We have come to a big jaw gaping moment as Mother Nature is wagging her middle finger without any shame to all of us.
Today, the price of petroleum has dropped to negative numbers. It doesn’t even cost anything as sellers are giving away the supply as there is a non-existent demand due to the stay-at-home orders. The domino effect of her impact has been merciless. Human lives being taken away at an instant, the economy just plummeting, and healthcare not having enough capacity to serve. Yet, politics still yacks its ugly head, pointing fingers to one another and not knowing how to strategically solve the problem or collaborate.
It’s like she’s got us tied up with tape over our mouth to just see what she wants us to see: the disparities in every aspect of our lives in both the developing and developed worlds, how developing countries can’t social distance because they just don’t have the luxury to live 6 feet apart with a home with running water and electricity, how ignorant some of our leaders and followers are during this pandemic, the importance of being actively mindful of our environment and resources and believing in global warming (and actually doing something about it), and the importance of valuing a diverse economy that includes a variety of industries, starting from the informal jobs, restaurant jobs, to services, etc. She’s also nudging at us that the material things, the grasp for more power or a better title, and other trivialities that we greatly emphasize and prioritize don’t mean a rats’ a**.
She’s scolding us and we can’t do anything but pay attention.
But despite the chaos the pandemic has brought us, she’s been giving us a peek of what she wants more of…
With or without a job has now forced us to be, see, and actually live with your family or loved ones.
Valuing just food and shelter.
The cleanse that the environment is getting as we aren’t running around like maniacs.
I hope she gives us another chance soon so we can change our ways. We might ignore her again if given another chance by going back to our old ways, but who knows what she could bring next?
The quarantine has been a slap to the face to be thankful, live day-to-day, and get out of my comfort zone on a whole ‘notha level.
As I quarantine in my Bogotá apartment, my goals are to not smell like an ape all the time, snack as healthy as possible, work out intensively an hour each day, and explore new activities to do.
And speaking of new activities, I applied to an opportunity to write for a Fellowship database site called, ProFellows. I wrote about how to prepare for your next career move during this unique and challenging time. The ProFellows site is a useful resource to find funding for graduate school or for a PhD and unique opportunities to study abroad or conduct research.
Take a gander at it! It has tips that are applicable if you are looking for a job or a new opportunity, in general.
PSA: I didn’t choose the article’s image and she happens to be an Asian woman. haha.
Riding the Transmilenio in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t a smooth, five star limousine ride to your destination. It’s a metro-like transportation service around nine million people that gets you from one place to another in the bustling city of Bogotá. It’s known for being one of the top places to get pick-pocketed. It’s where homeless people sneak inside the buses without paying and poor people beg for coins by making a speech that will make your heart wrench. The buses are so packed throughout all hours of the day that you may almost kiss the person standing next to you. You can see true savagery when you try to get on one of these packed buses during rush hour and also when you try to get out of the buses. It’s like a scene from the zombie movies with hoards of people trying to get in while you are desperately trying to get out.
Despite all these negative descriptions of one of the major transportation systems of Bogotá, I had a humanizing life-saving experience. As I was heading home one evening, around 9 pm, I enter and see that it’s not that full but all the seats are taken, per usual. I grab a handle while contemplating my day and looking outside through the windows. I notice there is an older man seated with very blue eyes who catches my gaze but I quickly turn away because this is normal in Colombia as a foreigner with Asian features: you just stand out. I notice a few people standing next to me checking their phones and chatting by tapping their keyboards quickly and I grasp my handle tight as the bus speeds north. As I pass the station, Calle 100, I start to feel a little bit nauseous. I try to stand up straighter with better posture and get closer to a window. I then start having a hard time breathing and as I blink my eyes, I get dizzy. I can feel my heartbeat racing and I start to shake my head to pull myself together. My vision starts clouding and I start seeing stars. It was that feeling you get when you crouch and stand up too fast. I try to pull out my cellphone to start calling my boyfriend and in a blink of an eye, I see nothing.
I had fainted in the Transmilenio.
I am not sure how many seconds or minutes passed, but as I opened my eyes, I realized a circle of Colombians are staring at me. One guy is sustaining my right leg straight upwards and another guy has the other leg. Another guy’s face is close to mine telling me, “Respira, respira, respira…” in a controlled tone. I blink my eyes several times and realize, Oh my gosh, I just fainted! A lady next to me asks who she could call from my contacts and I whispered, “Please call David, my boyfriend.” She explains to David what has happened and gives me back my phone along with my headphones and tells me to keep them safely in my pocket. The guy who advised me to breathe deeply helped me stand up and get off at the next station, Calle 106, with the older man with blue eyes. He had whistled to the bus driver to stop for a moment longer as we arrived Calle 106. They must’ve been family and both started to speak to me in broken English to breathe and have a seat outside of the station. Along came the police to understand what had happened and the two men bid me farewell and I cough up a proper, “Muchas gracias por ayudarme.”
The policeman asked me general questions like what’s my name, where am I from, who is coming to help me as I regained my consciousness. I am still a bit flabbergasted that I just fainted in probably the worst place to faint but keep blinking my eyes steadily to sharpen my focus and attention. Moments later, my boyfriend, who lives around 20 minutes from the scene of the incident, arrived in a record speed of 8 minutes and called me when he was at the entrance of the station. The policeman and I walked towards him, and David and I hugged as he asked how I felt. This kind of experience shed light on how not everything is terrible nor negative, nor dreary, nor hopeless. There are a lot of stereotypes for people and places, but moments like these prove otherwise. When I told this story to my friends, they all immediately asked me if I had gotten robbed. It is a bit sad to think that this would be the reaction, but again, we are surrounded by negativity that we fail to see that there are good people and good things happening in this world. Yes, the Transmilenio is still not my preferred choice of transportation in Bogotá, but I remember that people lent me a hand that evening when I was in a state of vulnerability and weakness. In every part of the world, there is insecurity, but despite that, there are good people. I think we have to remember this so we don’t become an additional negative or hopeless person in a society engulfed by pessimistic news and gossip.
This is how I lost my breath both literally and figuratively in Bogotá: fainting in a foreign country and losing my breath in awe of those who helped me that evening.
Please LIKE my essay for an essay contest I am competing in here!
At the eight months left mark of your Peace Corps service, you will want to quit.
At the seven months left mark, you will want to quit.
And at the six months left mark, that quitting feeling is still lingering.
Five…four…and you get the idea.
But then, you suddenly only have three months left, and then 2.5 months left, and then you start feeling like your Close of Service (COS) day is the day you die.
You start to understand the cliche, “Live today like your last,” and you do what you want, change your priorities, and make things happen. Every day until the day I die, or COS, I plan to do something, like…
Go to my village’s dance club.
I never stepped foot in that club for the past two years because of fear of judgment, but you know…if you die, judgment doesn’t matter. I have to make sure to take a solid two hour nap to keep up with the Colombians. They party until sunrise and I usually sleep at 9 pm. I can do this.
Hang out with someone each day.
Hanging out with people requires a full day. In Colombia, you get invited to hang out and it’s expected you spend the whole day hanging out and even spending the night. It involves an activity such as visiting a landscape, seeing animals, finding and picking fruits, eating a huge lunch, maybe taking a nap (in my case) and then talking a whole lot. That is a description of one day I hung out with a neighbor friend and his sister. Parents of my students would always ask me, “Teacher, we haven’t seen you in a long time, let us know when you can come visit. You can come anytime.” I always made excuses, but today onward, I won’t anymore.
Spend time with my neighbors and the kids of my village.
The ICT4D committee of Peace Corps Colombia worked really hard for the volunteers to rent out projectors. Thanks to them, I will borrow a projector during my last month to show movies and video clips to brainwash them into taking care of the park and community. haha. I realized during my service I am not much of a kids person, but without them, I would not have experienced some of the most touching moments of service:
When Arlei David learned how to spell his name. I can’t take credit for this because Arlei and his mom practiced a lot, but I will say I did nag them a lot.
When Dianis learned to read books so quickly. I was blown away the last time we read together. I am so proud of her.
When Dianis asked me to sit with her and talk outside of our houses when the power went out.
When a ton of kids came to help me during the park clean-ups when I felt like giving up on the park project.
Dianis at one of our park clean-ups.
When you feel the way I do, as if you were going to die soon, you start getting teary-eyed about all the things you will miss.
Like my boyfriends. There was boyfriend #1 and there’s #2 and #3.
Boyfriend #2’s name is Regala’o and #3 is Alfonso.
Regala’o and Alfonso would call me every dang day to talk about the same thing: ask me how I was doing, where I was, and would end the conversation with Dios le bendiga, God bless you! I remember when I was sick, they’d call me non-stop and Regala’o brought me medicine and Alfonso brought me eucalyptus leaves and a ton of oranges. At first I really regretted giving them my number and would think their incessant phone calls were very annoying, but I am truly going to miss them and their calls.
Like the greetings from people you know and even strangers on the streets, in the schools, in the buses, the elevators, the bathrooms, everywhere.
Here in the Coast of Colombia, we greet, greet, and greet. I will miss the kids in my village screaming HOLA ANGELL or GOOD MORNING ANGELL. Unfortunately, the kids would greet me, good morning, when it would be 6 pm in the evening. Oh well, their intent is good enough.I am really going to miss my twin neighbors, Dianis Sofia and Arlei David. They always say hi to me. At first, Arlei David thought I was a weirdo speaking another weird language and never even looked at me. But now, he screams my name and gives me a hug! I guess I won his trust after two years of being his weirdo neighbor.
Like the sharing of food and snacks.
In Colombia, if you visit someone’s house during meal time, whether or not you know them well, there will be a plate of food for you. I always thought this was so weird. I would so conveniently come in time for lunch (without expecting lunch) and voila, the host would serve me a plate of food. I would feel so guilty visiting during lunch time and not informing the host beforehand that I’d be there and clearly saying I’d be there for lunch. I would also feel pretty shameful for not bringing anything to share, but in a Colombian kitchen, there’ll always be food for that plus one. They would always tell me, your presence is enough.
Like my Colombian friends accompanying me to run boring errands with me in Santa Marta city.
In the States, I would always do boring errands, driving around all over by myself to do these mundane tasks. I would not even bother to ask someone to accompany me to these things, but in Colombia, my friends offer to tag along. They are patient with me and we spend quality time in this way by doing boring errands with me! Thanks Zeneth and Miguel.
Like being so well-known and so dang popular on the Troncal del Caribe.
From Tayrona Park to my teeny tiny village and beyond, the people know me as THE ENGLISH TEACHER. I stick out like a sore thumb, so it is hard to miss me. The only problem with this is when I try to go out and not be THE ENGLISH TEACHER and am outside the school setting. Students would see me and they report to me that they saw me doing so and so. Nevertheless, I will sure miss being the star of the show.
But before the dreaded day of death or COS, I will fortunately (if God wills it) get to see something that my community and I worked really hard on.
After almost a year of clearing out and cleaning the old, abandoned park lot with my community, I am very humbled to say that my village with a population of less than 1000 will have a new park with exercise equipment. We received a $71 million COP/$24,000 USD investment to construct this park from Fundeban, a foundation of a Colombian banana company, C.I. Tecbaco S.A.
I have to thank the kids who always participated and helped out, my fellow PCV friends near my site, and my host mom who gave me hope in the project. I hoped at least we would be able to create our own community space with a roof and places to sit with the collaboration and skill sets of my community, but we aimed a little higher, nagged a little stronger, and didn’t give up. It took a lot of connecting and constant following-up with the president of my village, the ex-president, banana workers and managers, and neighbors to coordinate this investment without outsider aid.
But, we did it.
And I am so glad I didn’t quit because I can’t wait to show you the constructed park as soon as it is completed.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
I hadn’t been able to update my blog as much as I wanted to these past two years. However, I still plan on blogging about my life even after service to describe the Colombia hangover I will feel when I step on Texas soil.
I want to give a shout out to Brianna, a PCV from my cohort, for creating a video about Home in Colombia and submitting it to the Peace Corps video contest of this year. It truly sums up the kind and generous culture of Colombians. The other video is her compilation of questions and answers by interviewing all of the volunteers of my cohort, CII-8. Thanks for reading and watching. 😀
A special person told me his observation of volunteers serving in other countries (such as…Peace Corps Volunteers):
“They come and think they can change Colombia, but Colombia will change you!”
At that word, “you,” I sensed many imaginary fingers pointing at me.
This took me a moment to realize…
Yes, I am guilty of the Ugly American syndrome with idealist thinking by wanting to change the host country with ridiculous, extravagant ideas for the sake of making a difference or changing the world.
I looked back on my old notebooks that I wrote in upon my arrival to Colombia, and I chuckled at how silly I was. I had so many notes about what I wanted to do during my 2 years. Do this, do that, do it all all to change Colombia, make a difference, leave an impact, and [enter whatever cliché phrase you know here.]
Well, that special person was right. The idea to change Colombia didn’t go according to plan and I’m the one that’s ending up going through change.
During a PC-hosted tech conference, I had a conversation with a fellow PCV from the Community Economic Development sector, Akil. We happened to be talking about how we’ve changed during our service and her story went a little like this…
“When I was in training, my host mom cooked me something and there were ants all over it. I asked her about it and my host mom replied that those were called crazy ants but were ok. I didn’t have a huge stink about it, but I had a stink.”
She did not eat the meal, by the way.
“Then, the other day, I opened my pancake mix and when I opened it, I saw ants in it. I thought about my mix: how I bought them, how I waited for the bus, how I carried it on the bus, how I brought it home, and all the struggles along with buying that mix. So, I just started scraping and patting the ants out of that batter and made my pancakes.”
We laughed so hard.
That’s how you know one has changed. Another PCV, Audrey, chirped in after and said, the next level of adaptation is to just eat the pancakes without taking the ants out.
One thing I want to point out in this thing called, CHANGE, is that I feel it in the problem-solving department. I remember at my previous job at a medical device consulting company, every little problem I faced, every complaint I received from a client, every whatever obstacle that came my way with the softwares, finances, etc, I would seek help from my boss or colleagues like a big, whiny baby.
Now…please entertain yourselves with the problems I’ve encountered in Colombia and their respective following solutions:
One time, I had this mysterious animal coming into my bathroom (my bathroom is located outside the house with a sliding door) and eating a trillion seeds of some kind and leaving the shells all over the ground and in the shower! For those of you who don’t know me…I am OCD, a neat freak, and very orderly…so these seeds drove me nuts. Every morning when I entered, seeds…seeds…and more seeds. After days of the seed mystery, I started to close the door at night so whatever the animal was, it couldn’t enter to eat and leave those d### seeds. Well, to my extreme annoyance and disappointment, I still found seeds the next day. I observed my surroundings of my bathroom and after some careful looking around and meditating to lower my blood pressure, I figured out that I should also close the small window.. And voila! – the next day, there were no more bathroom seeds. I will never know what kind of animal was entering my bathroom, but it had wings and it liked seeds. Animal kingdom…ugh.
At the beginning of my service, I was not eating well because my host family´s kitchen is so tiny and very messy. Fruit flies, ants, leftover food, no space to place anything, etc (sorry, host mom…) Reminder, I am a clean person so this can cause huge amounts of stress for me. The desire to cook or meal prep?? Forget about it… it went down the drain as well as my appetite. So for a few months, I ate sancocho de la tienda…basically, chips and cookies from the nearby store. Such nutrition! I was miserable. I was gaining weight. When I could not stand the feeling of weight gain any longer, I finally did something about it. I started waking up at 4 am to use the kitchen when it was clean and to use it before my host mom occupied it. 4 am to cut food, use the pressure cooker, cook my breakfast and few days’ worth of lunch and dinner. It has been working out nicely. The feeling of having control of my health and something like a kitchen for a few hours makes me feel like a million bucks. Although I cannot control the insects, the personality of my host mom, the physical space of the kitchen, I have control of my way of thinking and adapting to this situation. It´s a really strange feeling when you realize that something that drove you crazy is now not such a big deal. The power of the mind, I tell ya.
The nearest grocery store (think Kroger, Wal Mart, etc) is in the city, which is an hour and half away from me by bus. The nearby stores do not carry the foods I crave and need, so I have to go to the city. It was an extreme inconvenience to lug back so many groceries in a huge sack and with a huge backpack from the city on a bus with several other sweaty people. Mind you, these buses not only carry people but also, a range of THINGS…from bed mattresses, window glass, other peoples’ sacks, tourists’ HUGE backpacks, and my favorite…chickens. Picture me with a fat backpack on my back, a full sack of groceries on one hand and a tray of 36 eggs on the other hand. (I eat a lot of eggs.) I hated doing this. I felt like such a loser with my tray of eggs and my grocery sack. It’s tiring and it was embarrassing for me. I never looked good going into the city and Colombia is very much a beauty pageant country. Like, people get dressed up to go the city or the mall and the women wear a lot of makeup. I never wear make up here because I sweat it all off. Colombia women just don´t seem to sweat??? Anyway, looking polished is pretty important in Colombia and I felt so ugly and lame going to the city.
Well, here is where the real, internal change has happened, ladies and gentlemen….
I don’t care now. I repeat. I do not care. I don’t care how I am looked at, whether or not I am carrying a grocery cart in the mall like a homeless person, or if I simply look ridiculous. Just don’t break my eggs!
What others think of me is not my business and you gotta do what you gotta do. I wear my campesina (farmer) clothes, jeans, tennis shoes, carry my sweat towel, bring my sack and get ready to rock n roll at the grocery store now. It is like a mission to me. I have no shame in carrying 36 eggs, a Santa Claus sized sack on a bus, and a backpack filled with 6 packs of heavy, bagged milk. JUST MOVE OUT THE WAY! For a person who used to think about the past often, this is significant progress. Now, I am trying to not think about the future so much. We are working on it, folks. Baby steps.
The school system in Colombia is very different than the U.S.’s. Recently, we had a month long strike with the teacher’s union, FECODE, and the government for better pay for the teachers and more funds and resources in the schools. This strike meant no school for one month. A more usual disruption in our schools is that we would get several Fridays off for a plethora of reasons and there are many holidays that fall on Mondays. Basically, a full of week school can be a rarity lol. When I would co-plan with my colleagues for class and there would be these surprise day offs or holidays or strikes, we could never carry out those plans. Talk about banging your head on the table several times. I was this pestering American pushing for these lesson plans to be carried out for the days we planned and Colombia was like, “Yeah right, get lost, gringa..” I pushed so much. Got frustrated so much. I was like WTF all the time. But, the tidal waves of Colombia got to me and are still getting to me like an eroding rock. Now, I just say, “Ok, we will postpone this plan for the next week or next class.” I am even shocked at my current peaceful composure. I assure you, I am not being complacent or lazy. I am just accepting things I cannot control…slowly and surely.
Now, my favorite story that even my site mate, Karen, still to this day makes fun of me, but ends with extreme awe for me was my first trip to the hair salon in Colombia. My hair was starting to feel very heavy due to its thickness and it was time for a haircut. I usually get it thinned out through layers because I like to keep the length but want to take out some of the weight. After asking several PCVs, I learned that the phrase I need to say is Quiero sacar el volumen de mi pelo, I want to take out the volume in my hair. I repeated this to the hairdresser and had her repeat it back to me and confirmed she understood me. So, I trusted her. She was working hard in the back of my head and made three braids. I was wondering what was up, but just tried to relax because I was treating myself to a haircut. Then, without notice or warning, she cut one of the braids from my scalp and then threw the braid on the table in front of me. As I saw a braid of my hair fly onto the table, my eyes popped out of their sockets, and my insides just fell to the bottom of my gut. She asked me boldly after if I want her to cut the other two braids and I yelled, “No!” I told her that is NOT what I wanted and that I needed a moment. She looked at me expressionless, while I was internally freaking out. So, this is what sacar el volumen means…What could I do? Couldn’t glue the braid back to my head, couldn’t go back through time…So, pursing my lips, I just told her to please cut the split ends. Well, if you saw me now, you can’t see the tragedy. However, when I put my hair in a ponytail at a certain angle, you can feel the bald spot. And if you look carefully, you can see the bald spot. Now, I gotta wait 10 years for that area of hair to be the same length as the rest of my hair. I thought about hair for a long time that day. I did confide in some of my friends of what happened and they all told me that they would’ve cried. I don’t know why, but I didn’t cry.
After I left the salon, I actually laughed at how ridiculous my situation was and how ridiculous my bald spot felt. I couldn’t stop rubbing it which were followed by deep, pathetic breaths. Then, I thought about my mom when she had chemotherapy and was a cute, bald lady. I thought about other people who don’t have hair because of disease or other causes. I realized hair grows. My mom has a full head of hair now. I still have so much hair that covers the bald spot. I’m ok. That silly hairdresser said I could keep the braid…I just threw it in the trash. Good riddance to the memory and I am never coming back to your hair salon, you soul-less woman!
I told my friend, Juju, about what had happened and she replied…
“And knowing how you usually are…that reaction showed extreme..patience. lol”
This is pretty major, because I am not a patient person.
I haven’t completely grasped this cógela suave, take it easy, mentality or culture, but ya know, I’m doing it. I am still told to CÓGELA SUAVE every day, especially from my special person, but I would like to proudly say that hey, I am doing a pretty d### good job.
The problems I face here aren’t extremely serious, but they were and are so very, annoying. I still feel overwhelmed with new problems or let it get to me, but…I try to break it down to get to a solution. It sounds so basic, so simple, but it’s hard to actually apply when you get lost in the OMG WTF phase of the problem. I am slowly overcoming that crazy phase to get to the steps towards a solution.
This is part of the process of my ~* change *~
I am on that Mario Kart rainbow road of transformation! It is annoying, and in the PC everything feels 10x more annoying, but I keep on going because I refuse to be a big, whiny baby. I want to brag and say I am proud of myself.
So there you go. Angell Kim, the constantly changing, caterpillar. Life would be boring if there was no change. So, although it is all so uncomfortable, it is nice and fulfilling to know that you’re becoming something better than you were. You were able to do something you couldn’t before. You were able to endure and overcome something when you almost wanted to give up. To recognize the change and to see the progress of it, is pretty nice. It is like seeing yourself in a before and after photoshoot. Nowadays, I am starting to look real good.
P.S.
Hey grandma, speaking of change and transformation…you know, every time I call you, you always ask me your two fave questions…?
“Have you lost weight?”
The answer is still no, but I look skinnier…does that count?
“Do you have a boyfriend? (남자친구)”
Well, that special person I mentioned earlier in this post is actually my 남자친구.
He really, really likes kimchi and tries everything, by the way.
He, too, is going through a Korean transformation.
I am an editor for Oíste, Peace Corps Colombia’s online magazine. I wrote a piece for our theme, DIVERSITY, and I want you to check out my fellow volunteer friends’ diverse stories. Click below.
-“Japonesa?” -“No.” -“China?” -“Tampoco.” -(And if we are really good at guessing…) “Coreana?”
Umm, you forgot the Americana part, señor.
Then, we proceed to the next level of some of my favorite questions…
-“De dónde eres?” -“Soy de Texas, EEUU.” -(Cue a very flabbergasted expression from my inquirer) “Pero, o sea… de dónde eres? Tienes una cara de Asia.” (literal translation: “But, where are you really from? You have a face of Asia.”)
The robotic, automated, memorized message to respond goes a little like this…
“Nací en Texas, EEUU. Mis padres nacieron en Corea, pero ellos se inmigraron a los EEUU.” (translation: “I was born in Texas, USA. My parents were born in Korea, but they immigrated to the USA.”)
And then we end with a bang…
* “Norte o Sur?”
The ball of fury unleashes and we are done with the conversation. *Hands up in the air and storms off.*
I’ve been in Colombia for 15 months now but I still have to answer these questions when I go to the city or am anywhere outside the area of my village. Thankfully, my village and workplace see me as a human being and my “face of Asia” isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
These are everyday questions for me because there is this perception that Americans all are blue-eyed, blond haired, and tall. I blame selective media.
I have black eyes, black hair, and I am short. But, I am American – a proud Korean-American, born and raised in Texas, serving in Colombia.
I may not be moving mountains, but I am fulfilling one of President John F. Kennedy’s goals just with my presence:
“To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.”
I sure am doing that with my carita (i.e., ‘little face’). Furthermore, I teach and demonstrate by example that the United States America is not a country with only one identity or color.
There are so many labels to identify or categorize, but at the end of the day, we are all humans.
And as if my list of identities couldn’t get any longer, a moto taxista (a motorcycle taxi driver) was pestering me with the same old questions at the grocery store:
-“Tu eres japonesa?” -“No.” -“Tu eres china!” (Then, the security guy checking my bags replies for me…) -“En este momento, ella es Colombiana.”
What you gonna say to that, huh?
*To note: North Korea and South Korea are separated by the Korean Demilitarized Zone. North Korea is governed by a dictatorship and has been referred to as the Hermit Kingdom. It is a country that is closed off from the world, making foreign relations difficult as well as physically leaving and entering the country.
Physically, I haven’t lost or gained weight…or so I think.
However, my hair has grown a lot, like the hair on my head and face. Yes, my face. I broke my room mirror twice (talk about bad luck) and don’t really know what I truly look like. But when I do come across a mirror and good lighting, I discover some interesting things on my face. I think I may be growing some peach fuzz.
It must be the water.
But, I will be dramatic to say that in addition to my hairs, my soul has changed.
There are some rewarding experiences as a PCV, such as students behaving well, finally mastering the system of living and surviving in a new environment, students appreciating you through actions, getting things checked off the to-do list, and much more. However, being a PCV also brings tsunami waves of emotional break-downs, sadness, and craziness, and the goal is to maintain your calmness, coolness, and collectedness through it all.
So with that said…
My feelings to empathize and understand are out of the roof. Sad movies – I can’t watch them because I feel the impact for days.
Still not that patient, but I am proud to say my patience scale with technology has improved tremendously. Instead of giving up, I perservere with the obstacles technology throws at me. With good internet signal, a 2 to 3 prong plug converter, extension cord, prayers and patience, one can do anything with a projector with no audio, computer, and a cellphone.
My sensitivity and irritability levels are at peak at times.
My disagreement with other people are intense to the point I cannot sleep due to rage or anxiety.
I am an emotional being, but now, I am an emotional mess.
The last three paragraphs include the golden nugget that I needed.
“You may view the world through family values, but most people do not. You may view the world through the metric of attractiveness, but most people do not. You may view the world through the metric of freedom and worldliness, but most people do not. You may view the world through the positivity and friendliness, but most people do not.
And that’s simply part of being human. Accepting that others measure themselves and the world differently than you do is one of the most important steps to consciously choosing the right relationships for yourself. It’s necessary for developing strong boundaries and deciding who you want to be a part of your life and who you do not. You may not accept a person’s ideas or behaviors.
But you must accept that you cannot change a person’s values for them. Just as we must choose our own measurement by ourselves and for ourselves. They must do it by themselves and for themselves.”
“You may not accept a person’s ideas or behaviors. But you must accept that you cannot change a person’s values for them.”
This part makes me question…why am I mentally strangling others to abide by my standards or way I see things? Why cannot I accept them for them? Why can’t I let go?
WHY?
Because struggle makes my feelings 10x more intense.
Because struggle makes my feelings more easily hurt and long-lasting.
Because struggle makes me prone to emotional break-downs.
IT’S BECAUSE I CARE SO D### MUCH.
IT’S ALSO BECAUSE I WANT TO BE TREATED THE WAY I TREAT OTHERS!
I always try to give a benefit of a doubt to people. Do they do that to me?
Why, oh, why, VivaColombia airlines representative must you be so rude? I’ve been in customer service positions, too, and I know how that is because some people make you want to punch them in the face! But, I am being nice to you! You aren’t being so nice to me right now!!!! Now, YOU are driving ME crazy!!!!!!
It’s always a battle between fighting for my thoughts or letting go.
And I always fall victim to holding onto my hurt and making someone accountable for it.
Which is why sometimes I wake up at freakin 2 am talking to myself back to sleep.
Colombia has taught me to be more caring, empathetic, and humbler. However, she’s made me a little crazier and a more annoyed person.
So, in a nutshell, my mental state is going through puberty. Voice cracks, body changes, hormone imbalances, the works.
If I make it through my two year service, I hope to make it through this transformation successfully and come back to the U.S. with a healthier and more positive perspective of people, abundance of acceptance, and the freedom to let go…because I love sleep without interruptions.
I am an ugly caterpillar right now waiting to be a sexy, beautiful butterfly.
So in the meantime, please tell me I am pretty even with my peach fuzz.
Everyone! So much has happened! I turned 25! I got married!
Just kidding about the marriage part.
However, I do get asked every other day if I like Colombia, if I will stay here after my two years, and if I do want to stay, I get the same, wise advice…
MARRY A COLOMBIAN MAN!
*insert annoyed, face palming, eye-rolling face here*
I updated my FAQ page. Check it out here! Travel tips to Colombia coming soon..
Thank you shout out to the following babes:
Jenny – a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer who served in El Salvador who visited me during her vacation and school project. Jenny and I are both Korean-American and could relate on so many levels as being an Asian-American serving in Central and Latin American countries as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Many laughs were shared.
Awkward Asian posing.
Juju – my PIC (Partner In Crime) who came to visit me on my birthday all the way from the great state of Texas.
My Juju.
Alicia – my counterpart and first friend in Buritaca. Your friendship and mentorship mean so much to me. Thank you for making me feel like a part of your family.
Alicia’s sons, Tobias and Samuel!
Before we get into the details of my fabulous life, here are some interesting things about Colombia…
The significances of the word, “YA”
This two-lettered word means many things in Colombia.
Depending on how you say it, the tone, the intonation, the body language, and the sass you put in saying it, it means a plethora of things.
In the States, “Ya” is like the informal way of saying yes, or if you want to be German and say yes all German like. Back to the States reference…Think of that one song called, Trap Queen, where the rapper says yaaaaaaa for an extended period of time. In this case, he is emphasizing his feelings of yes.
In South Korea, “Ya” is rude. When you say “Ya!” you are trying to get someone’s attention. It is basically like HEY YOU! When you say “Ya!” this way, you are expressing it by screaming and showing all your teeth to get that person’s attention who may be walking away from you, or who’s not listening to you, or like in Korean soap dramas you are about pounce and pull that person’s hair or splash a cup of water in that person’s face. *you should probably watch some Korean drama’s if you have nooo idea what I am talking about*
Exhibit A.
In Colombia, “Ya” is…
When said in a short, firm tone means, “I am done or ready.” *movement of your hands like a music conductor to end a song*
When said in an interrogative tone it means, “Are you done? Are you ready?”
When said many times consecutively it means, “Enough, enough” *while crinkling your nose and nodding ferociously*
So here is the tale of the Ya Ya Ya’s.
Some days, I am Ya-ing like you would in the U.S. I am in a bowl of happiness and feel all sorts of positivity and motivation. I love life and would quote cheesy Pinterest quotes like, “Live your life to the fullest” or….”Live. Laugh. Love.” Haha. Life can sometimes go like the American Ya.
Some days, I am Ya-ing like you would in South Korea. I feel full rage. I am tired of explaining that I am Korean-American, but was born in Texas. I am so fed up with the “Do you have a boyfriend, do you have a husband, do you have kids” questions. I feel like strangling the questioner when they follow up with…”Why? You are so beautiful, you are so blah blah blah” YA YA YA. Enough! The desire to scream is real. Life can sometimes go like the Korean Ya.
Then, most days, I am Ya-ing like you would in Colombia.
Ya! That’s enough food, thank you.
Ya! I am ready to go!
Ya?! Are you ready because I am tired of waiting!
Life can be answered by the Colombian Ya.
Anyway, life in general, life is golden.
And now here we go with my random rant of this golden life of mine.
To my dear American friends, I want to share something I took for granted in the U.S….
I took my site mate, Galen, and our volunteer friend in Santa Marta, Barbara, to the Gran Muralla or the GREAT WALL. It is my favorite Chinese restaurant in the city of Santa Marta.
They gave us free, iced, water and Barbara noticed this and was extremely giddy and grateful. In the States, water is free. You can order water at restaurants in a glass and it’s free! In Colombia, there ain’t no such thing as free, especially…iced, cold water. You have to buy bottled water and there is a unique kind of fury when you have to spend an extra couple of currency to spend on water which is a HUMAN BASIC RIGHT!!!!
Being PCVs aka Peace Corps Volunteers makes you really appreciate the little things like water. Love your water, folks. Love it.
Then, I visited Bogota, the capital of Colombia, for vacation and I had to wear a jacket because it was cold. Cold! The altitude is much higher in Bogota and at one point, I was wondering why I felt so out of breath or gasping for air just walking on the street. I later learned that Bogota has a higher altitude than the coast and more oxygen is needed to the blood. Well, after that scientific realization, I inhaled more deeply and felt a relief because I wasn’t panting due to being out of shape. Hallelujah.
People from the city of Medellin are called Paisas. Paisas sure know how to organize.
Have you seen such clean papas criollas???
Chorro de Quevedo, a historical and cultural center.
View from Luis Angel Arango Library.
FOUND BRISKET IN BOGOTA. WHAT?
Oh why yes, I am 25 years old now! This is my second birthday spending it in Colombia!
It was intense and amazing.
On my birthday, March 2nd, also, Texas’ independence day, my best friend Juju came to visit me. I hadn’t seen her in almost two years and when I saw her at the airport, I squeaked a bit and it seemed that there had been no time gap.
The coordinator at my Perico Aguao school called me asking me to come in because some important person needed to talk to me about the standardized test in Colomba, ICFES. I rushed with Juju to meet this important person and came to realize that they had a surprise party for me. We danced, we played a game where we had to dance with a partner with a balloon in between us and the winner was the last pair standing. Well, Juju and I lost. Haha. This was just the beginning of the cake saga…
My host mom made me arroz trifasico, fried rice with three meats, and put a smiley face in ketchup on top. My real dad would do this when he made me omurice (ometette rice). Went strolling down memory lane for a moment. My host family got me a cake and we spent time together with Juju and my site mate, Karen.
Arroz Trifasico
On March 3rd, I went to my school in Don Diego and presented my friend Juju to my 5th graders. My counterpart, Nayide, vanished and that made me disappointed because counterparts are NOT supposed to leave volunteers in the classroom with the intention that we will teach the class. WE ARE HERE FOR SUSTAINABILITY!!!! We help co-plan and co-teach for the English teachers of Colombia, not take over the class! But Juju and I continued with greeting the students in English. Then, Nayide came around with a small cake and Coca Cola. I ate cake and drank soda at 8 am in the morning. This is normal. Soda is a normal beverage here in the coast. Haha. Cheers.
On March 5th, I held a sancocho. Remember, I had talked about this traditional Colombian soup with yuca, potatoes, corn, beef, and platanos? I could not have cooked this soup without my neighbors, Helena, and Juju. Thank you. Thank you.
Like an assembly factory, we washed, cut, and peeled yuca, corn, platanos. I cut the beef ribs and that was an interesting experince. I thought the meat man would cut the 12 pounds of beef ribs for me. Yeah right. Assuming makes an A## out of you. I just was given a plastic bag wrapped in another plastic bag with a hunk of beef ribs. That day, I became a meat man. I hammered the bones to cut through them with a ice breaker hammer and cut the meat where we hand wash our clothes. Soooooo against the health department regulations, but nobody got sick. I repeat. Nobody got sick. Huzzah.
Neighbors starting the fire (leña).
Everyone just doing everything.
Me jumping around from one station to the next.
All I can say is lol.
My neighbors helped with starting the fire. In the back, Juju was scrubbing the potatoes with soap haha. So cute. Helena was washing out these weird buckets to use for trash cans with such meticulous zest, I was like…goodnes, this woman can do anything with such grace. Then, we all helped with the cutting and peeling. And I was just spazzing out here and there, cutting the meat, cutting the vegetables, cleaning the vegetables, cleaning the areas, organizing the area, and just being a hot mess.
We threw in the meat into the boiling water and then when the meat readied, we threw in the hardest to soften vegetables, and then the rest of the vegetables along with spices and condiments.
Sancocho was made and served, and it was a dang, good day. Thank you to my friends, Mia, Devlin, and my host sister, Sofi and her friend, Marcella, for helping me serve.
Always making a presentation…
Juju went back to the States without diarrhea and I turned 25 successfully.
The featured picture is a collection of sweat rags/towels. One can tell which one is mine, and the blue one is my friend’s Sammy’s and the orange one is Jimmy’s.
When visiting Colombia, especially the coast, don’t forget your sweat rag/towel.
Thank you shout out to…
Carmen, for accompanying me to the airport when I went to visit my family.
Helena, for accompanying me from the airport. That was the funniest journey of my life. We walked through sand with rolling luggage the weight of two barbells and saw magic on the bus, where a guy revealed white as snow bunny from lighting up a buncha napkins on fire.
My parents for defending me at the airport against the evil American Airlines. That was love that made me cry.
The kids of my Catholic church and my local Rotary Club in Texas.
The tour guides of village, Don Diego. Helping them learn English has been a real reward for me.
WINTER IS HERE IN COLOMBIA!
And that means…. Lots and lots of rain. Who needs snow, when we have floods, humidity, and mold!
I am extremely shocked to tell you this, but I prefer the scorching, blazing sun and heat than the rain.
Rain means…mold building its army all over your stuff like backpacks and hats.
Rain means…no hot sun to dry your laundry.
Rain means…flakey energy and along with that, the absence of running water.
Good Jesus, but life goes on.
Then again, rain also has some positives. It seems that with anything, there is always a good and bad side.
Rainy season has definitely cooled down my area a little. So much breeze. Praise!
One night I turned off my fan because I was cold! COLD!!!!
I remember when I first came to my site, my host family gave me this chipmunk wooly blanket that is like Snuggie material and I quickly tossed that aside into the depths of my room.
I now wrap and caress that thing around my body when I sleep.
What the heck, seriously. Life is kindaa ridiculous…so ridiculous like this plate of scrambled chocolate chip cookies. Galen and I tried to use a stove top as an oven to bake cookies because we have no oven. It sadly failed, so we scrambled them. They tasted so good. Never judge a cookie by its figure.
So…how is everyone! I love writing about my fabulous life, but power and internet are not really my best friends here in my village, hence the big gap from August to today.
Me? How am I doing?… I’ve been sad, happy, excited, depressed, ashamed, angry, and now I am very, very awesome.
I visited my family in Texas, we have a new president elect, my English class for tour guides in village, Don Diego, is up and running, and Thanksgiving and winter break are coming.
Please remember that my blog is not affiliated with the U.S. government and these are my opinions and views only. We have a new president elect, but that does not mean I respect him. To let you know, the fight for equality and justice continues with a stronger force. I still represent the U.S.A. proudly and still stand up for myself and others even though I am in Colombia.
With that said, I am doing so well.
In October, I went to Texas to visit my family for one week. I realized I did not miss the States as much as I thought I would, but the love for my country still remains. Our country is already great. We don’t need to make it great again, we need to make it more open and accepting. Everyone should try to be to more open and accepting. It’s a team effort.
Ok, I am done with the underlying tones of political insinuations…
I tried to bring a huge conch shell that I received as a gift from my counterpart, Giovanni, but Colombia security took it away from me because I could not bring it in my carry-on. It was a sad realization that a shell could be a weapon on a plane. Here is me trying to be extremely happy with my last moments with my shell, but deep inside I was kinda crying that I could not take it. RIP shell.
I had this expectation of all this great food I would eat and roll around in, but unfortunately I was undergoing the process of re-adapting to the environment of the USA. I carried Pepto Bismol around me at all times. Vietnamese pho noodles, with a dash of Pepto. Korean BBQ, with a sprinkle of Pepto. Mexican tacos, with a gulp of Pepto.
Super delicious.
I visited my Catholic Church and gave them a sweet presentation about my service and Colombia with the help of my cute siblings. One kid said that sancocho looked like a Korean stew, budae jjigae which us Koreans nickname it “trash-can stew” (literally translated). Basically in both soups, you throw a buncha ingredients in and boil it until ready. I spoke in Kong,Spang,-LISH and it was a hit. (Korean, Spanish, and English mixed together) The kids listened with great attention and they left the room with greater gratitude because I told them some of my challenges in Colombia like power outages and lack of water where I live, but I also told them the great things about Colombia like sancocho, the people, the contagious happiness, and how Colombians helped our dear Koreans during the Korean War. Their Sunday School teacher, Rosa, led a prayer for me to be strong to continue helping others.
She ended my presentation that we must be kind to others and to help them. Good karma exists, because a Colombian had helped a Korean in the 1950s and here I am, lending my hand to the people of Colombia.
My sweet friend, Ronald, visited me from Austin, Texas and he kindly helped me during my presentation at my local Rotary Club. Those Rotarians kept making fun of me having gone to THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS AT AUSTIN (they went to other less quality universities in Texas 😉 ) but I never let them crush my spirit!! I still bleed burnt orange blood!!! HOOK’EM.
We were going for the serious face, but Ronald must’ve been sad being bossed around.
Ronald and I went to an arcade called, Nickel Mania, and you pay the game machines with nickels!!!!! There was this Kung Fu Panda game where you hit dumplings and avoid bombs and I won the jackpot twice. Haha. 500 tickets. Get on my level.
My mom took me to a Korean clothes store and I got this cool moon shirt. Great material, I tell ya.
She was trying to help me get what I need and what I needed was some long cotton pants that were cool, as in cool as suave, but thick enough to protect my legs from mosquitoes. The store lady was trying to sell me this extremely old lady fashioned pants and I was like, this is too thin for the mosquitoes, and she was like, there are no mosquitoes here in Texas and I was thinking Oh God, take me away from this place. Then, my mom was explaining that I lived in Colombia and there are mosquitoes and that it is very hot over there.
One thing I learned from this experience was that I hate clothes shopping so much and nobody understands me!!!!!!
My sister made it rain on me and bought me sushi with a ridiculously awesome Groupon. Haha, I forgot about Groupon and all the million applications that help you save money. She showed me her art studio at her university, Southern Methodist University (SMU), and there was basically porn everywhere. I could’ve been an artist. I can draw nudity. 😉 Viewer discretion advised.
Haha I love you Sally. My sister is very talented. She also did my professional headshot. I told her to photoshop my double chin, but I realized I looked like a thumb without it.
Extra fat is necessary for beauty.
Note: She only removed my pimples. Tranquila everyone…
My little brother can drive now. He helped me with my errands and I am forever grateful for my mini me with a solid six pack. Someday, I will obtain a six pack and then we will be twins.
I met our new family dog, O-Deng, which means fish cake in Korean. He is still not potty trained, so everytime the sun came up, my mom yelled, “TAKE O-DENG OUT!!!!!!! AHHHH HE WILL POOP!!!”
It was like a daily battle cry.
Odeng was not to be entered into the visitor bathroom
We celebrated my dad’s birthday and I sang the Colombian national anthem and a bit of the Colombian birthday song to him. I only know the “Dios te bendiga” part…and just sang that over and over again until told to stop.
That week flew by and I returned to Colombia after some stressful situations that American Airlines gave me *fists shaking in the air cursing all sorts of bad words*
Coming back to Barranquilla gave me a whooosh of relief.
Hmmmm… Why is that?
There is a saying in Korean. One would pronounce it phonetically in English like, jungee deul eeh dah. (Currently cannot type in Korean on this keyboard..)
It means, one has affection for something or a country.
I feel this affection for Colombia.
I had told my family that when I see vendors on the streets, they sell their products with so much happiness. There is my favorite guanabana juice lady, Jessi, and she makes my damn day when I see her selling her juice. I wave at her like I am never going to see her again every. time. I see her. You can just picture the excitement with each wave of my hand… Happiness does not cost anything.
Visiting Texas gave me the opportunity to spend time with my dear family, talk about all my crazy stories, and share the greatness of Colombia and that was all that mattered. I could have done without the Pepto and the ridiculousness of American Airlines, but I came back to Colombia in one piece recharged with a lot of love from my family.
On October 27th, my butt fire just got lit up crazy and I started my secondary project. Our secondary projects must relate to teaching English and I started my class for tour guides in a village 10 minutes away from my village called, Don Diego.
I have understood that in the coast, punctuality is not really a thing here. However, I have brought my tiger lady and American professionalism into our class and we are slowly becoming more punctual and slowly taking this English class more seriously. I believe in their success with applicable English for their professions. They give me so much joy. I realized that English is really hard. Pronouncing things is hard. Sometimes, the guides will say something that really sounds like gibberish. Some days, my Spanish sucks so hard where my accent and pronunciation just are a hot mess. In these cases, we all just laugh together after jibber jabbering at each other.
I went to the famous National Park of Colombia, Tayrona, with a veteran PC volunteer, Jimmy. I had always passed by the entrance of Tayrona on bus, wondering and dreaming…what lies beyond that entrance? It was like the door of Narnia. I finally entered the other side and realized…
You really need to be an outdoorsy person for Tayrona. You need to be comfortable being smelly and stepping in mud or maybe horse poop. You need to pack food. You need to sing songs to get through the hiking. You should bring earplugs because you never know if the guy sleeping next to you in the hammock will snore like a bear. I almost wanted to close his nose.
Jimmy and I met a Swiss German named, Rolf. He was such a smart guy. We learned about Switzerland’s government body where they have 7 ministers who make political decisions. We learned that Swiss German is more of the rougher German language where they do not have a simple past tense. They basically use the past perfect tense. Then, there is German German spoken. But here is the interesting thing…Swiss Germans can understand the languages, Swiss German and German, but Germans cannot understand the language, Swiss German. MIND BLOWN. Rolf told us about his experience in Japan and we laughed so hard when he described the technologically advanced bathrooms. Japan has bidets in their bathrooms and when Rolf tried to flush, he pressed many buttons to get there. One button raised the toilet seat and the other button heated the seat… Technology I tell ya. He also told us about his company building a school in Nicaragua and how his company helps fund and maintain that school. He and his colleagues do this genuinely from their heart with nothing in return. I asked him twice to make sure I was hearing correctly. In today’s society, it seems that we live in a give and take world. If we give something, we must get something in return. But, Rolf and his colleagues just gave and are still giving. There is this quote I saw on the internet one day that goes like…”Character is when you do something for others who can do nothing for you..” or something along those lines. I think we should try to aim to live more like that for a more peaceful world.
Anyway, Rolf was a nice and smart guy and I just rambled about him because one can not only learn from books and school, but also can learn from people. I think it’s valuable to talk to people and share dialogue to understand and learn from and about them so we can all be a little bit more open minded. He knew a lot about the USA government system and it was a realization that the world indeed watches the USA on a microscope. We sure talked about all sorts of topics, from Japanese bidets, USA government and politics, nuances of German, Colombia, his Korean international student friends, Nicaragua school building while sharing American culture through Doritos and s’mores, and he sure did ask for s’more s’mores… 😛
The park is huge and breathtaking. We hiked to the following points, Arrecife, La Piscina, and then stopped at Cabo San Juan. One can go further, but we rested in Cabo San Juan.
I rode a horse for the first time to Arrecife and it was frightening but awesome.
Then, we got off the horses and hiked. The trails became impossible to walk through without getting muddy and I basically released a new fashion: mud boots. People entering the park looked at my new shoes with great interest and jealousy.
Alright, I close this blog post with my sexy feet.
As Thanksgiving rolls around, please take the time to talk to your family and friends and appreciate all the good things in life…and eat all the green bean casserole for me, please.
You know you’re in the Peace Corps when you freely discuss, elaborate, and describe explosive diarrhea symptoms with your volunteer peers without any ounce of shame.
We all got hit with the D-bug in July.
Without giving you the details here has been my experience in a mathematical formula:
Carrie, my PC volunteer friend who lent her movie library to all of us. We are forever grateful. I did not know how behind the times I was with movie watching.
Galen, my PC volunteer site mate and buddy who keeps me sane. We got lost going to our training in Turipana, ate pity party ice cream together to re-strategize and think clearly, got back up on our feet, and got to our point of destination in one piece.
This is Galen and me after finding the right bus to get to Turipana. We both closed our eyes on accident. I think.
3. Helena, my PC volunteer friend, who checks in on me regularly, who laughs so hard about so many things with me, and truly is a gem of a person.
4. Carmen, my Spanish teacher, who is just on the same page as me all the time.
5. My parents back in Texas. Thank you for your love and support.
After six months of being in Colombia, it was time for our IN-SERVICE TRAINING in Turipana, Colombia. This was a check-in point with our Peace Corps colleagues, staff, and Colombian counterparts.
The first three days included trainings and events with our counterparts. It was an opportunity to meet other volunteers’ counterparts, learn of their accomplishments, learn new methodologies, and basically, fire a rod in our counterparts’ buttocks to get them motivated when they returned back to school.
Here are my cute counterparts:
Alicia from Buritaca and Giovanni from Perico Aguao.
Giovanni and Alicia are my teammates and I am forever grateful for their genuine compassion for their jobs, cooperativeness to work with me, and friendship with a gringa.
The last three days was for just us volunteers. We shared our struggles and achievements and I learned that we were all in this same boat with the same frustrations but we just were too afraid to be vulnerable and admit. However, we all cracked a little and when person A would say, “I have had difficulty with ABC,” person B would nod furiously in agreement. I also learned how much I missed air conditioning, but also realized how easily I got cold and how I was a master of turning it on and off throughout the night. How something I yearn for like AC could not be fully enjoyed due to adaptation of this fiery heat of a weather…
Additionally in Turipana, we surprised our fellow PC volunteer friend, Jackie, and her new-born grandson. 10 pound baby! We also learned how to document our progresses and accomplishments in the Volunteer Record Form (VRF), which is tedious, but very necessary to record our work here in Colombia.
I felt that my volunteer colleagues and I got closer during our Turipana training. Especially when one-by-one we all fell victim to diarrhea, headache, and vomiting afterwards. Natalie, my PC volunteer friend, calls it the curse of Turipana.
DRASTIC MOOD CHANGE. WARNING SAD POINT WARNING!
On August 19, 2016, I almost cried while reading out loud in English a story about Ashley and her career aspirations. I was asked to read out loud to articulate proper English pronunciation of a story far above the English skill level for the students. Some days, work as a PC volunteer makes you want to cry because you realize you can’t change the world, you are frustrated, you are tired, or you feel helpless. I was all of the above that day.
In my classes, there is room for improvement such as breaking down material so your students understand and reviewing that material for reinforcement. Unfortunately, as an outsider, I cannot just come in and enforce my own principles or ways of running things just like trying to put a box in a circle. I cannot just do that that because it’s not my classroom and I am solely here to lend a hand. This is a taste of being a diplomat trying to strengthen relations and improve policy through tact, patience, and tolerance. But in my case, I am trying to instill interest in English and support bilingualism through improved teaching methodologies.
I show all these cool pictures of sea turtles and exotic scenery and yes, Colombia, she is beautiful, and I show her off, but life as a PC volunteer is not all rainbows and bluebonnets.
I changed my life 360 degrees. I moved from Texas to Colombia. I spoke English a 100% of the time to now speaking Spanish. I ate all kinds of diverse foods and all the foods I wanted in the States to now eating solely Colombian food. I used to live on my own in my own apartment to now living with a host family. I lived in the popping city of Austin, Texas, to now living in a rural village of 200-300 people.
It is hard.
So after this period of sadness, I went through this phase of “WTF AM I DOING HERE!!?!?!?!?!??!”
I couldn’t sleep one night due to thoughts of “What the heck am I doing here? Am I really doing something useful???” and randomly watched 7 Years in Tibet. I pretended I was Heinrich Harrer in Tibet (played by Brad Pitt) but I am in a movie called, 2 Years in Colombia. There was a part where Henrich says he was regrettable as having been “intolerant as the Chinese” referencing to when the Chinese at the time were invading Tibet in 1950. That part struck me weirdly. It made me question…Am I intolerant? Is it because of my intolerance that I feel like my purpose here is pointless?
Then, my counterpart Alicia invited me to a place up in the mountains in a village called, San Rafael. She told me how she could empathize with me as she noted that I must be struggling to understand Colombia. The coast of Colombia is different. The lifestyle and mentality are different. Alicia comes from the interior, the capital of Colombia, Bogota, and it’s completely different there, too: the lifestyle and mentality. So, she feels me. She added that she has a Master’s in Tolerance and I am still in school to obtain that kind of degree. The word tolerance has been circling around me lately and visiting San Rafael made me experience some kind of ENLIGHTENMENT. It was a place where I closed my mouth and listened to nature for the first time. It was a place where I shut off my talkative brain. We are always thinking and our minds are so loud, and I am happy to say that San Rafael shut me up.
San Rafael.La Piscinita in San Rafael. The depth was unknown and I dare not try to reach the bottom.
So, after my ENLIGHTENMENT, I jotted down some notes to be wise as the Dalai Lama and to share with you. These tips are applicable to everyone and anyone. Maybe except 6 if you are living in a developed world…
TIPS TO SURVIVE ANGELL KIM STYLE:
When you are sad, write a grocery list, then categorize that list by aisles, then re-write it in a colored marker. Finalize it with a sticker.
Bring a sweat towel at all times. I enjoy whipping that out when there is a waterfall on my face.
Pack snacks every time. The hangry-ness of Angell Kim is even scarier here. Friends, BEWARE!
When you are craving Korean food, improvise and go to a Chinese restaurant in the city.
When you can’t sleep, watch movies until you’re sleepy, but beware, you may suffer lack of sleep the next day, but try to solve today’s problems today and tomorrow’s problems tomorrow.
Back-up charge everything because the power willgo out sometime.
Have a back-up emergency cash fund in a drawer. The nearest ATM machine is in the city and the realization of a back-up emergency cash fund when you are in panic poverty mode, makes you get on your knees and pray Thank you God for His back-up support.
Helping to change and improve something takes time. Remember, not everyone’s buttocks are on fire like mine. So, you have to dim your own butt fire to be in sync with the other butt fires. However, you can’t be complacent, don’t just trot along with the same butt fire level and speed forever. You have to still maintain rigor and passion to help, improve, and focus on your goal(s). This is an art I have yet to master. Unfortunately right now, my butt’s been really burnt out and I need to try to dim the fire.
Write and log all accomplishments and activities that you’ve done in your life, in your job, in your Peace Corps Volunteer service. The PC Volunteer Report Form will sure teach you a lesson. The VRF is like the Matryoshka doll or Russian doll. When you open one doll, there’s another mini one, and when you open that one, there is another one. The VRF has many buttons with many other mini buttons. This advice is pretty applicable for the working man and woman for any career. Keep track of your awesomeness. It will come in handy.
For the OCD American, carry on hand soap is amazing or…a bar of soap. Different form, but same ability to give you clean hands.
Cut your nails so you don’t collect scum under them or scratch your mosquito bites to death.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Things that I realized that make me OH SO HAPPY and helped me get back to my healthy level of happiness:
Running water, showers, and my Korean bath scrub. I am so filthy here and that scrub thing makes me feel 100% clean.
Clean clothes and clean plentiful underwear.
When someone can relate to me.
The screaming children who yell, “llego la luz!! – the lights are back!” and my fan slowly recovers back from its slumber.
The books my English high school teacher, Wendi, had sent me.
So, I didn’t really answer the question of why I am truly here, but I am not here for no purpose, that is for sure.
I know for a fact that I am here to help. I am here to help myself to be able to help others. I am here for a new learning experience. I am here to be a better person. I am here to learn if I fall down 8 times, I know how to get back up 9 times. I am here to become more tolerant.
I think we all are here on this Earth to be more of a kinder person, but I am only a 20-something year old who’s just hit a bumpy road on the road called LIFE.
So, we keep trekking…
TO END ON A GOOD NOTE WITH A SHOUT OUT FULL OF LOVE:
Made seaweed soup (미역국) a thousand miles away for my momma Kim’s 50th birthday. I miss you very much. It is Korean tradition to make seaweed soup to celebrate one’s birthday.Alicia and my 4th grade class. These kids are so rowdy, but I love them.
Thank you for reading the highs and lows of Angell Kim.
*Google credit to 7 Years in Tibet featured photo and Russian doll photos
AnhellBealKim 