Back in America

  I've been back a while now. Almost 3 months. A couple weeks ago, the woman who replaced me at site contacted me. We chatted a bit, her asking for advice, me giving some and sharing some of my experiences. Then, she asked me what being back was like. I've already posted about my initial reactions to being back, but some recent things have gotten to me.

  The other day was my birthday. After drinks with my parents and grandparents, I went for a quick bite with my brother, and was joined by a good friend of mine who lived nearby. It was late, and she was tired, so we made plans to meet for lunch the next day to really catch up. I got to Farragut North a tad early and was blown away by all the activity at Federal Square, with the tents and corn hole and everything. She was running late, stuck at work, so I decided to grab a coffee. There were roughly 10 places in site, and that doubled if I expanded a block in either direction. I told her I was at the Starbucks and she had to ask me which one. Then, we had to pick a place. It was honestly overwhelming. Yes, Windhoek does have restaurants, but I always left the choosing up to friends. This time, I had to make a choice. This is downtown DC. Hundreds of restaurants within a 5 minute walk of us. Even narrowing by price and food type didn't help. We ended up deciding to turn a corner and choose the first thing that we noticed.

  We did actually pick a place, and enjoyed it. We spent some time catching up. One thing she mentioned was how a lot of people end up not doing Peace Corps because they feel they'll miss out on a lot (I know she was speaking from experience, to an extent). Which is true. One of my best friends got married, and I wasn't there. Another got fired, and I couldn't be supportive. People moved, had kids, got promoted, passed the bar, became doctors, etc. It wasn't easy. RPCVs kept telling me I'd come back and people would be doing the same thing, be the same people. It's a load of crap. I did miss out on over 2 years of my friends' lives. Or, rather, they continued having lives while I was living mine. And some of these changes are weird. New last names (or even first names, in a couple cases), meeting their kids for the first time. Trying to settle back in isn't easy. Don't let anyone tell you it will be.

  I've hinted at it, but choice has been a general theme of my challenges. Not just restaurants. Do I drive there and pay for parking? Do I wake up a little earlier and take Metro? Is Metro running? What size coffee do I want? Hot or iced? Which blend? Which road do I take? There's actually more than one way to get there? Which cell phone do I buy? (I got the iPhone 6, by the way). Do I go to the gym or get on the bike? 20 stores selling similar shirts, which do I buy from? Which movie theater do I go to and which movie do I want to see (and which snacks, which has gotten ridiculous, for the record)? Do I do see it regular? IMAX? 3D? IMAX 3D? Which brand of the same yogurt for the same price do I buy? Which loaf of whole wheat bread? Which brand of granola bars? All these choices, all over the place, holy crap.

  Of course, not everything has been a struggle. Reliable transportation is nice (sorry, but unless you've tried hitchhiking around southern Africa, I don't want to hear you whining about the red line running late). If I want to watch a soccer game or a baseball game, I can. I can even go to a place with more than 3 beers to choose from while I watch it. And that place may let me watch both the soccer match and baseball game at the same time. And has specials/discounts.  I can walk down the street without everyone expecting me to talk to them or give them money (and even the people begging don't tell me I owe them). Internet is everywhere. Power goes out? It comes back on, and while it's off my phone still works. Oh, and we have hummus. And it is quite yummus.

  One challenge I expected and worried about is returning to the classroom. I am going back to school for the first time in 3 years. To help with the transition, I took a law school preview class. 8 days, sampling different aspects of 1L year. Contracts, property, civil procedure, torts, criminal law, how to brief a case, how to use LexisNexis, etc. It was long and dull and dry, but it definitely seems to have helped. It didn't quite help with what I really need (back to American English from Namlish), but still.

  The last thing I'm going to talk about is how people view it. I feel compelled to do this because I saw this article today. This article reflects a lot of the misconceptions about Peace Corps I've experienced (and even held). I'll start with non-RPCVs. These follow a few trends. No, I'm not going to go into a full response to this post. I disagree with the author, but that's because I came into Peace Corps with a different background, for different reasons, and had different experiences in my service, and I respect the fact that those differences are why I disagree, and maybe had I shared her experiences, I'd be saying similar things (though I will say now I feel no guilt over being born into a certain degree of privilege, since I feel I've used that to help others, and believe in the Jewish value my dad often quotes about not giving so much charity that you yourself become a charity case).

  The first is "oh, wow, that's amazing. You must've had some incredible experiences and did the Lord's work and are helping save the world." Yeah, I had some incredible experiences. No, I did not save the world. I never tried to. No person can. I do think I made a difference, but so do millions of Americans who go to work. I'm no better than your kid's 3rd grade teacher.

  The second reaction is "I really wish I'd done that. I'm so jealous. That's so cool. You're a better person than I am."That third one isn't always stated, though it sometimes is, but it tends to be an underlying theme in the tone and questions of these people. I may or may not be a better person than they are, but it certainly has nothing to do with my doing the Peace Corps. I'm lucky. I'm 26 and I can say I've been able to live my dream job. It was right for me. It's not for everyone. And that's not a bad thing. My dad goes to SOME every month and serves breakfast. One of my best friends is working for an organization helping to bring education to people around the world, and I praise the hell out of her. I know people working with Special Olympics, and fighting to end the use of the R-word. I have friends in the military. An alum from my future school played a big part in bringing marriage equality to all 50 states. I have friends who are teachers, all over the world and in the US. Or doctors. If you wish you'd done Peace Corps and are jealous of me, that's one thing. Of course, it's never too late to do it. But I'm not better than you. I simply have different interests, different life and career goals. Nothing wrong with wanting to get started on finding that spouse and starting a family, or rising the career ladder. Nothing wrong with actually having money. My experiences were right for me, the right choice for me. Emphasis on "FOR ME."

  The third reaction is "wait, that still exists?" Yes. Leo even mentioned it in Blood Diamond. Of course, unlike Jack and Rachel, I didn't simply decide one day to do it. But yes, it still exists. In fact, it's expanded quite a bit in what it does, who it serves, and what sectors it works in. And, going back to you folks who wish you'd done it, there are the Response positions, which let you serve for a shorter window.

  There are a number of other responses, but most fall into one of those categories once you boil them down. There are two more which really annoy me. They go hand-in-hand, the second largely a response to the first. "Why did you do that?" Okay, I've given that answer enough times, so I'm not going to do that again right now. Feel free to read back to my earliest posts for that answer. However, I will say one factor was my desire to help people understand what Americans are like. That's actually one of PC's three goals. Yes, I know that seems arrogant. However, ignorance is a problem all over the world One reason there are issues between countries stems from people just not actually knowing each other. Many people in Khorixas had never met an American who wasn't a PCV. Some had never met an American male. I would say I ended up not being what most people expected (especially since I love soccer). The question itself doesn't bother me, especially when it's grounded in curiosity. It's when it's said in that negative, judgmental, "da hell did you do that for?" kind of way.

  The one that really bothers me is the common response I get to it: "If you wanted to serve your country, why didn't you join the military?" Because I felt I could do more, both for the world and for America, by doing this. Soldiers aren't the only people who serve their country, and we need to get out of that mindset.

  Oh, and there's the responses like my brother's. "Oh, shut up already!"

  Okay, so that's how non-RPCVs respond (there's also the "did you know so-and-so? Namibia? Where is that? My friend/brother/neighbor did/is interested in PC. etc., but I'm not in the mood to get into those, because I get them about Tulane too). How about the people who have, at least in theory, been in my shoes before responded?

  Well, there is the outlier of my mom's friend Lisa, who introduces me to everyone as an RPCV, almost bragging about it more than my mom does. Admittedly, DC has a great RPCV population and an active RPCV group, and I've enjoyed the few events I've attended as an RPCV, including visiting JFK's grave and the bbq in the rain. Great for networking, and I know going in I have a topic of conversation to break the ice. And, in case you missed it, I do take pride in my PC service.

  So, what are the other RPCV responses? Most of them are like my mom's. Long winded "when I was in Peace Corps in ..." (said in the Dan Rooney voice, of course) story. Okay, I'm just as guilty of that. This is more statement of fact than complaint (though it drives my brother and father crazy). Others are shocked by how much has changed and how much hasn't. Of course, there's comparison of the beers in our countries, and I've gotten a few free drinks out of it (from RPCVs and non-RPCVs, and even used it when talking to women at bars). We talk about how much PC has changed, the countries have changed. I'm often asked if I want to go back. Of course I do. I miss my community, my friends, and the simpler life.

  Okay, this post has been an exercise in self-indulgence. Granted, a personal blog is, by its very nature, self-indulgent. Sorry if I came off as a whiner or arrogant. Not my intention. I merely mean to share my experiences because I've been asked what my return has been like. These are my experiences, and certainly don't reflect everyone's experiences. The point is merely to share my transition between PCV into law student and back into American culture and the American lifestyle. I hope this answered those questions. I got a bit to do before law school, including visiting some good friends out in Cali. Hope all is going well for you too.

Coming This Fall

  So, this will likely come as a surprise for most of you. Especially since I've told people, and even mentioned it here, but I will be attending law school in the fall. Since getting back from Namibia, I've visited a few schools which have offered me admissions. After visiting them, I was faced with a tough choice between several schools I really liked, and even after I thought I'd made a decision, more options came in. Offers of scholarships/financial aid, schools calling my phone. As recently as this past Friday, I was facing new offers that were tough to say "no" to, including my top choice when I began applying. So, not, I would like to announce that this fall, I will be attending Northeastern University School of Law, in Boston, with the intention of entering into their JD/MPH program. So, Boston friends, I'm heading your way. Friends everywhere else (in the continental United States), let me know if you want me to visit before that, since I will have very little chance to travel until I'm done.

I Rejoice

  I am straight. I am a man attracted to women. I have never found myself attracted to other men. I am not gay. And yet, I rejoice. I rejoice because last week, the Supreme Court struck down bans on same sex marriage in all 50 states. I rejoice not because the ruling impacts me directly. I rejoice because I have friends, family, colleagues, and neighbors who are. I rejoice for the families now able to unite as one. I rejoice for the families able to cross state lines and remain family. I rejoice because, as a Jew, I realize "only 2% of the population" does not mean you are not a large enough part of the population to deserve equal rights. I rejoice because nobody's rights are threatened and nobody suffers negatively. I rejoice because there is nothing negative, or even neutral, about this ruling. I rejoice because the only people that's not true for are members of NOM, FOTF, FRC, AFA, ADF, and the likes. I rejoice because today I awoke in an America one step closer to the values on which we were founded, of equality, freedom, and religious liberty for ALL citizens. I rejoice because we did not leave the rights of a minority up to the whims of a majority, regardless of how likely I believe it is to pass. I rejoice because if you don't like this ruling, the good news is your life remains unchanged.

  Of course, while I rejoice, I recognize we are not there yet. LGBT Americans do not have full equality under the law in all aspects. I am straight. That doesn't mean I am more worthy of protections. It does not mean I deserve a job or a home more than a gay person. I am not superior to a LGBT person in any way, though for most of my life, by being born as I am, society has seemingly believed I am. I am cis-gender. I have never had to feel uncomfortable in my own body. That's not to say I am flawless, but my flaws are of my own doing, not a disconnect between the physical me and the me I was born to be. I am white, and yet I am in no way superior to blacks, Hispanics, or Muslims. My skin makes me not less likely to be a terrorist (though the way my parents raised me certainly does). I am a man. That does not mean I deserve to make more money, just because I have a penis. It doesn't mean I wouldn't have responsibilities, should I have children. I am fortunate. I have never felt true hunger, the pain of not having enough, of having to give up my dreams because they were unaffordable, unobtainable.

  Yes, I rejoice. And I do so while recognizing that with this monumental step forward, a lot more remains to be done. America was founded on the idea that "all men are created equally." We have made many strides, including several in my lifetime. I hope each new year, each new day even, we learn from out mistakes and continue the progression, until the day we live up to that lofty goal. No, we may never be a perfect country. That's not a good excuse not to fight to get to the day when we are. So please, celebrate. Rejoice. Enjoy some victory drinks. Chant. Dance. Be happy. And continue fighting to repair the world.

Thoughts On The Terrorist Attack In Charleston

Note: This article has nothing to do with Peace Corps, my life after, or my experiences. This was a posting I wrote mainly for myself, because I needed to get these thoughts out, to vent, to make my feelings and thoughts known. This may seem a bit disjointed, as I touch on a variety of topics. If you don't like "leftist" opinions, like Rush Limbaugh, support the Confederate Flag, don't support gay people, hold attitudes about Muslims being terrorists, or similar positions, please skip this post.

  Some thoughts on what happened in Charleston. A lot of people are criticizing "the left" for turning this tragedy into a political conversation about guns. You know why? Because that conversation NEEDS to happen. A real conversation, with no options off the table, because violence in this country has gotten out of hand.

  Many have made statements about the disparity between the arrest of this man and the arrests of blacks. Eric Garner's arrest for selling loose cigarettes has been especially highlighted. I will say no more, because that is not the issue here, other than it touches on the race issues I will speak to soon. But keep in mind that a black man selling cigarettes was killed by cops because they felt the need to use force in arresting him, while no force was needed to arrest a man who had opened fire on a church. Think about that.

  I've heard/read a lot of people asking about the shooter's mental health. Some have even implied that's relevant to whether this was a hate crime. Yes, we are in dire need of a national conversation on mental illness and how we treat, stigmatize, and handle it. And yes, this is a good time to have that discussion (a better time would've been years ago). However, there is no question about his mental health. ANYONE who can do something like this, killing another human being in cold blood, anyone who can have as much hate in their hearts, as this man did, is mentally ill.

  HOWEVER, that doesn't make this any less of a hate crime. This doesn't make this any less of an act of terrorism. We have a problem with racism in this country. I'm all for freedom of speech, but NO government building should be allowed to fly the Confederate flag. It is not a symbol of "southern pride," it is a symbol of racism. Plain and simple, no exceptions. Yes, I get that it represents certain traditions. Those traditions are racism, slavery, and treason. If you want to fly it at home, in your car, wherever, that's one thing. But it should be banned in all government building in the United States. It would be like someone in Luderitz flying the apartheid-era flag of South Africa outside their town council building. No, I will not show respect for your decision to fly it in private. I respect your right to do so, but not your decision to, and not the person who would do so. Senator Graham, you are full of crap for implying this flag has even one positive association. Don't give the people a choice, get rid of it. Stop defending it, get rid of it. It's part of our past. It has no business being part of our present, much less our future.

  Then, you have people like Santorum, saying it was an attack on religious freedom. No, it was not, and you should be ashamed of yourself for even entertaining the thought of tying this to your phony "War on Christians" in America, a fake example of an attempt to oppress Christians. This was an act of racism, plain and simple. This man was a Christian. Yes, I know the common thread. When you try to counter neocon claims about Muslims and terrorism with examples of Christian terrorism, they respond with "no true Christians..." It's a logical fallacy. It's a load of crap. Christians, like anyone else, are capable of doing horrible things. That said, this man's (yes, I know his name, but I refuse to use it, because I feel that would show him more respect than he deserves) actions do not reflect on Christianity, any more than the men who shot up Charlie Hebdo represent my Muslim brother and Muslim childhood neighbor and the millions of wonderful Muslims out there.

  I am not a perfect man. I recognize I have my own prejudices and bigotry. And I work to change that about myself. As a country, the first step towards fixing the problem of hate crimes is admitting they exist. Admit that racism is not a thing of the past. Admit that rhetoric towards Muslims has spurned violence against Muslims, Sikhs, etc. And, when we hear it, SAY SOMETHING. Don't just pass it off as a little thing, because it's the little things that build up into these build things. If you hear someone refer to blacks as "niggers," say something. If you hear a friend referring to "fags," say something. If you see people harassing Muslims outside a Mosque, don't just keep walking, don't just write it off as a demonstration of freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is not freedom from consequences, freedom of criticism, or freedom from being corrected. Don't let it slide. Yes, Rush, your rhetoric absolutely was complicit in the death of George Tiller, and blood is on his hands. Just like the blood is on the hands of all of us who witness little acts of racism and let the hatred slide.

  With that said, I often take issue with people who expect all Muslims to apologize for every act of terrorism committed by Muslims. Just like I don't expect all Christians to apologize for Christian terrorism, like the Army of God. Likewise, I don't expect all white people to apologize for this and more than I apologize for the KKK existing. That being said, to the victims of this attack, I am truly sorry. Not because I'm white. Not because I feel like there is anything I could've done to prevent this, having never met the man. Not because I feel sorry for you (I do, but that's not why I am apologizing now). The reason I am sorry is I have witnessed acts of bigotry. I have heard people express hatred of blacks and other groups. And I have let it slide. And for that, I feel I, and all Americans, owe you an apology, for we all have blood on our hands, in that regard.

  Look, I'm biased here. I realize that. And, full disclosure, recent incidents of a personal attachment have made the issue of hate crimes a very touchy subject for me. No, you don't have a right to be racist without criticism. No, being Christian doesn't make you homophobia any more okay. No, I will not tolerate your intolerance. It does not go both ways. Intolerance is only going one direction, and only that side has an obligation to become more tolerant. Tolerance of other people and tolerance of intolerance are not comparable. So keep you "tolerance goes both ways" to yourself, keep your bigotry to yourself, or deal with the fact that you will have to deal with the fact that you will have to suffer through my telling you how wrong you are and why.

  America, I know nothing will come of this. Nothing has come of the police brutality issue, nothing has come of past mass killings, nothing has come of past hate crimes, at least in terms of trying to prevent them. And, I have no doubt in a few weeks, we'll all have moved on from this. So please, even if we're not going to do what we need to, for those of you reading this, I ask you to do the following act: if you have children, love them and teach them to love others. If you experience racism in the course of your life, say something. Go out of your way to interact with people who look different from you, worship in a different way than you, and think differently than you. And hold people accountable for the continued refusal to act. Maybe then I can be proved wrong by this country.

  Finally, there is one more thing I ask: call this act what it is. It's not a "tragedy." This man was not a "lone wolf." This is not an issue of mental illness. This was an act of terrorism. He is a terrorist. This was a hate crime. He was a racist. Yes, white people can be terrorists. Hate is still real. Once we admit that, we can start to change that. I could go on and on, and will do so, most likely, in other formats (like, in actual conversations). However, I am preparing to make an important  announcement about my future in the coming days, so I will stop there before I risk burning any bridges. These are my thoughts, my opinions, and I felt I needed to say something. Thank you for reading. Expected a lighter toned posting in the coming days. And, I say this almost out of desperation at this point, God bless America as we work to heal.

Getting Re-Acquainted With America

  Every Peace Corps Volunteer, no matter where or where they served, has to re-adjust to the world post-service. Some do so by continuing to travel. Others, like me, go back to school. And others lie on their couch watching TV and eating takeout Chinese food until a girl convinces them to get on with their lives (you know who you are). With that in mind, here are some things which I've noticed, dealt with, struggled with, or loved since getting back. There is no real order, other than which order they popped in my head I was writing.

  Hot showers. God, I love them. And, I actually end up feeling clean. However, after semi-bucket bathing for two years while living in a desert, it's also hard to deal with all that waste. Still, hot water does feel sooooooooooo nice.

  Coffee shops. They're everywhere. Some meant for sitting around working. Some meant for a quick cup. Some with drive-thrus. Some Starbucks. All with options for big cups of non-instant coffee.

  People are a lot more competitive. I'm about to fly to New England to check out a couple law schools as I make my decision. People keep asking me about rankings. People at the schools keep emphasizing rankings of different programs or aspects of the school. In Namibia, things were a lot less competitive. There are benefits to being competitive, obviously. It drives innovation and creativity, and can bring out the best in people. It can also bring out the worst. Regardless, America is very grades-driven, rankings-driven, and I'm going to have to get used to that again.

  White people. No, this isn't racist. However, I no longer stand out the way I did. I no longer have that quasi-celebrity status. I'm just a bearded white guy with weird hair, not THE bearded white guy with weird hair. There's also less sense of community. Largely because the DC-area has so many people. Still, it's weird going down the street and not having everyone recognize me. On the other hand, I enjoy the anonymity and being able to walk down the street without constantly being stopped. And, I do occasionally get stopped by people who recognize me.

  Weather. For two years, I lived in the desert. It got hot. Very hot. But it was dry. And there were like no plants. I came back to DC during the transition from Spring into Summer. That means humidity and pollen. And, holy crap, it's been brutal. Breathing has been a struggle. I'm slowly adjusting, but still, my lungs feel very uncomfortable.

  Sports. It's not just soccer with an occasional rugby match worked in to change the pace. We have hockey, we have basketball, we have baseball, we have pre-season football talk. Oh, and there is some soccer. However, it in on at a far less convenient time than it was back in Namibia.

  One thing everyone warned me about: grocery stores. It's tough. So many choices. So many aisles. So much food. So much other stuff. It can be overwhelming. I've avoided that one so far. However, I needed to replace my razor. So, my dad took me to Rodman's, a drug store. We go to the razor counter, where I had like 15 razors to choose from. And, right next to it, toothbrushes. And deodorant. Oh, and I need toothpaste for the toothbrush. And, some mouth wash. Ooooooh, and melatonin pills to help me get my sleep cycle back. And...And...And... Yeah, it was a bit brutal. Definitely got more than I needed.

  Getting around is weird. Buses, a Metro system that is reliable (at least, compared to what I dealt with in Namibia), taxis that actually pick you up and take you directly where you are going. And cars, everywhere. So many cars. Every house has one. Some have more than one. Everyone drives everywhere. So many cars we have to build special buildings to park them. And all the roads are paved. It's crazy.

  The internet is soooooooooooooooooooooooooo fast. Like, those of you complaining, you seriously have no clue how much worse it could be. Oh, and phone service which can handle everyone's calls. However, it also costs more. I don't get 100 texts per day. I have to pay for data up front. Same with minutes. And none of this not getting paid for incoming stuff.

  TV is weird. All of these PSAs. For anything you can think of. And some I'd never thought of. Or pills for things that I didn't even know were health issues. And commercials which don't actually tell you what they're selling, just company names, in the hope you'll look them up. That wouldn't work in Namibia, where not everyone has internet access.

  People care about such stupid crap. The cost of that internet thing. No, I don't which celebs are sleeping together. No, I couldn't care less about so-and-so-was-in-that-movie gaining so much weight. Or who just went to rehab. So, please stop talking to me about celeb gossip. Yes, I do judge anyone who cares about that garbage, and no, there is nothing favorable about that.

  Reliable utilities. Those are nice. The toilet actually flushes, the power doesn't randomly get cut. I don't have to worry about rushing to get dinner cooked before the electricity goes out when it rains.

  Reliable people. When people say something starts at 1pm, you can bet it may start a little late, but no more than 20 or 30 minutes. Certainly not hours. And, if people are coming late, they call. Or text. They at least let you know. And, they generally apologize. There's a degree of respect for the people you make commitments to that isn't found in Namibia, where everyone runs on "Africa Time" (and excuse I hate, since they have phones and watches now, so there's no longer a valid excuse for not being late, or at least letting me know you are running late). I'm no longer living in a whole country of people with my mother's sense of timeliness.

  Politics. There are multiple parties. And, as it's an election cycle, everyone has an opinion. Most don't have an educated opinion, but an opinion nonetheless. In Namibia, there was no question. It was SWAPO. They are, effectively, the only national party. So, you didn't get the attack ads. None of the "gotcha journalism."

  Beer. So many choices. I've been to bars with more IPAs on tap than my town had for total beers and ciders combined. And, they have much higher alcohol contents. It's been super nice.

  However, I miss walking down the street and smelling those braai stands. America, we need to make street meat a thing. Food trucks and hot dog stands are nice, but they're not the same, and don't have that amazing smell of grilling meat.

  Finally, spicy food. Damaras don't like their food spicy. Just salty. I'm the opposite. I like heat, but not salt. So, that's nice about being back in the US. Food more to my taste. However, portion sizes are huge. I mean, just massive. I don't think I've finished a meal yet. Not one I didn't prepare for myself, at least.

  Okay, I have a plane to catch, so I'll stop there. Got UNH and Northeastern this week. I'll let you know how that goes and if there are any re-integration issues on this trip. Until then, I hope you enjoyed my random, rambling thoughts and observations on the things I'm dealing with since returning to America.

Edit: some additions

  Public urination. Apparently, it's not cool in the US to just drop your shorts wherever you happen to be, whip it out, and just let it go. Actually have to hold it in until you find a bathroom. Otherwise, you may be a sex offender. Good to know.

  No animals wandering. Seriously, where be all the goats and cows and donkeys and chickens wandering around town?

My Journey Home

Note: I realize by the time you read this, I will have landed, seeing as I have not internet access on the flight, meaning I can’t post until I land. However, the urge to write hit me during the flight. It may not be a bakkie, but there are some thoughts than only come to you kilometers high.

  Here I am. SAA Flight 075. Namibia-to-Johannesburg. After two years, I am actually leaving Namibia. I’ve commented on more than one occasion how beautiful Namibia is. It’s also a very sparsely populated country. One of the smallest populations per space. I know this. I’ve seen it from the ground. I kind of noted it flying in. Now, after two years, as I sit in a window seat and look out at the country I’ve called home for the last two years, it’s remarkable. I can see small villages off in the distance. I can see long stretches of road. I can see towns. I can see farm land. I can see hills. And, I can see how far everything is from everything else. Now, it’s true, there are parts of the O-lands where you have towns/villages right next to each other. But, most of Namibia is not like that. It’s incredible to look out. No clouds right now. Sunny. Massive visibility. When the Namibian national anthem mentions “contrasting beautiful Namibia” it is referring to both the people and the land. From up here, the people all look the same. The diverse landscape, however, is incredible. Yes, I am feeling a tad sentimental. I think I’m entitled to a little of that right now. Okay, we’re descending. Got to go.

Note: Now in Jo-burg Airport

  Okay, it’s official. I have left Namibia. Sitting in the Mugg & Bean, sipping all the coffee I can drink. I got a couple bottles of wine at Duty Free (2 red, one white) so I can maybe do a tasting. I was debating getting a nice bottle of scotch, but the truth is, they may cost more, but I know where to get good bottles of scotch back home. South African wines? Not so much (granted, I’m sure 5 minutes on Google would even that one out).Besides, South Africa is known for its wines. They came with these little animal things you put on your glass so you can know whose glass is whose. Think my mom will like that gift. I also got a beautiful painted ostrich egg and traditional style shirt, as well as an SA soccer jersey for myself.

  Flying into Jo-burg was weird. Looking out at a big city; population: more people than all of Namibia, multiple times over. It was massive. Honestly, it blew my mind. Just imagine how the US is gonna look. Not so spread out and all. Chatting now with a man from Mozambique about it (and about how Namibians are frickin’ wimps when it comes to spicy and need to learn to enjoy more kick in their food).

  I guess not is as good a time as any to write about my last night in Namibia. Shortly after writing the blog post about leaving, I went to the Peace Corps office to drop off my guitar for Den and say some last goodbyes. After that, I took a last trip to the braai stand outside of that Standard Bank. Damn, I’m going to miss Namibian street meat. Honestly, street foods might be one of my favorite parts of traveling. You learn so much about people and a culture from the cheap eats on the streets (okay, I admit I’ve had a couple free shots in the airport, some wine on the plane, and may still have some of last night in my system).

I interrupt this story to announce my chicken and avo wrap has arrived. The lady asked if I wanted any sauce for it, and I obviously asked if they had hot sauce (for my wrap and the side of chips). She brings me a bottle of Tabasco, 350ml. I think that must be heaven right there. Or, at least, heaven must have them on every table. Sorry for the sidetrack. Now, back to the non-hot-sauce-related story.

  So, after getting our meat, Shayna and I went to the Old Brewery. They no longer brew beer there, but it is filled with craft shops. She had no idea about the upper part, so I showed her that NamCraft and Diamond Works (so she could look for something for when her parents come). We got some gifts, me for my friends and family I will soon be seeing, her for some people getting married. Shayna is an interesting girl. We were joking that she’s basically lived her life a year behind me. She joined Year Course, working for MDA, the year after me, getting back to the US around the time I was arriving for my summer with MDA after my freshman year. She’s a health volunteer a year behind me. She wants to go to Tulane, my alma mater, for her masters. I gifted her my mezuzah when I left. When Taylor found out I’m Jewish, she spent a couple weeks trying to play matchmaker, even singing wedding songs. Sorry, kid, not happening. But thanks for the laughs. Anyway, I got a solid haul. I already had some makalani nut keychains and kapana spice for people, a couple wood carved animals, some shitenges, and (for myself) a springbok horn bottle opener. I got a second horn for my dad, some Himba bracelets (over-priced, but I didn’t have a chance to get back to Opuwo). I got an adorable bushman hand-knitted doll (a mouse with a little backpack). I could lie and say I’m planning on bringing it back and giving it to one of my younger relatives, but let’s be honest, it’s for me. It’s adorable, and it’s something I can maybe give to my own kids, if I have any, and start telling them my story. I got some jewelry for Amy (I had both Shayna and Alicia approve the purchases, and they feel you’ll be satisfied).

  After dropping Shayna back off at the Peace Corps office, I returned to Chameleon Backpackers’ Lodge to gather my things. They didn’t have any room for me that night, so I was to move to another backpackers’ lodge, the Cardboard Box. The Box’s bar is a bit nicer and open later. They have whiskey and they have Hansa on draught. After trying to call the taxi driver the Chameleon people gave me, I got impatient, ran out to the road, flagged down a taxi, told him to come around to where I was, and went from there. About 5 minutes later, I was on the road to The Box.

  After arriving, I took about an hour to go through my bags. I tried to lighten everything as much as possible, tossing what I could, making sure nothing in my carry-ons were illegal. I knew my bags were overweight, but f*** it, two years’ worth of stuff was in there. When I was done, I SMS-ed some friends and took a quick shower and nap while waiting. Around 5:30-ish, a group of friends arrived, some for the beer, some to see me off. Shayna, Alicia, Sachi, Oskar, and a friend of Oskar’s who was actually staying at The Box for the night. It was my kind of night. The beer was flowing, but it was low-key. No clubs, no terrible music; just good conversation and reflecting. We got some pizzas for dinner. Around 10 (maybe a little after), I went to the fridge (backpackers’ places tend to have somewhat decent kitchens and large fridges, as the cater to people trying to save money while backpacking across a continent or country; most even let you stay in tents, rather than your room). I came back down with what was left of the herbal liquor I’d purchased at the Kristal Kellerei winery all those months back (about a year-and-a-half) during my second reconnect. I poured a round of shots for my group of friends and pretty much everyone else in the bar. We toasted me. A little later, I took the last three shots on my own. A little after midnight, we said our goodbyes. I’ll admit that while I actually liked everyone in the group, Alicia, my little buddy for the last two years, since the day we met in Philly, was the hardest. Which makes sense. She’s been an amazing friend to me. But, she’s got an amazing third year project coming up.

  This morning, I woke up, had breakfast, and headed to the airport. There was some stress caused by someone at the lodge having been robbed and demanding the place be locked down and everyone searched by the police. Sorry, but I was in a rush. I finally got the airport, but paying for my overweight bags took some time. I made it through security in time to use the can and buy some coffee just before they called for boarding. After taking a call from my mom, I made sure to call Taylor one last time and send messages to Esna, Martha, and Den (the clock had run out on time for calling).

  So, that’s where I am so far. Gonna finish up one last cup of coffee, hit the head, pay my bill, and make my way to my gate. We board in about half an hour. Next stop, Dakar (well, the tarmac; I don’t think I leave the plane), and finally, DC, family, friends, certain comforts I’ve been without for two years, washing machines, fast Wi-Fi, and, of course, DC sports. So, I may add to this during those two legs, or maybe not. Anything after I land will probably get its own post, as I begin the next chapter (think of this post as the interlude, a short story linking books one and two, not part of either story, but important to bridge the gap).

Note: Layover in Dakar

  This is a tad weird. I’m hearing American accents all over the place. Other than the Peace Corps trainings and conferences, this is the first time I’ve been in a situation that seems to be predominantly American, and for some reason it’s more striking than those PC situations.

  We’re in Dakar. A little after midnight right now. For some reason, I’m super f***ing wired. Haven’t had much caffeine since Joburg (or, any I can think of). Watched a few movies/shows during the flight, listened to some music, busted out the iPad to read. Saw the pilot episode of “The Flash”. I’m thinking that one and “Arrow” might be my new shows this summer (any other recommended shows, those of you who know what I like? I have taken a couple sleeping pills out so I can pop them for the Dakar-DC leg. I think sleeping will be smart.

  Every time I land and takeoff, this all gets more real. Met a couple other Southern Africa RPCVs on the flight. Like, from years ago. Zambia, South Africa, and I think one other, but I forget. It just hit me that this flight is the first time I’ve had both my passports on me at the same time. A certain someone tried to give me advice about pillows and long flights. Looking at the passports and realizing I’ve had one since my age was single digits, she may have seen more countries recently than I have, but I’m no newby to international travel.

  Got that Carbon Leaf song “International Airport” running through my head right now. Not sure why lyrically, but the title certainly fits my life at the moment. Still got about 45 minutes until the next takeoff. At least I get to stay on the plane this time. I’ve been through security twice so far, and I still had to have my bag hand-checked before boarding this flight. I think America might be getting a tad paranoid, no?

  Vuvu, the wood-carved elephant who spent the last year-and0a0half or so on my windowsill, protecting me, is in my carry-on. For some reason, that does make me happy. Okay, time to do a Sudoku. Maybe listen to some music. Hopefully we leave on time for this final leg. I’m ready to be done being in transit.

Note: Over the Atlantic

  They’re about to serve breakfast. Got a little sleep. Very close to America, though not sure exactly, as the flight map is no longer working. However, based on what they said at the start of the flight and the estimated time of arrival from the beginning, I’m guessing about 2 hours. Not looking forward to how long security will take, and a little nervous about my bags (I had to pay extra as they were about 5kg overweight, total, and the woman was having issues printing my receipt. Hopefully they made it. If I have to fight with SAA to find my clothes going both directions, I’ll be a tad pissed. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see. No use getting worked up about hypotheticals until they happen. Gonna finish eating and change soon. Red Peace Corps polo (yes, Taylor, with my pin), safari hat, aviators, and jeans. Or, as the girl who picked the outfit for me called it, “Afrikaans Dundee”. I’ll worry about trying to readjust later, for now, I’m gonna get off the plane being me.

  Do wish this cold would’ve gone away. Windhoek was much colder than Khorixas, and I got a little sick there. Being on a plane, with the cycled air, not moving around much, etc., hasn’t helped.

AMERICA!!!

  I made it. When I first saw the morning lights of DC, I almost cried. I’m going to miss Namibia, but home is home, as OAR has sung about. My luggage made it this time. It was pretty quick through passport control and customs, and my dad was there waiting for me. Now, to head home. Not feeling super great, exhausted, stomach feeling a bit ravaged, and the DC humidity is killing me. Give me a couple days, and I’ll get into the re-adjustment to life in America.

This Chapter Comes To A Close

  Well, here we are. My last day in Namibia. My home of two years. Tomorrow morning, I fly out. I am now considered an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). Over the last couple days, I've been doing my finishing up process. I had my blood work (no HIV, Rob). I pooped in a cup one last time (because a hotel cleaning lady threw out one of my samples back in February). I met with my APCD and Country Director for my exit interviews. And yesterday, Karen Mappin, Peace Corps Namibia's amazing admin officer, took me out of the system, officially ending my Peace Corps service. It honestly hasn't sunk in completely yet, though I've met a couple PCVs around Windhoek since, and I have been introducing myself as an RPCV. I think it will get a bit more real tomorrow, when I board my flight, and even more so when I land in the USA.

  So, what's been going on since I left site? Peace Corps put us up at a backpackers' lodge in Windhoek. It's been an interesting few days. Friday and Monday were holidays, and everything is closed on Sundays, so I mostly hung around here. Met some really cool people. A couple from the US who quit their jobs and are spending about a year traveling, a French chef who takes up jobs in kitchens to fund his travels, a group of South African deep sea divers, a French woman, and a changing groups of people have formed the core of our hangouts, along with myself and two PCVs (now an RPCV and a third year PCV, who left last night for Cape Town). Nights have been spent with beer and wine and braais and fire and music. We introduced the South Africans to the game "Would You Rather?" and it's been lasting for several nights now. The other night, Johanna, the third year PCV, pulled out her guitar. A songwriter who lived in Nashville for a while, she got things going a bit. However, the couple proved to be incredible. The guy was a fantastic guitarist and she is a classically trained vocalist. They harmonized perfectly and were just so in sync, the way only people who have known each other for years can be. They did a rendition of Bob Dylan's "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" that floored us all and further proved my theory that there is no Bob Dylan song that hasn't been played better by someone else (certainly sung better). Not to knock Dylan, but when your songs get so widely covered, that's what happens.

  Got to enjoy watching my Blues win the Premier League (COME ON CHELSEA) and spent most of the night traveling. So many people from all over the world here has made for some fun soccer watching. Not because Americans are so dense about the sport, but you get such a diverse perspective and set of opinions. The other night, I was watching the Champions League semi first leg between Real and Juve. A few friends of mine went out to a sports bar, but as it was the last night in Windhoek for a few of my friends, I chose to go out for dinner (Indian food) and watch at the backpackers while hanging out. There was a Spanish man watching with us, who turned to me and asked "what is with an American liking soccer?" Stunned for an instant by the silliness of the question, I recovered and retorted "I've been playing since I was young, coaching and refereeing for years, and watching most of my life. You know, the same way you Euro's come to know the game." The French chef, who was watching with us, just started to laugh at the silliness (he and I decided to support Juve, since the Spaniard is from Madrid, and got fairly obnoxious throughout the evening).

  After the match, I returned to my friends (okay, I'll admit, despite my intentions, my love of the game did win out a little, but I was at least close enough to hang out at halftime and immediately after the match ended), just in time to witness a dreadlocked Aussie play one of the most incredibly beautiful guitar pieces, using an interesting slap technique, combining finger picking and strumming with a percussive element. Meanwhile, an Israeli man had pulled out a ukulele, so I ran back to my room, grabbed a drumstick, and tried using some empty beer bottles and yogurt tubs (for about a song, until the lodge staff complained about the noise, saving me from showing just how badly my technique and overall play has suffered from two+ years of minimal practicing). And yes, I did even pick up the guitar briefly, laying down a lousy rendition of "Saints", "Liza Jane", and some random strumming, before handing it off to people with actual talent.

  Last night was probably my most emotional night since I said "goodbye" to Esna and her family. It wasn't so much because of my COS-ing; like I said, that hasn't really sunk in. However, after lunch I caught a lift to Okahandja to see my host family from training one last time. It was incredible seeing how much Peggy and Brodie have grown. Odia is preparing to attend UNAM next year, she hopes. When I kept my promise and gave Peggy my jump rope, she was just ecstatic. They took photos with me and ate some chicken I'd picked up for them at Hungry Lion (I'd let them choose what I got them). Sadly, Martha, my host mom, has been quite sick recently. She's lost a lot of weight and had trouble eating and did look considerably weakened. It was hard to see. She did say she is slowly improving. She spent some time in the hospital, but it home now, and is able to eat a little and drink a bit. We exchanged contact info and I added Odia on Facebook so they could stay in touch with me. We hugged, and then I had to return to Windhoek after a few hours. It was a tough night, but I am certainly happy I was able to see them again.

  Today, I am planning to do a little last-second gift shopping with Shayna, a PCV about a year behind me who apparently did Year Course the year after me. I had one last beer with Taylor yesterday while she was in tow for an HIV committee meeting. Saw the Samaniegos one last time, who have invited me to Austin. In a bit, I'm heading over to the PCN HQ to make one last round of saying "goodbye" to the people who have supported me on the ground over the past two years, and I'm planning to do a little re-packing this evening, see if I can get rid of a few more things. If she's around, Alicia and I are supposed to finish off the last of the herbal liquor I found while cleaning out my freezer, around from Reconnect Part 2.

  So, that's where I am. During my exit interview with Danielle, the Country Director, I was asked what advice I have for future PCVs. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, as cliche as it may be. Find something you enjoy. Reading, playing an instrument, running, working out, cooking, whatever. Find that thing. And, for one hour, every day, do it. Lock your door, shut off your phone, and just focus on you, for just one hour. If you can do that, it will go a long way to helping your service be less stressful. Focus on the little things, the small successes, because the big things tend to be negative, but for every one, there will be a number of small victories. Oh, my project fell through? Well, my host sister is no longer afraid of me. There's no electricity? Well, I now have time to climb that hill? The transport didn't come? At least the beer's cold. Don't take things too seriously. You'll never survive if you do. Enjoy it. It's an experience you may not appreciate until the end. You often won't realize the impact you had until you reach the end. It can be tough. PC bills itself as "The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love". At 25, I don't have the experience to confirm or deny it. But it was tough, and I love it. In many ways, I'm the same guy I was two years ago. But, as Karen pointed out when we chatted as fellow RPCVs after she punched my card, we all change in small ways. Hopefully for the better. They may not be obvious at first, but I do feel slightly different, and I am grateful for the experiences I had. Do I regret not living in a mud hut in an isolated village with no electricity or water? It certainly would've been different. But I enjoyed my service, and I do feel like I made a difference, and I can get on the plane tomorrow knowing I put everything I had into helping my community, even when I failed. And, in the end, I wouldn't change my PC experience (other than maybe having head office actually pay their bills).

  So, that's it. Probably my last post from Namibia. Time for the next chapter in my life. I do plan to keep this blog going, so, if you enjoy my writing and want to hear about what it's like readjusting, feel free to keep reading. And, with that, I wish you well. Hope you enjoyed hearing about my experiences in Namibia. Stay well.