Tired

I'm tired. I'm tired of not having my own space, of working the proverbial double shift, of having no way to go anywhere. I'm tired of the isolation. Tired of not having a tv. Tired of running things. Tired of the never ending to do list. Tired of translating. Tired of budgeting. Tired of planning every moment of every day. Tired of joint decision making. Tired, tired, tired.

And it sounds like I'm whining, and I am. But I've been fighting this for a long time, and today, today it all caught up with me, and it's just too much. I need a break. Desperately, urgently, hopelessly need a break. And the reason it's rubbing me raw right now, is because I just don't see that break coming any time soon.

I need a moment alone. A moment - or several - alone with my husband. A day or two or seven in the city or on the beach. I need a full weekend. I need some time to just sit and be lazy. I need to not cook twice a day for a little while. I need to breathe. I need space to just sit down and have a good cry just to let something out, not because I'm actually sad.

I am tired.

I'm not on vacation

It's been a while, yes? Yes. Things have been busy, life's been crazy.

We've moved. That's the first thing. We left Philly (happy dance for me!) and moved to Costa Rica. We're working with ADE in a really rural area of the Costa Rican mountainside, safely off the beaten tourist paths. Not that we don't have any tourists, just that we don't have many, not for a country whose economy revolves around tourism.

And therein lies my issue today. When people think of Costa Rica, they think of sun drenched beaches, frosty drinks, bright sun, and tourists. And they think I'm here on vacation, which, you know, I'm not. I'm working. I work anywhere from eight to thirteen hour days, six days a week. It's coldish where we live, getting down to 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and up to 75 degrees on bright, sunny days. Oh, and this used to be rain forest, so it rains. A lot. Torrential downpours of Biblical proportions. And that's all well and good, because that's what I signed up for. But sometimes I miss things from home. Cheese, for one. Or dark chocolate. Or the convenience of having a steady income. Or even just the ability to find a variety of things at a grocery store or, luxury of luxuries, restaurants that serve food from all over the world.

It's the little things.

Yes, there's running water, electricity, hot water in the shower, but sometimes I miss a little luxury. And when I say I miss something, people are all like, "But don't you live in a tropical paradise where every day is a sunny vacation with umbrellas in your drink? Be grateful that you live in one of our most popular tourist destinations."

Right. I am grateful because this is an amazing experience and it's doing wonders for my faith. You don't realize how big God is until you start expecting Him to be that BIG.

But let's get one thing straight: I'm not on vacation. I don't live on the beach, no one puts umbrellas in my water glass, and even if I do live in a country that gets a ton of tourism, I can't afford to check most of it out. I am not here to be a tourist. I am here to get up at the crack of dawn, teach all morning, come home, make lunch, and do administrative, organizational work until late in the evening. And then, when y'all are lazing around on Saturdays, I'm working some more. Again, it's what I signed up for, and I'm gaining some great experience, so I'm not writing this to complain about my work. What I want people to know is that I have not been here relaxing. This is my job. My day-in-day-out job that just happens to have dramatic volcanic backdrops.

The reality is this: I'm living in an area that is in recovery. It's been two years since the earthquake and the roads are still a rutted mess, the local clinic will see only thirty people once a month, this is only the second year that the local high school has been in existence. There's a lot of work to do, good work, fun work, important work, but it's still work. Life is different here. And because things are different, I'm allowed to miss some of what I had in the States. A car, for example, or security. Or just plain convenience.

Because I'm not on vacation every day of my life here, and sometimes, I'd like to be.

Confessions

To be quite honest, I don't love Philly. Most days, I don't even like it. I didn't realize what a southerner I was until I moved to PA last August. Coming from Northern Virginia, you're always explaining to people that NOVA isn't the South - you know that South I'm talking about: that "Deliverance" or "Mississippi Burning" or even "Meet Joe Dirt" kind of South. And it's true, NOVA isn't like that. But it is Southern in that showing hospitality, saying hello, and blessing your heart kind of way. And silly, Southern me thought folks were polite everywhere.

But they're not. There's a coldness up north - both literal and figurative - that I struggle to understand. I miss saying "Sir" and "Ma'am" without being looked at as if I had a third eye. I miss a returned "Good mornin'" and the beauty of a perfectly drawled "y'all".

I miss VA.

I didn't want to come back here in September, but it made sense. B. was here and he had to finish school. A year. I could do a year.

That year will become at least a year and a half, and I still think I can handle it, but I'll be honest: it's been a hard winter. A long, hard winter.

I'm counting the months till June, hanging on for dear life till the end of the school year and a welcome vacation, and then counting down till December when our lease is up and we can go wherever our little hearts desire.

I don't know where we'll go or what will happen or even what I'll do between June and December. Honestly, it's kind of exciting to leave this up in the air for now. I've been praying a lot. Praying for a heart for this city, praying for direction, praying for guidance, praying that I won't stand in the way of whatever God has for us here now or in the future because of my stubborn love for the comfort of the South. I don't know what's coming, I just know that this year has been a struggle of epic proportions for me. I'm trying to feel this out and to adjust. And I've felt myself stretching, learning, and thinking, and these are good things.

No ha sido en vano, pero tampoco ha sido fácil.

Rambling on the foreign and familiar

Well, it's Tuesday here, and we just finished our Vietnamese lesson. I was going to blog yesterday, but we had a series of power outages that lasted quite a while. Imagine 93 degrees, high humidity, and no fans; sounds like fun, right? ;) I guess it wasn't too bad, but it made us all pretty lazy. We didn't want to go out or explore much.

Yesterday we celebrated Thanh's nephew's birthday. We had entirely too much food. It's amazing how a table full of food can totally ruin your appetite; I was completely overwhelmed. We invited the hotel staff and Ms. Yen and Mr. Quy, so there were about eight of us. We ate rice noodles, shrimp, beef stir fry, some kind of broth, a salad (which I helped prepare), rambutan (like lychee, but spiky), and cake. And I'm sure there was more food on the table somewhere... It was all really good. I feel like I never stop eating here.... Amazingly enough, however, all of my clothes are too big on me.

We played soccer with some kids outside the school yesterday morning, which was a lot of fun. Andrea is in agreement about soccer being the universal language. We walked from school to the hotel with the ball, and had about three conversations across a block and a half. Everyone wants to be your friend when you have a soccer ball. It's such a great conversation starter.

Last night, after class, we had some nuoc mia. This is becoming a habit for us, and not a particularly healthy one, but the nuoc mia is so sweet and cold and refreshing, that we are craving it by the end of the night when we've exhausted our cold water supply. It's nice to sit at the little plastic table, balancing on little plastic chairs on the edge of the sidewalk and sipping cold sugar cane juice. It's a well deserved treat, I think. Plus, the opportunities for conversation over nuoc mia abound. There is no such thing as personal space in Vietnam, so the tables are pushed close to one another and everyone wants to practice their English or see how well we speak Vietnamese (the answer is not very), so we always talk to people. Yesterday, we talked to a couple of older men who laughed at our Vietnamese notebooks with our careful notes on pronunciation.

After that, Eleisa, Andrea, and I split a plate of chicken fried rice (co'm is rice, ga is chicken - that's what we want) and some pickled green papaya (I love that stuff) for 20,000 dong, just a little over a dollar for three people. We decided we should not let Thanh order anymore because we are infinitely more frugal. ;). Andrea and I walked around the city after that, in search of Kem and sua chua (ice cream and yogurt) and some cold bottled nuoc (water). We were unable to find the latter, but managed to find a little shop where we bought some frozen yogurt in little glass cups. One pink, one white, and like good Vietnamese, we ate from eachothers cups.

At dinner we were making a list: "You know you've been in Vietnam too long when..." Among my favorites, "someone gives you a fork and you look at them funny", "you share one water bottle among four people", "you think nothing of double dipping"....

This is a different world here. I can feel the difference, see it, smell it, taste it. Most of my food reminds me of my seventh grade bio class where we did a lot of dissections (shrimp, crab, even chickens with their heads on - I have managed to avoid the latter). But there's something so universal in this heat, the poverty. Something universal in dusty streets and bright smiles and sad eyes. It's amazing to draw these parallels in a place that is so deeply foreign to me. I have my moments. My days of wishing for a nice, fat sandwich; some music in Spanish, maybe a car with AC... But I guess no place is really home. I'm an army brat, I should know that much at least.

Somedays I feel like I'm at the ends of the earth. I felt that yesterday, as I washed veggies while squatting on a pair of bricks on the patio. Yeah, there's no sink in the kitchen.... But at the same time, there's that common thread of food and water, the sky above, and the dust in my sandals... I am amazed at every turn. Sometimes amazed and resentful, sometimes amazed and gracious... You could all pray for my attitude; it wouldn't hurt. ;)

I guess I'm babbling. And maybe I'm repeating myself a lot, but I can't view my blog, only write in it, so I don't know what's old news.

I think we've decided to go to Ha Long Bay for the weekend so we can meet up with the Ha Noi team before they come down to Vinh. I think I need it; need some beach, some natural wonders to shock me into appreciation. The classes can tire me out. It's hard when you aren't always understood, when you get a lot of blank stares and nervouse gazes.... But it gets better, yes? It always gets better...

I'm optimistic, really I am. Just tired, a little sick, and definitely sweaty. Ha, ha... Guess it's time for lunch and a nap. Now THAT I could get used to.