I can't believe I've been here almost three weeks already (unless I count time by the swine flu updates that solomon insists we watch EVERY NIGHT on his "news" station, in which case it seems like i've been here forever). Quick update since last post: the day after I last posted, I got a job at Bistro Maxine, a French restaurant around the corner from Stanford University in Palo Alto. I am executive sous chef and resident interior designer, and I work for three pretty fabulous people, but Georges is my favorite. He loves food almost as much as I do, and I like him because 1: he put accordion music on his ipod just for me 2: he likes to dance around while cooking as much as I do, 3: he lets me come up with specials on the reg. Oh, and 4: he always sends me home with an extra baguette and a pain au chocolat or deux.
Anyway, I make some straightfoward French food in a very tiny cuisine for a bistro that has about six tables.. so it's much like the Shoebox was, except that now people sit at the table, instead of underneath it in the middle of our crowded, tiny living room. The people that come in are legit foodies, and it's a lot of fun making good eats for people who can recognize them.
I'm also spending more time exploing the city (china town, north beach, SF Moma), and this weekend (HALLOWEEN) I think I'm going to Berkeley. I'm working on Solomon's guest bedroom - I've been painting it apricot and now I'm going to start on a mural: a glossy white tree of life.
I have officially accepted my invitation to serve in Kyrgyzstan.
Now I'm sleep sleep sleepy and I'm going to eat some pumpkin bread pudding and go to bed. Overall, each week is progressively better. California better be careful, or I may never leave...
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Rough and Tumble, Legendary WEST
To the great surprise of anyone who knows my severe distaste for the act of driving, a week after returning to Toledo, I left again. I bought a GPS, repacked a suitcase, grabbed my accordion, and hit the road, driving towards the beautiful and legendary American west! Armed with a couple books on tape and a couple bags of carrots, I drove through the I states (Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa) and spent the first night alone in a cornfield. I mean, in a motel 6 in "Avoca," Iowa... but everybody knows that place can't possibly be real. The first day's drive was about 11 hours, and all in all rather enjoyable. The next day I blazed through Nebraska (hands down the most boring state I drove through) and into Colorado, where after about 9 hours' drive, I met up with my fellow T-18 reject, Bang, in Boulder. We enjoyed some seriously delicious pizza and stayed up late talking about China and Brazil and travel and the future, with me somewhat salivating over his placement to Azerbaijan... It was great to reconnect with somebody I had met only a week before. Early the next morning, I headed out to Utah with the great Rocky Mountains reflected in my rearview mirror. I drove through BEAUTIFUL Wyoming, already dusted with the snow that insisted on exploding itself, wet and sticky, onto my windshield. It's a good thing I had my Britney Spears cds to keep the interior of the car hot hot hot ;). Unfortunately I wasn't able to spot any mythical Pronghorns... In the evening, after about 8 hours of driving, I arrived in Salt Lake City! This was officially the furthest West I had ever been, as I had previously only been to Denver. I stayed here with another T-18 reject, Ben! The first night we took a lovely walk (time to stretch out my legs a bit) and had some delicious Mediterranean food and even better conversation, which we continued over the live jazz and drinks and a nearby bar. The next day, we explored Salt Lake City a bit. I saw the Mormon Temple (barf), a farmer's market, and a view of the city and mountains from the top of the library. Inspired by the view of nature, we stopped for burritos and then hiked up into the mountains. It was breathtakingly beautiful... the silver aspen trees looked like cardboard cut outs coated with precious metals against the deep, luscious hues of the evergreen trees. Golden leaves shimmered in the cool breeze and pockets of snow decorated the earth. We even saw moose tracks! I took a lot of pictures, which I will soon begin to paint! The mountains are quiet, peaceful, majestic. In the evening I had the extreme pleasure of hearing some of Ben's stories read aloud over cups of steaming tea... Salt Lake City has definitely left a beautiful imprint in my mind! The next day I was up early and attacked the 12 hour drive to California, driving through the salt falts of Nevada and the mountains demarcating the entrance into California. I was thoroughly enjoying myself until I encountered the legendary 12 lane SF traffic... at which point I seriously contemplated suicide, hitch-hiking, hang-gliding, or setting up permanent shop on the breakdown lane, anything to avoid EVER DRIVING IN IT AGAIN! Somehow, white knuckled, knees knocking, breath coming shallow and erratic, static electricity sending my hair into Tina Turner mode, I managed to arrive at Solomon's domicile.
I've now been in California for a week, and it has been an interesting week. On the one hand, I'm thrilled to be in a new place, with so much culture to explore. I am with good people, or I am in my own company, trying to get my head on right. On the other hand, I'm still trying to deal with the shock and immense disappointment of not being where I really really want to be: Turkmenistan. My life is in a very weird place right now, and I'm not good at dealing with periods of foggy uncertainty. I like to be always learning or working towards something, and although I love 9 hours of sleep and meditation as much as the next emotionally fulfilled girl, I'm not good at having unconstructed days where I don't really really have to do anything at all. So, I am simultaneously searching for something to do (aka a job), searching for resolution about this first peace corps disaster, searching for respite from the perpetual heartbreak that leaves me, most of the time, feeling sad and confused. But, like the ever-wise King Solomon reminds me, "You've been in California for a week, girl, CHILL!" And indeed, in that week I've gotten horribly lost in San Francisco: I did manage to see the Pier, the Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Angel Island, Chestnut street with its cute restaurants and prototypical San Franciscan architecture, the whole of Van Ness and most of Market Street. I've discovered the glossy Palo Alto, checked out a strip club in San Jose (which I was lead to believe had openings for "BIKINI DANCING," also known as a Craigslist Euphemism for giving awkward old guys lapdances), rocked the local dive bar in Fremont, run around beautiful ponds in a local park, and thoroughly explored Half Moon Bay for the annual pumpkin festival! So far, Half Moon Bay is my favorite... you can't beat sleeping with the sound of the waves through the night and being greeted in the morning by the misty fog and muted colors of a pacific sunrise. The cute surfers at Surfer Beach don't hurt, either. In my "alone time," I'm also learning Russian (to better my peace corps service), playing the accordion every day, reading "A People's History of the USA," and plotting a mural King Solomon wants me to paint in his apartment. I'm optimistic that the second week in California will be better than the first, emotionally tumultous week. All I have left to do is find a job, so I can jet to Germany for Thanksgiving... stay tuned!
I've now been in California for a week, and it has been an interesting week. On the one hand, I'm thrilled to be in a new place, with so much culture to explore. I am with good people, or I am in my own company, trying to get my head on right. On the other hand, I'm still trying to deal with the shock and immense disappointment of not being where I really really want to be: Turkmenistan. My life is in a very weird place right now, and I'm not good at dealing with periods of foggy uncertainty. I like to be always learning or working towards something, and although I love 9 hours of sleep and meditation as much as the next emotionally fulfilled girl, I'm not good at having unconstructed days where I don't really really have to do anything at all. So, I am simultaneously searching for something to do (aka a job), searching for resolution about this first peace corps disaster, searching for respite from the perpetual heartbreak that leaves me, most of the time, feeling sad and confused. But, like the ever-wise King Solomon reminds me, "You've been in California for a week, girl, CHILL!" And indeed, in that week I've gotten horribly lost in San Francisco: I did manage to see the Pier, the Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Angel Island, Chestnut street with its cute restaurants and prototypical San Franciscan architecture, the whole of Van Ness and most of Market Street. I've discovered the glossy Palo Alto, checked out a strip club in San Jose (which I was lead to believe had openings for "BIKINI DANCING," also known as a Craigslist Euphemism for giving awkward old guys lapdances), rocked the local dive bar in Fremont, run around beautiful ponds in a local park, and thoroughly explored Half Moon Bay for the annual pumpkin festival! So far, Half Moon Bay is my favorite... you can't beat sleeping with the sound of the waves through the night and being greeted in the morning by the misty fog and muted colors of a pacific sunrise. The cute surfers at Surfer Beach don't hurt, either. In my "alone time," I'm also learning Russian (to better my peace corps service), playing the accordion every day, reading "A People's History of the USA," and plotting a mural King Solomon wants me to paint in his apartment. I'm optimistic that the second week in California will be better than the first, emotionally tumultous week. All I have left to do is find a job, so I can jet to Germany for Thanksgiving... stay tuned!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Interim Repots
Within 48 hours of hearing the devastating news of our cancelled program in Turkmenistan, Peace Corps offered me another invitation to serve in the Ukraine. Suffice it to say that every hour since then has been full of emotional turmoil, indecision, stress, and excitement. In order to make what may be an unrelatable scenario a little more undestandable, follow me into this analogy:
Imagine having found the man of your dreams, only to be left, with no explanation or word of apology, sobbing at the altar. You're so upset that you meander, in a daze, to the closest bar for the hardest drink. Imagine your surprise when, on entering the bar, you find yourself face to face with 75 eligible bachelors, most of which look pretty damn good, and all of which are searching for love! Suddenly, you've got the ring on your finger and the audience in the pews, and you better find the right man immediately...
So Ukraine comes up and, well, he's a pretty good candidate. He's very cultured, well versed in history, speaks fluent Russian, and has achieved a mastery of several beautiful folk art forms. Upon becoming acquainted with your situation, he immediately offers his services, and states he could be available starting early next week. All in all, a pretty good match, and most girls would be happy to snatch him up. But, from the first meeting on, you get the impression that he's not quite the kind of adventure you were looking for in a man. He's a little too predictable, a little too close to home, and a little too similar to all of your ex boyfriends. Although you know that you could achieve satisfaction through this union, it lacks the spark which inspired you to marriage in the first place.
Whilst in the midst of contemplations, you happen to spot Kyrgyzstan across the room. All you can do is catch a glimpse, because Kyrgyzstan is shrouded in mystery: he's elusive, enigmatic, and distant. Throughout the night you catch snippets of information from second hand sources, but he's so far away, so extreme, that you can't quite get close enough to get to know him yourself. You find that almost nobody can. Still, he's so unlike anyone you've ever met.. he's full of adventure, of pristine beauty, of challenges and rewards that only a man untamed by the western world can possibly offer. Right away you understand that he'll be more work and require more devotion, that his house has no power or running water, that in following him into marriage, you are effectively evacuating your universe for his... While dancing with notions of wild romance and passion, you find your heart palpitating and your hands dampening, so that you know you couldn't any longer go with Ukraine... your mouth is too dry to formulate an explanation but in your heart of hearts you know that you will wait for Kyrgyzstan, even if that means plunging into six months of uncertain and tumultuous impatience.... A girl will go to extremes to get her man.
And so, this morning, I officially declined my invitation to Ukraine and proposed to wait six months to move to Kyrgyzstan in March. In doing so, I have completely (and somewhat recklessly) abandoned myself to a life of adventure, of hand-to-mouth living, and of absolute freedom... restricted only by the necessity to sustain life (aka work and eat) and avoid prison (be clothed and not drunk in public). The necessary urgency with which this decision has been made has not afforded me much time to espouse an informed plan B... but the near future has me moving to San Francisco on Wednesday, driving through the country and stopping at the Grand Canyon on the way. Why mourn what could've been as a tragedy, when what is happening is that the world is offering itself at my feet for a short-lived adventure before my peace corps service. I don't know where the next six months will take me - Paris, Berlin, Vancouver, Toledo, Texas, Greece, Pompeii... but I'm down to find out. And I hope you'll join me on my newest adventure.
Imagine having found the man of your dreams, only to be left, with no explanation or word of apology, sobbing at the altar. You're so upset that you meander, in a daze, to the closest bar for the hardest drink. Imagine your surprise when, on entering the bar, you find yourself face to face with 75 eligible bachelors, most of which look pretty damn good, and all of which are searching for love! Suddenly, you've got the ring on your finger and the audience in the pews, and you better find the right man immediately...
So Ukraine comes up and, well, he's a pretty good candidate. He's very cultured, well versed in history, speaks fluent Russian, and has achieved a mastery of several beautiful folk art forms. Upon becoming acquainted with your situation, he immediately offers his services, and states he could be available starting early next week. All in all, a pretty good match, and most girls would be happy to snatch him up. But, from the first meeting on, you get the impression that he's not quite the kind of adventure you were looking for in a man. He's a little too predictable, a little too close to home, and a little too similar to all of your ex boyfriends. Although you know that you could achieve satisfaction through this union, it lacks the spark which inspired you to marriage in the first place.
Whilst in the midst of contemplations, you happen to spot Kyrgyzstan across the room. All you can do is catch a glimpse, because Kyrgyzstan is shrouded in mystery: he's elusive, enigmatic, and distant. Throughout the night you catch snippets of information from second hand sources, but he's so far away, so extreme, that you can't quite get close enough to get to know him yourself. You find that almost nobody can. Still, he's so unlike anyone you've ever met.. he's full of adventure, of pristine beauty, of challenges and rewards that only a man untamed by the western world can possibly offer. Right away you understand that he'll be more work and require more devotion, that his house has no power or running water, that in following him into marriage, you are effectively evacuating your universe for his... While dancing with notions of wild romance and passion, you find your heart palpitating and your hands dampening, so that you know you couldn't any longer go with Ukraine... your mouth is too dry to formulate an explanation but in your heart of hearts you know that you will wait for Kyrgyzstan, even if that means plunging into six months of uncertain and tumultuous impatience.... A girl will go to extremes to get her man.
And so, this morning, I officially declined my invitation to Ukraine and proposed to wait six months to move to Kyrgyzstan in March. In doing so, I have completely (and somewhat recklessly) abandoned myself to a life of adventure, of hand-to-mouth living, and of absolute freedom... restricted only by the necessity to sustain life (aka work and eat) and avoid prison (be clothed and not drunk in public). The necessary urgency with which this decision has been made has not afforded me much time to espouse an informed plan B... but the near future has me moving to San Francisco on Wednesday, driving through the country and stopping at the Grand Canyon on the way. Why mourn what could've been as a tragedy, when what is happening is that the world is offering itself at my feet for a short-lived adventure before my peace corps service. I don't know where the next six months will take me - Paris, Berlin, Vancouver, Toledo, Texas, Greece, Pompeii... but I'm down to find out. And I hope you'll join me on my newest adventure.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
PUNK'D... failed PC attempt in Philly!
So there we are in Philadelphia, 47 eager souls, recently signed-in peace corps trainees, sitting at round tables and sharing fun tidbits about Turkmenistan. It's four-thirty, we're an hour into our orientation and about 29 hours shy of departure for our new home... when there enters into the Franklin Room a man with white whiskers. He's the man responsible for the eastern europe/ central asian/ asian section of the peace corps. Without further ado, this man announces to us that the Turkmen government has cancelled our program without apology or explanation, and we are all being sent home the next day! It's an interesting thing, witnessing 46 hearts being crushed with a single blow. I could feel the tension crackling in the air switch from an exuberant giddiness to a palpable, melancholic, seething disbelief. How could this happen to us, good people making huge sacrifices to help people in need? How could we possibly get so completely screwed over? After a year of interviews and medical exams and countless piles of paperwork, after the rudiments of a new language, research into native food, music, fashion, pasttimes... we find out on the day of our departure that it's for naught. The second thought is, what now? This experience has been the ultimate compliment to the Peace Corps's ability to choose the most flexible applicants, because within five minutes of the announcement, minds were racing to form plans B, C, and D, were working to solve problems of logistics, were fighting to stay calm and rational in the face of a phenomenal disappointment. Hats off to you, T- 18s, for keeping your cool in the face of hot anger. I'm sure the gin and tonics we all grabbed on breaktime didn't hurt any, either ;)
So that begs the question: what now? I'm happy to say that of the 47 crushed souls, it seems that 47 are awaiting new placements. Disappointed, but never defeated!! Reassignment has already started, and T-18s are headed to Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Tonga, Mozambique, Ethiopia... and we are still finding out where else. As for me? My placement should come to fruition within the next 24 hours, and hopefully leading to a new departure date within 7 - 10 days, or enough time to process a visa.
Some final reflections on this experience: Although hugely disappointing, I like to think that this is one more level of peace corps experience that most people neve have the... pleasure? of experiencing, but it's nice to know that the limits fo which I am searching, the limits that I am joining the peace corps to find, aren't anywhere near approached, in spite of this disappointment. Immediately I began thinking of road trips to Cali in the interim period, pastry school in Paris, docenting in NYC... while waiting to go into PC. Way to go, everyone!
The other thought is that when saying goodbye to people you love, you should either always feel devastated, or you should never feel devastated... and let's face it, the latter is easier. Here I was, saying goodybe to my family for 27 months, breaking hearts in the process... only to be back in Toledo the next day! On the other side of the coin, we say goodbye to loved ones expecting to see them again soon, or later, and all too often the end result is never. A wise man once told me, the world is round and we will meet again upon it, we just don't know when or where... ain't that the truth!
So that begs the question: what now? I'm happy to say that of the 47 crushed souls, it seems that 47 are awaiting new placements. Disappointed, but never defeated!! Reassignment has already started, and T-18s are headed to Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Tonga, Mozambique, Ethiopia... and we are still finding out where else. As for me? My placement should come to fruition within the next 24 hours, and hopefully leading to a new departure date within 7 - 10 days, or enough time to process a visa.
Some final reflections on this experience: Although hugely disappointing, I like to think that this is one more level of peace corps experience that most people neve have the... pleasure? of experiencing, but it's nice to know that the limits fo which I am searching, the limits that I am joining the peace corps to find, aren't anywhere near approached, in spite of this disappointment. Immediately I began thinking of road trips to Cali in the interim period, pastry school in Paris, docenting in NYC... while waiting to go into PC. Way to go, everyone!
The other thought is that when saying goodbye to people you love, you should either always feel devastated, or you should never feel devastated... and let's face it, the latter is easier. Here I was, saying goodybe to my family for 27 months, breaking hearts in the process... only to be back in Toledo the next day! On the other side of the coin, we say goodbye to loved ones expecting to see them again soon, or later, and all too often the end result is never. A wise man once told me, the world is round and we will meet again upon it, we just don't know when or where... ain't that the truth!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
T - one day till T - stan
I'm sitting at my computer in my pink room, sipping tea and listening to Billie Holiday, and avoiding the obstinate pile of stuff sneering defiantly at the scale, proud of having far exceeded the 100 pound luggage allotment I've received for the next 27 months. My mind is positively spinning, a result (no doubt) of the cyclical emotions I've been feeling: I'm dreading having to say goodbye to my family at the airport, and all of my lovely friends in the interim, but I'm elated at the adventure which is beckoning me closer and closer by the hour! I feel simultaneously nauseous at the thought of missing three consecutive Halloweens, overwhelmed by the task - no, mission impossible - of packing on such a short time frame, nostalgic for flavors I know I won't be savoring for a very, very long time... but underneath the buzz of emotions is a steel wire of excitement and elation, which reinforces that I am making the best (if biggest) decision of my life thus far. I can't dither too much longer, since there are still a million things to do (enter: learn Turkmen) before Tuesday morning at nine, but I can safely say that although I'm sad to leave my rose colored walls, beautiful shoe collection, Nida's Thai on High, the most stimulating friends and loving family I could have ever imagined, I am thrilled to start the going process. I'm thrilled to turn the "see you later"s to "nice to meet you"s, and to switch from the leaving process to the going process. I don't know when I'll update this blog, since internet access is going to be fleeting and unpredictable, but check up periodically to read on life in a different universe - I mean, Turkmenistan. In the meantime, bisous a tous!
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