Following the Day

Home is Where the Heart Is

2012-01-12T08:48:00.000-08:00

Me with a handful of my students after the Prizegiving ceremony.

It has been a month and two days since I boarded the plane leaving Samoa and headed home. Every day I have thought to myself, “I should really write that final blog entry,” yet self denial of the finality of my time as a Peace Corps volunteer prevented me from sitting down and concluding this twenty-seven month blog. Even today, I find myself at a loss for words. How does one summarize twenty-seven months of service? And how do I capture the lessons learned? The beautiful thing is that this blog has already captured so many of those memories and experiences.

Coming home, I expected more culture shock. I thought that I would be overwhelmed by speeding cars, technology, supermarkets, and of course, the mall at Christmastime. But when it came down to it, coming home felt more like waking from one dream to begin a new one. You might say I eased my transition a bit by road tripping through New Zealand for 16 days before coming back to New York, and maybe that is the reason I was not so overwhelmed by American life. I had anticipated a fear of driving, yet that has not been the case at all. I have been driving every day, and even took a few trips into Manhattan already! I have upgraded my Samoan monochrome cellphone to the iPhone (4s) and am LOVING the apps, games, and easy flow of information. I miss being able to throw my rubbish (oops, trash!) out my back door, but I am appreciative of the regular garbage collection, recycling collection, and composting going on here. And I cannot stress enough how amazing it has been to come home to a snow-less winter! My tan is still holding true, and I still wear my jandals around the house (so weird to wear shoes inside!) but for the most part, I am embracing boot fashion, jeans, and bubble jackets. I have seen Phish twice, Mamma Mia of Broadway, celebrated my birthday in a posh NYC nightclub, eaten pizza, sushi, bagels, and wings, and have visited the Jersey Shore. I have made cookies in an oven and washed clothes in a washing machine. And I have stopped float-testing all eggs before consumption. I have also put away all fans and embraced indoor heating.

Job-wise, I am not sure what is next. I have picked up two part time jobs from my past: dog walking (yes, dogs are friendly here!), and I will soon start working the front desk at the Rockland Conservatory of Music, now in their new location. I am slowly readjusting to the strange sensation of living in my parents’ full house once again, but I am savoring the moments we all have together and am happy to have arrived home when I did.

In a way, I now feel that I have two homes: Skyview, and Samalaeulu. I find myself missing my village and Samoan life to the point where it literally hurts my heart, yet tears do not come to me when I think of leaving. Instead, I feel gratitude for the two years I was fortunate enough to spend living in such a loving village in the South Pacific. The friends I made there and students I taught feel like a family, and thanks to technology, I have been able to stay in touch with many of them; one students, unaware of the time difference, has been calling the house at 3am in the morning! I do not know when I will return to Samoa, yet I do know that when I do, it will not be the same as my two years spent as a Pisikoa. However, the experiences shared there will forever remain in my heart. I am a proud Returned Peace Corps Volunteer! Today, the 960 photos I selected out of thousands should arrive and I will be able to relive my 27 months as a volunteer as I create my largest scrapbook to date.

This concludes my blog…. until the next adventure :)

Kicking the Cat

2012-01-12T08:43:00.000-08:00

... It seems I forgot to post this back in November, so enjoy!

Pulega and I at Culture Day in Sasina.

With the end of service so near, many families have been inviting me over for dinner as a final farewell. It has been a great way to spend some quality time with those families that have become such an important part of my life. Last week, I ate with two families, this week I have plans with another three. My first dinner last week was with Pulega’s family, and it was as comical as ever.

Pulega has a large presence. He is very fat and a flamboyant fafafine who lives with his sisters family. He is also Ali’s principal. Ali and I often joke about the two sides of Pulega. She knows him as a firm and demanding teacher, who always wears a pristine floral shirt and ie’konga (black wrap around skirt - - - business-wear for Samoan men.) For me however, I know him only as a friend in the village – a laughing, joking, shirtless man, who has a cat and two dogs. Which brings us to the brief yet somewhat horrible (and hilarious!) story of the cat.

I showed up for diner just before sa, or evening prayer, was to begin. The sun was setting and short bursts of heavy rain were blowing through the village. I sat with Pulega in the large open fale that makes up his home, while behind the house, Pulega’s sister and children busied themselves preparing our feast in the fale kuka (cooking house.) The rain was really picking up, so I helped Pulega to lower the tarps, creating instant makesift walls surrounding the fale. The sound of the rain beating down was immense, and for half a moment I worried that the river might come, thus cutting me off from my home on the other side. I quickly brushed the worry aside, knowing full well I would have a place to stay if that was to happen. Pulega’s cat, which he affectively calls Pusi (meaning cat), crept under the tarp to avoid the rain with us. It was clear that she knew meal time was approaching and lurked closely around Pulega’s chair. He spoke to it, pet it, and showed affection towards it. And then the meal came. Pulega transformed from a loving pet owner into a ravenous territorial man almost instantaneously. The formerly loved cat looked up with begging eyes for a scrap or two and “Whack!” Pulega kicked him in the side. I was so startled I almost couldn’t eat! Then, with bravery and perhaps a bit of stupidity, the cat continued to beg with a similar outcome every time. Finally Pulega had had enough. He called over a child, who picked up the cat, and through it out of the house. The routine continued for the whole meal, and although it sounds terrible in writing, the kicking and throwing never seemed over the top animal abuse – more just comical. When Pulega wasn’t looking, I slipped the cat some chicken bones.

At the end of the meal, I was walked home by Pea (Pulegas sister) and her two children. Senara, the eldest child, held a beach umbrella sized umbrella for the three of us to walk under. Jason, to the horror of his mother bounced a ball, and she kept hissing at him “Aua! Sa!” apparently afraid of attracting the attention of ghosts with his noise at night. I walked in the middle of the three of them. Pea held my hand, as we walked home, and although it felt unnatural to be walking holding this motherly womans’ hand, I just went with it. It is common in Samoa to see two grown men walking down the street holding hands, or two girls holding hands while walking to church. As awkward as it felt, there was something really touching about the moment. I will miss Pulega, Pea, Senara, and Jason. I hope our paths will cross again one day, as they have so generously included me in their family for the past two years. Tofa soifu lo’u aiga!

Tattoo, Take Two!

2011-11-08T15:39:00.001-08:00

My first tattoo was made by the Suluape Family in Apia back in February of this year. Tattoos are a Samoan tradition and great meanings are held in the design and placement of every symbol. Traditional Samoan tattoos have been such a part of Samoan heritage and culture that they have been around for hundreds of years. As a result, the Samoans have a very different method of tattooing than we are accustomed to in the West.

Naturally, in the spirit of Samoan culture, I wanted my tattoo to be done in the traditional style using the traditional tools. However, this was not possible for my first one, as its designs were too curvy and detailed. Once again, Anna provided the necessary means to get things done that I have been putting off.

Inspired by her travels, Anna decided that she wanted to get a tattoo before leaving as a constant reminder of her time abroad. Finding herself in Samoa for her last country, it seemed a fitting time and place to do it, especially with the cultural significance. Early in the week I encouraged her to really think about what she would want. Over her week here, she saw many tattoos, and she soon decided on what she would get. The traditional womans tattoo, called the Malu, is located on the thigh area and extends down past the knee. One of the symbols used is a star, signifying “Navigation.” After two months of travel, what better symbol could she have decided on?

We went to the tattoo parlor together on a rainy Saturday, and as often happens when one is sitting in a tattoo shop, I got inspired to stop the tautalatala (too much talk), and finally get my foot tattoo that I had been dreaming of. Since my first tattoo had been done with the gun, this time I opted for the traditional “tap-tap” method.

Unfortunately, my design could not be done all with the tap-tap because the flower in the middle was too curvy, so my tattoo was done in two stages. Part one was the flower, made by the gun, and the rest of the designs were done with the pillow, stick, razor, and tapping. All in all, I was surprised to say that the tap-tap did not hurt nearly as much as the gun. Maybe it was the style of the design or the placement, but I found the tapping almost soothing, and the pain totally bearable.

Although I cannot predict the future, I think I am done with tattoos for the time being. I have two great designs to last me a lifetime, and to top it off, they were done in a country I now consider a second home by people I now consider friends. I hope that my tattoos will serve as a daily reminder of the people I met, the experiences I had, and the lessons I learned, while serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Western Samoa.

Halloween in Apia

2011-11-08T15:36:00.000-08:00

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I love creating characters and for one night pretending to be someone or something that I am not. Usually I envision lavish costume ideas that never come to fruition. However, this year, my idea was too good to sit on, and months away from Halloween, I began the preparations. After attending the Magic Circus of Samoa back in February and witnessing the impressive 4-legged man act, there was no question as to what I would be: the 4-legged lady soon materialized in my head, along with all the ways to make it happen.
In true magician form I cannot reveal how I was about to grow two extra legs for the big event, but on the night of the Halloween celebrations, I had transformed from a Peace Corps Volunteer into a fat, four-legged Samoan lady. The costume along with some rehearsed dance moves won me a slot as one of the best costumes of the evening.
The count down has begun for next years Halloween, but if my magical abilities hold true, who knows what will happen next?!

Halloween in the Village

2011-11-08T15:32:00.000-08:00

This year I was lucky enough to celebrate two Halloweens, one in the village and one in Apia. The Apia story will be told shortly, but this blog will focus on the one in the village.

A week before Halloween, Anna arrived for her week-long visit! It was so exciting to see her and to catch up, as she had been traveling through South East Asia and had many fascinating stories to tell. Since she had been on the move so much, we decided that it would be a nice change to just stay put and let her experience the daily life of a Peace Corps volunteer. So after a night in Apia, we made our way back to the village and the fun began!

In anticipation of Anna’s visit, I had planned a fun filled week of Halloween activities. Unfortunately, I had not counted on the teachers springing surprise exams on the students, so my first two days of activities were removed. However, with Anna’s help, we kicked things into gear on Wednesday with a mask-making day in the lower levels. When Thursday came around, we did pumpkin carving with the upper levels, and had the students in Year 6 paint faces onto eggplants. Friday was the final celebration, filled with candy (Thanks Ilovea!), trick-or-treating, and a costume contest.

Overall, it was a great success. Anna’s trip deserves it’s own blog and I hope to find the time to get that up before leaving because it was a real treat to have her here, and we did so much!

Craving [CAVING!] for Pizza!

2011-11-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

One great thing about having a visitor is that it gives you the excuse to do everything you always wanted to do but never justified finding time for. Anna had told me all about her adventures riding elephants and paddling through floating villages, so I felt the pressure to impress her with Samoa’s natural wonders. Flipping through the tourist pamphlets I have acquired over the past few years, one activity sprung out at me: Dwarfs Cave.

The history of Dwarfs Cave is a bit unclear, and it seems that every person who goes there will be told a slightly different tale as to its past. From what we gathered, Dwarfs Cave is really an expansive lava-tube, formed during the 1904-1911 eruption. The legend states that since it is so long, no person has ever been to the end of it. At one time or other, it is believed that 30 “Eskimos,” lived in this underground layer, feasting at the impressive flat table located just a few minutes inside the cave and bathing in its natural, muddy pools. Although a believable story from the size of the cave, there seems to be no evidence of humans ever having lived in the space.

On a Tuesday afternoon, Anna and I, along with two of my top students Pisi and Sapi, met up with two of the other Peace Corps Ali and Jenny, to check out the cave. Our “tour guide” (some man from the village), dubbed himself the cave man, and led the way through the cave, making sure we got as dirty as possible along the way. The caves have no light, neither natural or brought in, so it was up to us to carry flashlights to guide us on our journey. This proved a bit challenging as the path led us up and down step inclines of muddy rock and through pools waist deep of silt and mud. However we endured and made it to the farthest pool before turning back for the adventure out.

Having just finished reading The Hobbit (in anticipation of the movie release!), I found myself looking around for Gollum, as this cave could easily have been his home. I hope Peter Jackson was able to make the trip out here before filming those scenes! There was not much life down in the caves, other than a few bats. Probably the scariest part of the adventure was shining the flashlight onto the walls of the cave and noticing the large cracks, assumedly formed from recent earthquake activity. I am glad to say we made it out alive, a little bruised and beaten, but overall successful in our exploration.

To celebrate, Anna and I took the girls out for pizza at the local pizzerias (Sekia Pizza). It was a great field trip and I am so glad that we found the time to tackle this cool site. For anyone planning a trip to Samoa, Dwarfs Caves are a must!

Lord of the Rings

2011-11-08T15:25:00.000-08:00

Over the past month of school, I have become a champion crafter. Due to lack of activity in the classrooms following the Year 8 National exam, I found myself spending my days in a corner of the Year 8 classroom learning how to weave with the rest of the Year 8 girls. At first it was tricky. My fingers did not want to cooperate with the fine strands of the la’au fala leaves and instead of making mat shapes, I was making long belt-like creations. Then one day, one of my girls made me a ring, and the course of my days were hanged forever. Stubbornly, I did not want to ask for help, so I sat at my desk trying to figure out just how she had done it. After a day of failed attempts, I gave in to my desire to know and asked for assistance. After a 5 minute lesson, I was weaving rings! I started simple, with one color, but soon needed to expand my artistic abilities to incorporate multi-colors into the jewelry. Three days later I have created a small store worth of jewelry. Rings of every shape, size, and color hang from a string in my room, and my arms are adorned with bracelets. I even found the time to create a few headbands, necklaces, and belts. With the jewelry mastered and just a few weeks left in the village, the time has come to embark on my last great weaving challenge: the mat. Only time will tell if I can pull it off in time!

Parade of Nations

2011-10-04T17:21:00.001-07:00

This picture is dedicated to all of you who helped with our project!

Today was the much-anticipated “Parade of Nations” for my Year 7 students. When I began the postcard project back in May, my objectives for the students were to raise their level of reading comprehension and to increase their knowledge of the world at large. From a reading and writing project, it soon evolved into an ongoing geography lesson, and in these final weeks, it became an outlet for practicing methods of research and presentations.

Last week, all of the names of the countries we had received were put into a bag. One by one, the students drew country names until each one had their own country. I then gave each student a packet of information on their country, including printouts from Encyclopedia Britannica, a map of their country, and of course, the post cards received from their country, and guided them through the material, helping them highlight key information and answer guiding questions. Next, they had to assemble a paragraph worth of information on their country, and when that was complete, I gave them an atlas and they were responsible for finding their country’s flag and painting it. So after days of preparations, today was the final presentation! It was really exciting for me to see these students get up in front of the class and in English inform their classmates of their chosen country. A lot of new words were learned, and although it was a challenging assignment, I think everyone gained something from it.

After the presentations, we went outside and took a class photo of the kids and their flags.

Frangipani

2011-10-03T21:06:00.001-07:00

Nothing beats the sensation of walking past a flowering frangipani tree and catching a whiff of it’s sweet scent in the breeze, picking one of the white buds and placing it behind your ear, savoring the fresh scent all day long.

Teach Your Children Well

2011-10-03T21:04:00.000-07:00

Last week was the trial exam for the Year 8 students’ National Exam. Every day, the students in Year 8 came to school to take a 2-hour practice exam for the final exam, which will be held in two weeks. On top of the pressure of the exam, the Year 8 students and their parents were also required to prepare food for the teachers all week. As traditional school feasts go, we were treated to fried chicken and sausage every day, stir-fried noodles, and lots of taro. Boiled eggs and buttered bread rounded out the mix and the koko samoa flowed. It was a nice change, since we are not usually served meals at school (many schools in Samoa do have this luxury!)

During our extended breakfasts and lunches, the students were left on their own, and supervised by a top student or two from the level above them. Being that we took our breakfast in the classroom holding grades two and three, I was privileged to witness these tiny children teaching each other, and what a sight it was! The Year 3 teachers’ grandchildren are both in Year 3, and so they naturally took over the class. The little boy likes to rule like his grandmother and would walk to the front of the room with a big stick, ready to hit any children who misbehaved or got an answer wrong. The granddaughter was much sweeter though and would sit at the teachers desk, calling up students to recite things on the board and encouraging them with phrases like, “Very good, Peni, keep it up!” This went on the whole time we ate and although I felt a little guilty for sitting there watching the children teach themselves, it was so adorable, and there was something remarkable about witnessing the students drive to learn from each other in the absence of a teacher. These children do not have it easy, and to see them take the initiative to continue learning was quite admirable. I like to think that in five years, this class will have great results on their Year 8 exam. And who knows, maybe I will be back to see it!

The Island Perimeter Relay Race 2011

2011-09-23T10:39:00.000-07:00

This year I participated in the Island Perimeter Relays Race once more, but due to knee injury, this year I was not a runner. Being an honorary member of Team Kope Keine (or in English, “Hurry Girls!), I was made the team driver, responsible for getting the runners from one exchange point to the next, making sure each runner was sufficiently supported in terms of food, drink and medical relief, and possibly most important, scouting out Mormon Church’s (for those who do not know, Mormon churches have SWEET bathrooms!)

The race was as epic as any 104km run can be. After an evening of preparing sandwiches, filtering water, and me learning to drive on the wrong side of the road, we got to bed early in anticipation of our 2:45am wake up. By 3am we were out the door, and at 4am, the first runner took to the empty road, glows-tick baton in hand and ipod strapped on. In order of runners, our team consisted of 6 Peace Corps girls: Natalie “the animal” hailing from group 83, Kaelin “the flash,” Jenny “kuka and MVP,” Lily “the warrior,” Dana “the killer,” and Corina “CorinaC”* (her name sounds cooler altogether but due to Peace Corps policies I cannot give her full name here). I was given the snazzy original name “Driver.”

As one can expect, the day was full of emotion and team spirit. Along the way, Peace Corps who were not running met us on the road to cheer on the runner and give support. Inside the car, we blasted our favorite “pump you up” tunes and tried to keep the atmosphere light. Ten hours and forty-three minutes after setting out we reached the finish line in Apia. Many of our office staff had turned out to cheer on the runners at the finish line as well as a host of volunteers. It was a really beautiful day highlighting the tight bond that has formed between this group of 35 volunteers and our staff and I am proud to say that I was a part of it. Kope Keine took first place in the open women’s division and the mixed team of Peace Corps Runners took first in their division as well. I am proud to be a part of Peace Corps Samoa!

Keke Pua'a

2011-09-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

Keke pua’a translates to “pig cake.” It is a glorious Samoan food combining three of my guiltiest food pleasures: fried dough, soy sauce, and pig (or really any of the various mystery meats that find their way inside of these tasty buns!) Keke pua’a costs $1 tala (or about 45 cents) and can be found for sale on the side of the street, at school canteens, and at the market, but my favorite keke pua’a are the ones sold between the hours of 4am and 6am at the Salelologa wharf. This delicacy has indeed become one of the main reasons I opt for riding the ridiculously early 6am ferry when travelling to Apia. Yes, it requires me to wake up at 2:45am and catch the 3:30 bus to town, but it is well worth it, for nothing beats fried salty meat and soy sauce in the morning!

Farewell to Mail

2011-09-14T19:48:00.000-07:00

1:58pm I receive a text from Emi: “Are you home, I have your mail.” I was at home and asked where she was. “On the bus, about 15 minutes out, will text when I get closer. Left side of the bus.” And so it went that on this raining Wednesday afternoon without having to leave my village I received a carepackage full of delights from home, a postcard from Africa, and music to keep me rockin’ till December! It was all so perfect that I must admit I shed a few tears, missing my friends back home and loving the support they continue to offer me, two years into my program! To those that have sent mail, postcards, music, etc. during my time here, it goes without saying that it has been super appreciated and keeps me going when I am feeling down. I will be eating Mac and Cheese for dinner tonight and cannot convey my excitement properly! I promise Samoan treats for all of you when I return J

And as my service comes to an end, I have been advised to put up this statement that reminds me that yes, this experience really is passing: Any mail you wish to send will probably not reach me before I leave, so it is time to return to emailing. It has been a fun snail mail run while it lasted! That being said, any postcards u may wish to send should be posted no later than the end of this month. Thanks to all who have participated, my students and I truly appreciated your support and eagerness to see our project succeed. Thank you!!!!

Manu v. Namibia

2011-09-14T18:55:00.000-07:00

“Are you from Namibia?” a man asked me as I was fighting my way to the front of the ticket mob, pushing and shoving to get our tickets for the 4pm ferry. “No, Go Manu!” was my reply! This was to the be the boat-ride of the year, for boarding time was 3:20 and the Manu Samoa were set to play their first rugby match against Namibia at 3:30. Wearing my blue shirt for support I rushed onto the boat at 3:20 to join the crowd gathered in the air-conditioned area of “the big boat.” This ferry is new to Samoa, beginning its operation just last year and boasting two flat screen TVs inside the air-conditioned cabin. Of course, it was the place to be for the match. The seats quickly filled and in no time at all we were watching the players march solemnly into the stadium in New Zealand. The Samoan national anthem was played and a few patriotic Samoans sang along on the boat. Next the Namibian anthem was played, and then we got the show we were all waiting for. The Samoans took the field and performed their traditional war dance, the haka. The boat went crazy as the men chanted and slapped their arms and chests! And then the game began and I remembered that I do not understand rugby. But there was hope! Sitting behind me was a man from New Zealand calling out all of the terms and thus educating my American sporting mind. I found myself really getting into the excitement of the match. Number 11, can’t remember his name, was unstoppable and scored almost all of the teams touches. The kicker was also precise and the whole team just stunned me with their athleticism. I had to feel sorry for Namibia as the game wore on, for they were just towered over by the powerful Samoan team. A controversial play that was particularly memorable was seeing one Manu player practically “clothesline” a Namibian player – at it was considered fair play! Wow, rugby is an intense game! The match was a sweep and at the end of the brutal game, Samoa walked away the victors, having scored 48 points to Namibia’s… zero. Next match is set for Friday, and as long as my schedule allows, I will be on the ferry cheering on the Manu!

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

2011-09-04T17:04:00.000-07:00

In rereading some of my earlier posts, I have noticed a trend in my writing themes: laundry, lack of water, and the kindness of others. Today I intend to focus on all three.
I awoke as usual around 6:30am and did some yoga. While in a meditative state, I resolved not to go to church and at the same time not to go to Apia as I had intended. I figured this Sunday would be the perfect day to catch up on laundry, reorganize the house, and get in some good hours on guitar. All was going according to plan. Laundry was soaking, kitchen was polished, and my guitar was waiting patiently for me in the corner. I decided I should get the laundry out in the sun sooner than later, so I went to ring it out and then as is always the case when I have planned a laundry day, the water was not running for me to complete the “rinse” cycle (aka dumping the clothes into a bucket full of non-soapy water.) I figured I would give it a half hour then try the tap again.
At that moment, my neighbors called me over for the Sunday meal, so I went over to feast of pig, taro, and chop-suey (all the staples of a toonai.) I noticed their tap was running, so at the end of the meal I returned to my house with high hopes for my laundry. But I was out of luck. Not only was my tap not running but the spigot near the store was off as well, meaning my side of the road was without water once again. I called my neighbors as asked if theirs was still on. They apologized saying no, but assured me it would be on again in a few hours. I told them my laundry dilemma and they asked if I would like to come finish it at their house. I did not want to impose on their water supply, but they insisted that they had a 44 -gallon barrel of water set aside for these reasons.
I loaded my soapy laundry into my own smaller bucket and walked over to their stashed water. And twenty minutes later, my laundry was hanging on the line to dry during the prime sunny hours of the day. Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends. ☺

Teuila Thursday

2011-09-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

This week marked Samoa’s’ annual “Teuila Festival,” a festival celebrating Samoan culture and geared towards tourism. In Apia it is a big deal and every night different events take place, ranging from the Miss Fa’afafine Pageant (drag queen Miss Samoa) as well as the REAL Miss Samoa Pageant, to traditional Samoan dance competitions and my favorite, the long boat race. In the village however, it is re of an after thought. People gather at night to watch the televised broadcasts and speculate on the results of the Miss Samoa Pageant, but for the most part, the festival is not celebrated.
However, Thursday as I walked to school I was greeted by the decorated faces of the village’s two women’s committees. The village, being so large, is divided into two groups: the sasa’e group (meaning south/east), and the north/west, although I forgot the name for that group. Around 7:30 in the morning, the women of the north/west, all wearing red and white, were gathering at Mina’s house across the street from me. As I walked by, Sineva ran out and insisted I join their group once school let out. I agreed and so began my day.
An hour later, school was over, as all the teachers were planning to participate in the villages Teuila activities. I raced home, but on my Maliolio Girls shirt (from the Samoa Challenge last year), and got to the volleyball court where the games were just beginning. The south/east team was decked out in red and blue shirts with yellow lavalavas and had clearly been practicing, because they began singing and dancing at 9am and did not stop all day! My team was a little less organized and it took some coaxing to get them signing, but both sides were merry and fierce on the court.
The volleyball games went on for hours, and not once was I invited to play, although I had been chosen for a team. Then finally, my opportunity came and I was thrown in. I soon remembered how much I dislike volleyball, and the blazing noon sun only furthered my lack of enthusiasm for the sport. I enjoyed my first game, and then was shocked to learn that my team, although the losing team, was slated to play two more rounds! By the end we were all exhausted, however, in traditional festival mode, we all danced back to our teams shaded trees where the older woman were beating time on old metal cracker containers and the younger woman sang. This strut back to our team areas turned into a dance off with every woman trying to out dance the others. Laughter, song, and dance grew to a loud peak, and then died off to await the next round of players. The day continued like this till 5pm at which point the women sang their final songs and then loaded up into cars to drive home and reflect on the day. I will never forget the music of that day!

Brooms

2011-08-27T14:49:00.000-07:00

Today I was able to check off a long awaited goal of Peace Corps Samoa – that is, I learned how to make the wispy brooms, called salu. A few weeks ago at school I had mentioned to Sapi, one of my year 8 students, that I desperately needed a new salu for my house and that I would love to make my own. “Come to my house after school!” she immediately offered. I was going to Apia that afternoon and had to pass, but I told her I would love to take her up on the offer the following week.

So today Sapi arrived at my house around 2pm telling me to get ready, her father, Siaki, would be here with his car any minute to take me to their home at the other side of the village (about a 30 minute run away from my home…so pretty far!) We arrived at her home and gathered in the large open fale to drink koko and watch music videos with the rest of the family. Sapi disappeared to cook our lunch as I conversed with her father, grandfather, mother, little sister, two little brothers, and two men from the store. The youngest brother was not happy about something or other and kept balling up his fist in a tight ball and with the full force a four year old can offer was laying punches into his mothers arm. She just laughed and called him cheeky. I smiled and hoped he wouldn’t turn on me, because I would not be so polite in dealing with him! Sapi soon reappeared with chicken soup and rice, and it was delicious!

After lunch, Sapi grabbed a fine matt and some pillows and dragged them outside to the shade of a mango tree. The children and I lay under the tree digesting and enjoying the breeze while her father went of to collect coconut leaves for our project. About a half hour later he returned and Sapi’s mother, Matelena, brought us each a knife (me, Sapi, and Sapi’s 7 year old sister, Gagau). The girls each took a coconut palm and handed me one as well. They then proceeded to show me how trim the desired leaves to their spines and pluck them off the main stalk. After we had collected a pile of about one hundred spines, we returned to the matts in the shade and began the task of cleaning the stalks with our knives. Sapi taught me how to press the knife against my thumb and glide the blade against the spine of the stalk to strip it of any remaining leaves. Once “cleaned,” we cast the finished stalks aside and continued with our task. Over the next hour we worked together to create two brooms. Sapi said I should take both home, but after all of her work and the generosity of her family, I insisted that they keep one for their own home.

The afternoon was quite memorable and reaffirmed everything I have been telling myself about these next few months: that I must seize every opportunity I can to live village life to the fullest. Since I had travelled so far from my home, I was able to interact with the women who live on the other side of town who I rarely see, and truly took them by surprise when they found me making brooms right next to their scheduled volleyball game! It was really fun just sitting around chatting with them and laughing, laughing, laughing! In this spirit, I had made a solid commitment to not turn down any invitation that comes my way from here on out. So tomorrow night, I will once again join this great family, for their Friday night dinner. I am so excited at the outcome of today and have already made a mental list of other skills to acquire (and where to go to acquire them!) before leaving. Three months to go, and it doesn’t feel like enough time to do it all!

Le Manu Samoa!

2011-08-21T13:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday around 2pm I found myself in a taxi heading towards the market to catch the bus to go back to my village. Low on cash and exhausted, I figured it was for the best to leave Apia Saturday instead of Sunday. Then in an instant, it all changed. As I was approaching my final destination, the Australian rugby team passed by heading towards their match in Apia Park. I was caught in a moment of limbo, and then instantaneously asked the taxi to turn around: when will I ever have the opportunity to watch the Manu Samoa play live again? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I could not miss!

I raced back to the office where I found Elise and Matt getting ready to go to the game. Remembering there was blue face paint in the office, I asked Elisa if she would paint my face, and then I painted hers. We raided the offices “free box,” and were soon geared up and ready to go cheer on our team!

Walking to the game which was to take place about a mile down the road from our office, we found ourselves loaded with excitement and anticipation. The street was filled with others decked out in their white and blue Manu gear, all heading to THE place to be.

We arrived at the stadium, which felt like entering another world. High, clean bleachers surrounded a pristine field. Samoan flags waved in the wind, and the bleachers, packed with fans, seemed to sway as the ocean of blue danced and sang.

The game began and I quickly realized that I do not know the rules of rugby. I met an Australian woman who tried to explain it to me, but ultimately, we were both at a loss. Here is what I took out of the game:

1. Samoans are incredibly quiet spectators, until a “touch” is made.

2. Rugby is WAY more intense than American football – they do not wear padding of any kind!

3. The players throw themselves at one another, sometimes being dragged across the field – their laundry bills must be high!

4. The ball can bounce off the ground without going out of play.

5. The kickers would make great NFL kickers as they kick from seemingly impossible angles.

6. The team does NOT always do the Haka. Too bad!!

Overall, I am incredibly happy with my decision to stay for the game. I felt like I was witnessing some great feat of human power watching those teams battle it out. In the end, THE MANU SAMOA WON!! All in all, it was a great day!

Savor the Moment

2011-08-09T17:28:00.000-07:00

With under four months left till my departure from Samoa, I have been making a conscious effort to appreciate the here and now while I still can. For a while I found myself caught up in a last quarter funk, desperately craving the comforts of home. But then it hit me, when will I ever have the chance to live in a Samoan village again? I need to live each day to the fullest and take in all Samoa has to offer before it’s too late.

Strolling to school in the mornings, I no longer rush by the women as they ask me where I am going. Instead, I make an effort to engage them in conversation, if only for a brief moment. Yesterday was the epic return of BINGO to the village and I found myself sitting in the middle of the huge church hall with a circle of teachers, in a situation where I once felt out of place but now felt among friends. I looked around the room between games and was met by smiles of familiar faces. And in the end, even though I spend $24 to place and only made back $2, the day was worth it for the memories alone.

Today in school there was no tea to start the day. Having had a heavy morning of song practice with grades 3, 4, 5, and 6, I eagerly awaited the bell signaling interval, and guaranteeing tea. When the time finally came, a fifth grader brought me my cup with a smile: “Rachel, tea!!” I took my cup, gazed into the milky mixture, and had to laugh. Not one, not two, not three, or four, but five ants were floating at the top. With less ants I would have scooped them out and drank my tea, but following the culinary rules I have come to learn over the years, for than 4 bugs in a dish means time to toss it. I took out my water bottle, soothing my over worked voice, and made a mental note to enjoy the moment, for in America, I doubt I would have laughed being served ants for lunch!

Hey, Jude!

2011-08-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

This blog is dedicated to Mystery Man Jude, travelling through Asia and Europe and sending post cards as he goes. I think our count is close to 10 but I haven't been to the post office in a week, so I can't wait to see what awaits me when I go. To you, I just wanted to say an official, blogged-out THANK YOU, because without your support, my project wouldn't be nearly as full. The kids love your notes and have learned so much about a part of the world previously so foreign to them. So Jude, thank you again. My kids would love to write back to you and to your students as well, so if you read this note, I would love to get your information. Till then, I will remain your grateful, curious, snail-mail friend!

Diagnosing the Problem

2011-07-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I walked home from school feeling exhausted. I felt the sense of accomplishment that usually accompanies pure exhaustion when suddenly it hit me: what had I actually accomplished? I had walked to school late, leaving my house when the morning assembly usually begins. Upon arriving at school I had not attended the assembly. Instead, I had opened up the staff room, turned on the copier, and put on my glasses, prepping myself for the day of photocopying at hand. It is exam week and so naturally on the first day of the exams, all of the teachers run to me to ask me to copy their exams that they had created over the weekend. I have been encouraging them to learn to use the copier themselves and type their own exams since it will be upon them when I am gone next year, but I make exceptions for exams week, knowing that they are all very busy preparing tests for five subjects, where as I am done after making my two for English and Reading. In anticipation for this, I had prepared my English Exam last week, knowing I would be swamped with requests to type, copy, and staple this week.

I began my copies and all was well. Then, tragedy struck: a teacher brought me her exam to type, and the computer would not turn on! Walking home later in my exhaustion, I thought back on the day of mindless copying and computer failure. To the best of my abilities, I had tried to figure out what was wrong, but in the end, I had made only the most basic of diagnoses: that something was most definitely wrong! I caught myself feeling accomplished and laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. Today, the computer people will be called and we will try to work this out over the phone. Tomorrow, hopefully we can all get back to our normal routine of typing and printing, just in time for the final exams.

Making Paper

2011-07-19T17:34:00.000-07:00

I remember making recycled paper when I was a kid. I did not remember how much preparation is involved and how messy it can be! I guess those are the things you learn as you move from the role of the child to the role of the adult. In anticipation for “Earth Week 2011” (to be held next week, just a few months past the official date), I have been creating Earth friendly lessons. Lessons to be taught include the importance of recycling, the harms of pollution, and how we can all pitch in to help keep Samoa, and the world, beautiful.

Although I am still a new teacher, I learned a very important lesson from my “No Bake Cookie” lesson a few months back: that is, do not attempt a project in the classroom you have not already rehearsed at home! So yesterday was the trial run for paper making.

Pisi, my next-door neighbor and one of the top students in the school, came over to assist. Every day for the past week she had been coming over to ask if we would be making paper today, but due to rain, lack of running water, and lack of supplies, the much-anticipated trial did not take place until yesterday.

Last week at school I had doen a major clean up, and instead of throwing out my paper, I ripped it into small shreds and through it all into a bag. Yesterday, I took out the blender that has been acquiring dust below my sink and we began the process. I had Pisi pick some flowers to incorporate into our paper, and then we each took turns dipping the wood-framed molds into the pulpy mixture. The color was a light blue, and we carefully inlaid pink flowers to give our stationary a nice look. As mentioned before, the paper was surprisingly messy to make, but the overall steps were easy.

One on one the process was smooth, but in a class of 30 students it might get a bit out of control. Luckily I will have Arianna’s helping hands, as well as the teachers of the school, so divided into small groups, I think the project will be a great success! More on Earth Week to come next week.

Cup of Noodles

2011-07-19T17:33:00.001-07:00

When I was twelve I went to sleep-away camp for the first time and was introduced to another first: the wonder that is the “Cup of Noodles.” I had never had these three minute noodles before and I soon learned that they were the best late night snack and quick meal replacement. All you need is hot water (sink water worked in our case back then) and three minutes. Fork and seasoning come included! My bunkmates were obsessed with the noodles and I remember one girl having her mom ship up a Costo sized crate of them, ideally to last her all summer. Thinking back on those camp days, I wonder how any of us could ever have opted for the Cup of Noodle meal when the camp had employed some of the best chefs in the state of Maine (ok, that may be an exaggeration, but our camp food was real good, borderline great for cafeteria style cooking…I mean, there was a vat of marshmallow fluff present at every meal!)

Comparing those Maine Teen Camp days to life in Samoa, I envy those kids whom this very day are eating French-toast by the plate full and Spaghetti Bolognese fit for a king, while I attend a staff meeting and am served a Cup of Noodles. My dinner for the past three nights has been some form of quick noodle. I was recently introduced to a form of the noodle that cooks in three minutes and then you drain it and mix in the seasonings. It feels real classy. I bet the sodium levels are off the roof, so it’s a good thing I can’t read Chinese! I wonder if the kids at camp are still requesting boxes of the noodles from their loving parents, or if that fad has passed and they have finally learned that in the end, nothing beats a real, homecooked meal.

Serenaded at Sunset

2011-07-17T02:11:00.000-07:00

I boarded the bus back to my village around 5pm and took my normal seat towards the front of the bus. The front is usually reserved for older men and women, handicapped people, pregnant women, and foreigners. I always feel a little guilty sitting up there and am quick to move if someone gets on and needs my seat, but I always start off trying for one, since I am typically one of the first passengers to exit the bus and it is a hassle to try to pass 40 other people through the isles! The ferry was docking and I knew we still had 5 or 10 minutes before the mad dash began for the boat passengers to exit the ferry and grab a seat on their respective buses. For some reason the bus drivers are not very patient. When the bus seems full (enough), they take off with heavy feet in the direction of their final destinations. Any delays exiting the ferry and one is likely to miss their bus.

A handful of other passengers had already boarded the bus and were going through the pre-departure routine of buying keke pua’a, “chips tala,” popcorn, and donuts from the child vendors meandering through the packed bus lot. I bought myself a bag of popcorn and sat back to enjoy one of my favorite pastimes: people watching.

In the front set of our bus, a man sat with a megaphone, a ukulele, and dark glasses on. I quickly realized he was blind, and then it struck me: he was the same singer that plays at the wharf on Upolu! Many times I had listened to his music while waiting for the ferry to depart, and as it turned out, today I was in luck, for he soon picked up his megaphone and announced that he would be playing music during the bus trip!

The bus loaded and we were off. As promised, the man soon picked up his ukulele and began to play. I could hardly contain my smile as we made our way up the coast listening to his mellow vocals and soft ukulele. I tipped down my sunglasses, leaned back and closed my eyes, almost on the verge of tears from the beauty of it all: Of the music, of my surroundings, of life in Samoa, and of the fact that four more months still awaited me, ready to surprise me at any moment, just like today had. And then the moment was shattered. Some young Samoan, in their need to play DJ, took out their cell phone, turned the speakers on, and started blaring that same, maddening synthesized music that you hear everywhere. To my disbelief, NO ONE SAID ANYTHING! I turned and gave my meanest stare but that wasn’t enough. This rude, ignorant teen (wow, I feel old!) kept his music on, challenging that of the singer. I leaned my head closer to the music coming from the front of the bus, straining my ears to catch the music, but the moment had passed, and I could not get back to the serenity from which I had came. I felt tension and anger building within me at the situation, and on the verge of yelling, I did the next best thing: took out my headphones and tuned out the battling musicians with some Phish. My BOSE headphones did the trick, and soon I was floating in a haze of memories from concerts past and daydreaming of future shows yet to come.

At one point, I curiously removed an earbud to check on the progression of the musicians’ battle. To my pleasure, my guy had won, and the bus was once again driving to his tranquil tunes. I smiled, but not quite ready to leave my newfound peace, I replaced the earbud in my ear and turned to face the rushing trees as the bus danced on through the jungle at sunset, towards home.

Fake Flowers, Farewell to the Chief

2011-07-15T22:51:00.001-07:00

Funeral flowers

Growing up I had a friend whose mother owned a flower arranging business. I distinctly remember her preaching the superiority of fake flowers to the real thing, trying earnestly to convince me that while real flowers will die, the fake ones will last a lifetime. And with a little perfume, the fake ones can smell just as good or even better than those living beauties! As it turns out, Samoans are on her side.

Dressed in my best Sunday Whites and arms loaded with a large ring of fake purple and white flowers (ideal for the death of a man I have been told), I walked down the dirt road towards the church. The service was set to begin at 11am so Mina and I took a slow pace under her umbrella, leaving my house at 10:30. Of course we shouldn’t have bothered, as were we by far the first guests to arrive; the next coming almost an hour and a half later, just before the service began at noon.

When the train of cars finally pulled up to the front of the church, we joined the passengers and gathered at the churches entrance. Then, almost in wedding formation, the casket was carried down the center aisle to the front of the church, followed next by the congregation, then family, and last, those of us bearing flowers to drape around the table and casket. I was the last one in, not completely sure of my role in the progression. When I finally reached the front, I placed my flowers next to another beautiful ring make of blue and yellow. Avagas’ sister grabbed my arm and insisted I sit next to her in the front row. And like that, I knew I was family.

It was an emotional service and I understood more than I expected to. The choir had practiced some new songs for the event and they sang with strength I had never heard from them before. It was gorgeous. After a bible reading and some words from the pastor, Avagas’ sister took to the podium and weepingly read her speech. A matai followed, and then I was next. I had prepared a paper with what I intended to say and I had resolved that I would hold it together, but alas, emotion is a powerful thing, and my voice cracked as I began my first words. This being my first eulogy, I had not anticipated the rush of emotion that hit me. I spoke in English, starting with an apology in Samoan to those who would not understand my words. As my part finished I took my seat, trembling, and Avagas’ sister put her arm around me: “You miss your father, don’t you?” I smiled and replied, “ioe” (yes).

The pastor, also a dear friend of Avagas’, told many stories, amusing the audience with his perception of Avaga: “A Jack-of-all-trades, and a master of none.” Amongst his stories, he told one of my favorite stories about Avaga and I, where Avaga had given me his last-name. The congregation let loose in laughter, and my tears dried up as my fond memories overtook the sadness.

Following the service we went to Avagas’ house where a cement tomb had been build and Avaga was placed into the ground. Removed from the casket, he lay wrapped in blankets, and he looked at peace. Our flowers surrounded the tomb, and songs of farewell were sung. Then we loaded into cars and travelled to the family home where gifts were presented and food was served. It was a day of great sadness, but the love this village had for Avaga shown through and it will remain with me as a beautiful memory of a great friend.

Where AM I?

2011-07-15T22:50:00.001-07:00

Have you ever woken up to horses in your back yard? Or cows? Or pigs? If you said yes, then you probably live on a farm somewhere and that is understandable. BUT I DO NOT LIVE ON A FARM! For the past few weeks, I have been surprised to awake to all sorts of animals meandering in weeds between my house and the dried up river. The cows are the most frequent visitors, and I know they are just coming from across the river where their pasture lies. And the pigs are the Samoan equivalents of deer–they are pesky, intrusive and eat up your garden! But the horses have been a mystery. They showed up a few weeks back tied to a tree and hanging out in the dried riverbed. I figured their owner had just gone to work with the cows or something and had left them there for the day, but the next day, the horses had been moved closer to my house, and were now tied to root stubs of old trees in the weedy area. I was surprised, but didn’t think much of it. Small mysteries like this you come to tolerate pretty quickly living in Samoa. However, the third day I felt like I was in that scene from The Shining where the twin girls are in the hallway and they keep getting closer and closer….for the horses were waiting next to my water tank when I woke up! I was so startled I almost dropped my coffee (luckily, I held tight to my Speeder’s blend morning bliss). The horses hung out for a few days, and then just as they had arrived, they were gone.

Tofa Mai Feleni

2011-07-11T17:00:00.001-07:00

You can’t say goodbye to someone once they have died. You can only reflect on the moments in life you shared together and through memories, the deceased may live on. Friday I learned that a very dear friend had passed away, and so this blog is dedicated to his memory. Avaga, Ava, my friend, mentor, father – you will be missed.

Upon arriving in my village, I was greeted by a small welcoming committee of matai (chiefs) from the village. Ava was among them. The first words I received we’re a somewhat grumbled, and disappointed “oh, we thought you would be a man. At least you are a pretty girl!” I awkwardly entered my future house filled with these men and in broken Samoan and English went through the still unfamiliar Ava ceremony. I was too nervous and too new to the language to understand what was said, but later on, Avaga explained it all to me. His words had been words of welcome, and within them, he had declared me a daughter of the village.

As time went on the village, I had many ups and downs with Ava. People joked that he was looking for a new wife and he had decided that I was to be the one. The fact that he was 60 years older than me just made them love the idea even more, and although I knew they were joking, it definitely grossed me out! After a few months, it got really old to be asked, “Where is your husband tonight?” Yet I persevered and went along with the joke. On Friday when I heard of his death, I had to crack a joke and say, “I guess we never will get married after all,” to which the teachers let out a collective, hearty laugh. But then one of the teachers said something that really moved me, and I don’t know why I didn’t see it all along. She told me that although we always joked, Ava really considered me the daughter he had never had, and he referred to me as such within the village. I was moved to tears – the first of many over the next few days.

Ava was instrumental in my understanding of village life and culture. We spent many afternoons discussing anthropology and sociology, two of his favorite topics. He is the one who gave me the history of the village in a “family tree” style that I am still trying to figure out. When I moved in, he installed my laundry lines, and when I showed up to church with no church hat, he brought me one his niece had sent from Tonga to make sure I never again showed up without a hat. I made the mistake of not wearing it one week and every woman asked me what had happened. I had figured it was just a fashion statement, but it turns out, that hat means a lot more than style. I have worn it every week since.

The last time I saw Ava was on the ferry a few weeks ago. He was returning from a failed operation in New Zealand but insisted that somehow he had been cured through Chinese medicines. He promised to stop by for coffee sometime soon, but unfortunately, that opportunity never arose. I will miss him greatly, for although our relationship was short in the scheme of life, it was intense and beautiful. The village is in morning, and the roads have been lined with palm leaves in preparation for the funeral procession Friday. Tofa mai felelni, Avaga.

Vacation Mode - Fiji

2011-06-27T17:00:00.000-07:00

As our plane flew into Nadi Airport I was struck by the size and dramatic landscape of Fiji. Samoa is tiny in comparison and relatively similar all throughout. Fiji however, seems to vary every direction you turn. There are the volcanic mountainous areas, level plains filled with grazing cows and vegetation, dense jungle, and arid sand dunes. There are sandy beaches and rocky coasts. Bays, functioning harbours, and no pigs as far as I could tell!

We touched down just as a rainstorm blew in and since we had planned to fly to Suva 3 hours later, we spent our layover making plans in the airport. When we went to check in for the Suva flight however, we were met by a surprise – our flight was not for 7pm, it had departed at 7am that morning! Of course we had no idea that Fiji airlines light their times in 24hour time, so we were baffled and bewildered that our Suva dream might not become a reality. However, we were in luck. The check in desk, for a hefty price, put us on the 8:10 flight, set to touch down in Suva by 9pm. Now we had planned to meet the other Peace Corps out on the town, so this was a bit of a bummer, but whatever, we made it happen.

Dana and I changed in the Nadi Airport bathroom and got our dancing clothes on. Then we hopped on the plane and jet setted over to Suva, and linked up with the other volunteers around 10:30pm. Talk about life in the fast lane! It was really fun to see them all there, and we were all in shock of Suva’s bustling city night life. It was a really fun change from our calm, quiet Samoa lives.

The rest of the week was spent sipping Mojito’s, eating EVERYTHING that came into site, shopping, and of course, spending some time enjoying the beauty of Fiji. Highlights of the trip include: Diving at Mana Island (with reef sharks and the worlds most beautiful soft coral), Steak Dinner at Uprising Hotel, Dancing the Night away at Beach Comber Island (all hail the Limbo King, Michael!), and the scenic bus ride along the Coral Coast from Uprising back to Nadi. Five days was not enough time to do Fiji justice and I will certainly return in the future, next time, for at least a month. And I will dive, dive, dive!

Vacation Mode - Samoa

2011-06-27T16:58:00.000-07:00

Wow! Has it really been almost six weeks since I last wrote? As mentioned in the last blog, I planned to not write for a while, but this is absurd. Well, it is time to pick it up again, and what better place to start than my 3 week vacation?

The month of May was incredible. It kicked off with my English Day celebration (Check post: English Day Term One), which in turn ushered in the last day of Term One at school. I spent the first week of the holiday setting up my “Traveling Library” (blog to come on THAT!), and tidying the house for Tonto (okay, I think I can now call you Michael) who was to arrive the following week.

I picked Michael up Friday and over the next few days we hit up all the Savaii hotspots, including Lusia’s Lagoon, Tanu Beach, Le Lagoto, and of course, my village for some culture. It was so much fun catching up and sharing my island with him! Michael was getting dive certified, so I tagged along for some snorkeling up at Dive Savaii and was blown away by the difference surface diving verses deep diving. Snorkeling above Coral Gardens, a site I thought I had memorized from diving there so many times, I was impressed with the changes you observe from above. For one thing, I got to see how immense of a site the Gardens really are, and have a new appreciation for it. Other highlights included Sea Turtles, “Nemo” fish, and swimming through what felt like a city of house sized corals. It was very cool.

My village was extremely welcoming and hosted us to a beautiful Toonai following the church service. We ate all the traditional foods and Michael even got a taste of Ava. It must be nice to be a guy in Samoa. I was not offered any of the special drink. Talofai.

The remainder of the Samoa trip was spent on Upolu, where we linked up with Dana and rented a car to see the sites of the other island. We were out of luck at many of the sites as Samoa had been suffering a dry spell and many of the magical waterfalls and impressive rivers were bone dry. We did have an amazing time floating in the To Sua Trench and enjoying the park like premises there. I will definitely go back there a few more times before my service is up!

We lived the Apia life for a night and then it was off to Fiji for the next adventure!

The National Orchestra of Samoa

2011-06-27T16:44:00.001-07:00

This year marks the celebration of 50 years of Peace Corps service worldwide. To celebrate this momentous occasion, the United States Embassy is hosting a Peace Corps/Independence Day Celebration next weekend in honor of the 4^th of July. The evening will be chock full of entertainment, featuring Peace Corps project displays, a health awareness play, and what is set to be the highlight of the night, the National Orchestra of Samoa! Of course I had to join.

I am not sure much about the history of this orchestra, but it operates out of the university facilities and is made up of people of all ages, both Samoans and of the expat community. I heard about it through some of the other Peace Corps who have been actively participating for the past year. Although the level of the group operates around that of a beginning elementary school band, it has been a lot of fun to have the opportunity to play my flute once again.

For the Fourth, we will be playing a mixture of patriotic American tunes, patriotic Samoan tunes, and a few waltzes and other standards. The conductor does not really conduct, his style is more to say something like, “one, two….play.” It is all very amusing and I love comparing this experience with all the others I have had back home. Ed Simons would be laughing his head off to observe our rehearsals, and Marvin would have just quit. Smith would call it all “very bad business,” and Jacqui would see it as a teaching opportunity. Forever learning from my teacher even out of her presence, I am siding with Jacqui here and taking it as a teaching opportunity. The students are hard working, dedicated, and I can forse them growing into solid musicians. They just need a little guidance along the way. How exciting to be apart of this organization! One week till the big show!

Postcard Passports!

2011-06-27T16:43:00.000-07:00

The postcard project has gotten off to a great start. The first week back from vacation, my mailbox was bustling with cards from Japan (thanks Dan!), Poland (thanks Yagil!), Switzerland (thanks Cousin Mary’s friend!), and Croatia (thanks Vanessa and Brian!)! Add to that collection my postcard to my students from Fiji, and we have five different countries already! To top it off, we received a package from a class in Atlanta, Georgia filled with letters and postcards, too! Thanks Wendy!

I began the project by introducing my students to the idea of postcard writing: brief, short notes about yourself and the country or place you happen to be writing from. Next, we took out the cards, one per day, and discussed the make up of a postcard: sender, recipient, postage stamps, etc. Finally, we began interactive lessons using the cards for reading, writing responses, and vocabulary enhancement.

Ever evolving, the program is now moving towards social studies and geography. I had the students make passports, and now every time a card comes in, we look up it’s country of origin in our Student Atlas, and the students must enter the country name, capital city, continent, and draw a picture of the countries flag. There are 23 students in my class, and once we reach 23 countries, we will do our very own “Parade of Nations,” where each student will represent a country and will do a small research project on their assigned country. It is really exciting to see this project evolve (so quickly!) and I find myself eagerly awaiting every trip to the post office. Thanks again to all who have participated so far!

We Love Ya, Ilove'a!

2011-06-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to a very special reader from California, Ilovea. Ilovea found my blog looking for blogs about Samoa. And I am so grateful for this chance encounter, for it introduced me to an amazing, generous woman.

Abut two months ago, I received an email from an unknown woman. She was planning a trip to Samoa and was eager to visit some primary schools while touring the island. Would my school be interested in having her come visit, and would it be okay if her friends raised some funds to sponsor some of the students? Well, of course I said yes, and we proceeded to arrange the details from there: what school supplies are needed, what are kids into out here, etc.

Fast-forward two months and Ilovea was at our school! As promised, she brought a host of goodies for the students, but most importantly, she brought her positive, giving self and loving heart. I can safely say all of the students were touched by her generosity, and the example of giving set by Ilovea will hopefully install that quality within my students in their futures.

Every class prepared a song or small dance to perform in honor of the visitation, and the proudly performed them for Ilovea as she traveled through the classrooms. It was truly a special day at our school and Ilovea’s visit will not soon be forgotten.

Ilovea: thank you for thinking of our school and taking the time to visit. The students were so touched by your visit, and I see them using the new supplies every day. The girls love all of the lotions and lip glosses, and lets just say the boys smell a lot better these days! Every day the students ask for an update on where you are know and when you will be coming back. Again, thank you for your kindness and support. If you get the chance, send a note for the students my way and I will read it to them. I am sure they would love to hear from you and your family!

The (Not So) Fun Run

2011-06-27T16:35:00.000-07:00

I entered the Samoan Independence Day “Fun Run” for the second time in my Samoa career. Last year, it was my first race and with that first race came all the nerves and excitement of the unknown. This year, as a veteran runner, it was my third race.

Last year was a challenge because I did not know the racecourse, was not aware of where the turn around would be, and was scared of the dog potential. Running the race this year, I knew where the turn around was and therefore could better pace myself and prepare, I knew landmarks and used them as bench-markers, and I knew that this particular stretch was not a heavy dog area. With all this knowledge, the race should have been nothing but fun. However, halfway through, my pesky knee started acting up, and by the time I was crossing the finish-line, the pain was excruciating. I am happy to have completed the race, but really bummed about the very likely possibility that I will not be able to do the island relay race this fall, because my knee has not really recovered from the fun run. I am doing small runs in the village to train, but nothing more than a mile and a half per run, and that just will not cut it for the island relay. What a pain, literally. I can only hope that my knee will strengthen and come September, I will be back out there with my team, ready to take first once again for the Peace Corps Kope Keine Girls!

A Lovely Sunday

2011-05-15T22:31:00.001-07:00

I awoke late this Sunday morning. It was 7:50 and church was to begin at 8:30. Knowing that the regular pastor was not here, I quickly decided that I was not going to church. I put on my pot of water to boil, and as I was pouring my stemming hot liquid of life, I changed my mind, raced to get ready, and was on time to church. I guess all I needed was come caffeine to get me going! It was a short service and at the end as I was leaving, a few of my year 8 students approached me and asked what I was doing for toonai. As I had not planned to be in the village today, I had made no plans for the after-church meal and jokingly invited myself to all of their houses. The four girls laughed and said, “don’t worry, we will come eat with you!” Not knowing what to expect, I raced home to prepare a little food myself, but I should not have worried, they had it all covered.

About ten minutes after I had arrived home, the first of my guests arrived. Pisi had a bowl of curried chicken soup, three large taro, and two palusami. Then Luti arrived with Saimini and taro. Alofagia joined the party with chicken and tomato soup, and last to arrive was Sasa, empty handed but ready to eat! Pisi, my “caretaker,” sent her home to bring food to contribute, and I opened a can of pisupo (corned beef), which I then friend with some golden onions. We lay down a mat, dished out the food, and the feast began. Sasa reappeared with some chicken soup and a plate of saka (bananas) and there was so much food that everyone ate until they could no longer move. It was really fun to have them over and quite possibly the most fun toonai I have ever been to because it was so relaxed, unlike the others where I feel like I am constantly being stared at and my every move analyzed.

After toonai, the girls went home to rest, but they have good memories and last night I had promised a movie. At 1pm, a group of seven kids of all ages appeared at my door, ready to watch a movie. I chose “Elf” for the occasion, because although it is totally out of season, it is a really entertaining movie that I thought they would probably understand. Visually, it is so well done that even if they did not understand what was happening, I knew they would at least enjoy the cinematography.

The movie ended in perfect time as the second church service was about to begin. I have started running a library out of my house, so the students signed out books and then went on their way to get ready for church without me having to rudely kick them out (as is sometimes the uncomfortable case). I have spent the rest of the day cleaning, and organizing my ideas for next term so that I do not have to worry about that later in the break. I can only hope that the week to come is as carefree and beautiful as today was. Then, Tonto is coming to visit, and then I am off to Fiji, so I anticipate no blogs for a while, but be patient, they will return. Till next time, Fa Soifua!

I Want to Ride my Bicycle

2011-05-15T22:30:00.001-07:00

On Mothers Day Monday (because for even Sunday holiday we get Monday off as well), a bunch of us were hanging out at a local resort when we decided to commit ourselves to riding around the island after the last day of school. All week, I began to pump myself up. I rode my bike to school every day, went easy on the running, and hooked up my bike for optimal riding comfort. I was lacking a water bottle holder, so I duct-taped one on, and I rigged my bicycle rack to actually function. Come Friday, I knew I would be ready for the big trip.

As it turns out, I was not ready. I left my house and made it to Emi’s house in a record hour-and-forty-five minutes, and although I awoke the next morning feeling strong and ready to bike, the sky was never ending down pour of rain, and I found myself curling up into a ball and hoping the other girls didn’t actually want to bike in this weather. In any physical feat like this, mind is half the battle, and my mind definitely got the best of me. I know I could have done it, but the desire was just washed away by the rain. When the rain finally cleared, we decided to ride in the direction I had come from and hopefully reach Ali’s house, another hour or two past my house. Again, the trip was smooth, but by the time we reached my house, it was 5pm, and I was hungry. The idea of biking another two hours did not appeal to me at all, and so I cheered Emi and Elisa on as they set out into the afternoon sun and then I settled down for a hearty dinner followed by a deep, tranquil, well-deserved sleep. I am not one to quit on such missions, so I am a little disappointed in myself, but I know that physically I can do the island. Now I just need to conquer the mental side. Whatever happens, I must complete the circuit before my time here ends. This break is three weeks long, so who knows, maybe it will happen sooner than I expect! Till then, I will keep riding my bike, and be ready for when the time does come!

English Day Term One: Heal the World

2011-05-15T22:26:00.000-07:00

In a whirl, the last day of school has come and gone, and with it, my first attempt at directing, stage-managing, writing, and producing a play. I am not fishing for your compliments here, but to be honest, even I am not exactly sure how I pulled it off in the end!

In an earlier blog, I described the formation of the idea and the hardships faced while rehearing. In short, the idea came to me while at church one Sunday morning about six weeks ago. This was the first Sunday following the devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan, and so naturally, it was on my mind as I sat quietly contemplating the previous week while a sermon in Samoan rang throughout the church. Lost in thought, I scribbled down the musical, and by Monday morning, I had a script and an idea to present to the principal and other teachers. We got to work immediately, and six weeks later, a production was presented to the mothers of the school children.

The show went well, all things considered, and I learned a lot about producing a play in Samoa. First and most importantly, never again will I attempt a show on the last day of school. In the second to last week of school, the students were preoccupied with exams, which made rehearsals unreliable, but offered a good distraction for the kids after their daily test. However, being that exams finished Friday and there was a holiday Monday, many students decided that school was optional the last week and I guess there parents agreed, because for the dress rehearsal, only half the cast was present! I told myself that more students would be present for the actual show because we had worked so hard and they had seemed so excited, but to my dismay, I was mistaken, and even fewer students came to school for the final show! I had not cast any understudies (my second lesson in directing is to never forget to do that again!), but fortunately, a few of the year 8 students were eager to jump in and fill the deserted roles. They picked it up well and the show went relatively smoothly.
The parents seemed to enjoy the show, the students definitely enjoyed performing, and I felt a great sense of pride for what we accomplished as a school. I had assumed that my presence would be needed the entire time back stage for scene changes, but two of my year 7 boys really took to the behind the scene action and surprised me with their ability to follow the story-board and set the stage accordingly. I stayed with them to ensure smooth transitions, but next time, I think I know who my stage managers will be because these boys really stepped it up and impressed me!

I am so glad that the show was a success and am relieved that I am now on break and can just relax after such a stressful, unpredictable, last two weeks of school. Term Two the plan is to do an even more epic English Day celebration, and I will write another play to perform. I am thinking it will be based around the theme of “Under the Sea.” I am now taking song suggestions, so send them my way!

There are Cucumbers in my Pumpkin Patch!

2011-05-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

Since my arrival in Samoa I have been fantasizing about starting a garden. I tried to start one about a year ago and was somewhat successful, with eggplant and chili plants sprouting. However, my joy was short lived as the plants were ripped up by some cheeky pigs (or children….), and I, too soon, threw in the towel and gave up on my dream. About two months ago with the help of some of my students, I returned to my dream. We spent a week preparing the area. First came the massive weed clean up, which took two days in itself. Trees were cut, pig droppings were shoveled away, and rocks were combed away. Next came the building of the rock wall to keep out the pigs. And finally, we planted. It was a meager garden attempt. All that was planted were two stalks of laupele (kind of like spinach), and a pumpkin plant we had found growing among the weeds. Of the three plants, one died right away, and the garden was left to it’s own devices. Every few days I go out and do some weeding, but I have not put great effort into this project.
A few days ago I began to admire the massive growth that has occurred in the pumpkin plant. From one simple plant I would now argue that I have a pumpkin patch! After school today I decided to check it out. I wandered over to the corner of my rock fence to check the progress of my pumpkins. And wouldn’t you know, there was a cucumber growing in my pumpkin patch!! I thought it was a joke; that someone had put it there, but no, I began to look closer and realized that 6 other small fruits are blossoming as well! My ignorance and willingness to believe that any leafy, viny, green plant with small yellow flowers would be a pumpkin plant gave me false hope for pumpkins. But now I have something even better to look forward to: cucumbers! Let’s hope the children don’t discover it!

The Singing Spirits of Samoa

2011-05-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

Friday night I stayed up late by Samoan standards watching movies and pondering my time here. Just before midnight, I called it a night and crawled into bed. As I was drifting off to sleep however, I was surprised by a strange sound coming from up the road a ways. I checked my clock and noticed the hand had just struck midnight. I was puzzled at the hauntingly beautiful sounds of choir music so late at night but I rationalized that a late night church service must be underway, as the music seemed to be coming from the direction of the Catholic Church. There were no other sounds in the village, not even a barking dog or a grunting pig, and I reached for my ipod to try to capture the late night musical treat, however, just as I did, the voices faded and once again all was quiet and still in the village. I drifted off to sleep and thought nothing more of the event.

The next afternoon one of the pastors of the village stopped in for a visit, and after hanging out for a while, I remembered the voices of the night before. I asked him if there was a holiday or some special service I had not been aware of, and went on to explain the music I had heard. He laughed and told me it was probably just a radio. I smiled at his thought, but assured him that I had heard actual voices here, not from any radio or TV. Then his face turned serious and he told me that he and his wife use to hear the hymns when they first moved to this village. He told me I had heard the spirits, which travel late at night down the empty river to the sea in those late hours. I tried to call his bluff, assuming he was just trying to scare me, but he was insistent that I had heard the singing spirits. His parting advice to me was not to worry. He said it was a rare treat to hear such music and that he wished he still heard them as often as he used to. He said not to dwell on it, and savor the memory of the sound.

Post Card Project

2011-04-23T00:04:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the work some of my fellow volunteers are doing, I have decided to begin a post card project at my school. The objectives of the project are simple: to increase students reading comprehension while educating them about the world outside of Samoa. Postcards sent will be presented to the class, the students will read them, and for those who are interested, students will write letters back. Postcards will be taped to our wall sized world map and thus they will begin to give students a more in-depth understanding and vision of the map.

I am asking any and all interested people worldwide to take a minute of your time to assist me in this simple yet rewarding project. If you or someone you know would like to participate, send a postcard of your city, state, country (or vacation destinations!), and tell my students some information of your choice. Fun facts about the featured location, facts about your life, your profession, etc, would be great. Like I said, this is a very flexible and free project, and the more postcards we get, the better the project will be!

If you are ready, get out a pen and find yourself a postcard and send some mail our way, I look forward to hearing from you!

Peace Corps Samoa

Rachel Goldstein, PVC

Private Mail Box 7139

Salelologa, Savaii

Western Samoa

**If you would like us to write back to you, send me a note with your address: Goldstein.rachel.a@gmail.com

Passover 2011

2011-04-23T00:03:00.001-07:00

Tuesday night 7 of us gathered in Asau to observe Passover. Of the Peace Corps volunteers, Lili, Elisa, Dana, Matt, Jeter, and myself were present, and Matt’s JICA roommate Dai joined us as well. It was a nice mix of people! Last year we had gone to Lili’s village and cooked the feast at her house, but due to time constraints this year, we made the meal more of a potluck, and it was greatly successful! A week before, Lily divided up the staple items and everyone was asked to make enough of their item for the whole group. I was in charge of cooking matzo and the charosets, and although neither were my dad’s cooking, I made a pretty close second on the apple-honey-nut mixture of charosets. I used my slap chop and had a lot of fun! Matt has a limited kitchen, so he boiled the eggs while his roommate made a delicious salad. Elisa conquered the market and made a beautiful vegetable soup, while Jeter conquered his fear of cooking meat and prepared a lamb stew. Lili cooked matzo and potato pancakes, and Dana topped the pancakes off with homemade applesauce.
It was a really lovely meal, but as always, the most special aspect of the dinner was the company. It was great to come together, retell the story, and share a special meal with people I consider family at this point.
Following dinner we sang songs while Matt played guitar, told stories, and swapped classroom experience tales. Then in true Samoan fashion, we took out our lavalavas, spread out woven mats on the floor, and drifted off to sleep.

Farewell to the Dancing King

2011-04-22T23:56:00.000-07:00

Sunday night while watching a movie I received a call from an unknown number. Usually I do not answer numbers I do not recognize because 9 times out of 10 it is a random taxi driver or man who has somehow come across my number. However, something compelled me to answer the phone this one time, and as it turned out, it was my host sister from my training village calling with some very sad news: my beloved host father had past away the day before and she wanted to let me know of the funeral plans.
I was overwhelmed with emotion. I knew he had been sick but I did not realize just how sick he had been. Of course I agreed to go to the funeral which was to be held Wednesday morning, all the way back in the host village. Lili and I travelled there together as she had been very close with my family as well. Unfortunately transportation can be pretty unreliable here and as a result we missed the bus to take us to the ferry, and as a result did not arrive in the village till about noon. The trip in deserves it’s own blog. In the end, we made it though and were able to spend the day with my host mother, sister, and five brothers, as well as the rest of the Manunu community.
My host father, Asa, will be remembered for his great laugh, incredible cooking, and world class dance moves. He was so good to me, and I am still in shock that he is gone. Instead of describing the funeral, I would like to capture some of the many memories we shared together in the short two months that I lived in his family home.
Asa was an incredible cook. I was the envy of all the Peace Corps in training, because while they were eating white bread and butter for three meals a day, I was served homemade pizza’s, steak, salads, tuna sandwiches (with cucumber!), and of course, his signature dish, chop-suey. Asa had been a chef at a college and I greatly benefited from his experience. Going back to the village, my brothers teased me, poking me and saying I was nice and fat when Asa fed me, but now that I have left the house I am too skinny. Maybe there is some truth in that – although as an American, it does feel great to have people constantly telling me I am too skinny!
Asa did not believe in exercise. When I first arrived, I asked his permission to go for morning runs with my friends. I would have to wake up at 5 and be out the door by 5:30, otherwise it was too hot, but at first, Asa did not approve. For my first week, he insisted that it was unhealthy to run that early in the morning, but he offered a compromise. He would let me go for a walk with him at 6am. The first time we walked, we decided to go to the new store about a 20-minute walk from our village. Leading the way up a grassy dirt road, Asa took me to the store, and although the storefront window was boarded closed (because it was only 6:30 in the morning!), Asa pounded on the window, woke the sleeping family inside, and bought me a coca cola and a bag of chicken flavored chips. Definitely not my definition of breakfast, but it was his gesture of providing for his adopted daughter. I could not refuse! He did eventually grant me permission to run, but I am glad we got to share a few morning walks.
His dancing was superior to anyone I have ever met. Asa was the dance champion of Samoa back in the 1970’s and he travelled to American Samoa to compete in a competition, which he won! Forty years later, his dance moves were a creative blend of Disco, Michael Jackson, Hip Hop, and Siva Samoa. It was truly a sight to see, and us volunteers would fight over who got to dance with him at the weekly dancing during training.
One morning I came out for breakfast and there was a beautiful flower on the table, called the Christmas Flower. He had picked it for me to wear behind my ear to school. I told him how much I loved it, and from then on, I had flowers waiting for me almost daily at breakfast.
He had a pool table behind the house and at night the villagers would come over to play. Asa made money by charging them $2 per game. I once asked to play, and he asked if I had money. I thought it was ridiculous to have to pay at my own house so I didn’t. Later that day, he told me I could play one game, but then he had to get back to his business. He was a funny guy like that.
Sometimes I would bring out my guitar, and Asa would pick it up and pretending he knew how to play, would strum wildly and laugh and sing American pop tunes.
It is a shame that he passed away so early. He was full of life and had some much love to give. He played a significant role in my adjustment to Samoan life and for that I will forever be grateful.

A New Job - Soccer Coach!

2011-04-16T15:13:00.000-07:00

I am now the soccer coach for the year 5 and 6 girls at my school. Practice started last Monday and we practiced every day after schiool for 2 hours. Then Thursday, we loaded up a bus with 125 excited children and headed to our first game.

The other teams of our district arrived one by one, and by noon there were 6 schools, about 700 children, sitting and singing in the main hall, pumping themselves up for the game. Teachers were standing around the perimeter with sticks to keep any rowdy children in line, but thankfully they were rarely used. As I listened to the singing children, it dawned on me: while every school was singing in Samoan, my children were singing all their songs in English! We ran through the English Day program, to the pride of my staff and the envy of all the others. It was a really awesome moment.

Then the games began and my girls were up first. I have a lot of pride when I say that of all the games played that day, we were the only team to score a goal during actual game time. We ended up winning 2-0, and although I am not that win-obsessed, it felt great to have my team win their first game. I am a new coach and they are new players. We have a long ways to go, but come the end of May, I am hoping we qualify for finals, and maybe, just maybe, we will be the juior champions of Samoa! Two months till the final tourdement. It’s anyones game at this point, but I know, we want it bad!

Dinner and a Musical....

2011-04-13T23:35:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I have been so busy and have not had time to update. I just tried to write a few entries but after a savory dinner of stovetop chicken parm (probably the best meal I have cooked in my life!), all I want to do is sleep. I boiled my chicken in a white wine, garlic and Italian herb mixture for twenty minutes or so. When the chicken was ready I drained it, smothered it in tomato sauce (spiced with herbs), and sprinkled some cheese on top. After three minutes, my perfect meal was ready. I sat down on the floor, put on some Sublime, and poured a glass of red wine. Sometimes, I forget that I live in a village and just need to be lush. And then I realize I am sitting on the floor drinking wine out of a water glass and it all comes back to me.

My life has been busy these days. For starters, I wrote a musical. Michael Jackson would sue me if he was alive, but luckily for me, he will never know that I have titled my musical “Heal the World” and I feature two of his songs. But here is how the story goes. Last year, one of my fellow Peace Corps sisters, Elisa, put on an amazing English Day at her school. The highlight of the day was a musical featuring every class performing a song. The songs were strung together by light dialogue and acting. Inspired by Elisa, I decided to host my own English Day this year. I decided that due to the recent earthquakes, tsunamis, and other natural disasters in the world, a great theme would be along the lines of friends helping friends. From there my topic evolved into Heal the World, with an allstar lineup of songs flushing out a beautiful story of love and friendship. It reads like this: There are four friends who live throughout the world, a girl from Haiti, a girl from Japan, a boy from New Zealand, and a boy from Samoa. Each friend has a magical ring that they can use to fly together and together, they help people in need (kind of like Captain Planet!) The friends must activate their ring powers when a massive earthquake rocks the world and destroys the homes of the friends. Throughout their journey they make new friends, and spread the message of helping a friend in need. It’s a bit cheesy, but the songs rock and the students are really learning a lot about the world, so it’s been a really fun project. I will report more on this epic performance in a few weeks after the show has been performed. For now, I have 3 weeks to whip this production into shape and get the students speaking as best they can. Then the parents and the village will come and be wowed by their amazing skills. Songs to be sung (In order of appearance): We Are The World, It’s a Sunshine Day, That’s what Friends Are For, Lean on Me, Make New Friends, and I Believe I Can Fly. We end with a mashup of We are the World and Heal the World. The students know all the songs, now it’s just a matter of putting it all together.

Well, this has been a ramble of a blog. I am busy with a host of other projects as well but I will leave those till another day because for now, I need to lie down and bask in the memory of the amazing food I just consumed. Till next time, tofa soifua!

St. Patty's Day - Island Style

2011-03-18T16:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day, the day where everyone is a little bit Irish, and me with my lack of Irish blood celebrated the only way I knew how: with tons of green-ness!

The night before, I gave myself an “Irish Manicure,” painting my toes and nails in a stylish florescent green. When I awoke Thursday morning, Flogging Molly was turned on and the dancing began even before the sun had risen. I drank my Vermont coffee (yes, not Irish, but still good), and biked to school wearing a green pulatasi. At school I used only green chalk and green pens to mark my students papers, and I tried to teach my year 7 students a little about the holiday. I quickly realized that all I know about it is that it celebrates someone named Saint Patrick and that Americans like to wear green and drink beer on this day. My lesson didn’t progress too far as a result, but my students did get the idea that people wear green.

Anyways, I have had a tough readjustment to school this year, but I guess the luck of the Irish was with me today. For the first time in seven weeks I did not want to cry at school and my lessons all ran according to plan.

I returned home to more Flogging Molly and decided to get creative with the green. I put some food coloring into oil and then made popcorn. The result was not too impressive, but I did get one or two green kernels out of the experiment. The best creations were my four leaf clover green pancakes, green eggs, and egg-white wine. All in all, it was a very festive day. I acted similarly for Valentines Day, making red heart shaped pancakes and putting heart stickers on my students’ papers. I look forward to the next color holiday when I can get creative again! Maybe for Independence day I will bring out the blue. Till then, it’s back to normal colored foods!

Infestation 2011

2011-03-18T16:52:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I stopped using my mosquito netting. It was too hot, bothersome to tuck in, and annoying to maintain (taking it down to shake it out outside is a major pain due to how I have tied it up). However, I began using it again a few weeks ago after another spider scare. I would have thought that my arachnophobic tendencies would have weakened by this point. Who knows, maybe they have. However, I still can’t sleep with the idea of those long legged hairy spiders creeping over me as I slumber. So, the net came down once again, the dust was shaken off, and I had peace of mind while I awaited the death by Mortein of this large spider hovering too close for comfort.

The next morning my mind was set at ease as I found the spider dead on the floor. I decided to keep the net down though, just because it has been too hot to sleep with any kind of sheets, and having the net up offers protection incase a stray mosquito or spider did slip into the room. Little did I know that a few weeks later, the mosquito net would protect me from one of my worst nightmares: a swarm of hideous cockroaches!

I write this Thursday night, after a week of interrupted sleep. It began Monday night. I awoke around 1am to the pitter-patter noise created by one of two things: a cockroach, or a centipede. The noise wasn’t much and I located the sole roach with my flashlight. That settled, I fell asleep and slept till dawn. Upon arising, I noticed 4 dead roaches, not localized but scattered around the room. I didn’t think much of four, even though it had been a while since I had had any. I wish I had insight as to what was to come.

Tuesday night I am again awoken around 1am to the sound of pitter-patter. But as I lay in bed trying to drift back to sleep, the sound escaladed and pretty soon I was seeing the shadow of roaches climbing up the sides of my mosquito nets and flying through the air. I was totally grossed out and thankful for the netting. I checked where I had tucked in the net to make sure I was safe, and with the help of some music to drown out the noise and my airplane eye mask to block the shadows, I did eventually fall back asleep. When I awoke, the death count was a startling THIRTEEN cockroaches. Three were in my sink, four by the head of my bed, and the rest in various locations. I swept them up, made coffee, and searched for any stragglers.

Wednesday night was the same story, although not as bad as Tuesday. The death toll was a mere eight, with only one in the sink and five near the bed.

Like I said, it’s Thursday night and I am putting off sleep. I am curious about what I will find waiting for me in the morning, and part of me is dreading the 1am horror show. However, tomorrow is Friday, so on the bright side, regardless of the total number, I can get to town and buy some serious death traps for these nasty creatures. On that note, I am heading to bed. My mosquito net is solidly tucked under my mattress and my Mortein is close at hand. Good night!

The Magic Circus of Samoa

2011-03-07T17:25:00.000-08:00

I first heard about the Magic Samoan Circus last May as I drove across the Cross Island Road. In what felt like the middle of nowhere, a large colorful sign advertised the circus and pointed down a deserted road. I inquired about it when I returned to town and was told, “Oh yes, there is a great circus, but it is not here right now, it is on tour.” I thought to myself, “Wow, not only does Samoa have a circus – a magical one at that – but it is so good that it goes on tour!” I promised myself that whenever the circus returned I would be sitting front and center for opening night.

Months past and my dream moved to the outskirts of my mind until it was hardly even an aspiration anymore. I had almost forgot that the magic circus even existed until one day in September when I got word that the circus would be returning! I asked when, but no one knew. December came and I went home for break, still not having seen the circus. But when I returned, there is was - a big top situated right on the seawall in Apia, running shows every night and coming to Savaii in February! I was so excited – I wanted to go right away. But of course, everyone had seen it while I was away on holiday and I did not want to go by myself.
Weeks past and I did not see the show. Then February arrived and the sign went up: The Magic Circus of Samoa would be in Savaii for one week before packing up and heading to American Samoa. My time had clearly arrived – it was now or never for this much anticipated show.

I went to town early Thursday morning, grinning wildly the entire bus ride. Since the show wouldn’t begin until 7pm I had the whole day to shop, do some grading, and get in a swim before heading over to the circus grounds, located right next to the ferry to the left of the wharf. I could go on and on about my anticipation, but the circus was so amazing that I need to get to it.

Lili and I were given complimentary VIP tickets thanks to the kindness of Lusia, and when we arrived, we were literally seated front row center in the box seating area. Lili bought a hotdog and I bought some cotton candy bigger than my head. Nothing has ever tasted so good. In true Samoan fashion, the ticket said 7, but the show did not begin until closer to 8 when the audience arrived.

The circus reminded me of what circuses once were before the glitz and glamour of shows such as the cirque de sole. There were no animals, aside from one very frightened, squealing pig incorporated into one of the clowns’ acts. The stunts were well practiced and daring, but on a small scale. Highlights included four pole dancing men who defied the rules of gravity, a “four legged man” who danced hip hop and “cut off” two of his legs behind a velvet curtain, two clowns, an impressive trampoline act, and some daring juggling. The lowest point was surprisingly the fire dancing – a Samoan tradition which I would have expected to be the best of the best at the circus! Regardless of the subpar Siva Afi, the circus was a great success. Not only were the entertainers captivating, but the crowd was fun to watch as well. Seeing Samoans who rarely leave their village being drawn into the comedy routines was hilarious. One older man was taken onto stage to have his head “cut off” by the clowns in their guillotine. It was clear that he actually thought he was going to die. This poor mans terror fueled the enjoyment for the rest of us as we watched him call out his love to his wife and say his prayers before defying death and living through the dropping of the guillotine.

In short, the circus was nothing less than spectacular, and I am so glad that I was able to catch it before it headed out to tour the rest of Oceana. As is always the case after I see a circus, ballet, or musical, my passion for the arts reignites and I find myself dreaming of one day joining the circus. For now, I will have to be satisfied with life in a foreign country. But who knows, maybe one day, I will be juggling flaming torches while hanging upside down from a trapeze. A girl can only dream.

My Samoan Tattoo!!!

2011-03-02T14:55:00.001-08:00

I have heard it said that in this world, there are people who have read Harry Potter and people who have not, as if it is such a life changing adventure that once you have completed the journey you can call yourself a proud graduate of the Harry Potter series. Similarly, there are people in this world who have tattoos and people in this world who do not. Until last weekend, I belonged to neither of these not so elite clubs, but as of Saturday, I can proudly claim that I am “tat’ed up!”

Tattoos are not a form of rebellion, vanity, or self-loathing here in Samoa. Instead, they are part of Samoan culture just as ear piercing is a part of our American culture. Traditionally, warrior men would get the full body tattoo as a sign of their bravery and courage, and well-respected women would receive the maliu as a gesture of honor and respect.

Many of the Peace Corps Samoa volunteers decide to get a tattoo halfway through the Peace Corps experience as a way of honoring the culture that they have come to know and respect, as well as for a lifelong memory of the experience here.

On Saturday, I went with my friend Dana to mark ourselves permanently as Peace Corps Samoa volunteers. Dana had had a tattoo before and she decided to incorporate her new tattoo, the tauvai, around her old one. Her tattoo circles her ankle with traditional symbols of strength, power, faith, courage, and love. It looks amazing!

I had been pretty set on doing a non-traditional tattoo on my foot, where the flip-flop line would be. To me, this would not only represent Samoa, but also the drive for an endless summer, and the reminder to always stay connected to the earth. In yoga, the mountain pose is one of the most powerful poses – to an outsider, it appears that a person is just standing still, but to the practitioner, it is a pose of balanced energy, pressing your human energy against the energy of the earth pushing up against you. I loved the idea of having a foot tattoo as a constant reminder of this force. However, it was not to be.

When I arrived at the studio, I was unimpressed with the images I saw of people who had previously tattooed the flip- flop line. It seemed like something that I may still do in the future, but as a way of capturing the traditional Samoan designs, it would be a waste of creative energy, as there would not be much space to work with. I had tossed around the idea of getting a tattoo on the side of my body, and as I flipped through pages of images, I was struck with an idea: a hibiscus flower with traditional designs running up and down in wave-like curves from the flowers center. It was perfect. I talked to Paul Jr. (the artist) and he sketched it out on my upper left rib cage. Then, with a room full of support (Dana, Ali, and Lili were all there), I climbed the table and stretched out for what I feared would be the worst pain of my life. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t painful – I had to resort to squeezing Allie’s hand REALLY hard at times, but I did not cry, and after about 45 minutes, my personal tribute to Samoa had been etched on me as an ever-lasting memory. Three days later and I am still feeling slight discomfort, similar to that of a bad sun burn, but the tattoo is doing well and looking great, and I could not be happier with my decision to go through with it.

The Ferry is Broken.

2011-03-02T14:51:00.000-08:00

This will be a short blog, as it was a brief, amusing story that will only truly resonate with those of us who have rode the ferries’ of Samoa. On Saturday morning after my epic journey to get to the wharf, I found myself situated on the small ferry at 11:45am, just 15 minutes before the ferry was to depart. Gazing at the sea, I felt a sense of unease as I had not taken any Dramamine, but the weather looked promising and the waves seemed pretty flat from my prospective. I took out my travel lavalava (I always bring an extra to use as a pillow, bed sheet, or towel), crumbled it up into a ball, and put my head down to nap.

I awoke 15 minutes into the trip. A storm had blown in and the ferry was splashing water on our ankles. Too tired to care and a bit seasick, I put my bag on the seat beside me and went back to attempting sleep. At one ‘o clock I received a call from Dana: “We can get our tattoo’s at 3:30 today, does that work for you?” I excitedly answered yes, but checking the progress of the boat, I was not so sure. Land was not in sight after an hour on the boat, and the journey usually only takes about an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes.

An hour and a half into the journey we were still a good distance from land, and when we finally docked, it was just before two. Then to the shock of us all, the ramp that lets passengers, both on foot and in vehicles, onto the ferry, was stuck – it would not lower! I called Lili and was about to call Dana to tell her I would not be making it to town on time, when the ferry workers pulled out the entrance ramps that are used with the big ferry (the big ferry has a side entrance for passengers) and in a makeshift manner, they propped the ramp up against the side of the small ferry. It barely reached, so four workers had to hold it in place as we crossed in a single file across the ramp and onto the waiting dock. The two men on the end helped people step down, as there was a gap about a foot high between the ramp and the pavement below. The five cars that had been on the boat were out of luck, although they must have made it off at some point because they were not there the next morning when I returned to Savaii.

I hailed a taxi, got to town at 3pm, and had just enough time to visit the market before heading over for my tattoo. But that’s another story, read on to see how that went!

Tell Me What you Wanna Hear

2011-03-02T14:50:00.000-08:00

One of the most frustrating things I have come to accept as the norm here in Samoa is the assumption of an answer. In America there is a crude phrase that warns, “If you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.” Although I feel it cliché to repeat such a phrase (and a bit cliché to even use the word cliché here…!), it is a very true statement that needs examination. I have been guilty of assuming peoples preference for food or drink, interest or lack there of for certain shows and movies, and other trivial matters that I never quite felt made an ass out of anyone. However, in Samoa, the assumption is not made around solid facts. Instead, people try to assume what you want to hear. In preferences of drink such as tea verses coffee, no real harm is done when you are served one without being consulted first. However, in more pressing matters such as, “is the ferry running?” or “will there be a bus soon?” it can be maddening t receive the answer someone “thought” you wanted to hear, regardless of if it is true or not.

Although I confront these assumptions daily at school (ex. Does everyone understand the homework? YES THANK YOU! When clearly they do not…), the most recent confusion occurred last weekend.

I was planning a trip to Apia Saturday morning to celebrate Lili’s birthday in town with her and some of the other girls. They had all gone in Friday, but due to the opening of a new church hall in my village, I had decided to come in Saturday morning and hopefully spend the day by the pool reading and relaxing. Friday night as I went for my afternoon run I decided it would be a good idea to stop by the “Bus terminal” to check out the times of the morning buses. I was hoping to catch the 8am ferry and was curious if there would be a bus leaving in time. The owner of the buses was at the store and I know he understood when I asked if there would be a bus leaving for the 8am ferry. His response was, “yes, but you will not make it in time.” Huh? I was confused. I asked again: “What time will the bus be leaving?” His response was 6am, or 6:30, but again he warned that I would not make the ferry. I figured this was just him being overly cautious and I thanked him, announcing that I would be waiting at 5:45am to make sure I did not miss my bus.

I awoke at 5am to a starry sky draped over a slumbering village. As I sipped my coffee by the front door I marveled at how pleasant village life is and how lovely this hour of the morning felt, long before the roosters started their racket and the sun scorched the earth and air. At 5:45 I heard the bus rumbling from a distance, put down my coffee, and ran out to the road. I watched in horror as the bus appeared, going the wrong direction! Sure enough, the bus had left “for the 8am ferry,” however; it would be another hour and a half before it reached me going the proper direction to take me to the wharf. I had not thought to ask which direction the bus would be going at 6am, only to ask if it was running. And Mika had not wanted to disappoint me with a direct answer. I assumed and made an ass of myself. Silly me.

Over the next few hours several buses did pass me, all heading the wrong direction. At 7:20 that first bus finally rolled back through my village. I hopped on defeated, knowing that I had missed the 8am ferry and the 10am would not be running. I had woken up at 5am to take a boat that left at noon and would not arrive in Apia till 3pm due to ferry issues. I arrived in town and settled into Lusia’s for some breakfast as I began my long wait. Never again will I assume anything about a bus, or try to take the 8am ferry!

Oh Sugar.

2011-02-14T15:27:00.000-08:00

Today might be my last day as a teacher here in Samoa as I committed a cardinal sin this afternoon. I accidently stole the sugar supply.

We had had visitors at the school today and as a result the village came together to provide an overwhelmingly large feast for the visitors as well as us teachers. Foods served included spaghetti sandwiches, fried tuna sandwiches, boiled and half boiled eggs, papaya pudding, pisupo crackers, chicken (both fried and grilled), pig (umu style), fresh fruits, vegetables, tea, coffee, and koko Samoa. That is just to name a few. After meal number one I was sufficiently stuffed and went back to my room to prepare lessons for later in the week. I wandered the classrooms looking for a class to teach, but most of the students were busy serving lunch or cleaning the rooms, so I was out of luck for the day. I gave out library books, did some tutoring, and played a review game with the students still remaining in my year 7 class. By the time I finished those tasks, I felt that there was nothing to do but to go home early. The other teachers would not allow me to help with the serving of food, and I was feeling useless, so I asked permission to leave.

The teacher in charge seemed offended that I would request to miss out on lunch number two and so I quickly retracted my request, but by this point it was too late and she insisted that I leave, but that I take a doggie bag of food home with me. Never feeling like more of an outsider I took the package of food that had previously been wrapped in brown paper and headed home. On the walk home I decided that I really did not want this extra food, so being the nice person I am, I stopped by Mina’s house and presented it to her.

“Oh Sera, thank you!” she said, “What is it?” I relied that I did not know but assumed it was sandwiches and crackers. She opened it in front of me only to reveal a bag of what must have been three pounds of sugar. My heart skipped a beat. Not only did I not stay for food but I also accidentally stole the schools sugar supply and gave it away! I couldn’t take it back after gifting it to Mina, so I sucked up my courage and went home.

Like I said, I am dead tomorrow. I have no money so I cannot buy more for the school until next week, but I will bring my small jar of sugar reserved for my morning coffee and hope it suffices tomorrow. Never a dull day in Samoa! Happy Valentine’s Day!

I am Respectfully and Lovely For You

2011-02-12T11:01:00.000-08:00

These words could come from a bad romance movie, or maybe be used by an illiterate person in their wedding vows. But today I was told this line by one of my year 8 students, and although she was apologizing for disrespecting me either in the day and I didn’t want to let her slide so easily, the full hearted attempt at an apology in broken English was enough for me to smile and forgive her. Let me take a step back to where this all began.

Last year I began a Homework Center after school. Every day from 3-6 I would sit at my house and help students with their homework. At first I had what I felt to be a ton of students coming: 5-10 per day spread over the course of two hours. The students quickly learned that I was not offering to do their homework for them and the number trickled down to 2 or 3 every few days. By the end of term two, the homework center had seen it’s end, and only a few students would stop by per month. I felt defeated in my effort but somewhat relieved to have those after school hours back to myself, giving me time to take a rest, then wake up and go for a run before settling down for the evening.

This year the Homework Center started again, and it is flying! I spent the majority of the last school year with the Year 7 students, and now these year 7 students are in year 8 preparing for their college (high school) entrance exam. This class has 28 students, 15 of which have come to my house every day for assistance with their work over the past week. While I am so glad that they see me as a resource, it is exhausting having 15 kids show up immediately following school and staying until the bell rings signaling “sa,” the time they must be in their houses.

I have made it my mission for the year to see this class get accepted into the top schools and so I cannot turn the kids away, it just feels selfish. While on the phone with my parents the other day 4 girls showed up and I apologized to my parents saying I had to go tutor. My mom put it well: “Don’t apologize,” she said, “go do what you went there to do!” That statement has become my motto. When the kids are cheeky, when it seems like my little house cannot possibly fit another student, I find a way to get to them, to help them understand and to learn. We cover English, Math, Social Science, Basic Science, Economics, and even giving speeches.
However, I am not superwoman, and although the motto worked Monday through Wednesday, by Thursday I was spent. I walked home from school at 2:30, made myself a snack, and by 3pm, 15 students were knocking at my door: ALL AT ONCE!!!!! I took a deep breath, smiled, and opened the door. The assignment was easy and I was able to give each student individual attention, but by 5:30 my head was pounding, my eyes were closing, and I just could not focus any longer. I told the students that I was much too tired to do anymore with them for the day, and they respectfully left. I went into my room, lay down, and not 5 minutes later, there was a knock at my door. One girl who had already spent an hour at homework center was back, with two girls who had not come. I opened the door and apologized to the newcomers, assuring them that I wouldn’t mind looking over their work in the morning before school started. They seemed disappointed but they understood. I lay back down, and then the one girl who had already been at home work center started getting cheeky. She sat down next to my window and began talking loudly in Samoan and broken English, saying that I am the worst Peace Corps and that she wishes I were nicer, like the other volunteers she has met. At that point, I lost it. I went outside and once I started yelling at her, I felt like I couldn’t stop. This girl has been continuously rude to me over the past year and it was like I was finally letting it all come out. She walked away, head hanging low, and I went back inside to finally get some sleep.

I awoke an hour later feeling much better, made some dinner, and then heard a faint knocking at my door. When I opened it, there she was with a bouquet of flowers picked from her garden. “Rachel,” she said, “I did not mean to make you sad. I am respectfully and lovely for you and only tell joke before. I no mean what I said before.” And with that she handed me flowers and held out her left hand for me to shake. I smiled and invited her in to talk. She left a few minutes later and I felt relieved that we had been able to talk it out. So many times at school I witness the students not being able to resolve their problems with one another through talking and instead, they just resort to smacking each other. Although she has been a pain, to see this student come and apologize, in English, was pretty great. Maybe I should start yelling at my students more! But then, I would not be me. I do not appreciated being disrespected, but I hate yelling, I hate holding a grudge, and I hate to be angry. So I need to be firmer with my rules and be honest with myself. If I cannot do a homework session, I won’t. I will continue to remind myself of why I came here, chant my motto, and remember, patience is the key to success in this job. And for my respectfully and lovely students, I will teach another lesson on how to use adverbs.

Eh, Maybe Tomorrow?

2011-01-26T20:14:00.000-08:00

Sunday afternoon and I am lounging in my fale after a terrific toonai. I didn’t realize how much I missed Samoan food until I sat down to lunch this afternoon with about 30 other members of the congregation in our churches new party hall and tasted the sweet and salty palusami (young taro leaves stuffed with coconut cream), the juicy pua’a (roasted pig), and the slightly bitter koko Samoa (Samoan hot chocolate). I felt a little guilty as I walked to toonai being that I had shown up a half hour late to church, but I had my reasons. I blame it on the storm that never came.

I landed in Samoa Wednesday morning and after checking into my hotel I figured I would stop by the Peace Corps office to say hello and collect some of the things I had left there before returning to my hotel room to catch up on sleep. I was greeted by friendly hellos, but the warm welcome did not last long. Quickly, I was informed that a major cyclone was moving into the Samoa-Fiji region and that it was a very bad idea to stay the night in town. The office staff urged me to reconsider my decision to spend a night, or if nothing else, leave on the first boat Thursday morning. I opted for the second option.

Waking up at 6am to catch the 8am ferry was a rough feat for my jet-lagged self but somehow I made it to the wharf, after downing two Dramamine in anticipation of the cyclonic sea’s ahead. When we finally set sail however, I was surprised by one of the smoothest passages to date. Blue skies awaited me in Savaii and as I rode up to my village, I had to wonder if this storm was actually real.

I drifted in and out of sleep the rest of Thursday and when I awoke Friday morning, the infamous river behind my house was raging and a thunderous rainstorm was beating down on the village. “Here it comes,” I thought, as I raced to fill buckets with water and stock up on candles at the store. But wouldn’t you know, once those buckets were filled and my emergency bag packed, the skies cleared and by the end of the day, the roaring river had ceased. However, the Peace Corps office texted us to be prepared for the storm that would surely hit within the next 12-24 hours. So I kept my guard up.

Saturday morning the river was gone, save for a few puddles here and there. Women made their way down to do their laundry and children swam in the remaining pools. It did not rain all day, yet the text messages kept coming: “be prepared, 40-50 mph winds expected tonight!” I stayed up late waiting for the gushing sounds of wind, but alas, this storm still wouldn’t show its face!

I awoke to yet another calm morning today. I had anticipated a real storm to be upon us and so I had not set my alarm for church, which brings me to where we started: late. I hurried down the road and caught the last half hour of the service. While at church, my phone vibrated with yet another text: “70 mph winds expected later today and into tomorrow, sit tight.”

As I laze around my house on this drizzly Sunday afternoon I wonder, will this storm ever hit? Part of me expects that the minute I post this blog the skies will open and pigs with start flying through the air. Yet the sensible side of me tells me to pack a beach bag, for sunny skies are likely on the horizon.

**PLEASE NOTE: ALTHOUGH IT IS FUNNY THAT THESE WARNINGS SEEM SO UNNECCESSARY, I AM EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO THE PEACE CORPS OFFICE FOR LOOKING OUT FOR OUR SAFETY AND I DO TAKE YOUR WARNINGS SERIOUSLY. THANK YOU FOR ALL THAT YOU DO!!

Malo Uso!

2011-01-19T19:09:00.000-08:00

They say when you are in the Peace Corps your fellow volunteers become a second family to you. I don't know who "they" are, but they are absolutely correct. For the past month I was lucky enough to visit my family back in America, and although it was a full months visit, it seemed too short. I stepped onto the airplane at JFK with a heavy heart, sad to be leaving my family and friends in America for yet another year. While I have loved my time in Samoa thus far, I was nervous about what this second year would bring. I should have remembered the old phrase, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

My flight from JFK took off only 15 minutes late (which was a miracle considering the ice storm that had been slicking up the roads for hours before my departure.) The overall experience was fine though. Right next to my gate was a mini spa, and so about an hour before boarding I went for one last pampering session in America, treating myself to a manicure and a plush massage chair. At ease, I boarded the plane, took out my computer, and watched a few episodes of LOST (I am desperately trying to finish the last season and where better to watch a show about a plane crash than on a plane….it really boosts your adrenaline!)

The plane arrived in LAX early and since I had three hours till my next flight I walked the half hour walk between my arriving domestic terminal and the departing international one. My legs sufficiently stretched I found myself back where the whole Peace Corps journey began a year and a half ago at The Roadside Cafe just next to my departure gate. After chowing down a quesadilla I saw a familiar face: Leah had arrived for the flight! We hung out for the next few hours and then almost missed our flight having delved so deep into conversation. It was so nice to have a travel buddy, and great to catch up after our month apart!

The flight was long and somewhat bumpy due to the presence of some developing tropical storms over the Pacific Ocean, but as the hours passed, I found my smile growing wider and more genuine until it was almost silly when we finally touched down at Faleolo Airport just past 7am. I immediately turned on my cell phone and was greeted by a host of "welcome back, sister" messages. I was truly touched. It has become second nature for us volunteers to refer to each other as "brother" and "sister," but never has it felt more true than it did this morning upon my return.

It is a weird feeling leaving one home to return to another, but all clichés aside, I could not be happier to be back in this country with this, my second family in a place I can proudly call my second home.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2010-12-10T15:59:00.000-08:00

One of my last blogs was dedicated to my newfound passion for dancing. Little did I know that when I returned from Thanksgiving weekend, I would be doing little else for the next two weeks. I am writing this blog on a rainy Friday morning as I wait for a break in the downpour for a chance to bike to school. I would much rather be sleeping though as I an utterly exhausted. Let me start from the beginning.

As you probably know by now, I have been participating in a program called The Samoa Challenge II, a group weight lose program which began in September and ends this coming Monday. The general idea of the program was to encourage women to lead healthier lifestyles through better eating and exercising. Once a week we met to discuss different topics in a seminar form and following the meeting we would do jazzercise (or modified aerobics for all you Americans). Because of our success with the jazz, my group was asked to prepare a dance to perform during the awards ceremony on Monday. This meant step up the dancing to make sure our routine was spotless.

A few weeks ago we started practicing twice a week, then two weeks ago we bumped it up to three. Last week, with only one week to go, the women asked if maybe we could meet every day as a final push to the finish and of course I said yes because it is great to see their positive attitudes towards exercise (or at least competition…!)

We met on Monday for the final “weigh-in” and of course, to “Waka Waka” as we now call jazzercise. Midway through the meeting I was thrown a surprise. My counterpart, Vern, approached me with a huge smile on his face: “Um Rachel, the women want us to help them with their dance for the competition in town.” I was confused. “What competition?” I asked. He told me that every year during the Christmas season all of the villages compete for “Best Jazzercise Routine,” and the winners get featured on TV for the entire month of December. Unfortunately the competition is on Monday at the same time as our ceremony, so our group will not be able to participate, but for the 40-50 women who are not doing our program, they were all eager to make a dance.

Of course, I signed on again to this task. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Like I said, it is Friday now. Tuesday I spent 4 hours learning how to make music mash ups with Garage Band (amazing program!) and Wednesday and Thursday I pretty much moved into the fale komiti from 12 noon till 10pm to rehearse dances on and off all day. When not dancing, Vern and I were busy organizing the uniform for our group to wear on Monday. Around 9:45pm last night as I was tensing up over all the work we have been doing I closed my eyes and let myself just zero in on the situation. Here I am in Samoa, leading an aerobics class till all hours of the night to a great mash up of Silent Night and Hey Soul Sister, and although it’s tiring now, in a year when I am no longer living this lifestyle, you can bet I will be thinking back with great nostalgia on these evenings. Just the thought of where I am and what I am actually doing was enough to let the funk pass me by and I was energized and excited for the rest of the evening.

Today I am taking a break from the rehearsals to go to town, but between school and my trip to town I will be printing 15 tee shirts with the Mali’oli’o logo for our ladies and tomorrow to compensate for my ka’a (my being a slacker pretty much), we are having two practices. While this is an intense schedule, the thought that America is just a few days away has been pushing me on, and in a few days, I can sit down on an airplane and just sleep. I am so tired. I can’t wait!

Sunrise, Sunset....5 days till home!

2010-12-08T00:46:00.000-08:00

Since prize giving was last week, this week not much is going on at school. The students do not come to school and the teacher’s show up an hour or two late, just to watch movies and gossip. If this was unique to my school I would be utterly embarrassed to post this in my blog, but as it turns out, this is protocol for all of Samoa. I could get into my personal feelings on the subject, but instead, I will write about how I spent my fourth to last day of the school year.

I woke up late, around 7am and was unpleasantly surprised by my refrigerator, which had gone on defrost mode at some point last night and flooded my floor with water. Yuck. I put on some water for coffee, reset the fridge, and dealt with the mess. After coffee I biked up to school with my computer to put in some face time and make an exercise CD for one of the other teachers. Arriving at 8:15, I was the second teacher to come; a big change from the normal school year.

I made the CD and then at 9am said bye to the teachers. They looked at me like I was a terrible person for leaving school early, but then I explained that I had been invited to cook food for the construction workers at the church – a task that has been rotating amongst the women. I was very honored to be asked, and with a great deal of pride I walked down the dirt road towards the construction site. Upon arrival, the women who were already there were scurrying around to get the food ready before 10. I asked how I could help and they looked at me, paused, and then laughed. The Faletua (preachers wife) told me that before I help, I should go eat some morning breakfast with her children, so inside the house I went. I was served a plate of egg sandwiches, an apple, an orange, and some koko samoa. Once finished, I tried to get to work, but I was instructed to watch TV and told that I should never cook for the church since I am a guest of theirs. So much for feeling included!

After hanging out for a few hours, I returned to my fale (house) to work on a new exercise routine. I was attacked by a pack of dogs on the short walk back to my house and luckily I had my umbrella and was able to take a few good swings at them, but I didn’t hit any and they were not letting up. Luckily one of my year 6 students came to my rescue and neither of us were bitten. I hate walking down that road! At 3pm Vern came over to learn the dance I had created. Using GarageBand for the first time, I figured out how to mash up “Hey Soul Sister” with “Little Drummer Boy” and I am really excited about the resulting song! We practiced a few times and then around 4pm we went over to the fale komiti to teach the women.
When I signed up for Peace Corps I never dreamed I would be leading a weekly aerobics class. Now I am leading two classes a day for two different groups of women, and unfortunately for me, each group will be competing on Monday in different competitions: my original group is going to Apia for the end of the Samoa Challenge II (check out our article in The Samoa Observer, titled “Style Meets Fitness,”) and the other group will be competing for best jazzercise routine in Savaii. I will travel with the Apia group and we will be dancing at the awards ceremony. Whether or not we win the overall competition, my women have worked extremely hard and have all benefited in some way or other from this program, so in a way, we are all winners. But deep down, I want the satisfaction of knowing that my women won the Samoa Challenge 2010. Bring on the results!

V Nights

2010-12-05T16:25:00.003-08:00

I went to town Thursday evening to enjoy some true American food in honor of the Thanksgiving holiday: pizza. Giordano’s makes pizza in three sizes: small, medium, and extra large. Although it feels excessive to order an extra large pizza for two people, food is one thing that is always supersized in this country, so titling the large pizza extra large kind of makes sense, and ordering one for two people has begun to feel a bit more normal. I need to remember not to do that in America though or I will be eating pizza for at least the following three days! Size aside, the pizza was great: half BBQ chicken, half spicy Thai chicken. Sweet and spicy in perfect harmony.

Following the dinner we decided to head down to V-Bar where a company Christmas party was being held. I have never gone to V-Bar on a Thursday and was pleasantly surprised by the packed dance hall, costume party, and music going to till midnight (it typically cuts off around 10pm). The theme of the party was “International” and so people were dressed as geishas, Egyptian kings and queens, tourists, and other fun outfits. At one point, a group of about 10 people busted into an impromptu (yet planned) “Beat It” performance which truly did honor to Michael Jacksons name. It was awesome!

Friday was “Fiesta Night” at V Bar, so a bunch of us decided to hit it up. We got there around 5:30pm, began dancing around 6, and didn’t stop till midnight! Jordan and Dan were celebrating their last weekend on the island and it was a really fun way to say bye and send them off. At one point “Empire State of Mind” came on and Lili, Dan, and I busted out our collective New York pride and honored the state we all love so much. Everyone was in rare form and the dancing was better than ever.

Saturday was the spectacular Thanksgiving feast at the Charge D’affair’s house, and being that I was too full to move I feared my three night dancing parade might be cut a night short. However, after a few hours of laying on the couch I was functioning at about 75% and figured what better way to feel better from over eating than to dance it off? So back to the V Bar we went to dance off those calories and enjoy one last evening in the “big city.”

Returning home Sunday, my body felt like it had been through a marathon. I fell asleep around 9pm and didn’t wake up until my snooze had been hit three or four times. Still feeling the effects of the Dramamine from the ferry the day before I hazily went about my school day before returning home and sleeping for another three hours. It’s now 8:30 and as I write this I feel myself sinking into the comfortable calm before sleep. I can say I have successfully carried out my first dance marathon in Apia and although I am exhausted now, I know it will only be a matter of time before the dance party returns. If I have learned one thing here, it is to dance freely and frequently!

V Nights

2010-12-05T16:25:00.001-08:00

Give Thanks

2010-11-26T14:29:00.000-08:00

“Fa’afetai Iesu mo mea’ai, amene;” or in English, thank you Jesus for the food. It’s the first and only prayer I have learned to say in Samoan and I say it on a nightly basis before eating meals with other families here in the village. I say it at school before eating lunch with the teachers. I say it at the women’s to’ona’I before the Sunday feast. And sometimes I even say it in the comfort of my own home, just for fun. In each scenario, I truly am thankful to the women I am eating with for providing my food for the day. But this past year has given me more to be thankful for than just food.

On a day when I have struggled to get my water pipes fixed three times over the course of five hours, I think it most fitting to start off with a thanks to my next door neighbours, Mina and Vaifale. Vaifale is the self-appointed president of the water committee here in my village and therefore he is the go to guy for all water related issues. Over the past week he has fixed my pipes seven times. Today I proposed maybe getting new pipes… only time will tell what happens, but I think it will save him a lot of time if he agrees. At this point, I am totally willing to pay for them!

But water aside, Vaifale and Mina have become my parents away from home. If the power goes out, Mina is at the door with candles. If a cyclone is on the way, Vaifale is there updating me with the latest news from the radio. But perhaps most importantly, the two of them have opened their home to me. I eat dinner with them three nights a week and stop in on almost a daily basis just to say hi, to sip koko, and to chat. Without them, my village would feel like a village but not like a home. They make me feel at home, and for that homeliness in a strange land, I am truly thankful.

Along the village lines, I am thankful for my faifeau and his faletua, two of the kindest, most generous people I have ever met. When I moved in, the faletua sewed new curtains, bed sheets, pillowcases, and stocked the kitchen area with plates, bowls, forks, and knifes. They have proven to be just as welcoming as Vaifale and Mina and I am thankful for their endless support for me and my strange palagi ways.

Lili deserves her own paragraph of thanks for being the best friend I could have ever found. Her optimistic and hilarious texts always keep me laughing and using up all of my free texts throughout the day, and time goes by as if we were hanging out every day, not just once every few weeks. When we do get to kafao, be it in Salelologa or Apia, we always have the wildest adventures and part knowing that the next time will be just as fun. When I am having a down day, Lili doesn’t hesitate to call, and when I spend all of my money, she is quick to lend a few (hundred) tala. I am so happy that Peace Corps has introduced me to someone as great as Lili who I am proud to have as a friend and a sister.

And to the rest of my Peace Corps family, do not feel left out! Group 82 whom I came into this amazing country with has truly been a family from the beginning. My Savaii girls, Emi, Ali, and Elisa, provide the best stories and laughter every Saturday at Lucia’s (I am thankful for Lucia and Tui, too!), and I look forward to the weekly unwind Saturday afternoons with you girls. Tana, my other Savaii sister, was the first Peace Corps I met and although we might have had a shouting match the first night in our hotel back in LA, I have grown to love her so much. Samoa would not be the same without your enthusiasm Tana! I can’t wait to get tattoos in January! My Savaiian Brother, the mysterious Matt – you are one for the books, with such a positive outlook on life. I love how you inspire me to be calm, go with the flow, and just realize how BEAUTIFUL everything really is! I hope the yoga retreat happens! And to the Upolu volunteers, I love you all the same, and value the time we spend together in Apia. Bring on the ice cream!

To my friends back home, especially those who have supported me through emails, facebook updates, and calls now and then, I really appreciate your commitment to our friendship. Leaving everyone and everything you know for two years is an experience that is just as hard as it sounds, and without the contact with all of you, I would lose touch of who I am and where I came from. I look forward to seeing my Skyview Family, Rockland County Crew, 615 girls, Bucknell boys, and every one else in between in just a few weeks! Best care-package award goes to Haile with Ezra as a close second. For all of you who want a shout out at this time next year, I will be here another year, so get those packages in the mail; I love cheetos, chocolate, and pretty much anything manufactured in America. But to be honest, Arianna’s never failing holidays cards mean just as much as the treats which fill out my belly and my clothes, and I can safely say I have all of them hanging on my wall. Thanks girl! I could go on and on, but calling you all out individually goes against the spirit of what I am most thankful for: you. Friendship isn’t a competition, and with friends like these, how could I ever seriously compare?!

I am thankful for running water and electricity. For a reliable (green) bus, and an entertaining feud between my bus and the pink bus for never ending entertainment. I am thankful for the pili (lizards) residing in my room and the chickens eating centipedes outside. To red wine. Thanks Gwenn for the dress and The Lady Samoa II for the time served – we miss you, queen of the va’a! I am thankful to have such a supporting office staff and particularly the best PCMO in the whole world who is there to reassure me that my medical issues are not that severe and that almost everything can be fixed with a Benadryl. To DJ OKAY and Phish – may a remix of your music one day happen and further rock my mornings. And to Christmas lights being ok in November. I am thankful for my loving family back home and for all that they do for me. My thoughts are with you all until I return. Stay strong. I love you all. To Jacob, thank you for never letting me slip through the cracks. I appreciate your honesty and sincerity and am so glad to call you my twin.

Lastly, I am thankful for this wonderful adventure that I have been living for the past year and I look forward to the next year of Peace Corps service. The challenges faced and lessons learned in the face of those challenges have been some of the most insightful and meaningful ones of my life. It is hard to process service while still active, but I know a part of me has change for the better, and I am so thankful that I have had the opportunity to grow in this manner. So Happy Thanksgiving to all, may it be full of food, family, and love. Amene.

Mapping the World

2010-11-24T17:32:00.001-08:00

The Painters - Day One

The last few weeks of school here in Samoa are characterized by song and dance practice. Teaching and exams are over and the students are left to work on what will be the best performance of the year… an event called Prize Giving. Prize Giving is a special day, which honors the top students for every subject in every grade. Three weeks before Prize Giving (this year December 3^rd) my school began their preparations. Divided into three teams, each team will compete for the best song, dance, and sasa (traditional chat/song/dance combo). Being the Peace Corps, I was not assigned to a group. Instead, I was asked to work with the year 8 students on their number. I chose Thriller.

After the first few hours of song and dance practice I was more sick of my favourite song and dance nuber that I ever imagined possible. I decided we needed some variety in our daily plans for the last few weeks and the thought struck me: here is my opportunity to do the world map project I have wanted to do since hearing about it! Unfortunately for me (and fortunate for the students of the school), the villages’ past Peace Corps volunteer had beat me to the punch. So, to modify the project, I decided my group would do a map of Samoa, including all the villages and geographical features. The year 8 teacher and his students loved the idea, and soon I was off to town to buy plywood and gather the Peace Corps World Map Kit. I should note, although I may be wrong, that this is a trademarked project of the Peace Corps. Peace Corps volunteers have used the very same map and colour scheme in countless schools and communities around the world. A cool legacy to join. Here is Samoa, we have a world map kit which is two large woven baskets containing four large cans of paint and about 8 smaller ones of the less needed colours. Paint-brushes and a book explaining how to get the map on the wall, board, or fabric of choice is also included. We had to do without the book but managed to get a great image of the country traced in chalk onto our plywood board using the schools new projector (thanks Skyview!)

Day three of the project and the map is almost done…except for the more important part – the country itself! We began the project before realizing that we were out of green paint. So the ocean is painted, the country name is complete, and the Peace Corps logo is done. Now all we need to do is fill in the islands, label the villages, and outline the whole thing once the paint is dry.

The map has proven to be a great break from Thriller practice, but with the delay in the painting, it looks like the next two days will be strictly song and dance once more. Then come Monday, we will complete the map, and the year 8 students will join the world map legacy. I will post pictures of the completed project after prize giving. For now, enjoy the work in progress!

Take Me Through the River

2010-11-24T17:30:00.000-08:00

Saturday, November 20th, 12:25am. I am standing at the kitchen sink putting away a few dishes following an epic evening with Emi, Ali, and Elisa where we made heaps of spicy (and not so spicy) delicious Thai food. Practically comatose from the food we fell to the floor where we watched “Whip It,” a great movie featuring the drama and fun of Texas’s own roller derby (Go Texas! – Emi). Following the film in my compulsory cleaning frenzy I found myself finishing up the dishes when I heard a strange, yet oddly familiar roaring noise. I thought out loud, “there is no way that could be the river…it is way too early in the season! And yet…that certainly is not rain.” Skeptically, I grabbed my phone which doubles as a flashlight and went outside to peak. Low and behold, there was the river crashing through my backyard in all of it’s muddy glory. I raced inside and grabbed the girls, who were not as thrilled about my late night burst of excitement as I was but came along to check out the site regardless. Being that 363 days out of the year this river runs dry, it truly is a source of pleasure to finally hear water running through the riverbed. Elisa caught the excitement and together we convinced Ali and Emi to take a midnight stroll down the road to where the river crosses the road. Being that it was almost 1am, we were some of the only villagers out and we took the opportunity to take some pictures. We headed back to the house and went to bed wondering if the river would be crossable by bus in the morning.

Saturday morning comes and we hopped on the first bus we saw. Thankfully the water had retreated quite a bit during the early morning hours and the bus was able to cross with no problems. I mentioned in on of my earlier blog entries (A River Runs Through It) that the designers of the Savaii roads thought it unnecessary to build a proper bridge over the Mali’oli’o River since the water only effects the road one or two days out of the year. Being that the river has flowed three times now in the past year, I would say their philosophy might need to be updated. Regardless, the concrete slab which serves as a bridge was built at river level, so when the river comes and it’s flow is strong enough, traffic comes to a complete stop on both sides of the road. Savaii only has one road circling the island, so one could argue that this creates a significant problem, especially for tourists trapped or prevented from reaching their touristy destinations at the top of the island. However, like I said, we were lucky this particular morning and got to town with no problems.

We did our shopping, did the typical afternoon chill session at Lucia’s Lagoon, and then it was time to head home. I loaded the bus not knowing what the river had in store for me and nervous as anything. I had texted Manuia, the guy who works the store right next to the river and he had told me that the river was flowing strong but was probably passable. I didn’t like that answer, however, I had to try my luck. Too soon, we reached what felt like judgment day. As we approached the river crossing, we were met by dozens of cars lined up on the side of the road, waiting for the river to retreat. We came to a stop just before the river and waited as a few people hopped off the bus and dozens hopped on. Starring out the river I wondered to myself if I qualified as stupid for staying on the bus and I had the impulse to jump off. Had we sat there a few minutes longer, I might have given in to my fear, but just as I was pondering my escape, the bus began to move forward. I turned to the man sitting next to me as I plotted my back up escape route through the window to his left and made a face implying, “do you think this is safe?” He just smiled at me and responded with, “This is the strongest river in Samoa, you know?” Some how his words did not help. The feeling you get in your stomach as you accent to the peak of a rollercoaster in nervous anticipation of the drop was the feeling that crept into me as we descended towards the riverbed. Then like a turtle who moves slow and steady both in and out of the water we began our progress across the short concrete bridge (completely hidden at this point). Water nearly reached the windows of the bus, but a man stood in the water showing the driver where the side of the bridge ended (and thus where to avoid!) Somehow, his calm presence in the gushing water was reassuring. If he wasn’t being swept down stream, chances we low that we would be. The bus creaked and moaned and then in a flash, we were out of the water and back on dry land. I think I breathed for the first time in about five minutes.

My river adventure over for the day and possible the year, I headed into my house, fixed a big bowl of cereal for dinner, and settled down to watch a movie. Who knows when the river will return again? Next time, I’m taking a canoe to town though!

Palolo

2010-11-08T22:12:00.000-08:00

yum. palolo.

A year ago, hearing the word “Worm” conjured up images of long slimy earth worms living in the garden back home. Although gardeners would argue with me, I have never seen much in these animals. Along with spiders, they were a big reason why I never really wanted to get into gardening. I have a vivid memory of walking the track early Saturday mornings before marching band practice and having to consciously avoid all of the worms which had crawled off the football field in the early morning dew only to die on the track. Maybe that was the beginning of my lack of appreciation.

Since moving to Samoa, my immediate image of worms has changed. Instead of thinking of slimy animals in the ground, I now think of nasty bugs living inside the human body. I wonder if this is true of all Peace Corps worldwide? Although I am unsure as to whether or not I have actually had worms since coming here, I have had plenty of stomach issues, and it would be safe to assume that one tiem or another, worms may have been the blame.

However, Samoa has once again changed my minds image of the word worm. Two weeks ago was the big palolo, or sea worm, harvest. This culinary delicacy appears twice a year, around the time of the full moon in October and November. I need to double check my facts, but from what I have gathered, palolo is the sex organ of coral, and just before sunrise around the time of the full moon for a few days a year, these small worms emerge to reproduce. Due to it’s rare status, thousands of Samoans flock to the coral reefs during this palolo harvest to try their luck at capturing these worms. Those who are successful either feat on the worms within their families or sell them for huge profits. A small bag of the precious worms starts at about $100 tala, and a half-liter will sell for about $500.

People eat it live, dead, cooked, or uncooked. I had made plans to go fishing with the guys who run the store near my house, but come palolo morning, they slept through and thus I missed my opportunity to fish. Their older brother was successful in fishing though and brought about $100 worth back to the family. I was offered a small portion of the still live worms and although I pride myself in trying anything once, I just couldn’t eat the live worms. I resolved to seek out some cooked ones, however that never happened. Luckily for me, another volunteer, Supy, had gone fishing for the palolo, and brought some dead ones to our Halloween celebration. Still uncooked, yet dead, and on Halloween, it seemed fitting to give the worms a try. I took a small spoonful, swallowed, and was please to discover that it was not so bad. Pretty much, the worms tasted like salt water. Makes sense. Next year, I plan to find the palolo and prepare it the proper way – fried with butter and served up on crunchy toast. Till then, I hope to go another year without any kind of worm in my life.

Tortilla Flat

2010-10-15T14:02:00.000-07:00

Luti, Pisi, and Siaki posing with the tortillas

Luti and Pisi in the kitchen

Pisi with her creation

Me and the kids post tortilla party

For tonights fiafia, Lily and I decided to make burritos for the new group. Last night, I invited some kids over to watch Mamma Mia and cook. Enjoy the pictures!

Jazzercise

2010-10-15T13:42:00.000-07:00

Jazzercise is the Samoan equivalent of an aerobic dance class. A few weeks ago I began a health project in my village with the intention of raising awareness about diabetes and health disease and the determination to lower the risk of both diseases in the twenty women who joined my program. Joey, group 81, arranged the program with such detail that we each received practically a play-by-play book of what to teach during each lecture. I recruited my friend Vern to be my counterpart and together we recruited 20 overweight women to join our program.

Of course, no one showed up for our first meeting. So we tried again a few days later and had 12 women show up. At the first meeting we took basic measurements of height, weight, waist and hip circumference, and Joey came out to the sits to measure blood pressure. After a long morning we decided against jazzercise but promised the women an aerobic workout at the next meeting.

Meeting number two went even better than the first and although 5 women did not show up, we had 5 new women join the program, so our number hovered at 12. The session was lively and the women were really interested in all that we had to say. Finally we reached the exercise portion of the afternoon and the women jumped to life. Blasting Waka Waka, Vern and I led the women in a dance routine we had created the week before. For those reading this from back home, all those years of marching band paid off, and I was able to incorporate the very first marching band dance I ever learned into the Waka Waka chorus. Smith would be proud. And big thanks to Shaun for teaching me how to dance all those years ago!

Today was session number three and attendance was down to 11 women due to a conflict of time (apparently the village had declared 5pm Wednesday to be the weed removal day, so women were busy raking grass clippings into piles and burning them.) Talofai. However, the women that did show up were energized and many of them had dropped a kg or two since the first week, which was a real moral booster.

I led a light yoga warm-up to some Wyclef and then we got into the heavy dancing of Waka Waka. I brought over my water filter to serve water in between dances and the women got a kick out of the crazy palagi contraption I use for my water. They drank it with skepticism. We Waka Waka’ed for about 20 minutes and then went on to our new song, “Baby” by Justin Beiber. Unfortunately Vern and I both forgot the routine we had made, so that song will have to be properly re-introduced next week. We closed the session with another yoga cool down and we discussed exercise for the upcoming week. I encouraged the women to get out and play volleyball with the rest of the committee tomorrow, or go for a long walk in the late afternoon.

White Sunday

2010-10-15T13:37:00.000-07:00

This weekend marked one of the biggest holiday weekends here in Samoa, White Sunday Weekend. White Sunday, also called “Aso Sa Tamaiti,” or “Lotu Tamaiti,” is the holiday that honors Samoan children. For this day only, children are excused of their daily feau’s (chores), they are showered with gifts from their parents, and they eat first, a right at all other times reserved for elders, parents, and special guests. In addition to the pampering at home, church also shifts it’s focus to the children. Although the holiday originated at the EFKS (congregational) Church, it has been adopted to fit all the churches here.

I decided that being a teacher, I needed to be present to celebrate all of my students White Sundays with them, so instead of limiting myself to the EFKS church, I made an effort to visit the other denominations in my village as well.

I began my church tour Thursday night by attending the Assembly of God (Worship Center). This church is very different than the others here. It is sometimes called the “Pati Pati Church” (meaning “clap clap”) because the congregation is in a constant state of singing and dancing. I find it a little weird, but it is nice that people are free to worship through self-expression, however they feel fit. The show started around 8pm and went till 11. It was chock full of rock hymns, interpretive dances, small dramatic interpretations of the bible, and a Bible Trivia game offering prizes to the bright students of AOG. Although I was a little worshipped-out by the end, I did enjoy seeing my students perform. It turns out one of my students is the drummer for the AOG band, and many others get up and sing solo’s on a weekly basis. People of all denominations were in attendance of the show, so I did not feel like such an outsider. I felt more like a community member supporting the children, which is exactly what I intended to do.

The next day was my dancing with Mormons experience so check the last blog for that experience. Then Saturday I planned to go to the Seventh Day Adventist Church, however my ride never showed up. So instead of going to church, I watched Pee Wee’s Big Adventure on the projector with a few of my neighbors. I love that movie!

I woke up Sunday around 7am and hit snooze, enjoying the fact that I did not have to be at church till 9am. However, I was awoken by a phone call from Mina 15 minutes later, inviting me for morning tea. How could I say no? I jumped out of bed, did a quick bucket shower, and was over within a half hour to sip on sweet coffee and eat delicious homemade pudding (kind of like a ginger-papaya sponge cake made on the stovetop). Mina and I walked to church together around 8:45 and took a seat in the second pew.

At 9am, the children lined up outside and paraded into the Church, boys walking down one aisle and girls the other. They sang a beautiful song and joined each other in the front of the congregation. The morning service was not a traditional one: instead of the Faifeau preaching, the children each recited small prayers and then put on a magnificent show of songs, dances, and story re-enactments for the next two hours. I have to admit I fell asleep a few times, but it was still an excellent show!

I returned home around 11, gulped down a cup of coffee for fuel, and then headed over to Faoa’s house for Toonai (Sunday lunch). Faoa was having a family reunion and had invited me to attend, however when I showed up, one of her cousins whom I did not know looked at me as if I was lost and asked if he could help me. I responded with, “Fa’amolemole, ou te fia ai!” Meaning, “Please, I’m hungry!” Faoa showed up laughing at that point as her cousin looked at me questioning, and I was invited in to sit with the children (and therefore be served first!) The plates were piled high with sausage, BBQ chicken and fish, Taro, Breadfruit, and palusami. A side dish was set up with Oka (raw fish in coconut cream), and a special dish of my favorite food, fe’e, was served just to me! I guess it’s a good thing to talk about the foods I like all the time – it pays off in the end! I ate as much as possible, but Faoa was displeased and made fun of me, calling me too skinny. I tried to eat more taro but just couldn’t do it, so I was sent home with a heaping plate of BBQ chicken, taro, and of course, the fe’e.

I went home to enjoy a nice long afternoon nap and awoke at 3:45, realizing I was late for second service! I threw on my Sunday Whites and headed down the street to watch part two of the entertainment. The afternoon was so much better than the morning. Every family had prepared either a song or dance to perform in front of the congregation. My favorite was a family of about 12 kids who did a fake beauty pageant - lets call it a “Prophet Pageant.” They had 4 children dressed up as Abraham, Moses, Noah, and I forgot the last one, but each was equipped with an outrageous beard and paraded across the stage flaunting their staffs and wardrobes. It was very funny. The quality of the dancing was great, and overall I really enjoyed the afternoon.

When it ended I was invited to the Faifeau’s house for the evening meal where once again a plate of BBQ chicken and friend fish, palusami, taro, breadfruit, pisupo, and cake was placed in front of me. Again I was made fun of for how little I eat, but it was all in good fun. The meal was topped off with ice cream bars and picture sharing.

When I woke up this morning I was worried about offending my three favorite families by not being able to experience White Sunday with all of them. As it turned out, I got the best of all worlds. Each of these families feels like home to me. They are all so different but their common quality is the pure love and acceptance they have for me. And I feel the same for them. If all goes as planned tomorrow, I am going on my first fishing trip with Vaifale! I hope it goes through, I am ready for another village adventure!

Dancing With Mormons

2010-10-09T03:07:00.000-07:00

Tuesday I was told that there would be a dance at the Mormon Church on Friday to celebrate White Sunday. Being that I have a newfound obsession with dancing, there was no question as to where I would be spending my Friday night. Plus I had come up for the name for this blog sometime Wednesday afternoon, so for the sake of the blog, I had to go dance with the Mormons. And “Dancing With the Stars” has nothing on us!

As the day drew closer I began to get cold feet. I had never actually been to the Mormon Church and I was not sure how many people I would know there as a result. I run past the Mormon Church when I am in the mood for a long run, but other than that, I do not get to that part of town too often. Then there was the question of dance styles. I was reassured many times that it would be “just like a night club,” meaning “siva palagi” (foreign dancing) would be in full effect. I have been to a fair share of dances between my time in Manunu, dances in Apia, and dances in Salelologa, and each has it’s own distinct flavor. In most cases you can expect an exceptionally loud base, drunken sole’s inappropriately groping at least one or two times, favorite songs played on repeat, and a fluctuating level of alcohol. I knew that the Mormon church would be free of the drunken sole’s and thus free of groping, but I knew nothing else.

The dance was scheduled to start at 4pm and go till midnight, but when I went for my run at 6:30 no one was at the church yet, although music was blaring loudly to draw people in. I ran home, ate a Cliff Bar for dinner with a bag of Doritos for dessert, and went to pump up my bike tires as I planned to meet Vern and bike over with him. I was most nervous about biking to his house because the dogs at night are vicious in Samoa and I had no headlight. Lucky for me and unlucky for Vern, my bike tires were flat as could be and my pump was not working, so Vern came to fix my bike up for me and I did not have to bike by myself.

We arrived at the dance around 8:30 and of course only a handful of people were there. The music was off and it sounded like prayers were going on. We biked right into the Mormon complex and pulled up our bikes next to the open fale. As we entered we were greeted by the smiles of many of my children and their parents, and I even recognized a few women who have signed on to my health project! A Peace Corps cannot go anywhere and not have a fuss made over them, so naturally I was called up to perform the opening dance and thus start the night. I felt like a queen arriving amongst my people. I have learned to expect this solo dance whenever I am a guest of honor yet I am still uncomfortable with the Siva Samoa. My body just does not move that gracefully! So as I made my way to the dance floor I made the decision to wow the crowds with some true palagi dance moves, and I performed a horrible cross between siva samoa and siva palagi. However, my dance had the effect I desired and people were cracking up at my ridiculously foreign moves. Before I knew it, I had at least 10 back up dancers and for the first time the song did not feel painfully long as it usually does.

Shortly after my initiation dance my student Gerald slipped word to the DJ that Waka Waka is my favorite song and must be played. The DJ began playing clips of the intro to Waka Waka in anticipation of the songs debut for the evening, and then bam, it was on us, blasting in all its glory. Vern and I did the Jazzercize routine we created for the women and a few of our ladies joined in, too. As the night progressed, Waka Waka was played 4 times. Like I said, Samoan’s are not shy to appreciate a good thing!

Other highlights of the evening were dancing with the children (who copied every move I did) to “Mambo Number 5” and “The Vegabus” (at least I think that’s what it is called, it has been a long time since I have heard that song…yet tonight, I heard it 3 times!) A touch of Samoa that I really liked was seeing two children passed out in the corner of the dance floor, as if there was not a pounding base rattling the floor around them. Their mothers sat protectfully by making sure no dancers got too close.

The night ended too soon, around 11, with a prayer from the faifeau and blessings for this special weekend. As I mounted my bike, my reoccurring break problem kicked in and a loud squeaking resistance met my every pedal. I dismounted and unhinged the back break, reminding myself to not ride too fast home. There was no hurry though and on this moonless night, the stars were shining extra bright, as if to light our way by their light alone. Thankfully Vern accompanied me home so I did not have to brave the dogs and his bike light helped us avoid hitting the groups of people hanging out on the road. I felt like I Could bike forever in the cool night air with the magical stars overhead.
Since moving to the village I have spent almost every evening by myself: watching movies, reading books, or going too sleep early to forget that I have nothing else to do at night. This past week has been a real eye opener for me as to all that I have been missing in my reclusiveness. For one, my Samoan language has taken leaps and bounds just this week by getting out there and hanging with people. I am embarrassed that I was not doing this all along as much as I am now, but I had to go at my own pace to feel comfortable. Monday I enjoyed an afternoon sipping Koko and weaving with some neighbors whom I had never met. Tuesday and Wednesday night I watched movies with some of the high school kids and although it was maddening at times (they are proud of the English they know and constantly wanted to fill me in on what was about to happen in the movie, thus taking away all elements of surprise), it was actually a lot of fun to do what I always do, just with people. Thursday night deserves its own blog, as it was spent at the Assembly of God’s (Worship Center’s) White Sunday show. It was my first time returning to the “Pati Pati Church” since I boldly went last Christmas, and I was reminded why I do not go. However, it was a nice evening, especially because I got to spend time with the students who I do not see on a weekly basis at EFKS, and their parents. I will try to blog about that experience later, but no promises.

As you can see, this week has been a true turning point in my Peace Corps experience. I feel more and more integrated as the days pass and less eager to leave the village and hang out in town. While those days will always be special days with my Peace Corps family, I am finding that my village has become a home away from home like I never imagined it could be. Plus I cleaned and rearranged my room today so I don’t have the disgusting mess to avoid anymore…!

Continuing the trend of new church experiences, I have agreed to attend the Seventh Day Adventist service tomorrow, which will also be a White Sunday celebration. And Sunday I will return to my home base, EFKS, to celebrate with my most familiar congregation. A few weeks ago, I would have dreaded a weekend like this. But now, I could not be happier.

Teacher's Day...please pass the pig!

2010-10-05T21:31:00.000-07:00

Today started of like any other day but quickly turned into the laziest, best day, of the school year. Today was Teacher’s Day, the day where the children bring gifts and perform acts to show their appreciation for us teachers. There was about 2 hours of teaching in the morning before the festivities began. The festivities included poems recited in both English and Samoan, dances, songs, and sort skits about the children’s love and admiration for us teachers. Following the show, each class lined up in front of the assembly and one by one presented gifts to their teachers. The year 8 teacher insisted that I accept his gifts from year 8 being that I have done so much for them. That is arguable, but it was a really touching gesture. So loaded up with tons of new hand soaps, 2 lavalavas, a handful of necklaces, and about $20, I sat down thinking I had made out pretty well.

After the show, the children were dismissed, and us teachers gathered in the year 3 classroom to feast on pig, taro, and palusami gifted to us from the village. Beer and coconut vodka was included. We spent the next 5 hours eating, chatting, and watching ridiculously emotional Pilipino soap operas. After one afternoon of chilling with the teachers, I feel so much closer to all of them. Everyone let their guard down and we were able to just have a fun celebration of us. Next on the party agenda: prize giving. After today, I cannot wait to see what prize giving has in store for us! Enjoy the pictures:

Blame it on the Water

2010-10-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint what’s eating at you. I tend to brush things off pretty easily, but recently I have been in a bit of a funk. I tried to analyze what’s going on: is it the constant struggle to encourage a learning environment at school when no one else wants to teach? Is it the one-year mark quickly approaching and my personal desire to have accomplished more by this point? Is it the lonely hours in the village or the overwhelming amount of work? To be honest, it’s probably a combination of all the above, but the one factor that looms over everything is the water. I blame it on the water.
For the past 6 weeks my stomach has been in knots (to put it nicely) thanks to my lovely water source. To top it off, my water pipes have been coming apart on what seems to be a weekly basis. So three out of the seven days a week I have no running water. This means that everything water related must come from either the rain or the mysterious water tank located behind my house. The water tank was probably the cause of all the trouble to begin with but I’m not even going to get into that….
The one year mark is just days away and with it comes anxiety about what the next year will hold. Maybe my language isn’t where I wanted it to be. Maybe I have not accomplished the 10 projects I envisioned at the start of service. But reaching this critical point in service does have some perks. I still have a full year and a half to go. That means time for the projects, time for the language, and time to continue coping with all that it is I am learning to cope with. For starters, the water came back on today, so all is not bad! I just need to make sure my back-up water reserves are full in anticipation of the next pipe break.
Walking home from school today I was invited to a neighbors house whom I had never met before. I joined her and her daughter for a cup of Koko Samoa while they were preparing leaves to weave into mats. I surprised myself by maintaining a conversation with the two of them strictly in Samoan! They were really impressed which of course boosted my slacking self-esteem and they invited me back any time to come weave with them and kafao. And just like that, a successful language lesson occurred and I actually spent an hour outside of my lonesome fale. It’s things like this that I must remember.
So to my friends in country, thank you for putting up with me over these past few weeks. And to my friends at home, I apologize for the depressing emails sent recently. On this emotional rollercoaster we call Peace Corps, things are on the rise. Only a matter of time before they drop again, yet keeping my optimism about me is going to help, and looking on the lighter side of things will get me through. Tomorrow is Teachers Day, so there will be no teaching. On the bright side, it will be a full day of praise for me and my fellow teachers – singing, dancing, acting, and funny poems will all occur. And the year 8 students have promised to bring me coconuts. All in all, I can say things are taking a turn for the better. Happy Teacher’s Day!

Daylight Savings Fa'a Samoa

2010-09-27T21:58:00.001-07:00

I can only imagine that when the people who decide these things in the world decided to start daylight savings time it was for a good reason. In America it always made sense to me. The days were noticeably shorter in winter and longer in summer. Daylight savings time tended to even out the drastic changes. Yesterday for the first time in Samoan history, this country joined the daylight savings club. And moderate chaos followed. In a country where people follow the sun and not a watch or clock, it made little sense to bring about the change. Maybe in Apia where things run more to schedule it would have made sense, but out here in ku’a territoty, confusion reigned free.

I did not attend church yesterday because I was out of the village but the experiences I heard about were laughable: people showing up an hour late, an hour early, or the church service simply being moved to a different time all together to try to go with the flow of the day. In any case, it sounded as though most services had some growing pains with the new time. The bell for Sa which is signaled as the sun sets did not sound until close to 8pm, and so dinner did not start until 8:30 which was quite a change for me who has become accustomed to eating at 6pm every evening with my neighbors.
And then there was school. For the past year I have fallen into the habit of waking up at 6:15 every morning, making my morning tea (well, coffee and cereal), and then heading out to school by 7:15am to be there for the start of morning prayers at 7:30. However this morning when my alarm clock sounded, not even the roosters were crowing yet. As I lazily hit snooze awaiting the arrival of the morning sun, I had the realization that no one else was going to be on time today and I might as well enjoy a lazy morning. So I slept till 6:45 and then plowed through my morning routine. However, even at 7:15 the sun was just dawning over the still sleeping village and only the truly punctual students were finding their way through the early morning haze to school. Around 7:35 I left my house, well aware of my lateness but encouraged by the host of other stragglers still wandering lazily up the road. I arrived at school by 7:45am and was not the last to arrive. Talking with the other teachers it was decided that morning devotional period should be moved until 8am and school will therefore start between 8:30am and 9am. So, an hour later pretty much. Morning tea time will remain the same: 10:30am, and the school day will last until 2pm instead of 1pm. We will see if this actually happens; today everyone was gone by 1pm as normal. So, instead of savoring the daylight hours as daylight savings is meant to do, it has instead robbed us of one hour of our day. In this culture, the rising of the sun and the crowing of the roosters is the signal to start a day, not an alarm clock. So everything will go on as normal, just with a different time stapled to it. Who knows, maybe the clubs will now play music till 11pm instead of 10pm! In talking with a co-worker about his concerns about daylights saving, he stated, “don’t worry, come April, it all goes back to normal.” He’s absolutely right: why worry about something as minute as the time? The Westerner in me clings to my watch but the Samoan in me tells me to toss it now and not to look back. I give it another few months before I get that far!

Butter is Better

2010-09-20T17:47:00.000-07:00

I never thought much about butter. Salt either, for that matter. I personally have never really enjoyed much of either on anything. However, moving to Samoa forced the topic of these additives into my brain. From my first buttered tuna sandwich in the training village to the countless lunches consisting of crackers layered in butter, it is something I have come to expect, and even enjoy, in small quantities. Namely, I enjoy some butter on toast in the morning, or maybe a little with my pancakes when I am treating myself to a nice breakfast in town. The Anchor butter used here and imported from New Zealand is actually so good that I have joked with other volunteers about visiting the butter factory when we are in New Zealand. This morning, however, reminded me of how outrageous the butter situation in this country has become.
It was the first day of school so naturally we were doing nothing but watching the kids pick weeds from the grass and rocks surrounding the school. After watching the kids weed for about 30 minutes it was time to retire for morning tea. I watched in horror as 5 loaves of bread were carefully sliced for the 10 teachers in the room. While one teacher was cutting the bread, another was busy mixing together a concoction of raspberry jam and what looked like a cake of butter. She had scooped the butter into an old ice cream carton and was busy whisking together the butter with the jelly until it looked exactly like what it was destined to be in the near future: pure cholesterol. I could not hold back my laughter as I was served four huge sandwiches of butter and flavor on thick slabs of white bread. To top off the whole experience, the one serving the food this morning was my identified counterpart in our health project, which is meant to kick off next week and focuses on reducing fats such as butter in our diets. I smiled, laughed, and ate one sandwich for good measure before passing the rest off to the other hungry teachers. All of the sandwiches were gone within a half hour. I know one thing for sure: I am going to have my hands full with this health project!

Thoughts for the New Group

2010-09-17T02:42:00.000-07:00

Hi Group 83, this one's for you! A few of you have contacted me, and I am so excited for you all to arrive! So in the spirit of welcoming your group, I have been thinking over things that I wish I had known before coming to Samoa. Here's a little list for you to ponder:

1. DO NOT GO OUT AND BUY CHACOS. Chacos are those over expensive, stripy sandals that people claim are incredibly comfortable once you break them in. Its also reputed to be "The shoe of the Peace Corps." This is not true of Peace Corps Samoa. What I found is that they are incredibly painful, providing the most blisters in the most awkward places due to all the straps, and to top it off, they are a pain to put on and take off. In this country, you are forever taking off your shoes, and you want the fastest method possible: the flip flop. So, do not worry about shoes, you will soon discover "Jandals," the basic white flip flop that dominate the feet of all who live here. They are cheap yet reliable. Where ever I am going, I wear my jandals. I wear them to school, to church, to the beach, to the bars, and have even seen people running and playing sports in them (although I do prefer sneakers for those types of things!) In short, avoid the Chaco.

2. Bring a computer if you have one. Seriously. It's a life savor in times of extreme down time. Plus, its useful for school! Don't bring TOO many clothes.

3. If you are going to have a bike, bring your own bike pump. The ones Peace Corps provides are no good. Also a good bookbag goes a long way in carrying things while biking. Or a bike bag.

4. Bring pens. Specifically, those multi-colored click pens. As you will quickly learn, Samoan students and teachers take a lot of pride in the tidiness for their notebooks. Everything is color-coordinated. It's kind of maddening, but you will get used to it. You will get yelled at if you sign the attendance book at your school in the wrong color. So be safe, have a multi-colored click pen on hand. White out is also incredibly popular. I don't use it, but I recently gave out some as presents to teachers. I have been treated like a superstar ever sense.

5. I wish I had a rain jacket. It rains a lot, and you will be walking a lot.

6. There is actually pretty good food here, so don't freak out too much about what you will be eating. I ate at all my favorite restaurants before coming to Samoa and then had delicious Chinese food the second night I was here. You won't find Starbucks, but there is still some really good coffee around. Still, get in those last tastes of home before you leave. You will relieve the experience many times while munching on taro.

7. Anything electronic is expensive. Bring a flash driver, or an external hard drive if you are into movies. Even if your not, you should probably still bring one.

8. Watch Mamma Mia. It's a way of life here. Rambo too.

9. Go with the flow. Fa'a Samoa, or the Samoan way, works. Just remember to laugh, breath, and be there for each other. Don't question things too much, everything has a way of working itself out. Samoa is a great country to be in.

10. We volunteers love chocolate. You should bring us some. Three Musketeers, please, otherwise I'll take some Milkyway Bars. Thanks new group!

Waka Waka

2010-09-17T02:41:00.001-07:00

I am one of those people who tends to get one song stuck in my head and then there it is for days, weeks, and sometimes even months on end. I don't know if this is lucky or if it is a curse. However, here in Samoa, it is pretty clearly a blessing, because it gives me an unparalleled tolerance for the music played here. When we arrived back in October, I was surprised to here Christmas music blasting on the radio and on the buses. The music wasn't just your traditional carols though, it consisted of the most amazing blends of holy music, Samoan jams, and American music, both new and old. My favorite mix was a version of Silent Night I heard spliced with DMX's Get it On the Floor. Remarkable.

Christmas music seemed to dominate the airwaves for a solid four or five months, and then the music quickly switched over to the next biggest thing: Nifoloa. Since January, he has released something like six new CD's, however, each CD is pretty much the same melodies as the previous one just with different lyrics over the original beats. Then there is DJ Ok who spliced together songs, using Lil' Jon's characteristic "Okaaaaay!" as his marker. I love it all.

Recently, Shakira's "Waka Waka," the World Cup anthem, has taken the stage. It is everywhere! You can't avoid it, and I Don't want to. As I write this blog, it is on repeat. Yes,I know I am a bit out of date, yet that tends to happen in this country, especially to me, who was obsessed with other songs when this one first hit the radio. Now, it is everywhere! A bunch of us went dancing the other night and the song was played twice! While visiting my host family today, my host sisters phone rang. Her ring tone: Waka Waka. And then on the ferry ride last week, I heard the song playing from someones small telephone speakers FOUR times!

I can't anticipate what song will dominate the airwaves next month, but if it is half as good as the tunes I've been vibing to recently, I know I will continue to be happy here. Every morning before school I put on my current obsession and start my day with a proper private dance party while sipping my coffee. As long as the tunes keep coming and the coffee is fresh, all is well.

The Island Relay

2010-09-17T02:40:00.001-07:00

I should have blogged about this three weeks ago, but due to my parents visit everything has been put off. That being said, the island relay race was held on August 28th. Fifteen teams entered, including two teams representing the Peace Corps. The boys entered team "To a Samoa", and us girls entered team "Kope Keini" into the race. The much anticipated race began predawn for us girls, who although named "fast girls" had really anticipated a slow time. We arrived at the starting line just before 4am. Our Charge D'affairs, Robin, was incredibly supportive of our efforts, providing coolers full of snacks, refreshing drinks, fruit, and transportation! Honestly, I do not know what we would have done without her. The line-up was set with Kailin running the first leg, Erin running the second, Dana the third, Lili the fourth, me the fifth, and Corina the sixth and last stretch. As Kailin departed from the starting line a wave of nausea hit me: this much anticipated day had finally arrived, and over the next 10 hours, I would be running the distance of a half marathon. My stomach was in knots as each runner preceding me hit the road until finally my moment came. I strapped on my ipod and to the tune of Akons' "Freedom" got myself pumped up for my predawn run. As Lili approached, glow stick in hand, I grabbed some rocks (for the dogs), did a few jumps, and took off to the cheers of my teammates encouragement.

The first stretch was exhilarating but exhausting. Coming off of just a few hours of nervous sleep, I was awake enough to run, but it was still a challenge to tackle a 4.3km run at 5:50 in the morning! The day progressed at an alarming speed. Before I new it, it was time to run my second leg! I hit the road for part two around 9am and to my horror started feeling knee pain about 5 minutes into the run. I completed the stretch with decent time, took some ibuprofen and got some ice on my knee. Strapped into my knee brace, the third leg was smooth, but by the fourth leg my body gave up on me and shooting pain inhibited me from completing my portion of the last leg. I was devastated, yet my amazing team stepped to the challenge and like the true fa'amolosi teini they are, ran the extra kilometers to complete the race. Just over 10 and a half hours after we began our team gathered to run the sat few minutes of the race with Kailin in the lead. We crossed the finnish line miles ahead of the next fastest womens' team, taking gold for the Peace Corps girls. The boys powered through like non other, completing the 104km run in a record time of just over 8 hours. They passed us during the second to last leg, but there were no hard feelings from our team, just pure joy as two of the three categories were won with the Peace Corps name.

Peace Corps offers many personal challenges, both emotional and physical. This relay race was a landmark day in my life. I have never considered myself strong runner, yet after this day, I felt like anything was possible. It was so great to run with such a great group of girls, and next year, I look forward to doing it again. I have been resting my leg for the last few weeks since the race but plan to start strength training within the next month to avoid any knee problems next year. Go team go!

Looking Through my Fathers Eyes

2010-09-17T02:38:00.001-07:00

My parents are here in Samoa for a three week visit. Somehow I thought the much anticipated day would never arrive, and then Monday night I found myself heading off to the airport on the 9:30 shuttle from Aggies to await their arrival. When they first began planning their trip, three weeks seemed like a long amount of time, yet one week later, our days have been full, although not busy, and they are gaining an in-depth understanding and appreciation for this beautiful island I call home.

Their visit began in a similar fashion to most tourists, with a brief stay in the main city of Apia. I tend to take Apia for granted and often forget to see how pretty the city actually is. While eating breakfast on a breezy corner of the main strip I marveled at my parents adoration of the city. Where I saw a dirty seawall, they saw a perfect harbor behind it. Where I saw ditty streets, they saw the well composed trees and flowers lining the sides. And where I saw a fast paced, crowded town, they saw a slower placed life. Sitting on the street corner sipping my coffee, I began to see Apia as I had once seen her, nearly eleven months ago, and I smiled with relief that inside of me I can still find that beauty.

We visited the market and sipped coconuts as we rummaged through the stations, each overflowing with bananas, papaya, cabbages, and other produce brought in from their family plantations. We visited the Robert Louis Stevenson Museum and we captivated by the charm of the house and the myth of the man who once lived there. We witnessed a traditional Samoan tattoo being chiseled into place (thanks Matt, it looks great!), and we strolled the seawall, admiring the traditional longboats practicing their warrior rowing in the harbor. After three days in Apia, it was time to head back to my village and introduce my parents to a more traditional way of life.

We boarded Lady Samoa I and left the wharf with blue skies overhead and a calm sea below us. My mom and I, who both tend to get hit hard by seasickness, each took a dramamine before boarding the boat and as a result were exhausted and a little cloudy headed. Like a true Samoan, my mom found a nice bench on the boat and stretched out to enjoy a breezy hour and a half nap as we made our way across the sea. My dad and I walked to the sides of the boat to gaze out at the open ocean on the right and the small islands which dot the sea on the left. The sea was a deep turquoise color which lightened to sky blue where the boat broke through the waves. The ride was short and easy and soon enough we were at Le Waterfront enjoying a taste of America with one of the best views of the South Pacific.

With food in us it was time to head up to the village. My mom became the designated driver for the trip and I took on roll of co-pilot, watching for pigs, dogs, and small children, while pointing out areas of interest along the road.

As we pulled into my driveway a child ran out and rang a bell for all the village to hear indicating our arrival. We brought bags of luggage and food into my house and were soon greeted by one of the Matai of the village. Shortly after his visit came visits from my neighbors, and finally from the pastor who my parents would be staying with. He embraced them as family and invited us all to come back to his house when ready for dinner. The community has been so welcoming to me throughout my stay here and they were no different to my parents. After just one evening, my parents felt like they too had been accepted into my extended Samoan family.

We are now at Bayview after a lovely stay in my village. Our fall sits right next to a lovely bay and a strong steady breeze rustles our curtains and mosquito nets, cooling the air. The fale has one air conditioned room with an attached bathroom. The patio/walkway leading up to the entrance to the room continues past the doorway and opens up into an enclosed deck created in the traditional open fale manner, with two beds surrounded by mosquito nets, three wooden chairs, and a small wooden table. Their is a criss crossed fence surrounded the fale with red flower patterned curtains lining the edges of the roof. Just below our deck is a small sandy area with two kayaks and two outrigger canoes. A short paddle across the bay is a barrier island, and just on the other side of the lush green barrier, gigantic waves crash down upon a black sand beach, tossing and turning huge stones and chunks of coral ripped up by the aggressive waves in the deep sea. The beach extends for a mile or two in each direction with juts of lava rock meeting the rough sea and splashing waves up to fifty feet through the lava tube blow holes. It is a unique resort with some of the best food I have tasted in my eleven months on the island and with an enchanting night sky that seems to penetrate the body and make you one with the universe. If you are planning on coming to Samoa, make sure Bayview is on your list of places to stay.

Looking Through my Fathers Eyes

2010-09-17T02:38:00.000-07:00

Still here, still well

2010-09-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

I have been super busy playing tour guide for my parents these last few weeks, so apologies for the lack of updates recently. I confess, I have also been waiting for inspiration to hit, and I have ben going through a patch of writers blog as it turns out. Quick highlights and thoughts for the moment:

1. It has been SO GREAT to have my parents here. My two week break from school has really felt like a true vacation as I have seen and done more things than I ever thought possible on this island. The village visit, meeting friends, and catching up has been wonderful. Tomorrow, its off to the training village for a long anticipated reunion, I can't wait!

2. Bahai temple - simply amazing. I can't really say much else on the subject as I am still internalizing yesterdays remarkable experience.

3. Bayview Resort - my new favorite place to stay, I have actually written a blog about that and will post it later. I wanted to spell that favourite by the way.

4. Aggie Greys - also amazing. High roller life is pretty fun!

5. The hospitality of my village towards my parents was more than I ever could have asked for. I look forward to returning next week and starting the last term of year one! I miss you all!

6. New group arrives in just a few weeks and I cannot wait! I am starting to plan to welcome fiafia, any suggestions, send them my way, but it's gonna be the place to be, and group 83, get ready for a fun time!

Okay, thats all for now, sorry for the lack of details and interestingness, I promise a more thought out blog will come sometime soon!

My Private Party - don't be jealous of the food

2010-08-06T22:10:00.000-07:00

The lunch of champions. Salivate, Samoa.

Amazing "fine mat" from Niue. I don't know where that is, but I love their art!

The Samoa Room, Auckland Museum.

For my weekend in Auckland I had planned to take the morning ferry out to Whaikeke Island and enjoy some wine and cheese tasting. However, I awoke to a gloomy, rainy Saturday morning. This was no weather to experience vineyard country. So I did what any food loving person would do: googled cheese shops in the area and planned for an afternoon of wine, cheese, and movies in my hotel room. I discovered C’est Fromage, a French cheese shop located only two train stops away and just around the corner from the Auckland Museum. My luck was quickly changing! I hit the road, umbrella in hand, and walked about a half mile to the bus stop. The bus came and as I loaded, terror struck: I had exactly $3.10 and the bus fair was $3.30. I decided to try my luck anyways. I coyly I asked the driver the price and he told me, “$3.30.” “Oh no!” I said in my best, flustered voice, “I only have $3.10!” “Is that okay?” I begged with a desperate smile. The driver winked and handed me change with my ticket. I read the ticket and noticed he had charged me the children’s price. Some people are just good people. His kindness extended as he dropped me off at the street for the museum instead of at the bus stop further down the road. I thanked him for his welcoming behavior and made my way to the museum.

Two hours later I had had my fill of Pacific Cultural items for the day and was ready to start my lunch feast. Just a side note, it was pretty surreal to view Samoan cultural items behind glass…items which I see and use on a daily basis. The fine mat on display was definitely the finest I have ever seen though; it looked like fabric! I made my way out of the museum and walked about a half hour through the rain in search of my destination: C’est Fromage. I arrived cold and hungry, but upon entering, I knew my efforts were worthwhile. I immediately eyed my favorite cheese, Morbier. I told the lady behind the counter I would be taking 100g of that and I would like a goat cheese, preferable a Chevre, to go with it. She gave me three sample cheeses, and the third tasted like heaven; fruity, sharp, and creamy. I had her cut me 100g of the Chevre, paid for both cheeses, and picked up a baguette. I hopped on the train and upon arriving back in Green Lane went to Nosh food market just down the street to pick up some of New Zealand’s’ best wine. I discovered a Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough District on sale and grab it, along with a delicious Chicken Liver Mousse. I meandered back to the hotel, asked the dinning room for a plate, fork, and knife, and settled into my cozy room for my private lunch party.

I am feeling fat and sassy. I love New Zealand.

We Didn't Start the Fire

2010-08-06T02:11:00.000-07:00

In my dream, Phish is covering The Whipping Post by The Allman Brothers. It’s a brilliant sound and my friends and I are watching from the back of a pickup truck. We are discussing how this song is a tribute to us, and we smile as our names are called out. All of a sudden the band makes a mistake. It sounds like an alarm clock! Oh no, it was all a dream…but wait, I wake up, and that is no alarm clock sounding. The obnoxiously loud buzzer of a sound is coming from where, overhead? Out in the hall? It turns off and I debate going back to my dream, but impulse pulls me towards the door to look outside. A few other questioning heads poke out of their rooms. We all look at each other, make half-awake faces of, “do you know what’s going on?” and then return to our warm rooms. I crawl back into bed to continue my impressive 11 hour sleep (this bed is so comfortable!), but my body is now awake, so I get up to search for water outside. I am in the lobby when the noise sounds again. Still not comprehending it, I go back to my room where it’s quite. My peace is short lived. As I drop the key into the slot, the alarm starts up. It finally clicks in my sleepy mind that this is a fire drill! Slowly I move to the front entrance where everyone looks just as dazed and asleep as I do.

We are asked to move to the consolidation point, which is a sign about 30 feet away from the front door. People appear in all stages of morning routine: there are the business men, dressed and ready for the day, small bags on wheels toed behind them; there is a group of sales people whose conference was meant to start at 8am. Some of them are dressed in uniform, two over-sleepers are still in their pajamas, and one guy, clearly the attention seeker of their group, is barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist and a huge bubble jacket. The salespeople ridicule this man, who seems to be in a position of power. He begins delegating responsibilities to people: “I will need your pants and your shoes, otherwise the two of you will have to run this meeting instead of me!”

The fire truck has been parked for some time now and people swirl around it, waiting for answers. The firemen have long ago run into the hotel in search of fire. They were on their way in as I was on my way out. It’s cold and I am glad that I brought the oversized gray sweatshirt from the free box back in our office. I am wearing my orange hippy pants, the grey sweatshirt, and my white jandals.

We wait outside in the cold New Zealand air and I think to myself how out of touch I am with technology. I think the only fire alarm that exists in Samoa is the one in the Peace Corps office. I certainly do not remember seeing any others.

We wait for about a half hour, all the while more people straggle out of the front entrance, ashamed to be the last ones out in this mini emergency. “I was in the shower!” one claims. Another “is just a heavy sleeper!” The fire is found, we wait a few more minutes, it’s put out, and we are ushered back into the hotel. There is a mad dash to the front desk of those who were planning to check out this morning. I glide back to my room, make some hot chocolate, and sit down to tell the tale.

The Funeral (part one): Getting There

2010-07-24T15:01:00.000-07:00

The Women line up to present the flowers

Funeral Flowers

Sunday I heard the news: the ministers’ mother in law had passed away. There would be a fa’alavelave (funeral) the coming Thursday in Apia. The church ladies would be going to comfort his wife and the high-ranking officials from the church community would be going as well. While I am neither a church lady nor a high-ranking official, I wanted to go. My faifeau’s family has been like a second family to me during my time here in the village, and to not pay my respects seemed wrong. So I asked my neighbor if she thought I would be able to tag along with the church. “Sure Sera, no problem!”

Tuesday during dinner I asked about what I should bring. Having never been to a funeral here I was unsure of the proper ways to show ones respect. Mina suggested flowers and said she had ordered some in Apia. I asked if this was something I could do too, to which she replied, “Oh, no, it is too late. You must go to town tomorrow after school to buy the flowers.”

So Wednesday I boarded the bus and headed into town with $50 in my pocket to spend on a funeral wreath. I found a beautiful display at Frankie’s, the first place I looked, and since it was within my budget I bought it and headed off to the office to relax before catching the next bus out. For some reason the 2 boat did not come so I had to wait for the buses till 5:30pm. When I finally got home I went over to Mina’s, reassured her that my flowers were safely bought and stored in the Peace Corps office in town, and inquired about the details. She said we would be taking the 6am ferry and the bus would be coming at 2am. TWO AM! I was shocked. The wharf is only an hour away from my village! But the flowers were already bought, my excuse was handed in at school; there was no backing out of this commitment. I made french toast for dinner and went to sleep by 9pm in anticipation of the 1:30am wake up I was not looking forward to.

Somehow I woke up, pounded a cup of coffee, heated my left over French toast and wrapped it in foil to be eaten on the ferry, and packed my bag. I dressed in the uniform of the day: white puletasi top with a black bottom. Mina had joked that I should dye my hair black to look more Samoan. I didn’t get that far. At 2am, Mina and Pele arrived. They asked if I had had coffee. I said yes, and they said, “oh, good! Can we have some?!” So I made two instant coffees and delivered them to the front of my house. Then Tevaga showed up and I made him a cup as well. By now it was 2:15am and I was entertaining a full house, by my standards. By three, the bus was still not here. I did the dishes and we decided to go wait on the road.

We waited and waited under the stars. It was peaceful and chilly out and I welcomed the light sweater I had brought along with me (Thank you to Clem and Fran!). At 3:30 we finally heard the sound of the bus rolling into town. The church had rented out a charter bus to take us all to and from the event, and it was winding its way through the village, stopping every 10 feet to pick up more people. By the time we loaded it was about half full. The bus stopped in front of the church, where dozens of fine mats were loaded onto the back on the bus. Then we continued through the village. Before the bus turned around, I was nominated to sit on some ones lap. They all joked that I was the lightest one and so naturally, I had to do the lap seat. I hate sitting on people, especially for such a long ride.

A painful hour and a half later we reached the wharf. It was funny doing the trip with these women who rarely leave the village; they were all so pushy about things! They insisted that I should not stand in line to wait for my ticket. Instead, we had one of the churchmen collect all of our money and deal with the ticket counter. It was a nice change, not having to fight the crowds. Once we had our tickets, I took out my French toast to have a bite to eat before the ride. Everyone marveled at the yellow bread I was eating and I offered everyone a bite. They all insisted they were not hungry and so I got to eat my whole breakfast, but they were very curious and kept asking how I made it. I think they are surprised that I know how to cook anything for myself. I promised to make all of the women French toast at some point in the near future.

When I was done, about 5am by this point, the four women I was hanging with decided we should get in line. Being that it was the big boat and no one had lined up yet, their urgency was a bit much, but we squeezed into the narrow entrance way and took a seat. When the doors opened, we were the first ones to board the boat, and so we had free pick of our seats. I chose to sit off to the side in order to have a place to rest my head. I took out my lavalava, scrunched it up into a pillow, and went to sleep for the most refreshing two hour nap of my life. 5:30am and I had already been up for 4 hours, speaking Samoan and being the butt of everyone’s’ jokes. It was time to rest.

Stay tuned for part two….

Cash Power

2010-07-19T23:42:00.000-07:00

In Samoa, prepaid electricity can be bought just like a calling card. You go to a store, ask for the amount you want to spend, and like that, you are given a card with an area to scratch off to reveal your code to top up. Or at least that’s what I thought. My cash power was running low so I decided to top up for the first time over the weekend. I found a store that sold the little cards, went home, scratched to find my number, and then realized that things were actually much more complicated than I thought. The cash power box has a number pad on it, so naturally, I thought you would punch in the 10 digit code from the card. I was wrong. After finding your code, you then call the electric company. You enter in your cash power boxes’ code and then enter your prepaid card number. Following this process, you then receive a SIXTY DIGIT code to type in. I thought I had misheard the first time, and asked for clarification: “You mean 16?” I asked the woman on the other end of the phone. “No, 60. You ready?” I scrambled around to find a pen and wrote down the absurdly long code. After hanging up, I made my way to the power box and began entering in the numbers, twenty at a time. I was worried I would make a mistake and have to start all over again, so each digit was pressed with care. At last, the 60th number was entered, and just like that, my power supply went from 2.3 to 29.7! Relieved, I went back into my room and turned the computer, fan, and lights on. In a country so small, I have no idea why a sixty-digit code is necessary for ANYTHING. Fa’a Samoa.

Riding the Bars

2010-07-19T23:38:00.000-07:00

Every afternoon walking home I marvel at the parents who pick up their kids from school by bike. There are three fathers who wait at the store across from school and when the younger children get out, they each load up three children to their bikes (so 9 in total) and proceed to ride home. In my mind I call them The Bike Brigade and I look forward to seeing them every day, although I also worry that their cheerful waves might cause serious injury to themselves and their small passengers!
I have always wondered just how they can balance so many children safely and this weekend, I had the opportunity to learn first hand! I had greedily taken a late afternoon swim at Lucia’s before heading back to the wharf to catch the last bus home. I knew I was cutting it close time wise, but I thought it would be a shame to miss an opportunity for some tranquil ocean swimming, after all, the opportunity only comes but once a week for people like me who live inland!

I quickly changed, paid my bill and hit the road to walk the mile back to the wharf. Another Peace Corps, AJ rode by on his way home and I strolled along enjoying the peaceful road. And then I rounded a corner and saw a dreadful sight: the ferry docking! When the ferry docks, you have maybe 5 minutes tops before the buses leave. And I still needed to stop in the office! I cursed my luck and started to make a run for in, big red tote bag in one hand, the other holding up my lavalava and sandals. Desperate to make the bus I continued the awkward shuffle for about 2 minutes before AJ came into view: “If you are going to make the bus, you need to get on my handle bars, now!” Neither of us had ever attempted this feat, but I knew it was my only shot. I climbed onto his bike as you would climb a tree. We tried to balance but we couldn’t get it, so I changed my position to sit facing forward on the handles with nothing to hold onto. I think we glided for an inch or two before we decided it was hopeless. AJ offered me his bike but I refused, thinking that even with the bike, I would miss my chance at the bus. It looked like I would be spending the night in town after all. He pedaled off and I accepted the fact that I would be missing the bus.

Then, my luck turned around. A Samoan family was driving down the road in the opposite direction. I flagged them down, and begged them for a ride to the wharf, explaining I was a Peace Corps and could not miss this last bus. The wife jumped out and sat in the back of the car as the husband flipped a quick K-Turn, and to the tune of my repeated thanks, sped off to catch my bus. I ran into the Peace Corps office, grabbed my shopping from the weekend, realized I had no money, and darted towards the buses. I figured the driver would let me ride for free this one time, but then I saw Lili on her bus and quickly spat out, “I have no money! Can you pay my bus fare?” Without hesitation she handed me a ten, and smiled. Lili is my life savor; I seriously do not know what I would do without her! Then again, I would have done the same for her if she had been in my situation. I jumped on the already crowded bus, took a seat towards the back, and breathed. I had made it. Goal for the next year: learn how to ride handlebars.

Don't Crash into Me!

2010-07-19T23:34:00.000-07:00

Friday afternoon as I sat on the bus waiting to go to Supy’s I heard a crash. The buses waiting for the ferry pack themselves into a tiny parking lot and then as they fill up, they back out instead of driving forward to exit. I don’t know who thought this was a good idea, but the result is about 15 buses fighting to leave through one small gate as fast as possible. So I am actually surprised that I have not witnessed more accidents. However, Friday’s crash proved my first glimpse into insurance coverage Savaii style. We heard a crash and immediately the startled people waiting on the buses turned towards the back of the lot. At first we could not see anything, and then as the driver backed up further, it came into view: one of the wooden buses with a drop down wooden flank in the back had loaded a bike onto the wood jutting out behind the bus. Unaccustomed to this extra load, he had backed up and accidentally crashed the bike tire right through the window of a waiting taxi! The taxi driver looked pissed. He got out of the cab and walked over to the bus drivers’ plastic drop down window. He pounded on the window and the ashamed driver dropped it down. No sooner had the plastic hit the bus frame than, WHAM! The taxi driver popped him with a right hand blow to the face. Everyone just watched, amused at the afternoons entertainment. And I learned a lesson: do not damage someone’s’ car unless you are ready to take a beating.

Water Wars

2010-06-29T20:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the water was turned off. I thought nothing of it because this is a typical occurrence. Every day for a few hours, the water just does not run. It is a hassle only because it always catches me off guard, like just as I am going to rinse out my laundry or do my dishes. I have learned to be quick and do my dishes immediately after eating as a result. Between the possible threat of no water and the very real threat of ants and mice, it is best to get that chore out of the way sooner than later.

I went for my run as normal around 5:15 and figured the water would be on by the time I returned home. For the past week it was coming back on pretty consistently around 6pm. So I enjoyed an intense run and then came home, only to find that no, the water was still not back. Being that it was Monday night, I was expected at my neighbors’ house for dinner at 6:30. I took my chances and went out to the water tank, which hasn’t worked since March. As luck would have it, the spigot turned and out gushed water! I ran inside, grabbed a big bucket and gleefully cleaned up before dinner. I paid some attention to my laundry, which had been sitting in a soapy heap since early in the afternoon, and got it all rinsed out and hung up in the shower. Leaving clothes on the line over night is an open invitation for the village to take what they want, so I have learned not to do that.

Laundry and bathing – these are two things I have learned to do quite well with a bucket, even when water is running. It’s the small things that catch you off guard though, like going to flush the toilet and having no water. Or planning to fill my water bottles only to realize that I let my water filter slack and now need to top up the barrel; with no running water, this becomes a huge ordeal, trudging out to the cement water tank, filling a bucket, boiling the water, letting it cool, and finally pouring it into the bucket to be filtered out as drinking water.

Before going to bed I prepared for the possibility of no water in the morning, although I did not actually believe I would be in the situation. I topped up the toilet, filled a bucket for my bath and a pot on the stove to add hot water to my bath, and the hot water boiler for my coffee. I went to sleep dreaming of the trickling noise I would hear once the water began to flow again.

When I awoke, I did not ever think to check the tap. I had not heard the pleasant dripping of the toilet being refilled and I knew I had my answer – it was to be another day of water tank usage. It was kind of dreamy in a way going out to fill my bucket as the sun rose (I ended up needing more water than I had put aside.) I got to school at my normal time and told myself all will be fixed by the time I return.

No such luck. It is amazing how fast you adjust to the situations you find yourself in, and using the water tank, while not the most convenient, is not that bad. However, I was curious – is it just my house or are the other houses nearby having water troubles as well? My pipes are old and made of plastic and tend to disconnect easily if a child or pig steps on them the wrong way. I asked one of my neighbors and was dumbfounded at what I discovered – the village next to ours is stealing our water! They put a lock on the spigot that allows water to enter our village and will not open it. So I asked who is responsible for fixing this situation and was told the water committee. However, since they are all out of town, the water issue might persist for a while. I am thankful that I have such a huge water tank just outside my door and that it has been raining practically every day to keep that tank full. For now, buckets it will be. The amazing thing in all of this is I am not even fazed by it – it’s just kind of the norm now. Let there be rain, and all will be good.

Time of the Season

2010-06-27T11:47:00.000-07:00

My inner clock is fastidiously set these days. It is Sunday morning yet like clockwork, I awoke at 6am. These days it is still dark out at that hour, in true winter fashion. It’s hard for me to get used to the idea that we are now in the winter months. My entire life I have associated June-August as summertime, but now my world has flipped upside down, and the 22nd of June marked the first day of winter, not summer. The days are noticeably shorter, with the sun rising around 6:30am and setting 12 hours later at 6pm.

When we first arrived here in October last year, the sun would rise around 5:30 and we would be out for our morning run no later than 5:45. Any later than that, and it would start to feel too hot. These days, heat in the morning is not an issue. It does get South Pacific hot by mid-day, but the heat is more bearable this time of year. It is not the penetrating heat of January that wipes you out, and makes you not want to move a muscle for days on end.

This morning I woke up to the sound of birds tweeting and crickets chirping. The familiar background noise of pigs grunting and rosters cocking was there as well, but as I lay in my dark room, I couldn’t help but feel at home. I was reminded of the days when I would wake up early for school in September and not wanting to leave my bed, would lounge lazily as I listened to the noises of the morning. I let myself lay in darkness for a good 15 minutes before surrendering to the desire for coffee. I got up, put on some water to boil, measured out my coffee grinds, and lay back down in bed to read while the water brewed my morning fuel. By now it was just passing 6:20 and evidence of the suns emergence was beginning to show through my kitchen window. A pale peach color spread itself over the clouds, inching slowly towards my village. As the light grew brighter the clouds transformed into their hazy grey-blue mix, a warning that there will be rain within the next hour. I have become good at reading these morning clouds. A strong breeze blew through my windows, fluttering out my flower patterned purple curtains like fluid waves of wildflowers on a hillside. I picked up my coffee and snuggled back into bed with my book. What better way to start a day?

Another Running Blog....THE POSSE

2010-06-19T15:12:00.000-07:00

I have a running posse now. It started out small. The first few days of my running I was solo, running by the villagers and waving. I have been consistent, leaving the house at 5:30 and planning my runs based on time and intensity. At first, a few kids would come out to race me; others would just watch, eyes wide open in wonder, as I plodded by. I would finish my run and then the kids would swarm the backyard area where I was stretching and imitate my moves. After a few days of this routine, I invited them to come along with me the following day. Pisi, one of my top students, eagerly said she would come. So the next day at 5:30 I went outside to wait, but there was no sign of her. I gave it five minutes before jogging off on my own. She showed up about an hour after I returned, “So sorry, I fell asleep!” I said no problem, just come tomorrow! True to her word, she was outside, ready to run at 5:15 the following afternoon, sneakers and all. We charted a course down to the Mormon Church and back, figuring it would take about 20 minutes total. It was a struggle for her but Pisi made it all the way there and back, and we were greeted by loud cheers from my quickly forming posse as we entered the village center. They all followed to stretch. The following day there was a knock on my door at 4:30pm. “Sara, we have four today.” I was feeling pretty run down from a cold I am struggling through and told the kids I didn’t think I would be running. I lay down in my bed to read, but the kids would not leave. “Look! We have four! Pisi, Luti, Malo, and Siaki!” I said to myself, “oh man, there is no getting out of this run today, I have created a monster.” I rolled myself out of bed, put on my running attire and walked out the door around 5pm. The kids were giggling and stretching in no apparent order. Pisi had her sneakers on but Siaki and Luti wore Jandals (flip flops) and Malo was barefoot. Some were stretching their arms, others copying yoga poses that I have done in the past. The four runners were in the middle of my “backyard” and surrounding them were all of their little siblings. It was quite a scene. I led them in some small pre-run stretches for about 5 minutes and then we hit the road. Our goal was once again the Mormon Church. We turned left out of my “driveway” and began to run, and as we did, more kids flocked to join our group. By the time we reached the other side of the bridge (about a minutes run away) our group had doubled in size. We jogged down the road to the entertainment of all the adults weeding on the sides of the roads. Gradually the group began to taper off around the 5 minute mark, and at the 10 minutes, only the boys were still running. We turned around at the Mormon church and every few minutes overtook a few stragglers. The boys were in awe, they kept saying, “wow! Fa’amalosi teini!” Meaning, strong girl! We made it back and I served water to those who finished the run. We stretched and chatted in broken Samoan and broken English. All of these runners are my students, so it was almost like a tutoring session running with them, although I felt I was the one being tutored! They asked me what other sports I like besides running, so I told them basketball. Their eyes light up, “oh, seki a!” They asked if I know Troy. I think they were referring to football but I said yes and agreed that he was a great player. Then I asked them if they know Michael Jordan and they both smiled, followed by Siaki jumping up and doing a poor imitation of the moonwalk. “No! No! No! Not Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan!” But they were lost in dance, and we all were laughing. It was a fun afternoon. I am resting this weekend but come Monday the training starts again. Who knows what will become of my posse over the two-day break. I have a feeling it will be larger than ever come Monday though!

The Buses of Savaii

2010-06-19T15:06:00.000-07:00

Buses are the backbone of Samoan life. Being that most people do not have cars, they offer the valuable service of transporting people from the village to town and then back again. They carry people, items destined for the market, tourists seeking the pristine beaches, mail, and gossip. They play all of the best music, new and old and Christmas year round. Each bus has these traits in common but a host of other traits to make every bus it’s own unique being.

My side of the island (Northeast-North Shore route) has about 6 different buses. There is the pink Queen Maggie, which I have only ridden once as it is not really my bus of choice. Then the white Jane’s Beach Fales buses, which are a bit more regular but again I do not chose to ride them if I have a choice. Then there are the green buses. My loyalty lies with the green bus line, Paradise in Heaven. A man in my village owns these buses and as a result there are always familiar faces on these buses. I know all of the drivers and they know me. If I am walking down the street, the buses never pass without a friendly flash of their headlights and a quick wave and smile from the driver. I can say that this familiarity has been a major factor in feeling accepted into the village and the island.

The green buses vary amongst themselves. There is the one driven by Peni with its bobble head dogs above the front window and stickers of weight lifters stuck to the front windshield. Then there is the bus which sports a Jamaican flag with Bob Marley’s face in the center strung up above the drivers head. On early morning rides this flag is illuminated by a single light bulb and the rest of the bus is dark. It is a hauntingly peaceful sight. Lastly there is the somewhat plain bus that has a few giant stickers of feet with the word “STOP” written on the soles. I have debated those feet and have decided they are just there for color. This particular driver needs some interior decorating advice from the other drivers.

Some buses drive fast, others go nice and slow as if getting you to your destination is the least of their concerns. Some are so packed that people sit on laps, crowding four people to a seat, while others are so empty that you feel like you are on your own private charter bus. Some blast loud music with seat rattling base lines while others keep it so quiet you can hear the grunts of pigs and sounds of birds overhead as you pass by. Ironically, the quiet buses tend to drive faster than the loud ones. I guess the drivers are more relaxed with music on. Most drivers keep a crate of cigarettes above their heads and will smoke a few packs over the course of the day. I have even experienced one driver who likes to keep a beer at hand for the end of the day drives.

My favorite area of bus travel is its transportation of goods. Often times people will pull the chain to stop the bus not to get off but to hand bags of food or mail to someone waiting on the side of the road. The first time I did it was to deliver cat food to a PCV lower down on my bus route, and I felt like I had finally reached the state of being a true PCV. I have seen pigs bigger than myself laid out in the isles, cooked, bound in hand woven baskets of banana leaves, and being transported to be shared at a feast or given as a gift. Often time’s fine mats will crowd the isles as well. Things are loaded onto the bus in any way, shape, or form. I have seen piping tied to the side of the bus, babies passed from mother to stranger, and bikes strapped down to the wooden plank that juts out behind the bus. Last week I was on a green bus destined for home and was drifting deep into thought when the bus suddenly pulled off to the side of the road in front of the pink Queen Maggie. A man ran up to the door asking, “O fea le pusa keke?” Where is the box of cakes? Everyone, including the driver looked back at this man as if he was crazy. The man moved on and then another man came up demanding the same question. There were a few murmurs and then a women sitting towards the front pointed to a box above the drivers head, “Lea!” There! The driver reached up and without checking the contents of the box handed over what he assumed to be the cakes to the man. The man thanked everyone on the bus with a big smile and then hopped back on the pink bus as we drove away. Shortly thereafter the pink bus passed us with a honk of friendly hello and undertones of “Thank you.” The green driver honked back, clearly saying “Your welcome.”

Later on that same bus ride we hit a piglet. The bus driver just shook his head in remorse and a few people made clicking noises with their tongues. A few minutes later no one remembered the incident. Thus is the routine of a daily bus ride. You never know what you will get but expecting the unexpected is the rule of thumb.

A Different Kind of Shopping

2010-06-10T17:19:00.001-07:00

I went for a bike ride today not for the exercise but because I was hungry and I was sick of the same old packaged goods that are sold next door at the fale aloa. I left my house with dreams of papaya, eggplant, and maybe if I was lucky a watermelon or pineapple. To my dismay, the typical hotspot road stands were empty. I passed a few selling taro but I was not in the mood for the heavy starch. My goal was to reach the stand about 15 minutes down the road that always looks great from the bus. I biked and biked and when I finally reached what should have been Eden, I was met with the bare wooden frame of a lifeless vegetable stand. Even the plastic lining which the fruits and veggies are normally placed on was missing. Maybe the family had taken a holiday, or was still out working the fields. With much regret, I turned around and started brainstorming what else I might be able to find. As I turned the corner towards my village at three corners (or at the “T” as we call it in America) I was met with a promising sight: there before me was a stand with something other than taro. I indulged my vegetable craving, buying a large bag of fresh cucumbers and tomatoes. I raced home, chopped them up, added in some onion, sprinkled on a light dressing of balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil with a dash of Italian seasoning, and my lunch was served. I never realized how much I valued a good supermarket until they were gone. Then again, the adventure of obtaining food is still fresh and fun, and you never know what you are going to get!

Socks in the village

2010-06-10T01:32:00.000-07:00

As I get ready to go for a run in the late afternoon heat through my village I am struck by how strange it feels to be wearing socks. When I came to my village mid December of last year I was determined to keep up my running routine. After a few early morning runs where I had to fight off mean looking dogs I gave up on the idea of exercise in the village. However, after my recent trip to Apia, I am determined to keep up my routine. I am taking a new approach. Instead of waking up before the sun rises to get a run in before school and fend off the dogs as they are waking up from their nightly snoozing, I am going to attempt to run before “sa” in the late afternoons. My reasoning is multi-layered. First off, I will get more sleep and therefore be happier going to school. Secondly, more people will be out and about getting ready for dinner and doing their afternoon chores of weeding and taking down the laundry. This means that a. I will be more social, seeing more people on the roads, and b. there will be more people out to protect me from mean dogs if anything were to happen. There is no third. It won’t be any cooler, but at least it won’t be the mid-day heat. So here I am, my feet snuggled up in socks and shoes, my body dressed in an oversized tee shirt, spandex, and a lavalava wrapped around my waist to avoid being culturally insensitive. Now all I have to do is get out there and run.

My first 10k!

2010-06-06T16:41:00.000-07:00

The Peace Corps Runners pre-race

Sorry it has been ages since I last wrote. There has been so much going on, but things get back to normal this coming week. Check for new posts soon. For now, here's a bit about my first race!

Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run… Set the gear shift for the high gear of your soul, you gotta run like an antelope out of control!

Yesterday I ran my first race ever, and a day later, I am steal beaming from the excitement of it! My knees are not as happy as the rest of me, but overall, I am feeling good and am looking forward to training for more runs in the future.

It all started about two weeks ago when I heard a rumor that a 10k race would be held as part of the Samoan Independence celebrations. Being a former athlete, I immediately took to the idea and started talking about how much fun it would be. I did not think much about training, telling myself that 6 miles is nothing. In hindsight, it would have been a good idea to do some training. I will keep that in mind for future races. However, I did not go at it cold. Over the past two weeks I did do a few runs, mostly 5k’s, but never much more than that. So to go from 5 to 10, I was a bit concerned.

The night before the race the PC office was bustling with other Peace Corps who had come to town to run the race. Lili and I made customized outfits to run in, naming ourselves’ “Team Rock the Nation.” We figured looking good was half the battle. I don’t think we were wrong being that we each finished the race! We all “carb-loaded,” eating hefty portions of pasta and bread, hydrated to the max, and called it an early night.

I awoke at 5:30am, chugged a bottle of water, ate half a Cliff Bar, strapped on my shoes, and was out the door by 5:45am. We met with the other Peace Corps in the office and then all walked over together. Kyle, Lili, and myself represented group ’82. Group ’81 had a strong showing with Joey B (aka coach), AJ, Dan, Matt L, and Phil. Joey C represented for group ’80. With Casey and Chris cheering us on, we left the starting line at precisely 6:30am, each with our own personal goals in mind. For me, it was to finish in about an hour. Lili just wanted to complete the race, and the boys were in it to win it.

The course left Apia heading out to the east, and after 15 minutes running through town we met the sea and ran along the beach road. It was early enough that not too many cars were on the roads, but an occasional bus or taxi would pass by and offer a ride, not understanding why anyone would possibly want to run anywhere just for the fun of it. The sun rose over the ocean as we ran and although I began questioning why I had decided to run, I got into the zone about halfway through the race and really enjoyed everything past the turn around point. When I rounded the corner to the finish line I saw all the people cheering me on including our Peace Corps and JICA friends, both runners and supporters, and it felt great to pass the line and know that I had completed a 10k race. I was handed a chilled niu (coconut) with a straw, and a immediately drank it, followed by another, and then another. Next race will be the Island Run, where teams of 6 run the circumference of Upolu Island. I can’t wait. Let the training begin!