Day 71: A New Career In A New Town

“Well, I’m off to St. Mary’s . . . to deliver a baby . . . because that’s what I do.”
                                                                                                 - Dr. Pomatter, Waitress

After three miserable weeks of bloglessness (miserable due to my lack of updates, not due to my experiences in Guatemala), I’m back.  For all of you still reading, thanks for your patience and continued interest in my adventures.

Today is the start of a new era in my Peace Corps journey, marked by two exciting/terrifying events: swearing in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV, if you want to sound cool and informed), and moving to my assigned site, where I will be living for the next two years.

The newly sworn in Peace Corps Volunteers

Swearing In (capitalized to convey the full Importance, Formality, and Life-Changingness of the event) was, in fact, somewhat anticlimactic.  After dressing ourselves in varying levels of formalwear and arranging ourselves in not-quite-alphabetical-order, my fellow trainees and I listened to a host of speeches, pledged our commitment to the Peace Corps cause, and received our diplomas (I think this is probably not the correct term to use here, but I don’t know what else to call them).  Most of the ceremony passed by in a blur.  In fact, one of my most distinct memories of the ceremony is contemplating my Nalgene and wondering, “Have I had enough water to drink today?”  Fortunately, that’s not the only tidbit I’ve retained—I keep daydreaming over the words of one fellow trainee-turned-volunteer, whose speech moved me deeply:

“My personal belief is that we are charged with caring for the world around us—the natural world, as well as the built world, and all its people—in the present and with an eye towards the next seven generations.  We’ll do this in our work alongside our host country partners, in nurturing the health and wellness of mothers and their children, and by empowering youth to be leaders and stewards of their communities.  As for service learning amidst an array of challenges, we’ll do so from an angle of empathy, with open hearts and minds, and a willingness to say yes, to commit ourselves every day to service.  We may not change the whole world, but perhaps a small corner of it . . . . For me, this is a good place to start.”

I don’t imagine that I can successfully convey, through the imperfect medium of bloggery, the meaning that these words have for me, but I’ll try.  I’ve learned over the past ten weeks that serving in the Peace Corps is really a daily commitment.  It’s one thing to pack your bags and move to a foreign country, with the intent of staying for two years.  It’s another thing entirely to wake up every morning in that foreign country, thinking, “Can I really handle any more Spanish today?  Any more tortillas?  Any more stares at the white girl in the street?”  Yes, my days here have known some truly wonderful experiences.  But I also have to take the time and energy every day to remind myself why I’m here, to motivate myself, and that can be exhausting.  The willingness to keep saying yes, as mentioned in the speech above, is in itself a learning process.

The cutest of swear-in photos

After the swearing-in ceremony, I felt strangely empty and a little bit lost.  I think this is partly because my hands had just been doused in scalding coffee by an overeager volunteer; and partly because I was scared senseless about moving away from my training family and starting my “real work;” and partly because I didn’t feel like a real volunteer.  It’s kind of like when you turn 13, and are surprised to discover that being a teenager doesn’t actually feel any different from being 12—at least not right away.  Swearing in, similarly, does not impart any instantaneous special knowledge or skills.  I can’t say that I expected it to (I’m not a complete maroon, after all), but I still felt strangely at a loss to think that I was suddenly a PCV, with all these new responsibilities and tasks, and without any real clue of how I would carry them out.

Luckily, the Peace Corps doesn’t give you much time to dwell on your potential shortcomings as a PCV: four days after Swear In, I shipped out.  I spent the night before the move saying my goodbyes around the community of Santo Tomás.  This amounted to lots of house visits, lots of “remembrance” gifts (including a big bag full of delicious passionfruit), and lots of pictures with unsmiling Guatemalans (I’m not sure why smiling for photos isn’t a thing here, but it makes me look like a grinning baboon in comparison).

"Cousin" Brandon, a grinning baboon, and "Uncle" Enrique

I’ll definitely miss Claudia,

Claudia and me (I'm on the left)

and her niece Esmeralda (my partner in jigsaw puzzles),

Esmeralda and me

and the cozy house we’ve all shared.

The cozy house (yes, that is a full line of ropa interior, washed lovingly by yours truly)

As for the move itself, it’s been a bit stressful.  The other ex-trainees and I, in addition to the 100 lbs of luggage we brought into Guatemala, have to deal with the books, binders, art supplies, medical kits, bulky mosquito nets, etc. etc. etc. gifted to us by the Peace Corps.  And although the Peace Corps vans can drive volunteers part of the way to their new sites, we all had to figure out our own transport for the final legs of our journeys.  I was fully prepared to cram my stuff into a taxi trunk or haul it onto a bus, but this turned out to be unnecessary.  My new town, in anticipation of my arrival, had sent their only working ambulance to Peace Corps Headquarters, to ferry me to site in Cleopatra/Nicki Minaj/full diva style (I seriously hope there were no medical emergencies that day).

And now, the grand reveal of my site, for which I am sure you have been waiting with bated breath: I now live in San José Chacayá, Sololá (check out my new address under the Contact Tab!).  SJC is a small community of 4,851 people (about 650-ish of whom actually live in town), located 2200 meters above sea level and less than three miles from the stunningly beautiful Lake Atitlán.  I knew, as the ambulance crested the final hills leading into town, that I was arriving in a pretty spectacular place:

A view en route to site

A second view en route

San José Chacayá is 95% indigenous, but luckily most people speak Spanish (I am, however, about to start lessons in Kakchikel, the local Mayan language that may break my psyche/vocal cords).  I’m living with a small family, comprised of a mother and father (Maria and Juan), their 7-year-old son (Jon Isaias), their dog (Muñeca), and three pigs; and I will soon start work at the local health post, the Centro de Atención Permanente (or CAP).  I’m excited to know both the family and the community better.

Good night!

An erupting volcano, seen from the hostel the other PCVs and I shared after swearing in