I'm Officially Still Not Old

November 22, 2005- Today is my 23rd birthday. It snowed. It was pretty. It was also pretty freaking cold. I’m already wearing my warmest layers and winter isn’t even officially here. I think I might be in trouble. I think I’ll be investing in a lot of fur. Shh, don’t tell PETA.

As far as birthdays go, it’s been a good one. I didn’t have to go early to language lessons and I only had to teach one class. I spent the morning sleeping in, eating a leisurely breakfast (a sausage link, shredded beats and cooked cauliflower…mmmm….isn’t that what you dream about for breakfast?) and working on my lesson plan. I played hooky this morning and chose not to go an hour early to the school to observe classes. Instead I danced around to music in my room (much like an I-pod commercial except I wasn’t shadowy) and read a book (Updike’s “Gertrude and Claudius”). My morning was great. When I got to the school, I learned that I hadn’t even missed anything because there had been no classes to observe and I would have just been standing around all cold in the teacher’s room. The school was incredibly cold, so cold in fact, that classes were shortened from the normal 45 minutes to a mere 30 minutes.

My host family gave me a small bouquet of carnations today. Actually, I don’t know if three flowers are technically considered a bouquet or not. Regardless, it was sweet. When giving flowers here, you only give odd numbers unless it’s a funeral. So my host family gave me three carnations and my 10th form class gave me one carnation, which was also sweet, but I don’t know if it’s technically okay to stuff all four flowers into the same vase or not. Right now, all four are cohabitating, but that could be bad luck, I don’t know. Lot’s of things are bad luck here, like wiping the table with a paper napkin and whistling inside (you’ll lose your money…Steve!!) and shaking hands across doorways and crossing a black cat and, oh, there’s more. I should know; I’m a chronic offender.

My host family also gave me a little statue, trinket thingy. I don’t know how to describe it really, except as a little statue, trinket thingy. It’s a young lad, about six inches tall wearing purple overalls with a little puppy rubbing up against his legs. He looks kind of like a cabbage-patch kid, but more like a drunk “my-buddy.” I love it because it’s so ridiculously great. My host family’s babushka gave me some half-used French perfume, no doubt fresh from the bazaar. I have been beating myself up for not bringing my perfume with me, so maybe it’s ordained from above that I smell like an old, French grandma for awhile, I don’t know.

On a more serious note, this past week has been tough for me emotionally. It was a combination of an ear infection (I’m notoriously worthless and pathetic when I’m sick, just ask Darce), being exhausted from my site visit, and I guess being suddenly struck by the reality of the distance between everyone I love and myself. Visiting my permanent site made everything that I’ve been preparing for real. It made the two years real. It made the job real. It made the depth of the commitment I’ve made real. It was utterly overwhelming. The pendulum of emotions can be pretty dramatic at times, and I have to remind myself that it’s normal, and that it’s what I expected coming here, and that it’s okay to cry.

I’ve met a lot of volunteers from Group 25 (I’m 29) who are heading home within the next few weeks. It’s been good to meet them, and to hear about their experiences, and to see how well adjusted they all became. Mostly, it’s inspiring to see how much they enjoyed themselves here, as I’m sure I will when training is over, and I’m done living with my second host family, and I can finally assume a small sense of control over my life-in my own apartment. Oh, I’m fantasizing already. It’s going to be incredible…

I try not to think about my service in terms of years because it’s too daunting. Instead I try to think in terms of weeks, like this week and next week, and the week after that. Three showers, three weeks, it’s an easy way to look into the future. When I do think about the years, I try to do so looking back. Like, I’ve been out of college for a year and half and that went pretty fast. I know that when all is said and done, and I’m reflecting upon the highs and lows of this experience, it will have gone fast too. And I’ll be able to remember my 23rd birthday (also the 300th anniversary of borshch), when it snowed, and my host family gave me my cabbage-patch doll trinket thingy, and we shared a bottle of champagne for dinner, and I woke Darcy up with an early morning phone call, and I talked to my mom, and I wrote this blog.