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.