Infinite mosquito bites
Island-wide renown for my lack of skill at balancing on that crazy new-fangled contraption--the
bicycle
Strep throat
Dr. Happy (a tooth brush)
Mangoes and tangerines (as presents from my students!)
Care packages
Chocolate shake--mmm, goodness
A 40-pound bag of rice for Christmas
A haircut as I sat outside on a balcony with the breeze on my face, looking out over the Pacific,
admiring the blue glow the full moon casts on the rocks and sand at low tide
Goosebumps as I read Coleridge to my creative writing class, on the singular below-80 degree
day that I've seen here
Fleas
30 flat men
--in the mail--
two glorious hours on the radio
zero days of "vacation"
173 days of awesome
A wicked hot Reef tan
3.5 custom nuknuks
A bottle of (disturbingly orange) Bellagio bath gel
Soaked to the bone on a number of occasions
Never-ending fame for my fabtastic marching performance
(I'm the tall awkward white girl singing made-up words--"Ole!"--and shaking her kahpuh on
TV)
The satisfaction of seeing the look on my friend's face when we gave him a DVD of the Christmas
marching--which is shown 24/7 on TV--for his birthday
Yes!
The dullest snorkeling experience ever
The greatest diving experience ever
A sunburn (or several)
An ovation during volleyball
Frustrated
Amazed
Depressed
Ecstatic
Bored
Perfectly content
M. McCrea
"Things I've gotten on Kosrae"
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
You know you live in Kosrae when..., the wonders of capitalism at Dollar Up, other random sources of amusement
Inspired by several recent experiences/revelations, I decided to compile a brief checklist. If any of the following things have happened to you recently, then reach for an atlas! You may very well be living in Kosrae:
+You open your vitamin bottle in order to find that your vitamins are covered with mold.
+You become unexplainably excited when you realize that you haven't eaten white rice in 24 hours.
+You wake up one morning to the old, familiar, persistent blare of your alarm clock. You roll over and reluctantly open your eyes, finding yourself staring a large cockroach in the face. (He's on the inside of the mosquito net, by the way.) Your first thought is: "Dammit. Is it time for work already??"
+When you somehow miraculously manage to get cold, you're really stoked!
+You've started to become tired of eating fresh-from-the-sea lobster and crab all the time.
+You begin to wonder: "why don't any English words start with 'sr' or 'ng'??"
+You find sliced bread on the island and have an ensuing party for yourself.
+You know what a sea cucumber is (believe it or not, not a food or an innuendo).
*************************************************************************************
Let me begin by stating that, at the moment, I don't feel that I'm up to the daunting task of putting the incredibleness(?) that is Dollar Up into words. It's almost as presumptuous an undertaking as endeavoring to explain human nature/the meaning of it all/etc. My first visit blew my mind almost the way Harrod's did, but in very different ways.
Anyway, my favorite thing about this retail outpost is the names of the products one can buy there. For Christmas, I bought a fellow a PCV a toy called the "Miraculous Happy Dog." Honestly, how could you not shell out for a product entitled the "Miraculous Happy Dog"?? Another wondrous plastic contraption, next to the dog on the shelf, bore the missive: "every styles fully wonderful." Sounds good enough for me! My very favorite Dollar Up product, however, has to be a certain powder detergent. Now, I've grown rather accustomed to interesting uses of my native tongue here, but still, imagine my surprise when I picked up the detergent next to the machine to find that I was doing my laundry with White Power detergent. Who knew a laundry soap could be an argument for better social studies/English education in youngsters?
*************************************************************************************
Last but not least: other random amusing shit.
I was at a New Year's picnic the other week (hey, we like to stretch the holidays out here) when the grill we were using caught on fire. Apparently there was no water around, as people started (futilely) pouring their sodas on it in an effort to quelch the flames. To no avail. This only made the fire rage more. Then the guy who'd been barbequing tipped his beer on it. The fire was out like that.
All kidding aside for a second, diabetes is a HUGE health problem here on Kosrae. Thus, there have been many ensuing public health campaigns in order to fight this trend. Anyway, for New Year's, all of us PCVs went out to dinner at the nicest restaurant on the island. Our eyes were all aglow when they came to rest on the tantalizing menu. Very excited about my first restaurant meal in weeks/months/I really don't know, I ordered curry for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert. As we were eating our dinners, the waitress came out to ask me about my dessert.
"Do you want chocolate sauce or caramel on it?"
"How about both!" I excitedly replied.
"Oh!! Kom ac diabetes!" ["You're going to get diabetes!"] she delightedly exclaimed.
Best part of this story? She's not the first person on Kosrae to tell me I'm going to get diabetes. Ah, what a way to ring in the new year.
*************************************************************************************
+You open your vitamin bottle in order to find that your vitamins are covered with mold.
+You become unexplainably excited when you realize that you haven't eaten white rice in 24 hours.
+You wake up one morning to the old, familiar, persistent blare of your alarm clock. You roll over and reluctantly open your eyes, finding yourself staring a large cockroach in the face. (He's on the inside of the mosquito net, by the way.) Your first thought is: "Dammit. Is it time for work already??"
+When you somehow miraculously manage to get cold, you're really stoked!
+You've started to become tired of eating fresh-from-the-sea lobster and crab all the time.
+You begin to wonder: "why don't any English words start with 'sr' or 'ng'??"
+You find sliced bread on the island and have an ensuing party for yourself.
+You know what a sea cucumber is (believe it or not, not a food or an innuendo).
*************************************************************************************
Let me begin by stating that, at the moment, I don't feel that I'm up to the daunting task of putting the incredibleness(?) that is Dollar Up into words. It's almost as presumptuous an undertaking as endeavoring to explain human nature/the meaning of it all/etc. My first visit blew my mind almost the way Harrod's did, but in very different ways.
Anyway, my favorite thing about this retail outpost is the names of the products one can buy there. For Christmas, I bought a fellow a PCV a toy called the "Miraculous Happy Dog." Honestly, how could you not shell out for a product entitled the "Miraculous Happy Dog"?? Another wondrous plastic contraption, next to the dog on the shelf, bore the missive: "every styles fully wonderful." Sounds good enough for me! My very favorite Dollar Up product, however, has to be a certain powder detergent. Now, I've grown rather accustomed to interesting uses of my native tongue here, but still, imagine my surprise when I picked up the detergent next to the machine to find that I was doing my laundry with White Power detergent. Who knew a laundry soap could be an argument for better social studies/English education in youngsters?
*************************************************************************************
Last but not least: other random amusing shit.
I was at a New Year's picnic the other week (hey, we like to stretch the holidays out here) when the grill we were using caught on fire. Apparently there was no water around, as people started (futilely) pouring their sodas on it in an effort to quelch the flames. To no avail. This only made the fire rage more. Then the guy who'd been barbequing tipped his beer on it. The fire was out like that.
All kidding aside for a second, diabetes is a HUGE health problem here on Kosrae. Thus, there have been many ensuing public health campaigns in order to fight this trend. Anyway, for New Year's, all of us PCVs went out to dinner at the nicest restaurant on the island. Our eyes were all aglow when they came to rest on the tantalizing menu. Very excited about my first restaurant meal in weeks/months/I really don't know, I ordered curry for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert. As we were eating our dinners, the waitress came out to ask me about my dessert.
"Do you want chocolate sauce or caramel on it?"
"How about both!" I excitedly replied.
"Oh!! Kom ac diabetes!" ["You're going to get diabetes!"] she delightedly exclaimed.
Best part of this story? She's not the first person on Kosrae to tell me I'm going to get diabetes. Ah, what a way to ring in the new year.
*************************************************************************************
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
an irreverent nocturnal reverie, in tribute to the unique phenomenon that is Kosrae Christmas. in verse.
'Twas the month before Christmas
And all throught the isle
Was nary a creature
Not sporting a smile.
The palm leaves were hung
With white lights galore
Giantplastic Santa guarded
The front of Senny's store.
As planeload on planeload
Of visitors arrived
--I'd ne'er seen the island
Quite so alive.
Then one magical, mystical tropical night,
I lay under my net
Watching mosquitos fight
When into my ears
There arrived such a sound
That I open'd my eyes,
Took a good look around.
At first, 'twas a hum
Like the buzzing of bees,
Maybe o'erzealous wind
In the coconut trees
But the buzz was increasing,
The wind had a beat,
I listen'd, discerned
THE SHUFFLING OF FEET!
Curiosity peaked, outside I crept
What ritual was happ'ning
Out there as I slept?
I followed that sound,
With all of my might,
Saw the church up ahead
All a-blaze with light.
Here was the birthplace, the source
Of the sound
Sung by all my neighbors
As they walked around!
I stood at the window
And watched them with glee--
They spelled "MXM,"
And then "H," and then "P"!
The flock ne'er tired in pursuit
Of their stars;
O'er the course of the night,
They travelled quite far.
Spellbound I stood,
I know not how long;
Bewitched by the stars,
Marching feet, and the song.
The crowd made a turn,
Crossed over the floor--
Oh! It looked like--
They were headed straight for the door!
I panicked, I freaked, tried utmost to hide...
But too late, alas,
They were already outside.
When what should I feel
Hitting me on the nose,
But a butterscotch sucker
And pack of Rolos?
The shower continued--
I took off my hat
In time to catch mints,
Gumdrops, and a Kit-Kat.
I understood not,
But that was okay--
It was the best Christmas ever
That day!
And, as I staggered off under
The weight of my haul,
I turned back around toward the crowd,
I recall.
And I shouted with joy,
Ere I journeyed on back:
"Merry Christmas to all,
nofon mwet Tafunsak!"
M. McCrea
And all throught the isle
Was nary a creature
Not sporting a smile.
The palm leaves were hung
With white lights galore
Giantplastic Santa guarded
The front of Senny's store.
As planeload on planeload
Of visitors arrived
--I'd ne'er seen the island
Quite so alive.
Then one magical, mystical tropical night,
I lay under my net
Watching mosquitos fight
When into my ears
There arrived such a sound
That I open'd my eyes,
Took a good look around.
At first, 'twas a hum
Like the buzzing of bees,
Maybe o'erzealous wind
In the coconut trees
But the buzz was increasing,
The wind had a beat,
I listen'd, discerned
THE SHUFFLING OF FEET!
Curiosity peaked, outside I crept
What ritual was happ'ning
Out there as I slept?
I followed that sound,
With all of my might,
Saw the church up ahead
All a-blaze with light.
Here was the birthplace, the source
Of the sound
Sung by all my neighbors
As they walked around!
I stood at the window
And watched them with glee--
They spelled "MXM,"
And then "H," and then "P"!
The flock ne'er tired in pursuit
Of their stars;
O'er the course of the night,
They travelled quite far.
Spellbound I stood,
I know not how long;
Bewitched by the stars,
Marching feet, and the song.
The crowd made a turn,
Crossed over the floor--
Oh! It looked like--
They were headed straight for the door!
I panicked, I freaked, tried utmost to hide...
But too late, alas,
They were already outside.
When what should I feel
Hitting me on the nose,
But a butterscotch sucker
And pack of Rolos?
The shower continued--
I took off my hat
In time to catch mints,
Gumdrops, and a Kit-Kat.
I understood not,
But that was okay--
It was the best Christmas ever
That day!
And, as I staggered off under
The weight of my haul,
I turned back around toward the crowd,
I recall.
And I shouted with joy,
Ere I journeyed on back:
"Merry Christmas to all,
nofon mwet Tafunsak!"
M. McCrea
Friday, November 23, 2007
Zen wisdom from the South Pacific
~There are days when the best thing that will happen to you is not getting hit on the head by a falling coconut.
~Let sleepings dogs lie. Otherwise, they will bite you.
~"If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?"
"A hermit crab," my family decided last weekend. They then explained that they are easy to catch in the morning because "they like to sleep in, just like you."
~When it rains, it pours...if I've just put my clean laundry outside to dry.
Also, randomly, guess who is faster than me on my bicycle?
1) A small child sprinting.
2) A twelve year-old kid carrying another twelve year-old on the handlebars of his bike.
Awesome. I will continue to update this category as necessary.
Lastly, in lieu of doing a cliched "things I'm thankful for..." post, here are a few things I've seen here in the FSM that have already made my journey more than worth it.
I'm sitting on the floor in church in Pohnpei. All is relatively calm and still, but there's a little kid running up and down the side aisle nearest me. As he runs by a woman (presumedly not his mother), she reaches out and pats him on the head. He keeps running for what must have been 15 seconds, then walks back to the woman, slaps her (really hard!) on the thigh, and walks back to his seat. WHAT?
So I live on what is (no joke) one of the rainiest islands on earth. One gray morning, I woke up to the sound of POUNDING rain over my head. I walk out to have breakfast, and my mom laughingly tells me to go look outside.
"Your soris floated away," she says.
Now my family likes to joke around, so I assume this to be a lie. When I then open the door in order to humor her, I see that all of our shoes have literally been carried all the way down the side of the house on a torrent of water. This is not something you can see in Denver.
Before I officially started teaching at my site, I was visiting for a practicum day. Now, our school is situated such that all of the doors face the outside; they are padlocked shut. I was supposed to be teaching a first period class of 9th graders, but their teacher, I soon learned was out sick. I approached another teacher, asking him if he had the key. He smiled and said:
"Hold on. I'll go get the master key."
Now it was early, mind you, otherwise I might have wondered how you could have a "master key" to a bunch of padlocks. But I didn't. Then he returned, brandishing a hammer. He pulled the entire contraption, lock, hinges, and all, off of my door and proudly said, "There you go."
~Let sleepings dogs lie. Otherwise, they will bite you.
~"If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?"
"A hermit crab," my family decided last weekend. They then explained that they are easy to catch in the morning because "they like to sleep in, just like you."
~When it rains, it pours...if I've just put my clean laundry outside to dry.
Also, randomly, guess who is faster than me on my bicycle?
1) A small child sprinting.
2) A twelve year-old kid carrying another twelve year-old on the handlebars of his bike.
Awesome. I will continue to update this category as necessary.
Lastly, in lieu of doing a cliched "things I'm thankful for..." post, here are a few things I've seen here in the FSM that have already made my journey more than worth it.
I'm sitting on the floor in church in Pohnpei. All is relatively calm and still, but there's a little kid running up and down the side aisle nearest me. As he runs by a woman (presumedly not his mother), she reaches out and pats him on the head. He keeps running for what must have been 15 seconds, then walks back to the woman, slaps her (really hard!) on the thigh, and walks back to his seat. WHAT?
So I live on what is (no joke) one of the rainiest islands on earth. One gray morning, I woke up to the sound of POUNDING rain over my head. I walk out to have breakfast, and my mom laughingly tells me to go look outside.
"Your soris floated away," she says.
Now my family likes to joke around, so I assume this to be a lie. When I then open the door in order to humor her, I see that all of our shoes have literally been carried all the way down the side of the house on a torrent of water. This is not something you can see in Denver.
Before I officially started teaching at my site, I was visiting for a practicum day. Now, our school is situated such that all of the doors face the outside; they are padlocked shut. I was supposed to be teaching a first period class of 9th graders, but their teacher, I soon learned was out sick. I approached another teacher, asking him if he had the key. He smiled and said:
"Hold on. I'll go get the master key."
Now it was early, mind you, otherwise I might have wondered how you could have a "master key" to a bunch of padlocks. But I didn't. Then he returned, brandishing a hammer. He pulled the entire contraption, lock, hinges, and all, off of my door and proudly said, "There you go."
Friday, November 2, 2007
Style & Grace (or, "Me and my bicycle"); Everything I really need to know I learned in Walung
So, the PC hasn't actually issued us our bikes yet (a point of no contention, as I'm sure you'd guess); however, my host family here has become in the habit of lending me one of their bicycles to use. Now, you know the old saying--about anything--"oh, it comes back in a second. Just like riding a bike"? Well, I'm willing to bet that whoever made that up has never attempted to ride a bike sporting a long skirt and flip-flops, ill-balanced messenger bag slung over one shoulder. But that's another story.
Today I'd like to present to you a couple of shining examples of the fun I have had riding a bicycle here, where every trip is really an adventure. Young, carefree PCV has just begun her (soon-to-be weekly) bike odyssey on the road leading from Tofol (the capital) to her home. Dusk is just starting to think about falling. And action.
Out of nowhere, this crazyvicious-looking dog runs onto the road out of nowhere, clearly craving the taste of human flesh (but preferably that sweet, juicy flesh of the Homo homo sapienas americanus). Unsuspecting girl looks behind her, freaks out, and starts yelling "Teok! Teok!" literally at the top of her lungs. (This is probably Kosraen for some very bad word. She's not really sure.) Girl speeds up as fast as she can (still shouting) and pulls her right ankle up well above the crossbar, removing the tasty morsel from the eager, terrifying, (and, yet, not very tall) jaws of impending doom. Girl succeeds, hoping that no one was around to witness this ridiculous ordeal. End scene.
Another awesome bicycle incident befell said girl last weekend when she was least suspecting it. After running her bike off of the road and into a ditch, losing both her sunglasses and her dignity (but that's another story), our protagonist resolved to be very careful the rest of the way home. As usual, however, her procrastination meant that she was finishing her journey virtually in the dark. She becomes excited as she passes onto her street, confident that she has successfully avoiding having two embarrssing bicycle crashes in the same trip. As she passes her neighborhood store, she calls out "Eke wo" to the people sitting there.
One guy calls back "Eke wo. Kom lungse chocolate?"
Now here's where the ambiguity of the Kosraen language really starts causing trouble. Is this man merely offering an informational query ["You like chocolate?], or is this figure, now mainly veiled in shadows, offering our heroine chocolate out of the dark? In other words, small talk, or prelude to crazy real-life episode of True Crime? Well, as her mind has been working through all these cogitations, her feet have continued to pedal, the wheels have continued to spin, and Megan's head has turned progressively further and further around, toward the speaker of the confusing statement...and she's hit a giant (and very familiar, unfortunately speedbump). She recovers her balance in the nick of time, all still without a clue of what's actually just happened.
And now for something completely different...so, last weekend, our training class tromped out to Walung for "cultural activities"--though I think that it was designed as a break from the monotony of training as much as anything else. It was an odd melange of things: Berenstein Bears' Vacation weather, picture postcard setting, and a place of lodging that would have pleased Hitchcock and unnerved Edgar Allen Poe. But that's all for another time (when I'm not paying for Internet by the millisecond anymore).
For the moment, I present: "Everything I really need to know I learned in Walung"
1) Making fun of other people for taking Dramamine is never good karma
2) Snorkeling (anywhere!) can be fun, depending upon the degree to which you adjust your expectations. ("Ooh! Look! A rock!!!" "Oh yeah? I found mangrove roots. What what!")
3) Pigs can swim(!?!)
4) Contrary to popular belief, a higher proportion of yelling DOES NOT yield a higher proportion of caught fish while net-fishing
5) A coconut tree is a hell of a lot taller on the way down than on the way up
And, with that, I leave you for the moment. By next post will be as an OFFICIAL Peace Corps Volunteer. Expect great things (haha).
Today I'd like to present to you a couple of shining examples of the fun I have had riding a bicycle here, where every trip is really an adventure. Young, carefree PCV has just begun her (soon-to-be weekly) bike odyssey on the road leading from Tofol (the capital) to her home. Dusk is just starting to think about falling. And action.
Out of nowhere, this crazyvicious-looking dog runs onto the road out of nowhere, clearly craving the taste of human flesh (but preferably that sweet, juicy flesh of the Homo homo sapienas americanus). Unsuspecting girl looks behind her, freaks out, and starts yelling "Teok! Teok!" literally at the top of her lungs. (This is probably Kosraen for some very bad word. She's not really sure.) Girl speeds up as fast as she can (still shouting) and pulls her right ankle up well above the crossbar, removing the tasty morsel from the eager, terrifying, (and, yet, not very tall) jaws of impending doom. Girl succeeds, hoping that no one was around to witness this ridiculous ordeal. End scene.
Another awesome bicycle incident befell said girl last weekend when she was least suspecting it. After running her bike off of the road and into a ditch, losing both her sunglasses and her dignity (but that's another story), our protagonist resolved to be very careful the rest of the way home. As usual, however, her procrastination meant that she was finishing her journey virtually in the dark. She becomes excited as she passes onto her street, confident that she has successfully avoiding having two embarrssing bicycle crashes in the same trip. As she passes her neighborhood store, she calls out "Eke wo" to the people sitting there.
One guy calls back "Eke wo. Kom lungse chocolate?"
Now here's where the ambiguity of the Kosraen language really starts causing trouble. Is this man merely offering an informational query ["You like chocolate?], or is this figure, now mainly veiled in shadows, offering our heroine chocolate out of the dark? In other words, small talk, or prelude to crazy real-life episode of True Crime? Well, as her mind has been working through all these cogitations, her feet have continued to pedal, the wheels have continued to spin, and Megan's head has turned progressively further and further around, toward the speaker of the confusing statement...and she's hit a giant (and very familiar, unfortunately speedbump). She recovers her balance in the nick of time, all still without a clue of what's actually just happened.
And now for something completely different...so, last weekend, our training class tromped out to Walung for "cultural activities"--though I think that it was designed as a break from the monotony of training as much as anything else. It was an odd melange of things: Berenstein Bears' Vacation weather, picture postcard setting, and a place of lodging that would have pleased Hitchcock and unnerved Edgar Allen Poe. But that's all for another time (when I'm not paying for Internet by the millisecond anymore).
For the moment, I present: "Everything I really need to know I learned in Walung"
1) Making fun of other people for taking Dramamine is never good karma
2) Snorkeling (anywhere!) can be fun, depending upon the degree to which you adjust your expectations. ("Ooh! Look! A rock!!!" "Oh yeah? I found mangrove roots. What what!")
3) Pigs can swim(!?!)
4) Contrary to popular belief, a higher proportion of yelling DOES NOT yield a higher proportion of caught fish while net-fishing
5) A coconut tree is a hell of a lot taller on the way down than on the way up
And, with that, I leave you for the moment. By next post will be as an OFFICIAL Peace Corps Volunteer. Expect great things (haha).
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Welcome to Kosrae, "Water Safety," Kosraen 101
It's funny: I came here to Kosrae just 16 days ago, yet as I look back and attempt to describe my arrival here, it seems like aeons ago. Now, instead of remembering the entire day as one smooth, uninterrupted narrative line, I remember it in flashes--a sped-up, movie montage version of my transition.
Step 1: Waving at my first host family (to the extent this is possible as I precariously balance three carry-ons from my shoulders and, simultaneously, drag two overflowing suitcases to the Peace Corps van). Translation: Awkwardly giving the "wassup" nod to the family who has put up with me and my constant cultural faux-pas for the last three weeks as I disappear (from their lives) over the horizon.
Step 2: Becoming the first Continental passenger ever, perhaps? (oh, how I flatter myself) to check in wearing a PFD (e.g. lifevest). To me, I'm just saving much needed space, the staff, however, seriously assure me: "you know, we have flotation devices on the plane."
Step 3: Discovering love at first sight with my Kosraen host family. In fact, I can tell you when I knew it was meant to be: the PC staff had herded all of us (PCTs, current PCVs, and host families) into a meeting room for the official meet-and-greet-and-receive-leis-and-eat. However, nothing's happening...we're all just sitting around, waiting for Godot. As everyone else magically finds their host family, I realize that mine is MIA. That's right: who is the late family, holding up the whole ceremony? Mine!
When a young couple saunter in, easily 25 minutes late and blissfully unaware, I realize that my host family match was one made in Heaven.
Then came the drive home. Everything's going fine until we hit a police roadblock. Nothing to worry about, they explain. It's just a DUI checkpoint or something. Then, as this cop walks toward the car, my dad says to me, in English:
"I know this guy--he's crazy!!"
The cop arrives at the driver's side window. He starts talking, rapidly and seriously, in Kosraen. My parents just start laughing their asses off. The cop then says a couple of (very business-like) things in English:
"License and registration."
--More laughing and Kosraen
"I'm just doing my job."
--More laughing and Kosraen.
By this time, I'm totally freaking out. Oh my God, I think, my host parents are going to get themselves arrested for contempt on my first night here, and I don't even know where my house is!
All of a sudden, my dad turns to me and says:
"That's my brother."
I shake his hand, completely perplexed. We drive off.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
I explain my erstwhile paranoia, and we all have a good laugh. Such was my welcome to Kosrae.
For some odd reason, I quickly garnered the reputation among my training class as being kind of a shitshow. (Can't quite put my finger upon when this occurred: perhaps when I slide-tackled someone during a game of Monkey in the Middle frisbee, perhaps, missed the frisbee and hit a concrete stepping stone?) Well, regardless of when it began, by the time the long-awaited Water Safety Day rolled around, our group had taken bets on who would be the first to hurt themselves, and I enjoyed a liberal early lead in the race. I swore, of course, to prove them all wrong.
A couple of hours later, we're out on the water. Our instructor tells us to jump in; we're practicing getting back into the boat. As one who has seldom been upheld as the supreme example of upper arm strength, I'm not excited. However, I jump in and hope for the best. It's the kind of moment where, in a movie, "Eye of the Tiger" should amp up in the background as I reach deep down into my soul to muster the awe-inspiring power to push myself back into the boat.
Well, I don't hear Survivor or feel like Rocky, so my arms decide to rebel against me. Charlie and Asa end up having to haul me into the boat like some unholy combination of dead fish and beached whale, as I lie there laughing my ass off (the natural response to such a situation, I'm sure). I face plant into the bottom of the boat, and shout (as much as it is possible to shout while laughing maniacally and hitting the bottom of a boat with your diaphragm): "I FAIL WATER SAFETY!" Everyone is laughing, their prediction having come true; I look down at my leg and yep, I've reopened an old scab on my knee as I was hauled into the boat, and now I'm bleeding profusely from my leg.
Oddly, I'm still allowed to swim...
Last but not least: Kosraen. (Yes, I have been doing things for the last five weeks besides tanning, hurting myself, and eating a lot of white rice.) We study Kosraen for four hours every morning which is, I assure, definitely a linguistic adventure. To give you an idea, here is a real sentence in Kosraen:
"Ke ke ke kom ke som ke Nga?"
--This translates to: "About when are you wanting to go with me?""Ke" translates to all of those words but me, you, and go. There are many, many other words that mean several things like this. For instance: "luhngse."
Whereas in English we have separate words to mean "like," "love," "would like," and "want," "'luhngse' is the all-purpose liking word. Thus, there is no linguistic differentiation between wanting a hotdog, liking to play soccer, and loving someone. It's just a funny concept to wrap your head around, really.
All of this translates into interesting language lessons (read: lots of anger/hostility. ("There are how many ways to say 'where'?") The funny thing is, I have no doubt that English contains just as many ridiculous grammatical abnormalities as Kosraen does. The difference is that we didn't learn English this quickly. Thus, right now, we're being confronted in 6 weeks with all those same caprices and idiosyncracies of Kosraen, that we've all had 20+ years to come to grips with in English. No wonder we're all so confused!
~Megan
Step 1: Waving at my first host family (to the extent this is possible as I precariously balance three carry-ons from my shoulders and, simultaneously, drag two overflowing suitcases to the Peace Corps van). Translation: Awkwardly giving the "wassup" nod to the family who has put up with me and my constant cultural faux-pas for the last three weeks as I disappear (from their lives) over the horizon.
Step 2: Becoming the first Continental passenger ever, perhaps? (oh, how I flatter myself) to check in wearing a PFD (e.g. lifevest). To me, I'm just saving much needed space, the staff, however, seriously assure me: "you know, we have flotation devices on the plane."
Step 3: Discovering love at first sight with my Kosraen host family. In fact, I can tell you when I knew it was meant to be: the PC staff had herded all of us (PCTs, current PCVs, and host families) into a meeting room for the official meet-and-greet-and-receive-leis-and-eat. However, nothing's happening...we're all just sitting around, waiting for Godot. As everyone else magically finds their host family, I realize that mine is MIA. That's right: who is the late family, holding up the whole ceremony? Mine!
When a young couple saunter in, easily 25 minutes late and blissfully unaware, I realize that my host family match was one made in Heaven.
Then came the drive home. Everything's going fine until we hit a police roadblock. Nothing to worry about, they explain. It's just a DUI checkpoint or something. Then, as this cop walks toward the car, my dad says to me, in English:
"I know this guy--he's crazy!!"
The cop arrives at the driver's side window. He starts talking, rapidly and seriously, in Kosraen. My parents just start laughing their asses off. The cop then says a couple of (very business-like) things in English:
"License and registration."
--More laughing and Kosraen
"I'm just doing my job."
--More laughing and Kosraen.
By this time, I'm totally freaking out. Oh my God, I think, my host parents are going to get themselves arrested for contempt on my first night here, and I don't even know where my house is!
All of a sudden, my dad turns to me and says:
"That's my brother."
I shake his hand, completely perplexed. We drive off.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
I explain my erstwhile paranoia, and we all have a good laugh. Such was my welcome to Kosrae.
For some odd reason, I quickly garnered the reputation among my training class as being kind of a shitshow. (Can't quite put my finger upon when this occurred: perhaps when I slide-tackled someone during a game of Monkey in the Middle frisbee, perhaps, missed the frisbee and hit a concrete stepping stone?) Well, regardless of when it began, by the time the long-awaited Water Safety Day rolled around, our group had taken bets on who would be the first to hurt themselves, and I enjoyed a liberal early lead in the race. I swore, of course, to prove them all wrong.
A couple of hours later, we're out on the water. Our instructor tells us to jump in; we're practicing getting back into the boat. As one who has seldom been upheld as the supreme example of upper arm strength, I'm not excited. However, I jump in and hope for the best. It's the kind of moment where, in a movie, "Eye of the Tiger" should amp up in the background as I reach deep down into my soul to muster the awe-inspiring power to push myself back into the boat.
Well, I don't hear Survivor or feel like Rocky, so my arms decide to rebel against me. Charlie and Asa end up having to haul me into the boat like some unholy combination of dead fish and beached whale, as I lie there laughing my ass off (the natural response to such a situation, I'm sure). I face plant into the bottom of the boat, and shout (as much as it is possible to shout while laughing maniacally and hitting the bottom of a boat with your diaphragm): "I FAIL WATER SAFETY!" Everyone is laughing, their prediction having come true; I look down at my leg and yep, I've reopened an old scab on my knee as I was hauled into the boat, and now I'm bleeding profusely from my leg.
Oddly, I'm still allowed to swim...
Last but not least: Kosraen. (Yes, I have been doing things for the last five weeks besides tanning, hurting myself, and eating a lot of white rice.) We study Kosraen for four hours every morning which is, I assure, definitely a linguistic adventure. To give you an idea, here is a real sentence in Kosraen:
"Ke ke ke kom ke som ke Nga?"
--This translates to: "About when are you wanting to go with me?""Ke" translates to all of those words but me, you, and go. There are many, many other words that mean several things like this. For instance: "luhngse."
Whereas in English we have separate words to mean "like," "love," "would like," and "want," "'luhngse' is the all-purpose liking word. Thus, there is no linguistic differentiation between wanting a hotdog, liking to play soccer, and loving someone. It's just a funny concept to wrap your head around, really.
All of this translates into interesting language lessons (read: lots of anger/hostility. ("There are how many ways to say 'where'?") The funny thing is, I have no doubt that English contains just as many ridiculous grammatical abnormalities as Kosraen does. The difference is that we didn't learn English this quickly. Thus, right now, we're being confronted in 6 weeks with all those same caprices and idiosyncracies of Kosraen, that we've all had 20+ years to come to grips with in English. No wonder we're all so confused!
~Megan
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