Peace Corps and "Putting Your Life on Hold"

Though I’ve pretty much heard the full range of comments- negative to positive- about joining the Peace corps, a particular one has stuck with me: “It’s so nice that young people like you are willing to put your life on hold for 2 years to join the Peace Corps.”  Every time I’ve heard it, it’s been from well-meaning friends and acquaintances, but since actually experiencing what Peace Corps is, my automatic reaction to these people is to tell them that they’re wrong. 

As I’ve previously written, two years is a long time no matter where you are or what you’re doing.  So when you take into consideration the distance from the known (friends, family, American culture, etc.) as well as the stereotypical Peace Corps conditions of hardship and cultural displacement, I can see how many people would arrive at the conclusion that two years spent as a Peace Corps volunteer is two years of life put on hold. 

However, to those people I ask, what is life to you?  If life is accumulating wealth, living in close proximity to almost any amenity or material good you may desire, or having a corporate-climbing job, then yes, volunteers put their lives on hold. 

It’s only when you’re to look outside the box of a typical American life that you can understand why that statement is wrong.  If to you, life is having a fulfilling career, constantly learning, living around people who love you, and having the opportunity to truly experience a culture different then your own, then Peace Corps service would simply be two more years of living a fun and fulfilling life. 

Of course, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days where I crave comforts of home and the “life” I left behind.  I miss dressing up for work, running errands in my own car, eating nice food, and not being the most educated person in my town.  Sometimes I love teaching simple business charlas, but sometimes it’s hard not to think about my friends back home working on fancy (to me) advertising campaigns or getting that next promotion. So on hard days in Panama, I too fall into the trap of thinking only of what I’ve left behind, and forgetting all that I’ve gained. 

However, as my two-year commitment was coming to a close and I began to seriously consider my next steps, both personally and professionally, the incredible time I’ve spent as a Peace Corps volunteer really came to light.  These two years, though at times long, hard, and uncomfortable, have been two of the best and most formative years of my life.  I've had all of the sterotypical Peace Corps experiences such as traveling, teaching kids English, and enjoying bastante hammock time, but I've also been able to experience first hand that Peace Corps is so much more than that.  I've added some seriously awesome points to my résumé and had some of the coolest experiences I could have imagined (hiking through the Darién rainforest with an indigenous guide?  It was pretty fun).  On top of all of that, I've made incredible connections, lifelong friendships, and precious memories.  

So, that’s the main reason I’ve decided to stay a third year- because for me Peace Corps hasn’t been “putting my life on hold,” but instead living life to the fullest.  

2 Years in the Peace Corps

Two years.  24 months. 104 weeks. 730 days... And that's not counting the 2-3 months on on-site training. 

The potentially daunting time commitment is what puts many people off of Peace Corps service, so it makes sense that one of the most common questions I’m asked is, “What is two years in the Peace Corps really like?”

Since this week marks two years in Panama for me, I figured that it's finally a good time to put it into words.

In two years, your friends back home will pass many of life’s milestones: getting engaged, married, and having babies.  Some will get fancy-sounding promotions and begin (or continue) climbing the corporate ladder.  You, on the other hand, will celebrate small successes like actually getting people to come to the event you’ve spent weeks planning, convincing village members that no, you don’t want to get married yet and that’s okay, and will have a different type of milestone: the number of months you can spend parasite free. 

New technologies will be invented (You won’t know how to use them), new movies will be released (You only know them by their foreign titles), and the billboard top 100 will constantly be refreshed by new music (If you’ve had some time in the capital city, you may have heard of about 10 of them). 

You may struggle to stay in contact with all of your American friends and begin to drift apart from some of them.  You will bond with Peace Corps friends over frustrations only they can understand and who pooped their pants first.  Both groups of friends will remain precious and important to you. 

In two years you will never stop learning.  You will learn a new language (or two), a new culture, and how to work in this new, very different environment.  Like a child, you will relearn simple skills like how to take care of yourself without the amenities or products you’re used to.  You might begin washing clothes by hand, group bathing (fully clothed) in the creek, and/or cooking without a microwave.

You’ll make yourself a home in a place that once felt so foreign, and then bring little bits of your old home to your new one.  Your American headlamp will illuminate your locally made table as you try new foods and stay up late reading in English (for entertainment) or your new language (for learning). 

Two years is a good amount of time to explore a new place, but you'll still feel rushed to do all of the things you had in mind when you came to country.  You will become familiar with your local town and surrounding areas, and many people may even recognize you.  Eventually they will make the change from “Mira, gringa!” to chatting with you about Peace Corps and why you wanted to spend two years with them. 

Two years is too long and too short.  Some days I literally count the days until it’s time to leave, while on many others I’m appalled that a full two years has come and gone.  I feel like I’ve just hit the sweet spot in trust built with community members, confidence in the local language and work projects.  

Two years is up?  Finally.  Two years is up?  I think I may extend.

I got sent to the capital to recover from pneumonia...

Now I have pneumonia, a skin infection, and gastrointestinal parasites. 

Looks like I'm 3 for 3 this week...

Peace Corps is Hard

And then you turn off the paved road and start your hike...

 I don't know anyone who would consider Peace Corps easy, but in our efforts to paint a fun, exotic picture for our friends and family back home, I don't think we're as willing to admit how hard it really is. The other day I was talking to a close friend from home, and upon me saying how depressed I was during the first few months, she responded with, "Wow, I never realized that. I guess I just always saw your awesome pictures and assumed you were loving it." 

And it's not her fault for thinking that. Like many volunteers, I focused on the exciting parts of my life and downplayed the challenges that had me calling my parents in tears. I think hearing both sides of the experience is really important- not just for future volunteers, but also for the general public. If you've been following my blog, you've heard a little about the hard parts- like amoebas, skin infections, and getting over the culture shock, but here's the rest of the story. 

Arriving in country is slightly overwhelming but incredibly exciting. Everything is new and different, and Pre-Service Training is packed with activities, trips, and obviously, training. During this time, usually the first two-three months, you're surrounded by fellow trainees who are experiencing all of the same challenges and excitements as you are, as well as support staff who are physically present to help you with every aspect of life in a new country. 

Then, overnight, it all changes. You arrive in your site and are suddenly the only American, the only English speaker, and certainly the only one going through such a drastic life change. Your boss is not present, you have no coworkers so to speak of, all of your fellow trainees/new volunteers are off in their own sites, and you feel completely alone. Instead of waking up to a full schedule of training, work, and play, you have a calendar of absolutely empty days, weeks, and months ahead. You're overwhelmed by all there is to do, but even more so by how little you know how to do. 

You're living with a family you just met, and life with them is completely different than anything you're used to. If you're lucky, you will get new and interesting food each day, and if you're not you might lose 15 pounds and eat nothing but boiled green bananas (I fell under the later category). Your new diet may leave you sick or just "off" and the water may or may not be sanitary. 

You'll either call home crying or not talk to your family for weeks because you know their voices will bring you to tears. Things that you never gave a thought to before- like cooking or washing clothes- suddenly become a challenge, and things that would be hard even under the best circumstances- like the death of a family member or beloved pet, threaten to push you over the edge. 

In the face of all of this, you give your best, since your only other option of crying to yourself alone in your dark, foreign, potentially moldy room only makes you feel worse.  As you have nothing else to do, you spend a lot of time attempting to get to know your new neighbors. Even with a decent language level, you may struggle the first few weeks, and even if you're fluent, you still feel awkward at these constant introductions and attempts to gain trust and friendship. For those first few weeks, you fall asleep at night exhausted, lonely, and ready to be done with the day, and wake up stressed out about still not having friends, not having a full agenda, and having absolutely no idea what you're doing. 

Then, slowly but surely, it starts to get better. You'll have little moments in which you start to bond with your community, you'll host your first event (and maybe even get a great turnout), and your boss may even read your blog and let you know that you're doing pretty okay. Poco a poco, you're no longer stressed at the sight of an open calendar and you'll even learn how to wash clothes on a rock and make delicious food over a fire. You'll gain back the weight you lost over those first few weeks (or vice versa) and your new friends won't hesitate to point it out. But instead of feeling offended, you'll smile and joke with them, and then go to sleep at night without many of those feelings of dread stress. It will take time, and it will never be easy, but you'll grow to appreciate your campo life and the people that make it worthwhile.