a minute later I already had a bite and my first offical catch as a Fijian! I ended up catching another fish too.

After fishing we paddled the rafts about a quarter mile to the ocean and parked them on the beach. There were some kids playing around with kayaks and they let me take one for a spin. It felt good to get some exercise! An upper body workout felt great after sitting around in the village and eating for a couple days straight. After I paddled around the bay a little and checked out the coast line, I returned just as the kids were hacking open some coconuts with a machete. So I ate some coconut and then went for a swim.

At this point we had been away from a toilet for about 2 hours and as staying hydrated is very important to me, all the water I drank in preparation for the day was really hurting the ol bladder. So I swam out into the ocean and let loose. And that's when I peed my pants. Swim suits do not exist to Fijians. They just swim in their clothes and I happened to be wearing some cutoff trousers and a t-shirt that day. So technically, I peed my pants. At 23 years old. And I liked it. And I'll probably do it again in the next couple years. Although I'm definitely looking forward to the day when I'll be at a resort, and it's culturally appropriate to wear a bikini!

So after I returned to the group, we played a little volleyball in the water then went back to the village to enjoy the fish we had so laboriously caught. The weather was beautiful, the people were beautiful, the ocean and sand and surf and sun were beautiful. Life is feeling pretty good right now.

The end and a new beginning.

It's almost time to leave my host village and move to my site. Tomorrow at church I am giving a speech on our behalf to the entire congregation/village. In Fijian. Yeah I definitely wrote that all down and I'll be reading it. It's a 2 page speech and I've been practicing for a couple days now. I might be able to deliver it with some ease. I just hope the jokes come off ok. But it doesn't take much to get Fijians to laugh so I'm feeling pretty confident. After church, we are having a feast in the community hall! Monday is my language exam. Wish me luck. And then Tuesday night is our last night in the village. I'm a little sad, but I'm ready to move on and get to work in my site village.

This week I got lots of letters, packages, and phone calls from home. Amazing. Candy, clothes, words of encouragement, news, tide-to-go pens (I'm not sure about this one, but it make me laugh and I know I'll use it), pictures and love. Thanks everyone.

I've been packing and wondering how all my stuff will fit into the one suitcase I brought. Mom, you know how full it was when I came! Now I have new outfits from the village, clothes from the second hand stores here (I'll forever be drawn to gently-used bargains), fabric for more clothes or curtains or tablecloths, trinkets for my new house (once it's finally built) and then other miscellaneous items I've picked up along the way. I have my organizational skills primed and I am ready for the challenge.

The big news of the week is one of the other trainees adopted a puppy! He's so cute. His name is Sergeant Bones. The Sarge part is for Sergeant Shriver, the man who started PC. And we added Bones because he is super skinny. Yet rambunctious. He's been coming to language class with us, but he got in trouble because he peed on the mat twice in one day! I'll try and put up a pic of him soon. He's white with a big brown spot on his back, and resembles a scruffy Jack Russell terrier. Bones has definitely been a highlight of this week and hopefully he'll be with us for the next couple of years.

A little taste of home life

I hope you can see this video. I tried to make it funny. I also tried to make my room seem really interesting. Did it work? (This took forever to upload. It cost me $1.85 in time. So please enjoy this costly video.)

Also I like how children run around with knives around here. There is little regard for safety and 3 year olds use knives, with skill. Granted they have scars all up and down their arms and legs, so they aren't always crafty with them. But they can make better brooms than me. And can speak better Fijian than me. I actually enjoy speaking to my 3-year old brother because he says things like "bread, yes. i want to eat bread." And my 5 year old sister goes "Amy, Amy, ura, ura" which means prawn. "Yum, uuuu-ra, Amy amy amy, Uuuu-ra" I dig it. They are the cutest things I've ever seen and I'll get you all a pic of them once I get back to site. And I can actually keep up with them (sometimes) in their language.

Great thought I had at site: I will get to see these kids grow up and learn with them. They will be so big when I leave.

Sad thought I had at site: I will miss seeing my family grow up. I will miss my sister's 21st birthday. And my little cousin will practically be a lady when I get home.

Oooh Aaah

No fireworks for me on the 4th of July, but PC still managed to make it a spectacle.

Yesterday I found out my site! And next week I am meeting my counterpart and my village! I'm totally pumped. I didn't really have any expectations of where I would be going, but my language teacher has been to my village and she says it's very beautiful. So more on that later. The PC staff laid out some white rope on the grass in the shape of the islands and then after they announced our site, they walked us to where we would be on the map. That way we saw where our little village is and also who was living close by. Pretty ingenius since I had no idea where my little village is in Fiji and now I do.

Celebrating a national holiday in another country is fun. We mixed the 2 cultures and had a great time doing it. My village performed a traditional Fijian male meke (action song) and a female meke. Some of the other performances include a Hindi version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, American Pie performed with a tamborine and a harmonica, Mr. Tamborine Man sang by the children of my village and a 3-legged race.

It was my first time to perform a meke and everyone loved it. We (4 volunteers and 3 Fijian women) stood in a line and did a little dance to a song. Sounds simple right? Well it was and it was short, so they made us do it again. The best part about this is that while you are trying to remember the dance moves, people are shoving candy and food in your face, putting powder in your hair, wrapping fabric around your waist and doing other nonsense! It makes it impossible to do anything! haha but that's how they show their appreciation for your dancing. I'm going to be braggadocious here and say that I rocked the meke. I was told that I "had wicked mad rhythm", which I think means I rule. Here's a picture of me in my meke outfit.

We also ate hamburgers. With Mustard. God I miss mustard.

lets talk about sex, baby.

Our community is amazing. For our community project, we decided to do a workshop on sexual/reproductive health. Our village had expressed a specific need in educating the youth on their bodies, sex, STD's/STI's, HIV/AIDS, and prevention. And then the elders all agreed that this was the best project for their community right now. Amazing. We separated the boys and girls. Both groups were so professional and asked great questions. The other trainees and I were rather nervous because these are "our families", our people. At this point, we aren't incredibly familiar with taboos and Fijian culture. How far should we go? How in depth? Will anyone be offended? Will there be repercussions from this workshop?

We talked about everything and even did a condom demonstration. It's customary to ask for permission before you present controversial information. So we would say "we're going to talk about ______ next. Is that ok with everyone?" Wait for head nods or quickly raised eyebrows (which is the nonverbal communication for yes), then flip the flip chart and move on. We also got some very positive feedback from the mothers. I know our village is pretty liberal, so this wasn't as controversial as it might be in other places, but the approval of the villagers is still very important.

Language is an essential. I can't explain the power of speaking to them in Fijian. School is taught in English, so most people speak it pretty well, but it's still their second language. So learning to speak Fijian close-to-fluently is crucial to doing work here. I did get a prideful high after everything though. The first time you learn about sex is such a monumental moment in people's life. It was in mine. Knowing that I was that person for these girls was pretty powerful.

Side Note: I already have a wish list started. Yes, I'm selfish (and optimistic)...but most of the items are really simple. I'll post it when I get a chance. It's at home on my wall right now. Along with my list of items to purchase for site, and my language poster of phrases I need to practice. Guilt can be incredible motivator.

request.

Please send me any recent photos. For the next two years, I want to be able to see faces. It's also to track if you are getting Fijian fat. Just kiddin. Email or snail mail. I'm not picky. Ok, thanks.

iron chef

I have been a busy busy bee.

Today I learned lots of fun facts about food and how to cook in Fiji. We had Iron Chef day and it's exactly like it sounds. Each team had to incorporate ramen-style noodles into their recipes. We made pizza (with a roti crust), spaghetti sauce and fried eggplant and onions and garlic. Amazing. We also made carrot cake! With cream cheese icing. In a fire oven. Yeah, we do that here. And a salad. The other teams made some enchiladas, fried fish with mango salsa (delicious!), and some tasty hummus. Man, everything was so good. It gave me hope for the next 2 years! I think I'll start a garden. By the time I get back to the States I might be able to make dishes that don't come in boxes! Watch out Martha Stewart.

I've had kind of a rough week. My Mini language test didn't go so hot. I thought I was speaking pretty good Fijian but apparently I'm missing some key words or something. Then I haven't been sleeping because the village drums are right outside my house. I think the drummer from Def Leppard plays every morning at 4 and 430. Sweet. That means it's Jisu (Jesus worship) time and then the choir jams around 5ish. And since my house is right next to the church as well...It's really freaking loud. My biggest problem right now is the drums, which play 7 times on Sundays. I almost lost it last Sunday. I almost ran out and just shouted, could you give it a rest, my god! But I managed to control myself. Patience, darling, patience.

Other than that, the weather has been rocking it. I should be at a Rugby match right now. Our village is playing the city in the Shield Match. Not really sure what that means, but I think there's a monetary prize involved so it's kind of a big deal. And instead I came to the internet cafe. And I'll probably grab a beer after this. Maybe a Fiji Bitter, which is home style dank beer. Fiji Gold is what everyone likes but it takes like American Lager (aka lite beer, and for those of you who know me, you know how I feel about lite beer.) So probably Fiji Bitter. It's got kind of a bite to it, but it'll do. :)

Let me make it a point to say that I miss everyone that is reading this right now (unless you came upon this randomly, I'm basically talking about friends and family here, so sorry. get your own friends.) Ok so I miss my friends and family. And not in that way where I'm just saying that to be nice. Really. I. Miss. You. We did a visualization exercise and part of it was "Imagine the best dinner ever. Who is with you?" My table was so big. It had nearly 50 beautiful faces around it. Family, coworkers, friends from college/high school, volunteer buddies, parents of friends from high school, my sisters and cousins, game night buds, everyone I adore. So please know that I'm thinking of all of you. Singularly. Take care, all! :)

is this really peace corps?

Hello lovers! Wow, it's been so long. I have no idea where to start. Fiji is beautiful, but that's no new news. We have been very busy with training, learning Fijian and doing our health training. I will probably repeat stories to you all at some point. Get used to it. It's hard to remember who I've written snail mail and emails and who got what details and all that jazz, so be under the assumption that you'll receive duplicate info. Also assume that as my Fijian improves, my english will deteriorate. Most of us, myself included, have already witnessed this as I try and locate the correct english word from my brain files and usually fail. So don't say I didn't warn you. Now on to the fun stuff!

Today we did a scavenger hunt around Suva, the capital. Just to familiarize ourselves so when we come here to do official PC business or talk to government officials, we'll know how to get around. Needless to say, my team kicked butt. We ended up in a mad sprint up a hill that would rival water tower hill at the hilly. And then we ran down it. And then up the PC hill. And all that with my 10 pound backpack on. And the other teams thought they had a chance?! Not in their dreams. They had no idea the dedication involved by group 3.

Basically, we have a lot of fun. There I said it. We spend most days learning language, going to tour a health facility, listen to talks about health, do hands on activities like lesson planning for presentations, and then we sit around with our host families and drink grog or play cards. I'm trying to learn Fijian but it still sounds like gibberish. For instance, Na yacaqu o Emi. Na vosa mada vakavalagi. My name is Amy. Please speak English. haha No it's not too bad and my teacher Dee says that my mouth moves like a Fijian and my pronounciation is spot on. Or so she says. :)

I love all the emails and letters from home. There are a few things I wouldn't mind receiving from the states. Little candies. Candy is super expensive. (like starburst and sour patch kids don't exist here) I definitely miss the food of America. Probably Fijian food is often fried and they love root crops, which I affectionately call "blah" because that's what it tastes like.

I'm getting used to being sweaty all the time. Or wet. Or both. hah They often happen simultaneously. But I like it here and I'm excited to find out my site on July 4th. We will start living at our sites in 4 short weeks! It's coming up so soon. I definitely miss America, but I feel like this is the right thing for me now. I'm reassured that I'm doing the right thing when I hear from you all. I guess I'm just glad you're all still living life just fine without me. :)

hm

This week isn't going as planned at all. All the events are taking place correctly and in sequential order, but I can't connect to the people I really want/need to. I'm trying to figure out if it's me or them or just the fact that I'm leaving that is creating this disconnect between me and my closest friends.

baggy sweat pants, reeboks with the strap

This weekend was uber fun! I had an old skool slumber party in Indy with my college girl friends! The highlight reel:

==blowing up balloons then putting them up our shirts like pregnant ladies
==BEEFY nachos at fiesta ranchero
==shish kay-bobs and chocolate covered strawburries
==waking up to ashley's feet in my face
==framboise
==booty dancing
==sleeping in the living room
==cuddling while watching stupid 90s movies

There were no makeovers, but you have to save something for the next time, right? I had an amazing time. It was the perfect way to say auf wiedersehen to some of my closest friends. I will miss you sassy girls so much! No babies (legitimate or illegitimate) while I'm gone!
Steph, I mean it.

bittersweet

Now might not be the best time to second-guess myself, but I am. What the hell am I doing? I leave for Fiji in one week. 7 days. A very busy 7 days. And I'm scared. There I said it.

I was driving down to Indy yesterday, on my way to a college reunion/sleepover party (rad) and I got choked up because I already missed my friends and family. I feel like such a cry baby, but I don't want to leave my loved ones. I've never been on a trip alone before. I've always traveled with people I know or really good friends/family. This is just Amy. No sister to chill with in our underwear complaining about the lack of A/C in Deutschland. No friends to giggle with or to dance the night away in a techno club.

How is possible to feel so sad and then be so ready to leave that I can't wait 7 whole days? I have only been waiting for Fiji since Febs 2007! I'm so ready to meet new friends and challenge myself in a new way. I read the realistic (and disheartening) PC pamphlet "A Few Minor Adjustments" about all the cultural hardships I'm about to face and I thought, holy hell. This will be tough. And I still want to go. I'm so ready for this. Right? Right.

stay tuned.

Dear blog, I'm trying to figure out how to add features to you, so you will be hip and awesome. Like a picture link. Maybe a video. That way, maybe I can send videos home? You are most definitely a work in progress.

love,
amy

Is that the smell of burning flesh? Ew.

I went to the cancer beds today. I typically wouldn't do this because of the risk of skin cancer (and I already have some iffy moles). But I was trying on my clothes, deciding which ones I will take to Fiji. I noticed many of them were short-sleeved and I got to thinking about my European heritage and how the Fijian sun is intense beyond belief and I thought "you wouldn't just get up tomorrow and run a marathon. You have to train for that." So I went tanning.

Then while I was laying there I thought about how a tanning bed would be one of the most dangerous places to be in an electrical fire. The obvious danger being if your bed was the one on fire. But let's assume the fire is in another stall. The music is blaring, the lights are humming, the fan is blowing. You would have to strain to hear a fire alarm in there. Another obstacle would be you're naked. The thought of people burning to death because they couldn't get their holister jeans zipped up terrifies me. A Place to Tan, listen up. I hope your fire alarm is loud enough that even the sleepy tanners will be able to hear it, and get at least their panties back on before exiting the building safely.

ZZZzzzzz

I can't sleep. Let's do a quick time line of my past, present and future (in army time):
2300 went to bed
0030 finally fall asleep
315 get up to use the bathroom
420 wake up sneezing, take allergy meds
500 can't stop thinking, get online
715 wake up to go to work
1200 get off work
1207 take a nap

Until very recently, I've never had a problem sleeping. Lately I keep running through my packing list in my dreams, remembering essential items only to forget them when I wake. Or I dream about the patients at the O.D. I'm spectacle/contact lens problem-solving in my sleep. I'm stressed, obviously. I'm also concerned about my allergies. Even when I'm away from animals and taking my prescription drugs, I'm still suffering immensely. There is no reason I should wake up sneezing with an itchy mouth. That's just cruel, body. Bah, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I want a snack.

Today's lesson is on the 5 senses.

I'm very sensory oriented. I think my sensory-overload directly corresponds with the total exhaustion I feel at the end of the day. I'm constantly aware of smells and textures around me, but not so aware of tastes, sights and sounds. Taste is understandable because I'd look like a crazy person licking everything, plus I'm not a germaphobe, but licking public objects just isn't safe. And I take my sight for granted, so I don't pay too much attention to it. Sounds are tough because I like noises, but there is a lot of background noise so it must just fade into my subconscious.

But I find myself constantly asking others "Do you smell that?" or demanding that they "Smell this." I love smelling. I even love bad smells just because they're smells and I get to use my nose. People who have known me for years, know my love/hate relationship with my schnoz. It's been the butt of many jokes, which I have egged on and enjoyed. As of now I love everything about my nose. I even forgive it for bringing harmful allergens into my body, even if they make me miserable. I'd rather smell and sneeze, than not be able to smell.

I also like to touch everything, especially bumpy, scaly, or very textured ojects. Smooth, soft objects like skin, kittens, microfiber fleece, and ivory piano keys are enjoyable, but I much prefer the sharp corners of countertops or the tip of a freshly broken twig. I first realized my obsession with touch while riding around in my mom's civic. I would prop my arm on the passenger side door and I touch the window button. It looked like this ////// and I would drag my fingertips across it one by one feeling the grooves. I did this everytime I sat there.

Over the years, it's funny the habits one notices about oneself, when the habits have probably always existed. I like that self-discovery, when I think "wow I've never noticed how often I do ________." And it's even funnier when you tell your friends and they say something simpy like "yeah I know," which goes to prove that you really have been doing 'it' for years. It's like finally getting a punch line to a popular joke.

simple pleasures (alternate title: the best thing)

What do you do with old tees? You know, the ones with holes in them and stains in the armpits? Well if you're smart, you'll cut a little notch in the top and then RIP IT OFF YOUR BODY HULK HOGAN STYLE! Seriously! This is one of the simplest/silliest/funniest things. It's so entertaining. Try it with a crowd. And make sure you RAWR when you do it. You won't regret it!

subliminal messages? what is my brain trying to tell me?

I've been having super trippy dreams lately:

Example #1: I ordered a tarantula online and went to the post office with my little sister to pick it up when it arrived. It came in a ziploc baggie and I told Jennifer to hang onto it while I drove. She doesn't listen to directions well because she threw it in the back seat and it crawled out of the baggie. So we screamed and in a panic just left the tarantula in the car! Locked up. For months. Until it eventually starved or suffocated to death.

Example #2: I was riding in a jeep and we pulled up to a stop where there was a train stopped across the tracks in front of us. Then in front of that train, another train was effing chugging down a hill perpendicularly to the other train. It was trucking at the speed of lightening! And there was no where for us to go. And right before it slammed into us, completely annihilating us, the track shot straight up and barely avoided us! I got that feeling that you get when you're on a roller coaster and you think you're too tall to go into the tunnel and then you barely make it, but your brain still thinks you narrowly escaped death.

Example #3: I was swimming in my aunt's dining room at thanksgiving dinner. And then a man with curly blond hair flirted with me and swam underneath me and I got really embarrassed. Then curly kissed me. My boyfriend swam past at that exact moment and was all mad, "If you really loved me, you wouldn't be letting that loser swim underneath you!" And I said, "Don't be mad. I didn't want him to kiss me!" But then my boyfriend did the mad sigh and swam away to one of those shiny, silver ladders and got out of the pool/dining room.

What is going on here?! Maybe I'm spending too much time alone, which reminds me of a passage from the book I'm reading. A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz.

"I have too much free time. Free time makes people think; thinking makes people morbidly self-absorbed; and unless you are watertight and flawless, excessive self-absorption leads to depression. That's why depressing is the number-two disease in the world, behind Internet porn eyestrain."

Haha I like that. But back to my dreams, I just wish my imagination during the daytime was as vivid. I think I'd have much more fun.

you know

I used to white girl freestyle back in the day when I would get drunk. I mean, I could do a couple lines at least that rhymed a little and sounded funny enough to entertain my inebriated friends. Yesterday I watched a documentary about freestyling and it made me want two things:
1. to be black
2. to be witty enough to freestyle so I can battle

This is one of the funniest battles of the doc. supernatural v juice

so. good.

I'm in a glass case of emotion!

This past week has been silly. I realized I should have some patience and things will turn out ok. I freaked out a little about PC telling me I wasn't going to Vanuatu, but when they told me it sounded like I wasn't going there or anywhere. The next day I called back and they had already found another program for me in Fiji. So I accepted it this morning and hopefully my test results will come back ok and I'll be on my way to the beautiful (and bug-infested) islands of Fiji on May 18th! That means I'll be here for Steph's birthday, my birthday, mike's birthday (well sort of, his IS the 18th), the tour de georgia (possibly) and my cousin's wedding! And I think I'll try to visit Vanuatu for a little R & R, if for no other reason but to spend the vatu Mike (so diligently) acquired for me!

Until I actually leave, please pray, think happy thoughts, light candles for me, whatever you do for good things to happen, do all those things and hopefully everything will go smoothly, no? Aside from my ridiculous breakdown, this week has been pretty good. I bought some new sneakers (red ones!) because I have convinced myself that I should run a 5k before I leave. This will be a stepping stone towards my true goal of running a real 26.2 mile marathon one day. Go big or go home.

Sike, I'm not going to Vanuatu.

Here's the letter I just had to write...
Hey everyone,

I want you all to know what's going on, but I can't handle calling everyone individually to tell you the bad news. I am no going to Vanuatu.

I got a call today from PC medical clearance and I am not cleared to go. About a month ago I had an abnormal pap smear and I need to have a follow-up test (colposcopy). I thought it would be no big deal, but apparently in this part of the world, there is no one to provide the type of gynecological care PC wants to provide to ensure I am healthy and safe.

That being said, I am not allowed to go to Vanuatu due to medical reasons. I know I have to get the colposcopy, and have another pap in 4-6 months. If it comes back normal then I can be cleared to leave for PC. They might send me to Vanuatu if there's a space available, but they might send me somewhere else. Honestly I don't want to go anywhere else. I'm being stubborn and my heart is set on a little chain of islands in the Pacific. I also might be put at the end of the list to await an assignment and another year of nothing/planning. You all know how set I was on Vanuatu, even after learning about the foot-long poisonous centipedes, the humidity and the natural disasters, I was still hell bent on going. So at this point I'm not sure if I want to go somewhere else or wait until later in life to do PC or just give up on the whole thing. The foundation of my entire future was based on the experience I would receive in PC so this is a huge upset for me. I have no idea where to go from here and I'm extremely sad about it all.

Once again, I'm sorry to tell you all this in an email, but I just can't really handle telling you face to face or even over the phone. Feel free to tell anyone I may have missed on the mailing list. Thanks for all your support throughout this whole process.


Yeah that's it. I can't even express how devastated I am. There are no words. I don't want to do say think read eat anything. Everything hurts.
I have never been so disappointed.

So close I can taste it!

Bah, so I broke down and got a blog. Apparently it's a great way for people to read all about what I'm doing. Too many people have suggested it for me not to do it so, here we go. However, I'll be honest, I am really good at starting things like this and not finishing them. This personal track record does not bode well for this blog. I will do my best though.

At this point in my journey, I am 17 days away from my departure! It's hard to believe that it's finally here. I know that's cliche, but oh so true. I've already started packing and I'm trying to limit what I pack. I can just imagine trudging across sand with 2 suitcases and a backpack. It may paint a funny picture, but I'm not looking forward to that. So I'm trying to limit myself to one suitcase and a backpack...We'll see how that ends up. I have a bunch of stuff already, but I still need to buy a harmonica, a pocket knife, a bottle opener and some other miscellaneous items!

I have grandiose plans for my time on 'the island' and I'm excited to see if those actually work out. For instance, I want to grow a garden, learn to play the blues on the harmonica, maybe learn to weave, maybe get a weave (haha), learn to cook, learn to cook organic, learn some new languages, get a farmer tan, find a ww2 plane stuffed with drugs and a the remains of a nigerian priest, and snorkel in a coral reef. All these and more! (Considering I haven't even tapped into my actual work goals, but I think those will become more apparent once I figure out exactly what I'll be doing. "It all depends on your site.") But the list goes on and on. So for now, I will dream about all my adventures and bask in my excitement, while stuffing myself silly with fast food and chocolate, and pop culture!