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

Rising in the East, Setting in the West

I have enjoyed many unforgettable sunsets through my lifetime.  Sunsets surrounded by close friends, and some solitary.  I have seen the sun disappear behind mountains, into oceans, and through skyscrapers.  From beaches, to mountaintops, to tea fields, to the barren badlands.  Sunsets have a funny way of helping us live in the moment.  As the sun dips closer to the horizon, we await every minute as the sun's last for the day.  We see the colors change, notice the shadows grow, feel the air grow cooler.  Everything seems to change as the day ends.  And yet we know that the sun will rise again in the morning, and set again in the evening.  All which causes the time to drag during sunsets provides us with the opportune time for introspection or reflection.

During my last weekend in Macedonia, I spent Orthodox Easter weekend in my original site, Prilep.  bidding farewell to my former counterparts and host family.  There was obviously no other place where I wanted to spend my final weekend in Macedonia.  Seeing everyone in Prilep during the Orthodox Easter holidays was a bonus to what would be an emotional experience.  As I wrote in a previous post about Orthodox Easter, families and friends often return to their hometowns, and thus there are countless opportunities to visit on "na gosti's" at others' places.  On Saturday night, young people also await Easter at midnight in front of a church, lighting candles and cracking eggs, and then celebrating Christ's resurrection by partying at the bars.  Overall, I did not have to pull any teeth in order to convince people to commemorate my final days in Prilep.

On Saturday morning, my former and current sitemates, Susan and Dave, joined me for a sunrise hike to Markovi Kuli, the ruins of the medieval Serbian king near Prilep.  It was a hike that I led many times to visiting volunteers and tourists, but now I was hiking the mountain for my final time as a Peace Corps volunteer.  We had originally intended to execute the hike during the sunrise, but Susan and I both agreed that sunrises are more beautiful, and I had never seen Prilep during sunrise from the ruins.  Even though rain clouds obstructed a pristine sunrise, the moment was as magical as I had imagined.  And while Prilep was waking up below us, I began pondering about my next journey in life.

Because while the sun sets and rises at different points in the sky, they are still part of the same day.  If we had hiked for a sunset, maybe I would have brooded over an end to a great experience.  And it dawned on me- experiences need to end so another may begin.   Put another way, I am not sad that I am physically leaving Macedonia (I always can and certainly will return for a visit).  Rather, my time as a Peace Corps volunteer has come to an end.  Everything that I had prepared for is finished, and compared to our structured lifestyle as Peace Corps volunteers, the way forward is unchartered open waters.  Yet, while harbors are designed to keep boats safe, boats are not designed to stay in a harbor.  My time as a Peace Corps volunteer has come, and I anticipate the next journey of my life. 

The following pictures courtesy of David Strouse, MAK19

Sunrise hike to Markovi Kuli

Sitemates

Hardest of all is saying goodbye to the people that are closest to me here.  We met as strangers, but eventually the bonds with my host family and counterparts grew, allowing us to build a life around each other.  I think this is what makes saying goodbye as a Peace Corps volunteer most difficult- our work is most successful when we establish sincere bonds with host country nationals.  Yet while two years is a long time, it is still temporary, and ultimately relaxing those relationships to long-distance friendships is as difficult a goodbye as ever.  Peace Corps forewarned us that some PCVs may gauge the impact of their service by the number of people visibly sad to see them go.  In my opinion, it is a bittersweet indicator of success.

Still, I did not know that saying goodbye to my host family in Prilep could be so difficult.  Shortly after finishing our Easter meal, I had to depart to catch the bus back to Tetovo for my final week in Macedonia.  As I said goodbye to each person, tears continued to well up in my eyes.  I was on the verge of crying, knowing of course that I will likely visit them again very soon.  I think what impacted me the most was that this loving family took me in as their own, and treated me as such for two years.  They will always be my Macedonian family.  But still, an era is ending so that another may begin. 

My host family during our Easter meal in Prilep

In a way, extending helped to ease the process of COSing.  I have fewer farewells to bid since most of my MAK18 friends had departed before me.  Moving sites meant that I could concentrate my final reunion with host family and counterparts to one weekend. 

Overall, like most memorable sunsets in my life, this entire Peace Corps experience will forever be cherished.  I have enjoyed countless life-changing experiences during my past ~3 years here, which is more than I can say about the 3 years previous.  It has shaped me into a different person from whom I entered Peace Corps, for better or worse (I hope better).  As our former Country Director would often say, "No matter how much you give during your time in Peace Corps, you will always receive so much more". 

The sun is setting on my time here, but I am not melancholy.  I have optimized my Peace Corps experience, and I feel comfortable on my next path in life.  I can only hope for many more memorable sunsets and many more promising sunrises.