So, ever since I was 16 I have wanted to join the Peace Corps. I am not entirely sure what set it off... Actually, that is not true. As previously stated, I was in a small Midwestern town where I had plenty of time to dream. I always was interested in other cultures, understanding them, learning part of their language, and travelling. My junior year of high school I had a great teacher, Mrs. Weber, and she had been in the Peace Corps in Thailand. Her stories stuck with me. It's funny how we take pieces of those around us, lessons learned from our mentors, and incorporate them into our lives.
Anyway, I remember looking on the Peace Corps website then and I even had a button with the Peace Corps sign on the bulletin board in my room. My college boyfriend and I nearly broke up after I told him that was what I wanted to do post-college. After I began working, circumstances led me to stay where I was for longer than I intended. It's been a great experience, though, and truth be told I don't know if I was mature enough to begin the Peace Corps right out of college.
But, now that I am approaching birthday #26 and realizing I've been toying with this Peace Corps idea for almost a decade, I think it is time to revisit it. I have no strings attached in my life. I love my job and still have room to grow and learn in it. They say the Peace Corps application process is long and tedious... so, perhaps if I get started now it can become a reality during my 26th year!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Welcome to Cotonou
"Bonjour!" "Ca va?" Kisses on each check! Another round of "Bonjour" and "Ca va" with "Enchante" thrown in! And another, and another and another! I am here at the Cotonou Airport in Benin. I could explain how or why I got here, but just enjoy the story for now.
The airport! The activity! The bustle of families greeting and kissing and "Ca va"-ing, alive and colorful in African dress! The airport building is modest, but its inhabitants make up for it. The Royal Air Maroc plane landed on the tarmak and we got off on stairs set up next to the plane. We walked directly into the airport. I was one of the first off and gave my passport to the clerk and we had a brief, successful exchange in French. My luggage was one of the first out. My friend was waving wildly at me from the crowd, just beyond the secured area. The crowd seemed to sway with the sounds of the airport, almost dancing to the sounds of life and greeting family and friends who had travelled from far away.
I grabbed my bright red suitcase and my friend began to introduce me to his home country and the bustle of his family and friends, gathered in the airport. And the "Bonjours" and "Ca vas" and kisses on each cheek quickly became mine, the "Enchantes" meant for me, this white girl in jeans, sneakers and a simple black t-shirt amidst this sea of bright print dresses, headdresses, bright bags, scarfs, formal African suits on the men, leather shoes, beautiful jewelry, and loud, vibrant voices speaking rapidly in French, Fon and Yoruba.
For now, we had enough "Bonjours" and "Ca vas" and "Enchantes" to go around. We emerged from the airport to the dusty parking lot that was essentially the red clay earth. It was early morning; dawn had broken only a couple of hours ago. The air was still cool. I had been in the country a total of four minutes and thirty seconds, but had received a resounding welcome.
"So, what do you think?" my friend excitedly asked, eager for my answer. "Umm... maybe you can ask me again in five minutes?" I said. "I just got here."
But I could tell this was going to be good.
The airport! The activity! The bustle of families greeting and kissing and "Ca va"-ing, alive and colorful in African dress! The airport building is modest, but its inhabitants make up for it. The Royal Air Maroc plane landed on the tarmak and we got off on stairs set up next to the plane. We walked directly into the airport. I was one of the first off and gave my passport to the clerk and we had a brief, successful exchange in French. My luggage was one of the first out. My friend was waving wildly at me from the crowd, just beyond the secured area. The crowd seemed to sway with the sounds of the airport, almost dancing to the sounds of life and greeting family and friends who had travelled from far away.
I grabbed my bright red suitcase and my friend began to introduce me to his home country and the bustle of his family and friends, gathered in the airport. And the "Bonjours" and "Ca vas" and kisses on each cheek quickly became mine, the "Enchantes" meant for me, this white girl in jeans, sneakers and a simple black t-shirt amidst this sea of bright print dresses, headdresses, bright bags, scarfs, formal African suits on the men, leather shoes, beautiful jewelry, and loud, vibrant voices speaking rapidly in French, Fon and Yoruba.
For now, we had enough "Bonjours" and "Ca vas" and "Enchantes" to go around. We emerged from the airport to the dusty parking lot that was essentially the red clay earth. It was early morning; dawn had broken only a couple of hours ago. The air was still cool. I had been in the country a total of four minutes and thirty seconds, but had received a resounding welcome.
"So, what do you think?" my friend excitedly asked, eager for my answer. "Umm... maybe you can ask me again in five minutes?" I said. "I just got here."
But I could tell this was going to be good.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Introduction
Well, here I am. Posting my first blog. For a simple Midwestern gal, the kind of girl who loves Big 10 football and my grandma's cooking, I did not think I would lead an adventurous enough life to warrant a blog. I had an idyllic upbringing complete with small-town values, close family and friends, corn on the cob, baseball, and the sound of cicadas on the porch during breezy summer nights.
And somewhere along the way the wide blue sky and the open fields gave me the freedom to dream and imagine what else life could hold. I set about creating adventures for myself, getting into trouble, turning down roads without entirely knowing the destination. Somewhere along the way these paths added up to me, the me worthy of a blog, the adult me who lives in DC and is probably best described as a pragmatic idealist. My intent here is to chronicle my adventures and musings, including flashbacks to the Midwest, college, a summer out West, travels abroad, and relationships. Enjoy!
And somewhere along the way the wide blue sky and the open fields gave me the freedom to dream and imagine what else life could hold. I set about creating adventures for myself, getting into trouble, turning down roads without entirely knowing the destination. Somewhere along the way these paths added up to me, the me worthy of a blog, the adult me who lives in DC and is probably best described as a pragmatic idealist. My intent here is to chronicle my adventures and musings, including flashbacks to the Midwest, college, a summer out West, travels abroad, and relationships. Enjoy!
