my life has changed in this short amount of time. Yes, I realize that
two months is not much time, but it seems like a lifetime. During
training my life is controlled - almost every hour of the day.
Language, meetings, study, dinner at 6, laundry, study. Besides that
rare moment of freedom, my meals are cooked for me. I have a support
network of Americans near me and I can speak English when I need a break
from forming broken sentences in Russian. But there are things that
come up daily that really make me miss home.
First, and the biggest issue, is communication. I don't understand.
When I meet new people it takes me time to formulate questions to ask
them. I am unintentionally left out of most conversations and I get
frustrated when I can't tell someone how I feel. Sure, being immersed
is the best way to learn a language, but it is a lonely road to take.
When I leave for my permanent site I leave for a small town that has two
English speakers. I will also be the first American that most of the
people will have seen. A celebrity that can't express herself (or
hide).
Next is freedom. I live with a Ukrainian family, whom I love. But I
don't get to choose my meals. I have to inform them where I am going
and when I will be home, not for keeping tabs on me, but so they can
have lunch ready at the right time. Long gone are the days when I can
go out and do mindless tasks. Even the smallest errands require my
utmost concentration. It's exhausting.
I want food that isn't fried in a pound of butter.
"Why do you only eat one?"
"I don't eat much fried food."
"This isn't fried."
"You put the dough filled with sugar cheese in a frying pan with oil and
when it turned golden brown you covered it in butter."
"Ok. It's a little fried. Eat more!"
This is my life.
Give me plain salad. Give me raw vegetables or fruit. Or maybe I
don't want hot soup when it is 90 degrees outside. Ukrainians are small
and thin even though their diets consist of carbohydrates, mayonnaise
and oil. I can only wish for such genes.
And as much as I hate the dreaded phrase "cross-cultural moment," I
understand its importance and frustrations. They are usually small
moments that wear at you slowly. I will not understand them, I cannot
change them, so I must learn to accept them. "Culture shock" also comes
under the title of dreaded phrase. I joke that pretty much everything
is culture shock: "you're tired? Must be culture shock." "you don't
feel like studying? Must be culture shock." "my knee hurts. Must be
culture shock." But when you cry for a week for no apparent reason
culture shock becomes very real.
Despite all of these trials I embrace my life here. Sure, I don't
understand now, but the idea of being able to communicate in Russian
keeps me going. When I hit that imaginary wall and begin to understand,
the meaningless, all-of-my-concentration tasks will be mindless as they
should be. Each conversation will be just that, a conversation, not a
huge accomplishment. And when I get my own home I will be able to host
my own dinner parties with fruit and vegetable platters and American
favorites that don't include a fryer and oil.
The process of assimilation is slow and I don't think fully achievable
in the two years that I will be here. Nor do I want to fully
assimilate. I've never been really patriotic, but the differences are
what make me American. I grew up American and I have American thoughts
and ideas ingrained in me. I don't believe that a draft from a window will make me sick or that eating cold ice cream too fast will make my throat hurt. To give up my ideals and past would be to give up being
me.
In 19 days I will officially be a Peace Corps Volunteer and begin my new
life by the sea. Will it be a challenge? Yes. Will it be frustrating?
Yes. Will I cry? Absolutely. But it will also be rewarding, moving,
and transforming. It will make me better. This is why I'm here.
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