Wrapping It All Up

It would not be fitting for a blog about Peace Corps and Macedonia to end on an account of my travels to Iceland, hence this last and final post.  I deliberated writing more posts upon my return, given a sudden surplus of idle time awaiting me at home.  But every time I tried to write something, my interest waned and my writing proved bland.  Thus I decided to wait out the end of summer and allow myself three months before I reflect on my return to the USA.

The Return

Of course, upon seeing friends and family upon my return, they would ask me "How does it feel to be back?" and "Do you miss it?"  Answering either question is difficult, especially since my feelings shifted each day, and mostly I was not sure how much patience the interrogator had to deal with a question demanding such a complex answer (so I mostly just responded succinctly, yet politely).  Confronting this question here to myself, and to potential RPCVs who are reading this blog, I can say that it was pretty awful to return.

My reasoning for using such a strongly negative label for my return has little to do with the culture shock of returning.  I love the United States, and I am lucky to live in a metropolitan city like Chicago.  I was reunited with my loving family, and I was even lucky to see many of my closest friends during the summer.  And sure, there are some things that I miss about my lifestyle in Macedonia and Peace Corps (and I miss the people too), but readjusting to the culture of the United States was not that tough.

I think what made transitioning back to the USA was my lack of purpose.  As soon as the token-ness of reuniting with people wore away, I would instantly become jealous of the lives that they were leading.  Besides attending a few weddings and making a short trip to the East Coast, I pretty much did nothing for my first 1.5 months back in the States.  Sure, it was nice to enjoy a summer vacation with downtime similar to that in high school.  But I did not have any friends with whom I could share this bounty of leisure time.  I felt alone in my boredom.

Night out with friends in DC

Groomsmen at my best friend's wedding 

Tying the knot

Sweet home, Chicago

With the family for Independence Day

Instead of sulking, I decided to make the most of my situation by training in bartending and applying to work at bars.  I unfortunately was not accepted to any of the internships to which I applied (frustratingly, even to the unpaid internships).  So instead of professionally developing myself, bartending seemed to be the past time through which I could interact with others and save a few bucks.  While I applied to many places in Chicago for work, I was lucky enough to be hired at a brewery in Southwest Michigan, where I spent the latter half of my summer.

My work at the brewery was a blessing in disguise, since it helped me transition to life back in the States.  It was located in a more rural area of the State, and patrons would hail from Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan, thus allowing me to connect with people from the area.  The brewery was also in its incipient stage, opened for fewer than two weeks when I was brought on, and so I was able to see it grow and adjust through its first period in business.  Now I prepare for graduate school in Boston, and thus I hope that I will gain fulfillment from working toward that which I am passionate for, namely International Development and Affairs.

Now I would not go to say that the Peace Corps is lousy at preparing PCVs for their return to the States.  The resettlement allowance that we accumulate during our service is hefty, though considerably small when taking into account the typical expenses that add up over three months (including insurance, student loans, rent, utilities, purchasing new clothes and personal items, and traveling abroad after service or around the USA).  RPCVs also are qualified for non-competitive eligibility status, allowing them to pass some of the hurdles of government employment.  This of course, was not an option for me due to graduate school (but my NCE will be deferred during my studies). 

Yet it is admittedly difficult to transition from a lifestyle where three goals cast over your work and lifestyle.  Peace Corps life also offers a support structure of other volunteers whose lives are typically similar to one's own, an element that I lacked for my first months back in the USA.  Finally, while my experience was personally profound, I still feel that I have not progressed as much as my family or friends, who have since my time in Peace Corps married, had children, or purchased their first property.

For all these reasons, my return to the USA has not been the most pleasant experience of the Peace Corps journey, yet I continue to smile through my teeth when people ask me about it.

Night out with the co-workers

Matching at the brewery

Kayak trip in Northern Michigan

What I Learned

A question nobody has asked me since I returned is, "Do you think that the experience has changed you?"  This question is more significant to me, especially since our former PC Macedonia Director used to frequently tell us, "You will gain more from this experience than you will ever contribute."  I already wrote a post about how I do not recognize who I was before I started my PC experience, so I will not bore the readers to juxtapose my current and former selves further.    Yet there are now three mantras by which I live by thanks to my PC experience.

1. Don't be an asshole.

It is a simple idea, the basic "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."  Yet personally it goes beyond avoiding harming others.  Instead, one should personally exude their best self whenever possible.  Constantly being in the spotlight has instilled in me the sense that I will always represent more than myself.  In the Peace Corps, I represented the United States, and thus my actions and words would reflect what host-country nationals would assume on the "typical" American.  Thus I constantly strived to be polite and to align my values to that which I would deem American.  The greatest reward and feedback that I received regarding this was from my former counterpart, who told me on my last night in Prilep that she and other AIESEC members previously did not have positive views on Americans, but that my work and collaboration with them completely changed this perspective.

For every Ryan Lochte in the world that lets their ego and sense of American superiority taint our image as a citizen of the globe, there are numerous PCVs out there counteracting his misconduct with good deeds.

 2. Don't obsess over people.

While my first mantra may be universally self-evident, my second may be a bit more controversial.  Through my toughest times in Peace Corps, I have discovered that I could never rely on others to make me feel better.  In the end, personal effort and time eroded most of the darkest moments during my service.  This may be counter-intuitive to the community-based work that PC is known for, and I do not decry such virtuous notions as seeking help or advice or working together as a team.  However, when I was most depressed or questioned my success or contribution to work in Peace Corps, I found that self-reflection, brainstorming creative solutions, and seeking opportunities in the community restored my positive attitude and provided me a new lease to motivate myself and keep on achieving.

Many times during service I observed other PCVs obsess over other people, either due to some drama or love interest.  I saw these interactions tear the PCVs apart, and I quickly realized that divesting from others and focusing on work was the best way to experience self-worth from my service.  My statements may make it seem that I argue against falling in love, which is false- if the feelings are mutual, I say "right on".  Yet each individual should have passions that drive him forward in life, and sometimes in Peace Corps a lack of purpose may drive a volunteer to pursue another person with a similar abandon.  Overall, I have never solved a problem I was facing by relying on others, and thus this PCV experience has provided me with my own Thoreau-ean experience.

3. Just Try

This is a mantra I developed since returning to the USA, and sure, sounds very similar to the Nike slogan.  Yet it reflects the "not my problem" attitude that I observed most Americans have.  Simply, each individual effort to remedy a social ill will compound so that the issue seems surmountable.  In Macedonia, I faced a lot of listless complaining, including that Macedonia was too poor, or that things were better in the past, or that the government is corrupt, etc.  But especially when working with college-aged and high school students, they would at least brainstorm possible solutions to these social malaises. 

I flew over an ocean to offer a people of a developing country my energy and skills (whatever those may be), yet here in the States we have countless problems that need fixing.  While working at the brewery, I have heard numerous patrons react and say that urban violence cannot be solved because the police cannot do their jobs anymore.  Yet while the law enforcement is vilified by social media and the Black Lives Matter movement, and while minorities still feel threatened by the rule of law, an "impossible" situation can easily be solved by community involvement.  I have seen it work before in Peace Corps, and the reasoning for the solution is simple: understanding and trust can overcome many bounds.

We are set to live in a world of rising temperatures and pollution, yet Americans (even those who do not deny in climate change) fret that there is little we can do at a micro level.  Yet even my own family cannot correctly recycle items according to the rules of the city of Chicago.  Macedonians conserve electricity because it is so expensive, and it was always surprising to me that the youth cared so much for environmental protection when countries like the USA, China, and India pollute way more. 

I am pursuing a career in development and diplomacy, so optimism is demanded of me.  But effort needs an economy of scale, one to which complacency seems to be the de facto attitude of most Americans.

Would I Do It Again?

One of the greatest moments I experienced upon my return from Peace Corps was talking to my cousin, who has expressed to me interest of joining the Peace Corps after graduating from university.  Explaining to him all of the challenges and opportunities about the typical service, judged through my experience and accounts of other PCVs in other countries, refilled me with enthusiasm I have not felt since my return.  I am always amazed at how such a sporadic idea like the Peace Corps is able to accomplish so much given its low budget and limited scope.

Now do not get me wrong, I do not see myself as a martyr due to my service.  Whenever people thank me "for my service", I honestly react that my time spent in Peace Corps was not a major sacrifice.  On the other side of it, I always feel the same appreciation toward our military who sacrifice their time in the service.  Yet when I extended the same regards to a young man serving in the Navy in the military during my trip to Iceland, he similarly said that he does not feel like he is making a sacrifice for his country.  Instead, he is living abroad at a young age, making a good wage, and is able to visit other European countries on each weekend.

But I do firmly believe that every American should experience something similar to the Peace Corps.  That experience should have them living abroad and immersing in the culture and society of the typical citizen of that country.  They should feel the frustration of learning a language, navigating an unknown city, and dealing with perplexing customs.  Most of all, they should feel the joy of being integrated into a foreign community and collaborating with others to solve a local problem.

Peace Corps was the experience that I needed to have.  I have learned important lessons that I could never fully grasp in a classroom or working for corporate America.  It may end up becoming the most formative years of my life.  So for those who are considering this 27-month (or more!) commitment, I say to them, "Ајде!"

The Last Stepping Stone Back Home

My last stop on my trip back to the United States was Iceland.  The reasoning behind my visit to this remote island was two-fold: the flights connecting the island to Chicago were cheap and cut flight times quite a bit, and when else would I ever have a chance to visit this mystical place?  The only missing link I had from my flight was getting to London from Munich (since Iceland Air did not fly from Munich to Reykjavik).  But my risky booking of Easy Jet worked out, and I landed safely and on time in Iceland.

My first impressions of Iceland were definitely of awe.  The bus from the airport to the capital shipped us past miles and miles of barren land.  The land was absent of trees, there was no evidence of farms, and the sky was grey and dreary.  It was also much colder than I had imagined, since I have enjoyed balmy weather in the 70s in Macedonia through most of spring. My other initial impression of Iceland: Damn!  Things here are expensive.  Prices were definitely higher than I had been used to in Macedonia, and they even seemed steep compared to what we are accustomed to in the States.  One may easily reason why the prices are so steep, since Iceland is so isolated, does not grow most of its food, and only has 300,000 inhabitants.  But the high prices were definitely a hard pill to swallow after leaving the Peace Corps.

After situating myself at the hostel, I journeyed over to Cafe Loki, which is famous for serving classic Iceland dishes.  I figured I may as well splurge on traditional foods immediately so that I can focus on budgeting my meals through the rest of the trip.  The menu was very foreign to me, but I knew that my meal should satisfy two qualifications: I wanted to eat fish, and I wanted to try the rotten shark.  The shark was a few slices of pickled meat sticks (accompanied by a tiny Iceland flag), and while the taste was not completely wretched, it also was not an entirely memorable experience.  Fortunately, it allowed me to open up a conversation with a nearby table of tourists with whom I was eventually able to join and share my meal.

At this table, I met with Daniel and Alex (a married couple who are living in Boston).  We also engaged a young man, Jeff, who was serving in the Navy in Italy but was originally from Alabama.  We shared a great conversation at this dinner, and we made sure to exchange contacts so that I may possibly meet with Alex and Daniel when I move to Boston in the autumn. 

Americans outside of Cafe Loki

I also began to learn at this meal that meeting Americans on this trip to Iceland would be the norm.  It was strange for me, since meeting Americans is a relatively rare occurrence while in Europe (it is more likely to meet Australians or Canadians).  Yet Iceland's airlines are driving a zealous marketing campaign to attract Americans to the island, which seems to be successful.  Estimates claim that already 300,000 visitors had stayed in Iceland in the first three months of 2016 alone, which is comparable to the total yearly value in 2003. 

Thus, flying through Iceland on my return to the States was a precipitously fortuitous decision, since I would be able to acclimate to interacting with Americans.  Honestly, engaging with Americans was a lot more uncomfortable for me than I had imagined.  Here were people who spoke my language and probably had similar experiences like me, yet it was much more difficult to fully engage them in a conversation as I would be able to with Europeans.  I cannot put my finger on why I was experiencing difficulty, but I registered that this would be one element of readjusting to life in the States.

Jeff, whom I met at the cafe, and I drank a few beers on the balcony of my hostel, and by 10PM the sun dipped below most of the clouds, and we enjoyed a sunny night.  He soon decided to return to his hostel while I strolled solo through Reykjavik, capturing the city in photos under its nocturnal summer sun.  Brisk and cool, splashed with the ocean breeze, and draped in weak rays, the harbor along Reykjavik was gorgeous, and was branded into my memory.

The summer sun never sets in Iceland

From the bell tower of the church

Strolling through a cemetery

Night drinking along the bay

Through the rest of the trip, I enjoyed various tours to learn about the city and the island.  Iceland has such a young history (it was under the Danish crown for most of the past millennium, and only gained independence during World War II).  I also booked a tour through a company to take me through the Golden Circle.  The Golden Circle navigated through the continental divide between North American and European tectonic plates.  At this rift existed a historically significant part of Iceland's history, where the people would gather in the summer to recite the laws and establish a code of conduct through the island (the place reminded me of the King's Moot of the Game of Thrones' Iron Islands, and the show had even filmed at this location).  Through the tour we also saw a grand waterfall, geysers, and ended our trip at the Secret Lagoon, a much more low key hot spring.  And no, I did not visit the Blue Lagoon, since I heard that it was the Disney World attraction of Iceland.

Iceland was captivating, and enjoyed some of my favorite morning runs along its coast.  Straddled between the North American and European plates, this trip was a great last stepping stone for my return to the United States, and a great farewell to Europe.

Barren land

Along the rift

King's Moot

OG (the Original Geyser, after which all geysers were named)

Golden Falls

Secret Lagoon

Seeking Roots in Bavaria

Dingolfing is not that big of a town, so it only took me a few minutes of walking until I found the Eglseder Sports store.  Upon entering the store, I asked the store clerk, as assertive as I could since it was a very awkward predicament, "Hi, I am an American, and I was wondering if I could talk with the owner of this store..?"  Her awkwardness turned into a weird panic, and immediately retreated to the back of the store to meet with him.  After a minute, a tall, very German-looking man with glasses emerged to meet me.  That's when I introduced myself and revealed to him why a random American was asking to meet with him in his store: I wanted to learn more about my grandmother, and there was a good chance that he could share more information about her with me.

The duration of my COS trip was limited since I was expected to be back in the States by the following Saturday for a wedding.  So, I only had a week to travel around, and thus with my limited time I decided to travel to Munich to learn more about my grandmother.  She had grown up for most of her life in Dingolfing, and during the War she lived in Munich.  Thus I took advantage of being free in Europe to visit the city in which she lived before moving to the States.  I also spoke with my mother about possible connections in Dingolfing, hoping that maybe I can meet with one of her friends or find the house in which she grew up.  The only information she had (or at least shared with me) was that of her friends, the Eglseders, who had once owned a shoe factory, but today own a sporting goods store.

As soon as I told Stefan, the Eglseder who managed the store, about my purpose and subsequently described my grandmother, he seemed to reminisce immediately about meeting her.  He probably remembered meeting her in 1973, when my grandmother visited with the rest of her family (including my mother), and Stefan was only about 8-9 at the time.  He remembered her as a fair-haired, beautiful woman, and he mentioned that his father had also dated my grandmother when they were younger.  Stefan also recounted how my grandmother had given him and his brother a bunch of American coins.  This memory seemed to be a singular childhood memory for him, which painted his depiction of my grandmother as that of a perspective of a child. 

Stefan also continued to share with me some history about his family and business.  His family had once owned a shoe factory, but as the largest BMW plant moved into Dingolfing, the family lost many of their workers to offers of higher wages at the car factory.  So they decided to branch out into sporting goods as well, and eventually the store focused on selling sporting goods instead of shoes.  Stefan said that the family business was doing very well.  He also mentioned that one of his aunts, Anne Marie (seen with my grandmother in a picture below) was sick (she has since improved), and she had even visited my grandmother in Chicago a few times.  After leaving the store, I strolled the streets of Dingolfing, speculating that not much had changed since 80 years ago, when my grandmother was younger and living in the town.  I was very young when my grandmother passed away, so I do not have any memories of her.  However, she is as much a part of me as all my other family members, and I felt more connected to the German part of my life than I had ever before.

My grandmother on the left, Stefan's brother, and Anne Marie (on the far right)

MY Grandmother and great-grandmother in Dingolfing

The same site as above, but ~90 years later.

Stefan and me in modern times

Dingolfing

Munich

The day trip to Munich was fulfilling and easy to execute, but I spent most of my time in the city of Munich.  My trip to the city coincided with one of their first weekends of warmth, which meant that strolling through the parks and historic squares entailed weaving in and out of locals and tourists.  I spent my first full day visiting the Marienplatz and relaxing in Munich's large park adjacent to the local university.  The hostel at which I stayed had a cheap and social bar on the ground floor, and I was lucky to meet with Ayad, an employee at the hostel who had the night off.  He was polite enough to invite me to a hike that he and his friends were undertaking on Sunday.  So we met at the train station on Sunday morning, and we took the train all the way to Bayrischzell to start our hike. 

The hike was up a mountain at the foothills of the Alps, right on the border with Austria.  I had never imagined that I would have the chance to hike again in Europe, let alone hiking in one of Europe's largest mountain ranges.  A mix of 7 expats/ Germans and a dog summited the mountain in about 2 hours, and I gained a serenity and respite from Munich's large, urban crowds. 

After the hike, many of us were exhausted, yet a few of us determined to share a meal together.  Maica (sp?), one of the Germans who brought her dog along on the trip, wanted to return her dog home so that he could rest, so we all decided to dine somewhere around her flat for reasons of convenience.  Fortunately, she lived in the Olympic Village, and as soon as we arrived I recalled that my grandfather had served as a body guard for the Lithuanian wrestling team at the Munich Olympics in 1972.  I tried to imagine all that my grandfather observed during the terrorist attacks against the Israeli athletes.  Maica's flat was directly across where the Israeli athletes were housed and attacked, and I experienced a profound feeling of being in the present of both history and a life experience of my grandfather.

My COS trip may be short, but I appreciate the ability to connect with some roots in a cool, gorgeous part of Europe.  I was also lucky to meet with locals who were able to help me experience parts of Bavaria that I otherwise would not have enjoyed, and all in good company.  I do not even believe that experiencing Munich during Oktoberfest could have surpassed such a momentous experience of Bavaria as this.

Strolling through Munich

Beginning our hike

Rest stop

Alps

Bayrischzell

In the Olympic Village