One Year Later: How far I've Come

Then

I can genuinely say I am really happy to be here.

The Peace Corps has this phrase they use in their advertising "The Hardest Job you'll ever Love" which until recently I viewed as a total crock. But cheesy as it is, I'm starting to get there.
I just got back from a hotel on the side of the highway where a whole slew of brand spankin' new Americans were being bombarded with information their first few days in country. First of all I want to say it was an honor to be there. And to those of you AZ7's who may read this blog, you guys are great and I can't wait until we are fellow PCV's.

The truth is, in terms of what they are about to go through, I would never want to do that again. The first nine months here were painfully hard. But I can also say that am so glad I stuck through it.

And here I come to another Peace Corps cliche. That while I have no idea if I'm making a difference in my community, this experience is certainly changing me.
I'm finally over hating things I can't change. I've stopped comparing myself to others or always worrying about the day that someone else is going to decide I'm not good enough. I'm remembering where my true identity lies. In the words of a fellow AZ6 "I've grown the backbone I never knew I didn't have."

I've let go idealizing the United States. Let go of a lifestyle that judges worth by how many unscheduled seconds were crowded out with activity.

And because I've let go of so much, I can now see all of those things I've been blind to. The really polite and thoughtful Azeri men. The truly hospitable friends and neighbors. The smart and talented people who are pushing the envelope. That there is nothing wrong with sitting under a fruit tree drinking tea and just talking on a summer day. Oh yeah, and the new factory the government just renovated and those lovely new highway signs.

A couple days ago I got the last seat on a markrutka-the very last row in between two dudes and a grandmother. There was a woman in front of me who started making fun of the fact that I was foreign. I quickly responded to her that I speak Azeri. She then peppered me with a machine gun fire of questions that would have left me sobbing and confused nine months ago but that I deftly answered as if I was swatting away flies. The woman then for an inexplicable reason decided to revert to the age of seven and take advantage of what I had told her, taunting me in Russian because I said I didn't speak it. And if this had been a year ago, I would have been defeated. And this story would have ended there, with me crying and hating what I took to be "azeri culture." But this isn't a year ago. This is now. And I didn't start crying. And instead of fearfully ignoring the men beside me who were trying to get my attention, I turned my head to them. They were silently making "she's crazy!" hand motions and pointing to the woman while simultaneously offering me a bite of sandwich. And a year ago I would have thought that when the man beside me started talking and joking with the woman that they were probably friends making fun of me when in reality he was chastising her for her rude behavior. The truth is, everyone else was really nice and maybe a little embarrassed. The guy next to me, after trying earnestly to get me to accept Fanta and sandwich, finally got me to take a pack of gum. That's true Azeri culture. And that woman is no different from the people I saw in a McDonald's in Belleville Illinois taunting a man who didn't speak English.

School didn't go super great today. I was expecting twenty kids and only seven showed up. There are probably worse days than that to come. And sure, my life looks a lot like that teacher from Glee if he didn't also have Spanish. I will be afraid sometimes but I will not let that stop me. And disappointed probably even more times. I will probably never know the impact I might have. But it's about the process, and I accept that now.

Now