Tropi-Chopped or Regular?

“Do you want it tropi-chopped?” he said in a thick accent. He repeated it twice with increasing urgency. I had no idea what he was talking about when Kevin jumped in and said, “Yes, tropi-chopped”. I'm still not clear as to what tropi-chopped actually means. 


“Do you want it with vegetables or beans?” This was easy, “vegetables please”. 


 The list of rapid-fire questions was endless: white rice or yellow rice? Combo? What comes with a combo? What side do you want? What do you have? Balsalmic tomatoes, corn, curley fries, cole slaw, French fries, ceasar salad … I’m sure there was more to the list, however, my brain was not processing anything at this point. I was given no time to think and felt like I was being grilled. I wanted to yell, “Just give me something to eat! ” 


Who decided that it would be a good idea to make ordering a meal so complicated? And then he said, “What size drink would you like?” He gave me a cup and sent me on my way to the all-you-can-drink machine where I could choose between coke, diet coke, root beer, Hawaiian Punch, seven up, water, tea and a myriad of assorted all you can drink drinks.


I sat down waiting for my dinner and remembered Elizabeth, a Peace Corps Staffer, telling a story about choosing a bottle of shampoo which spanned the entire isle at Target on her first day back to the United States.  All these choices make life complicated.

My Experience: A Retrospective-Part II

THINGS I WILL MISS

In the beginning, I often questioned my decision to become a Peace Corps Volunteer and then slowly things fell into place. When that happened life took over. I am goal oriented and my work was always aimed at the finish line – sustainability. I would think about going home, but it was only during my last couple of days that reality hit. Two years seems like a long time but they went as quickly as Champaign glasses clink in the celebration.

Although, I do not miss trying to catch a bus at the worst part of the day to get to MOPO, I miss the ride with locals.  I miss walking down the path to Patience Combined School. I miss hearing the goats complain while chomping on the grass at the soccer field. I miss seeing the children pass by in their little uniforms while I walk into the school.

I miss the Saint Lucia weather. I miss sitting on my bed listening to a soft rain and hearing the wind whip through the village. At times the wind became so strong that it howled and reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe, whose poetry I read and reread as a kid. When the rain stopped and the windows were opened, the breeze circulated like a giant fan throughout the house.

Janyn's Second Visit

Tracy

I will miss visits from my family and being their tour guide.  I will miss watching my them fall in love with this island in a very special way.

Kevin and Jay

I won’t miss, “Hey white lady”. I’m not sure why people think that’s an appropriate greeting. I’d never say…well, never mind. I never would say it.

I miss the simplicity of life here on the island. Priorities are different here. They value family, church and celebrations in ways I haven't experienced in the United States. They work to live, not something I knew much about when I arrived.

I don’t miss Saint Lucia television commercials as well as Joey the Weatherman and his stupid parrot Bob. I don’t miss the cell phone carrier, LIME, trying to sell their company by offering contests with prizes that will enable you to “party like a rock star”. It’s no wonder I stopped watching television during these past two years. I can’t think of anything else I won’t miss.

I made a note on my journal toward the end of May on a Saturday night:  'The church is rocking. The funeral service began in the late afternoon and continues through the evening.'  I will miss the sounds of the church bells, the people singing hymns and watching the people who are dressed in their finest clothes walking down my street towards and going to the church.

Living in a small village where everyone knows everyone's business was amazing.  I am grateful I was part Micoud and MoPo Village.

My Experience: A Retrospective-Part I

MY JOURNEY

Thanksgiving 2009

This has been an incredible journey. I started writing notes for this post (which as it turns out will be several posts) last Thanksgiving. I wanted to ensure that each day left was enjoyed and that I capture everything that needs to be said in this one final post. This experience encouraged my own growth and understanding of a tiny piece of the world. I received more than I gave. I am lucky to call myself a RPCV, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.


For those who have read my journal: Your comments and encouragement were appreciated. Writing this journal was therapeutic. One thing I appreciated about writing this blog, was the outlet it provided to laugh at myself. I will miss it, and although this is likely the last series of posts, I will continue writing for my own satisfaction.


There were times when I didn’t want to stay another minute. Those times were usually when I thought I wasn’t making a difference. Then there were times when I could not imagine going home. That’s when I knew that I had made a difference in some small way.


I spent two birthdays here. What better way to celebrate a 60th birthday than to do it as a Peace Corps Volunteer! I spent two Thanksgivings with my family of Peace Corps Volunteers. I left Saint Lucia with great memories of wonderful Saint Lucian friends.


As I settle into my life in the United States and our traditional holidays, I will remember the experience of Saint Lucian celebrations. Saint Lucian holidays are a time to party and celebrate; National Day, Christmas and Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve, Independence Day and Nobel Laureates Week along with other cultural holidays such as LaRose, Carnival and Jounen Kweyol. 


I will think of them each year with gratitude while pulling out each memory of this experience. And, perhaps I will pull out the Saint Lucian Flag and fly it in remembrance of the country I left behind.

FRIENDSHIPS

Before arriving in Saint Lucia, I listed reasons why I should become a Peace Corps Volunteer and reasons why I should not. My number one reason for not becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer is that I’m directionally challenged. I get lost easily; once I got lost in a parking lot. I panicked the first week I was here when I was told to find a bus from my host family home and get to Peace Corps in the capitol by myself – this was a two bus, hour and a half journey. The island seemed so big then, but I did it and developed confidence in the process. 


 Later, I confided in a few Peace Corps Volunteers who helped me gain confidence that I should overcome this handicap – or at least try to find various locations without a GPS System.


I will miss my Peace Corps friends, the Japanese Volunteers and others who have crossed my path during these two years.

Learning Chess

Lunch with the girls.

An overnight at my house.

William and his family

I met people because of this blog. Amy emailed me because she is nearing retirement and thinking about applying for Peace Corps.


William and his family came to my village while his ship was docked in Castries. 


I’ve sent postcards to several places including Samoa, the Phillipines and India, all of which were requested through my blog. 

My friend Greg helping me in IT Class

Greg and Karen are people who I would never met had it not been for this experience, my blog and Karen’s need to know more about the traditional Saint Lucia Formal Dress. A Google search turned up one of my posts and resulted in a new friendship that is very valuable to me. 


Rachel is a brand new Eastern Caribbean Invitee and will be here in late-August. I’m sorry I will miss meeting her. There are countless other contacts and comments from people who have read this blog.


Several people in Saint Lucia took special interest and helped me adjust and find meaningful work.  I will be forever grateful to Brenda, Elvinette, Cynthia Charles and Elizabeth as people who were there to point me in a positive direction. Other friends include Marylene and Melissa.

My friend Angelina

Elvinette playing Bingo at the Mexican Embassey

Cynthia Charles teaching the children

Brenda and Marylene at High Tea

John and Elizabeth with my boys Kevin and Jay

Melissa, my friend

Brenda, my friend and the woman who 'makes it happen in Micoud District

I will miss the friendships with the MoPo children and wish them continued progress on their journey to adulthood.

Me and some of my MoPo kids.

And finally, my special friend Julian.  A friend who I will think of often.  A friend who I am bonded to in a very special way.

Our friend Julian who I cannot say enough about

And so, here it is: the first part of the last posts about my Peace Corps experience - stay tuned.

Packing

I finished Peace Corps Training two years ago before being sworn-in advancing to the status of Peace Corps Volunteer. The best part was being given the key to the apartment where I would spend the next two years. Neil, my home stay host, put my suitcase in the back of his truck and carried it up the stairs. After a short conversation, Neil left.

I looked around and my new apartment looked bare and lonely. I unzipped my suitcase and looked inside to find a few framed pictures to make this home.

It took some time, but little by little my apartment has become home. It feels like my place now. Elizabeth has rented it to someone else during the months of November and December. It’s strange knowing someone else will be living in my apartment. This week I began packing a few things, putting them back into that same suitcase. Once again, I will begin starting a new life.

Moving On

As I take down pictures and pack memorabilia that I have accumulated over the past two years, I become more aware of the reality that I am leaving. My apartment is beginning to look similar to that which I first entered.

I watch Kevin as he struggles to understand that he will not be able to stream his Sirius Radio because for some reason I can’t seem to get wifi on my wireless. I watch him on Facebook and can’t get his attention so I wire another laptop and start a Facebook Chat with him. As he sits on the porch and I sit in my living room, he chats with my sister in New Jersey and me, just five feet away. The conversation turns to phones and which type will I choose when I return. We conclude there are so many Smart Phones and so little time.

In a couple of days time technology will become my new reality. Saint Lucia is only now beginning to advertise post-paid plans with Blackberries and a gig of usage for a monthly price. They, too, will live in a world where people are tethered to a world of e-communication.

Morning Coffee

I am having my morning coffee on the balcony. It is my last week here in Saint Lucia. I may come back for a visit, but it will never be like it is now. This is my home now, but upon return I will be a visitor. I listen to the roosters crowing, the wind blowing and the dogs barking. It is my last Monday. Just one short week from now, I will be sitting on my porch, holding my dog, talking to my granddaughter and having my first cup of morning coffee while contemplating rejoining the life I left two years ago.

Dazed

And so my service comes to a close. Kevin, my youngest son, is on island and will be helping me pack and move back home. My mood is both high and low. High, knowing I will see my family, friends and dog. Low, knowing some must figure out how to accommodate yet one more person into this tiny house. High knowing I have left some good sustainable projects behind. Low knowing I must leave my home and friends. High, knowing I will get my hair cut and colored, perhaps visit my spa and stay in the mountains for a few days of rest and relaxation.

I met Kevin at the airport yesterday. I arrived a few minutes early and as I sat waiting for him, I thought about my arrival just two years ago. Everything looks so familiar now and it was so foreign then. I thought about meeting new groups of volunteers and seeing their dazed and tired faces. My thoughts turned to when I arrived in Tegucigalpa a few years ago to visit my oldest son who was Peace Corps Honduras. I wondered if he had the same thoughts as he waited for us to move through customs.

Today we took a morning walk through the village. This is a quiet time. School is closed for the summer and people are vacationing. There are many who will not be available to say goodbye. This will be easier on me, but I’m sorry I won’t see them before I leave.

We stop at a local shop and buy a few pieces of fried chicken and Kevin pours ketchup on top. That’s the way they roll here. As we continue a leisurely stroll, two children stop me and want to touch my hair. Their mother, embarrassed, encourages them to move on. I look over, “They are only curious. It is alright” and I see her relax. I make a comment on the hardships and living conditions of some and Kevin is surprised. “No, I never get use to it”, I say.

A woman sits on the sidewalk selling a few pieces of fruit and some peppers. I see them from a long distance and know they will be perfect for the spaghetti Kevin will make tonight. Ah, for a Saturday, it’s been a good day for hunting and gathering in the village.

When we returned home I made fruit smoothies and Kevin ate his chicken. We sat on the porch and I asked, “So what is the reaction at home?” He responded, “Everyone is in a daze. They all go around looking like this.” He puts a funny dazed look on his face and we both laugh.

Close of Service Conference!

How quick two years goes by!

In the beginning - August 2008
Eastern Caribbean Group #78

Eastern Caribbean Group #78, All Islands, July 2010

Two Years Later - Eastern Caribbean Group #78, Saint Lucia