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.