Today is my first full day of not being a Peace Corps Volunteer. Coincidentally, it is also my last day in Burkina Faso. How do I feel? I feel good. I feel rather alive.
I fly to Prague tonight. After 9 days there, I fly to Dublin. After 19 1/2 hours in Dublin, I fly to Boston. After 6 days in and around bean town, I fly to Denver. And then at some point, much to my parents' (and my own) relief and satisfaction, I will return to Montrose. Home sweet late - summer - in - Western - Colorado - I - hope - I - have - time - to - go - fly - fishing - and - hiking - and - ice - cream - eating - and - porch - sitting - and - all - that - good - stuff - before - it - gets - too - cold home.
Because there is profundity in brevity, I will keep this post short. Also, I still haven't packed and my flight leaves in 8 hours. I hope you have all enjoyed the de temps en temps musings of life here in Burkina Faso. And keep your eyes peeled for my post-Peace Corps blog. While it does not yet exist, I am sure it will be called something like, "Well Now Then" or "Joel!: The Life". The title, along with the blog, are still in their creative stages.
So this is Joel (and his blog) signing off. I hope you enjoyed your stay.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
t-minus
Saying goodbye is never easy. But I am not there yet.
As I casually glanced at my cell phone calendar today, I saw that I have exactly two weeks remaining in Burkina Faso. I remember, vividly, my first day in this country. In fact, I remember--vividly--the first three months in this country, but that is another matter all together. About a month ago, I was consumed with memories of Burkina, good times and not so much spent with both volunteers and my village friends. I found myself caught up in the scope of two years and what it should and did mean to me. But in the past week, I have moved on to different pastures. Let us call it phase two: Freaking Out.
If I recall where I was four weeks ago (the specifics aren't important), it feels like it was this morning. The past month has flown by. Now, if I am to think about where I will be in two weeks from now (I will be on an airplane bound for Paris), I refuse to begin to believe that it is just around the corner. The fact of the matter is the end (choose your own ending: The end of school, the end of a delicious cherry limeade, even the end of a Wes Anderson film) is a difficult thing to accept. I know that in three weeks, I will be in the Czech Republic spending time with my wonderful friend Shannon. I know that in a month's time, I'll be in Massachusetts, exchanging recent Peace Corps war stories with Brooks. And I know that come late August, I will be in Colorado with friends and family, talking about that little (26 month) sojourn I had in Africa. But these actualities only exist because I recently bought a handful of plane tickets to all points not Africa. What I do know is I am sitting in a stuffy Ouahigouya cyber café on a Saturday night, just like any other night. My day-to-day isn't much different from circa 2006. But what is different is the unquiet that exists within me.
But I must be honest with myself for a moment. While I am "freaking out" about the end of my Peace Corps service, I am also VERY excited about the uncharted territory through which I am about to trudge. I am in the company of some extrordinary and extrordinarily fortunate individuals that are taking every opportunity to see the world, post-Peace Corps style. There's David, who in the next 4 months will explore Morocco, sail through the Mediterranean on a private yacht, bike across Italy, learn the tricks of both Japanese and Indian cuisine (In Japan and India, incidentally), before swinging by the rest of Europe, en route to the States. There is Lisa and Cat, who plan to traverse Eastern Africa, Uganda to Cape Town, South Africa. And let me not forget Beth, who plans to see all points between Burkina and Senegal, before jumping down to Guatemala, where she'll find herself conversant in Spanish in no time. Not only am I happy for these people, for their choice to hold on to the dream of abroad-ness, but I am also inspired by their restlessness. Though I will not be taking part in a journey that matches the caliber of their's, I have realized that my traveling days are most definitely not behind me.
I find a certain comfort that comes with ambiguity. I can't tell you where I will be in six month's time. And at this point in my life, I accept that. A good friend recently told me that we don't always know what to do with our lives, but we always know what to do next. I have my next move planned. And all I can do is trust that it will lead me to good things.
As I casually glanced at my cell phone calendar today, I saw that I have exactly two weeks remaining in Burkina Faso. I remember, vividly, my first day in this country. In fact, I remember--vividly--the first three months in this country, but that is another matter all together. About a month ago, I was consumed with memories of Burkina, good times and not so much spent with both volunteers and my village friends. I found myself caught up in the scope of two years and what it should and did mean to me. But in the past week, I have moved on to different pastures. Let us call it phase two: Freaking Out.
If I recall where I was four weeks ago (the specifics aren't important), it feels like it was this morning. The past month has flown by. Now, if I am to think about where I will be in two weeks from now (I will be on an airplane bound for Paris), I refuse to begin to believe that it is just around the corner. The fact of the matter is the end (choose your own ending: The end of school, the end of a delicious cherry limeade, even the end of a Wes Anderson film) is a difficult thing to accept. I know that in three weeks, I will be in the Czech Republic spending time with my wonderful friend Shannon. I know that in a month's time, I'll be in Massachusetts, exchanging recent Peace Corps war stories with Brooks. And I know that come late August, I will be in Colorado with friends and family, talking about that little (26 month) sojourn I had in Africa. But these actualities only exist because I recently bought a handful of plane tickets to all points not Africa. What I do know is I am sitting in a stuffy Ouahigouya cyber café on a Saturday night, just like any other night. My day-to-day isn't much different from circa 2006. But what is different is the unquiet that exists within me.
But I must be honest with myself for a moment. While I am "freaking out" about the end of my Peace Corps service, I am also VERY excited about the uncharted territory through which I am about to trudge. I am in the company of some extrordinary and extrordinarily fortunate individuals that are taking every opportunity to see the world, post-Peace Corps style. There's David, who in the next 4 months will explore Morocco, sail through the Mediterranean on a private yacht, bike across Italy, learn the tricks of both Japanese and Indian cuisine (In Japan and India, incidentally), before swinging by the rest of Europe, en route to the States. There is Lisa and Cat, who plan to traverse Eastern Africa, Uganda to Cape Town, South Africa. And let me not forget Beth, who plans to see all points between Burkina and Senegal, before jumping down to Guatemala, where she'll find herself conversant in Spanish in no time. Not only am I happy for these people, for their choice to hold on to the dream of abroad-ness, but I am also inspired by their restlessness. Though I will not be taking part in a journey that matches the caliber of their's, I have realized that my traveling days are most definitely not behind me.
I find a certain comfort that comes with ambiguity. I can't tell you where I will be in six month's time. And at this point in my life, I accept that. A good friend recently told me that we don't always know what to do with our lives, but we always know what to do next. I have my next move planned. And all I can do is trust that it will lead me to good things.
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