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When I realized that Queen was singing “bismillah” in Bohemian Rhapsody…

Influx and Exodus

“Sometimes the people around you won’t understand your journey. They don’t need to, it’s not for them.”

Today we all received and email from our Country Desk Officer with information about staging and PST (Pre Service Training). It’s some of the first solid information we’ve had, regarding actual dates and times for training and departure. It also included a link to a Facebook group that was set up by a fellow volunteer, specifically for our staging group. I joined, and within 15 minutes I’d received numerous friend requests from people who will be sharing this crazy life change with me. 

It’s funny to see a photo of someone and think, “I don’t know you, but we have so much in common.” These people have been going through a lot, if not all, of the ups and downs I’ve been experiencing over the last year. It’s nice to see their faces. As I’m starting to say goodbye to my closest friends here, I catch myself wondering who I will share the next part of this journey with. And now I’m starting to get some idea of who they are. These are the people who will be going through what I am, with me, for the next 27 months. We don’t know each other yet, but soon I expect we’ll know more about each other than we ever bargained for. 

I feel like I’m starting to see my departure as a pivot point. My life will be different when I return, and so will the lives of everyone I know back home. I had a conversation with a friend about this a few nights ago. I was trying to explain that I feel like the people I’ve met here in Virginia haven’t known me long enough for our friendships to withstand a 2-year hiatus. I didn’t mean for it to sound sad or depressing. I feel very close to the friends I've made in the last year. I truly hope that I can keep in touch with everyone I’ll miss once I leave. And as for my friends in New York and Vermont, I’ve been away form New York for about a year and a half, and I haven’t lived in Vermont for at least 6 years. Funny how that happens. In the grand scheme of things, 2 years really isn’t that long once you’re on the other side of it.

29 Days until departure!

On a side note, if you want to talk to me while I’m there, get my email address. Preferably my me.com address, because: 

When people ask me how my Darija is going..

When I think I’m good at Arabic but then I hear actual arabs speak in amiyya and it’s just too much:

When I start to creep on someone, because I think I hear them speaking Arabic, but then it turns out to be Farsi…

hurry up and wait

I had a conversation with a friend last night (over whiskey and beer) about my propensity to willingly dive off the deep end. I tend to voluntarily engage in difficult scenarios that require a certain kind of insanity and drive. Whether it’s a 15-year-old me vowing to perform again in Carnegie Hall, my love of skydiving, deciding after 16 years of pursuing violin that I’d rather be a Foreign Service Officer, singing up for an intensive Arabic Language institute where you're not allowed to speak English for 8 weeks, taking an incredibly ridiculous bus ride across the Sinai Peninsula, or taking the plunge by agreeing to move to a country I’ve never visited with a limited knowledge of the local language, I am (for some reason) attracted to a certain kind of “crazy.” I think it’s what makes things exciting. I don’t see the point in perpetually existing inside my comfort zone. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy time at home wearing my signature outfit of a massive cashmere sweater and yoga pants, but I seem to have developed an incurable attraction to adventure. I don’t make impulsive life decisions, and the decision to move to Morocco may seem like a bombshell at the moment, but I’ve been jumping through the hoops of Peace Corps’ application and screening processes for over a year. 

Peace Corps’ medical clearances are notoriously rigorous and expensive. I’ve been working on mine since July, and finally completed it yesterday. My documents were accepted, and I’ve been cleared by the Peace Corps Medical office. A lot of people drop out at this stage, and I can understand why. It’s months and months of doctors visits, dental exams, surgery (in my case), and invasive questions about my medical history. It’s also unbelievably expensive. I think that overall, I’ve been responsible for about $7500 worth of bills for office visits, exams, lab tests, and surgeries not covered by insurance. It’s a terribly stressful process, and luckily it’s almost over. I’m still waiting on confirmation of the dental clearance, as they were unable to read the notes my dentist wrote (insert joke about doctors having terrible handwriting)… 

As of today, it’s two months before I’m slated to leave for Morocco. My inner pendulum of excitement and panic has recently been swinging more and more vigorously to the extremes. But to be honest, I’m ready to go. I’m sick of sitting here waiting for things to start happening. I’m sick of the mass of boxes in my apartment. I’m sick of wondering and worrying about what it’ll be like to walk out of the airport in Rabat with only my suitcase and backpack. I just want to dive in. To, again, quote Mindy Kaling, “I feel like my life is buffering.” 

#arabicproblems

To welcome you into this Saturday morning, I give you #arabicproblems

Just click here. 

When I tell people about my plans to move to the Middle East and they ask me if I speak any Arabic…

When people ask me if I have an opinion on any Middle Eastern relations issue, I’m like…

Escapism and the Fruit Stand

Not quite as catchy a title as “Sex and the City,” but descriptive nonetheless. 

This week I found myself back at work. No, not at the Peace Corps. As hard as I’ve been trying to use Jedi mind tricks, the Medical Portal server will not allow us to log in until the government shutdown is over. No, it’s not the State Department. I’ve given up submitting endless applications with all the appropriate “choose the most complete answer for your experience” bubbles filled in. And even if I did get an interview, it’s far too close to my departure date to matter. The security clearance alone would take up the last remaining months of my time here. Is it... the corporate retail giant affectionately known by employees as the Fruit Stand? Yes. I’ve returned, tail between my legs, to scarf up the next few weeks of retail employment before I have to pack up and go. It may seem irresponsible to accept a position this late in the game when I might leave the country in 3 months. I struggled with this decision, but I decided to accept. I mean, when I first got my nomination way back in March, I was slated to depart in October. Which is this month. For all I know, it could be NEXT October before I actually leave. Isn't that how it usually works? As any smart person will tell you, “always have a backup plan.” I don't know exactly when I'm going to leave. It could be next month, or next year. And why not do something fun until I go?

At this point in the process, I technically only have an invitation to serve in the Peace Corps. Pessimistically (or realistically), it’s by no means a “done deal.” I haven’t even finished submitting the extensive medical paperwork, and this is the part of the process where they weed out a huge chunk of applicants. Or so I’ve been told. If I’ve learned one thing so far from the application process, it’s that nothing is certain. What if I don’t depart in January? What if the government shutdown delays the staging events, and pushes back the departure dates? What if the shutdown has furloughed enough domestic employees that the Peace Corps can’t send another group abroad in the next few months? What if (for some unknown reason) they deny my medical clearance? What if Morocco experiences a social or natural disaster, and they cancel my invitation? What if part of the bipartisan deal to cut funding to “non-essential” programs trickles down to the Peace Corps? These questions have been careening around in my head for the past few months, and contribute heavily to my occasional panicked ravings. I’ve made light of my fears and reservations in the last two posts, but I assure you they are very real. 

I’ve had multiple versions of this conversation - 

“Why apply for a job when you’re just going to leave?”

“Because I’ve been unemployed for 8 months, and I miss working there.”

“Did you tell them you’re going to move to Morocco?” 

“No, because what if I don’t. It’s not relevant until I get a final offer, after all the clearances are processed and approved. And that won’t be until the end of November, at the earliest.” 

Long story short - Whether I’ve admitted it or not, I’ve spent the past few months planning my life around the fact that I won’t be living here next year, with no thought to the possibility that I might have to stay. I hope with every fibre of my being that I will be able to depart to Morocco without delay, but it’s eased my worry to know that if I don’t go, I’ll have a good and stable job that I enjoy. Either way, I’ll look back on this post in four or six months and know that I had my bases covered. 

100 Days of Autumn

“We’re all scared, Professor Mosby.”

“Doesn’t being scared let you know you’re onto something important?”

“Yeah... I mean if you’re not scared, you’re not taking a chance. And if you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are you doing, right?”

Words from “How I Met Your Mother.” Cheesy? Absolutely. But I feel that truer words could not be spoken about my feelings this week. I’m leaving in exactly 100 days (assuming that my departure date stays the same). Those that know me have heard all about how my moods have been swinging like a pendulum. Generally from extreme excitement to flat out panic. Moving is always stressful. But moving to a country I’ve never visited? That frequently feels psychotic. And... I’m going to do it anyway. I didn’t sign up for the Peace Corps expecting it to be easy. And it won’t be. 

I’ve already started the daunting task of organizing my life for mobilization. I’ve started selling my clothes, shoes, and (extensive) bag collection. I really don’t know why I ever thought that Chanel and Louis Vuitton were priorities. They certainly aren’t anymore, so I’m bidding them a confused farewell. I’m de-cluttering in any way I can. It’s weird to look around my apartment and see things that definitely won’t be contributing to the allotted 80 pounds of personal belongings. But more on that later.

I suffered a disappointment this week when I realized that it’s almost peak leaf season in Vermont. And that I won’t be home to see it. I tried to make a last-minute reservation to fly up there this weekend. Apparently everyone else had the same idea, as United was trying to swindle me out of $950 for a round trip ticket. Insane. So, sadly, it seems that I’ll miss fall in Vermont this year. If I could pick a season to live in for the last 100 days of my US residency, I would pick autumn. In Vermont. 

For now, I’ll continue fluctuating between excitement and panic. Luckily, I’m leaning more to the “excitement” side of things, despite the efforts of Peace Corps’ medical office. “Shots and blood work and dentists, oh my!”

Lastly, congress, if you could get yourselves sorted out so we can all access the Peace Corps server again, that’d be great. Thanks.