Well, I am sitting here on my final night, in this high-rise block apartment in the middle of this tiny Eastern European country for my very last night. It definitely hasn't sunk in yet that I will be leaving in a few short hours and boarding a plane that will, after a bit of much anticipated travel, bring me home to my family, my friends, my love, and my America. It has been more than two years since I have called the US my home, and I have learned so many lessons about what it is to be a American abroad but also, a more concious citizen of the world.
The past couple of weeks I have spent in the village I have grown to know as home. After finishing my projects within the community I spent my days going for long walks and getting lost on narrow muddy roads full of colorful flowers and heavy fruit trees. I tried to take in everything, the sights, the sounds, the flavors. I spent evenings with my host mom in her expansive garden sitting on a metal post bed sipping black tea and talking about what life had in store for me after this chapter closes. Her advice was always the same: Be strong, the hard times will pass you must stay happy. She saw me at my best, coming home from simple weekends spent with the man I love. She saw me at my worst, in the darkness of winter. She knows me and loves me, for better or worse. She was a mother to me these two years. Protecting me from dangers, caring for me when I was ill, cheering me up when I was down, sharing with me in the joys, and pouring some house wine when that was the only thing that was going to do the trick. I could never begin to express my gratitude and thanks for her. She is one of the special ones.
Reflecting on my time here in Moldova I realize my proudest moments are not accomplishments at work, but rather the relationships and bonds I have made with Moldovans. For me learning Romanian was a huge challenge, I have never considered myself a linguist. Being able to now converse in this language at not just a superficial but deep and meaningful level has allowed me to expereince a culture in a unique and special way.
One of my fellow volunteers was talking with us about how we can best relay our expereience on to friends and family back home. She said something that radiated deep within me: sometimes we have to recognize that all of our stories and all of our experiences really won't translate when we return home. But, she said, that's ok those are the moments that are just for you. Those are the unique gifts that Peace Corps service gives to you. I found that this little piece of advice has helped me as I close my service and reflect on my life for the past two years.
It's easy to share the funny stories; of needing to use the restroom my first day at site and ending up in the outdoor shower confused because there is supposed to be a hole, isn't there? Or the wild stories, like stepping onto a public bus in the middle of winter to see that it was being heated by an open flame, sitting in the isle. Or the cultural stories, like the time I blew-off the mayor because I didn't realize who he was and thought he was just arrogant, and later went to the office to meet with him, but when there were two men with the same name I referred to him as 'the fat one' because that isn't seen as culturally unacceptable (oh, and they knew to whom I was referring). Those are just a few of the stories that never get old. Those aren't the stories that are Peace Corps gifts. Peace Corps gifts are when you walk by that stubborn old woman on the block and she finally says 'good day'. The day you walk through the entire community and none of the dogs bark because they have finally gotten used to you, or the neighbors no longer stare at the American as you pass their fence. The day you come back from a trip and you feel like you are coming home and a flood of relief washes over you when you get on the bus back to site. When your host mom refers to you as family and the dinner conversations get a little more meaningful. These are Peace Corps gifts that only PCVs can truly appreciate. We, PCVs know how a goat looking at us the wrong way can ruin a perfectly fine day, or the dog not barking at us when we go to the outhouse brings a goofy smile to our face the rest of day. Sound slightly crazy? Well, that's Peace Corps. It's crazy and wonderful and life changing and sometimes super icky and other times simply the best.
And so, I am sitting up in this high-rise Eastern-block apartment on my very last night in Moldova, my very last night as a Peace Corps volunteer, and all I can say is my life will be forever changed. Somedays I woke up hating Peace Corps, other days I woke up knowing I owed my life to Peace Corps. Peace Corps is a wild beast and to have lived it for more than two years, seen it through, and grown from it I can honsetly say: Peace Corps, thank you.
Tomorrow I will leave Moldova as a returned Peace Corps volunteer (RPCV) and I can honestly say that, that will be the proudest moment of my life.
Peace
The past couple of weeks I have spent in the village I have grown to know as home. After finishing my projects within the community I spent my days going for long walks and getting lost on narrow muddy roads full of colorful flowers and heavy fruit trees. I tried to take in everything, the sights, the sounds, the flavors. I spent evenings with my host mom in her expansive garden sitting on a metal post bed sipping black tea and talking about what life had in store for me after this chapter closes. Her advice was always the same: Be strong, the hard times will pass you must stay happy. She saw me at my best, coming home from simple weekends spent with the man I love. She saw me at my worst, in the darkness of winter. She knows me and loves me, for better or worse. She was a mother to me these two years. Protecting me from dangers, caring for me when I was ill, cheering me up when I was down, sharing with me in the joys, and pouring some house wine when that was the only thing that was going to do the trick. I could never begin to express my gratitude and thanks for her. She is one of the special ones.
Reflecting on my time here in Moldova I realize my proudest moments are not accomplishments at work, but rather the relationships and bonds I have made with Moldovans. For me learning Romanian was a huge challenge, I have never considered myself a linguist. Being able to now converse in this language at not just a superficial but deep and meaningful level has allowed me to expereince a culture in a unique and special way.
One of my fellow volunteers was talking with us about how we can best relay our expereience on to friends and family back home. She said something that radiated deep within me: sometimes we have to recognize that all of our stories and all of our experiences really won't translate when we return home. But, she said, that's ok those are the moments that are just for you. Those are the unique gifts that Peace Corps service gives to you. I found that this little piece of advice has helped me as I close my service and reflect on my life for the past two years.
It's easy to share the funny stories; of needing to use the restroom my first day at site and ending up in the outdoor shower confused because there is supposed to be a hole, isn't there? Or the wild stories, like stepping onto a public bus in the middle of winter to see that it was being heated by an open flame, sitting in the isle. Or the cultural stories, like the time I blew-off the mayor because I didn't realize who he was and thought he was just arrogant, and later went to the office to meet with him, but when there were two men with the same name I referred to him as 'the fat one' because that isn't seen as culturally unacceptable (oh, and they knew to whom I was referring). Those are just a few of the stories that never get old. Those aren't the stories that are Peace Corps gifts. Peace Corps gifts are when you walk by that stubborn old woman on the block and she finally says 'good day'. The day you walk through the entire community and none of the dogs bark because they have finally gotten used to you, or the neighbors no longer stare at the American as you pass their fence. The day you come back from a trip and you feel like you are coming home and a flood of relief washes over you when you get on the bus back to site. When your host mom refers to you as family and the dinner conversations get a little more meaningful. These are Peace Corps gifts that only PCVs can truly appreciate. We, PCVs know how a goat looking at us the wrong way can ruin a perfectly fine day, or the dog not barking at us when we go to the outhouse brings a goofy smile to our face the rest of day. Sound slightly crazy? Well, that's Peace Corps. It's crazy and wonderful and life changing and sometimes super icky and other times simply the best.
And so, I am sitting up in this high-rise Eastern-block apartment on my very last night in Moldova, my very last night as a Peace Corps volunteer, and all I can say is my life will be forever changed. Somedays I woke up hating Peace Corps, other days I woke up knowing I owed my life to Peace Corps. Peace Corps is a wild beast and to have lived it for more than two years, seen it through, and grown from it I can honsetly say: Peace Corps, thank you.
Tomorrow I will leave Moldova as a returned Peace Corps volunteer (RPCV) and I can honestly say that, that will be the proudest moment of my life.
Peace
