Site Visit

I’m sitting in a conference twiddling my thumbs. Right now the speaker is going on in rapid fire Kinyarwanda, and as much as I’d like to think I know what he is saying, the truth is I have no idea. Occasionally we switch to French. Every once in a blue moon an English word pops up. Next to me my supervisor is taking down some notes and raises his hand. He asks one of those questions that takes five minutes to ask but only two words to answer. I have no idea what he was inquiring about. I’ve only known him for about two hours at this point; he is the titulaire at the Centre de Sante to which I have been assigned to work at for the next two years. Our first conversation was a little awkward, switching back and forth between French and Kinyarwanda, but amazingly, we are able to communicate decent enough for me to wean some information. The problem sometimes in Rwanda is that a simple question, like ‘what is you name?’ {witwa nde?}, turns into quite an ordeal because the names here are usually pretty long and complicated. Soon, we’re back to the conference, jotting down pointless notes and sipping on bad coffee. By the time the session is over, my fellow trainees begin heading to the bus station to depart for their various sites. I however wait behind, my titulaire has informed me that a private car will be driving us to my site (swanky, it’s like I’m living in the Posh Corps). It is twelve o’clock. In typical African fashion the car arrives at 4:30. By five we are barreling down the road, leaving Kigali behind and heading east.

*     *     *

 The day our sites were announced was a tense one. Realistically, all of us had shown up at the hub for one reason: we wanted to know where we would be living for the duration of our service! Of course in Peace Corps nothing is that easy, someone decided it would be best if we spent most of the morning sitting through more classes. In the morning I was antsy, but by lunchtime I was going nuts…just tell us already! Finally the moment came, our Health Program coordinator entered the room with a large map of Rwanda that had 25 yellow pins situated all over the country. But before we can find out they need to explain how they chose the sites. They discuss how they couldn’t give us all what we asked for during our site interviews, then they discuss---from the back of the room someone groans loudly. ‘Just tell us already!!’ Sensing a possible mutiny, our coordinator pulls out the sheet with the sites. Now he is debating whether or not to tell us alphabetically or by the regions. At this point I fear for his safety, people are getting up, he best just spit it out. I think he gets the hint and begins announcing.

A week before the announcements we got to sit down one on one with the Program directors to discuss what are primary interests are (what sectors we would like to work in), as well as what some of our living preferences are (can you survive without electricity, what is the farthest you would walk for water, do you like hot/cold temperatures). In hindsight, I’m not sure anything we said was taken into consideration, but the thought counts, right? I say I’m interested mostly in working with nutrition, possibly doing some community agriculture projects, and oral health education. What kind of weather do I like? Cold. In fact, if you could place me in the coldest site available, well, that’d be great. Just don’t send me out east. I hear it’s hot, full of mosquitoes, and impossible to find water. Nope, definitely don’t want to go east.

I’m now staring at the map. I have to squint for a minute, is he pointing to Tanzania?! No, I’ve just been placed as far east as one can get in Rwanda. Basically, Tanzania. “I think you’ll like it here, Ian. They speak Swahili here.” Wait…what did he just say?! Judging by the panicked look on my face the other program coordinator steps in, “Well not really, don’t worry Ian. They speak Kinyarwanda and Swahili. And French!”

*     *     *

 I roll down the window and feel the cool night air. Outside the moon illuminates the mountains for as far as the eye can see. When anyone in Rwanda discusses the eastern province they point out how flat it is. Being from Wisconsin I guess I have a different definition of flat because what I see out the window is anything but. We descend the mountain and are driving over small bridges in the valley. ‘Rice fields’ I hear my titulaire say. He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder, ‘We’re getting close.’

The car pulls up to the Health Center, but it’s too dark to see much. Inside my pocket I hear my phone buzzing. Welcome to Tanzania! it says. Hm… I’m waiting for the driver (who I’ve been informed is my roommate for the next two years) to exit the car, but there seems to be some kind of delay. Pretty soon one of the health center janitors runs up with wheelchair and opens the door for my roommate. It now dawns on me…there’s a reason the car’s brake and gas pedal were attached to the steering wheel! ‘This man is handicapped,’ my titulaire tells me. I try to resist thanking him for overstating the obvious and instead nod in agreement. Soon we are heading up a dark path to the left of the Health Center, where, on top of a small hill, I see a little house. I should point out that emanating from the house windows is a nice yellowish glow…I have electricity! We enter and I sigh in relief. Many of my fellow trainees are living in their own houses alone but my site has me living in a small house with one of my Rwandan coworkers. Needless to say I was a little nervous about the whole situation but seeing a fully furnished living room makes me smile. Peace Corps gives us a generous ‘move in’ allowance that is designed to help you furnish your house for two years, but seeing as everything is already done in the living room I think I’ll have a nice bit of vacation money. The janitor grabs my bags and leads me to my bedroom. This will be my one private place for the rest of my service, and expecting some kind of Harry Potter cupboard below a staircase I’m pleasantly surprised to see a rather large room. About the size of a dorm room, except just for myself! In the corner of the ceiling I see a long red wire that stretches across the room and leads to a single plug. I begin thinking how much I’m going to love having electricity when…there’s a loud boom and the power goes out. As I discovered over the next few days, that happens a lot.

Site visits are difficult because no one is quite sure what to do with you, and after only four weeks of Kinyarwanda training our language skills could best be described as sub par. I spent much of the time exploring my new community and sitting in on a training session for community health workers. As much as I wanted to scream from boredom, I think sitting in on these sessions was good because it gave me the opportunity to meet nearly 50 different community health workers, people with whom I’m hoping to work with in the near future. I blew through all of my airtime in one day after an obsessive amount of texting and calling my fellow trainees, then had to make a rather embarrassing purchase of way too many phone minutes at one of the local boutiques. Which really only reinforces the stereotype of what a rich muzungu I am.

After staying at site for a week I boarded a bus and headed back to Kigali to meet up with some others in my group. We took advantage of being in the big city to eat out, and after several liters of beer and several plates of food, we were all very satisfied. We boarded a bus bound for Remera-Rukoma, and by nightfall were back home, safe and sound, with our families.

After almost two months here I’m beginning to fall into a routine. Unfortunately, since site visit, training has been a difficult ordeal. At this point in time, many of us are tired and anxious to get started with our service. At the same time I’m not looking forward to having to say goodbye to my family (who have been amazing) and to all of the great people I’ve met in my training group. In a few weeks, though, training will come to an end and we will be sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers. I’m excited, nervous, anxious, and most all…ready.

First Weeks

It’s hard to believe that I’ve only been here for a short time. The past two weeks have seemed to fly by, and though they certainly haven’t been easy, they’ve been some of the most rewarding days I’ve had so far (yes…as in, my life).

The buildup to leaving was a very stressful time. It seems to be an impossible task to pack up everything you own, say goodbye to loved ones, and then jet off halfway across the world to start a new life. Even as I was being driven to the airport (after having finished packing last minute as always) it all seemed a bit surreal. Is this it? I’m really going to be joining the Peace Corps?! Of course, in hindsight, the packing and flying were the easy part. Staging in Philadelphia was the typical orientation. Topics including hard pressing issues such as: hopes and fears, what did want to get out of the experience, why did we join, what is the weirdest things we packed? These two days were very hard for me, the buildup reminded me a lot of a roller coaster, it takes forever to get to the top but you know that once you do you’ll be in for a wild ride.

After staging we spent the next day (literally) flying, from JFK New York to Brussels, and finally down to Kigali, Rwanda. When the plane landed late that night, I was a mess. To put it nicely. I had thrown up, slept way too much, had no idea what time it was (or what day for that matter). As we descended the steps I was nervous, excited, panicked, eager, anxious. As I saw my bag coming down the baggage claim belt I was relieved and ready. Before I knew it we were shuffled out and into vans that would normally house…hostages (?), and taken to the Peace Corps compound in downtown Kigali. The air was cool and misty, and as we unloaded bags it began to rain lightly. The first night at the compound was interesting. Some people zonked out, while others (myself included) rolled around for most of the night. Add to that some of the crazy side effects from my malarial prophylaxis and it was not a good night. I fell asleep promptly around noon the next day during a quickie language class (quickie only in the sense that it was meant to teach us enough to navigate our first night with the host family).

Our group is a small one composed of all health volunteers. We range in ages 22-(well there is someone older but there is no way I’m going to ask how old), but I would say on average about 27. We come from different backgrounds, races, religions, states (although 4 from Wisconsin!), and experiences. Despite all of this, we’ve come to know each other well over the past few weeks and have bonded like old friends. Which is good, because without a good support network this would be a nearly impossible task.

After spending two days at the compound, we hit the ground running. We packed our bags and were bused to the District of Kamonyi, where we will be living for the first ten weeks of service. In the center of Kamonyi is the Peace Corps hub where we meet for technical training twice a week. The first day we entered the hub the entire one half of the room was full of Rwandan families. One by one a family would stand and say their name, and the director of Housing would announce their new son/daughter. It was full of awkward moments, but the whole time we were laughing (some crying) and almost dying of excitement. My host dad was there to greet me and eventually take me to my house. My dad is the town tailor, and our house lies on the main road (or The Strip, as I like to call it). Along with my host mom, I have a little brother and sister, 12 and 7. As far as living situations go, I couldn’t have gotten luckier. Each day is new and exciting, and of course full of awkward moments.

Training is definitely an intense process, and perhaps the most intense component is learning the national language of Rwanda, Kinyarwanda. I’ve read in some places that Kinyarwanda is one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn, and I would be apt to agree. I wish I could go back in time and kick myself in the balls for ever thinking Spanish was a challenge. A few reasons why: it’s a tonal language (so depending on what syllable you put emphasis on the meaning of the word can change), almost every word looks the same (memorizing vocab lists is near impossible), there are sixteen noun classes (English has two), and everytime I want to tell someone that I am a volunteer I have to say ‘Ndi umukorerabushake.’ Despite the difficulties, I feel like I am making progress, and I’m excited to see where I’ll be at in another eight weeks.

All in all this has been an incredibly rewarding experience and it’s hard to believe that it’s just getting started. Internet here is spotty, and none of the modems work with my computer. Because of that I can’t really check facebook that often, but really…that’s a good thing. My plan is to write up blog entries on Word, and then just upload them to the internet once I track down someone with internet. It seems impossible to describe everything that’s happened, so I’ll leave you with some of the craziest/best/worst/ moments so far.

Sipping home brewed banana beer out of a jerry can. Gross. Being called muzungu everywhere I go. Annoying but I’m getting used to it. Sitting through a five hour church service. Horrible! The satisfaction of carrying on a conversation with someone in Kinyarwanda. Rewarding. Looking up at the night sky and seeing more stars than ever before. Watching a storm cloud rush from one mountain to yours. Feeling the fog descend and seep in through the windows. Watching the sunset from your front porch and pinching yourself because you’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful.

Incredible.

Packing...ugh

I absolutely hate packing. The only thing that's worse is unpacking. Now while I admit that there is some bizarre satisfaction that comes with finding ways to cram everything into a small pack, packing is where some of my obsessive compulsions take over. I managed to mash all of my clothes into one suitcase, with mash being the operative word. I mean, once those shirts and pants are taken out they are going to be way wrinkly. I hate wrinkly clothes. Almost as much as I hate packing.

On a positive note, once I packed my bags and lifted them I was positive that I would be way over the 100 lbs we are allowed. Turns out I'm good, very good to be exact. All of my clothes came in at roughly thirty pounds. I haven't weighed the other suitcase yet but I'm highly doubting that it is going to be over 70. Now, the dimensions of my bags is pushing it a bit, but I'm just hoping the airport people let that slide.

At some point I would like to put together a list of everything I've packed, but for now...I'm too tired to even think about it.

New York, Madison, Africa Preparations, and more...

A lot has happened in the past few weeks since I last posted. Most notably, time has flown by. I can now count on my fingertips the days until I fly out to Africa. Which is exciting and nerve wracking and overwhelming all at once. I keep glancing at my list of things to buy before I leave and am dismayed at how far behind I am with packing. Being a notorious procrastinator, I was determined to be fully packed and ready to leave well before my departure date.

That, of course, will not be happening. I fully expect to be at Wal-Mart the night before I depart hunting something that I had been putting off.

In other news, I was able to take one last trip to New York to visit my friend and generally spend lots of money. My goals with this trip were many, basically involving food and drink. I arrived in New York late Wednesday avenue, and met Eric in Harlem (M60 Bus to 125th St I had that so well memorized). He handed off his house keys so I could drop off my suitcases and headed to his class. You see, he's a Masters student at NYU and does real important things. My trip to drop off the bags turned into one of those oh wow, there's a comfy bed kind of trips, and well...before I knew it he was calling my cell and three hours and passed and I was that bad kind of groggy that you feel after napping for three hours. We had a few beers and some pizza and called it an early night because I operate on an old person's schedule. I actually wanted to wake early so that I could head to the theater district and pick up some rush tickets for a show the next evening.

Now, I feel like this is a good thing to comment on. Rush tickets are basically student tickets that the theaters offer to those willing to get to the box office when it opens and maybe wait in line for a little bit. Most people who know me know that I love theater, and try to make an effort to see several shows whenever I'm in New York (I have an embarrassingly large Playbill collection). I had all of the shows I wanted to see picked out, and headed to the appropriate theaters the next morning to get my tickets. Except...I didn't get them. Any of the days. You see, the A train from Brooklyn to 42nd St takes too damn long and I wake up too damn late, and for some obscene reason was completely unable to get tickets to any of the shows I wanted to see. Frustrated. Of course, come Saturday I realized this was my last chance to get tickets to a show, when the usual suspects weren't working for me, I happened to notice a billboard for Jesus Christ Superstar. Now, I absolutely LOVE JCS (yes I call it that). I've seen it too many times. And yes, I realize it's generally awful, but oh so good. I know all of the lyrics by heart which again, is horrible. But it sounded like fun, Eric had never seen it, which is not acceptable, and before you know it we were waiting in the long line to get tickets...and...we got some! The show was amazing! Slightly cheesy, but I loved it. I'm pretty sure Eric did too.

Now seeing as we were going to a Broadway show at 2:00 and had a few hours to kill, we chose the manliest activity possible to fill our time: New York International Auto Show! The show was a lot of fun. It was packed and so I spent most of my time ramming into people and waiting like a little schoolboy for the chance to sit in some nice sports cars. Highlights definitely include: checking out the MINIs because, well, they're just fun and I'm pretty sure I'm want one when I come back from Rwanda (I know, that sounds very superficial. But come one...just look at them!) Other fond memories include drooling over some of my favorites (Audi A6 anyone, a VEYRON?!), sitting in a Miata while Eric makes revving sounds that would embarrass a small child, and riding in some simulator from hell a la Mazda. Also, I think at one point I was so hungry I sat down on the floor and downed a doughnut. Donut. How do you spell that?



Thursday and Friday were mostly spent walking around observing the city. I've done all of the 'touristy' things there are to do in NYC, so it was nice to just have a trip to wander around and explore. I love that city. Still not sure I could ever live there (I mean...can you kayak in the East River? Would you want to?!), but it's a great visit. Some other highlights included visiting the United Nations building, which...for a political science geek is a pretty big deal! Also, while most of my lunches included trashy street food gyros, we did stumble to some cool restaurants on the lower East side that were surprisingly good. If you can see the guacamole in the picture...well, it was everything I could have wanted and more. Of course I'm sure it ended up costing a a fortune, because when our $200 bill came all I could was laugh. And then cry. Then ask for more margaritas. (Just kidding. I went elsewhere to drink. Of course...elsewhere equally as expensive).

The trip was more than I could have asked for, but all good things have to end and so Monday morning I packed up and prepared for the bus/subway/something ride to the airport to fly out. My attempt to take the A train/G train/7 train last time turned out to be incredibly stupid because apparently no one uses the green line, so we came up with a much smarter option this time around. That doesn't mean it wasn't without its difficulties. There was a point where I was chasing a bus down a city block. All the while holding a McDonald's smoothie and rolling a suitcase behind me. I should mention that Eric was banging on the side of the bus the whole time. When I got to the airport I got all checked in and prepared for my departure.

Now, I should point out that while sitting in the LaGuardia food court (don't worry, I didn't actually eat there), I knew all along what was to come. And in today's news, Ian Allen shows some emotion... I admit, I don't always channel my feelings the best. I usually have some kind of cynical remark to mask how I truly feel. But the thing is...when you know in your head that this is a good bye for two years. It was a little much. Eric was very nice and walked me right to the security line, which really was a terrible thing to do because I had no idea how to say goodbye. I mean, the whole trip I knew I would have to. And it's even worse when you're saying good bye to your best friend. I just, gave him a hug, told him I had a great trip, and wished him well in his endeavors. I mean it was all very sincere and corny. He left, and I was staring at a very long long line ahead of me, with a very crabby lady behind me (she kept shoving her rolly bag into my heel. Apparently I was waiting too slow.) And then it all kind of hit me. This was awful and embarrassing and I'm not even quite sure why I feel the need to bring it up online but I want to be honest in this blog. Basically...I started crying. Not ugly crying, not someone I love is dead crying. Just...the realization of everything hit me. At this point the lady behind me stopped shoving her bag into me, and actually looked somewhat concerned.

Saying good bye to Eric was tough, and made even more tough by knowing that this was only the beginning of the Ian Allen farewell tour. Kind of like Cher. Since being back in Wisconsin, I went down to Madison to visit some good friends as well as my grandparents. And one by one I had to say goodbye to everyone. I was discussing with a friend who's abroad the other night about how much easier it would be to just pick up and leave and not have anyone know. I mean...I feel like it happens quite often where you go months, even years, without seeing someone. It's just the knowledge of the duration of your Peace Corps service that makes things so hard. And it makes you think about what you're going to miss.

I'm going to miss the great times I've had with my friend Danielle. We've been friends for a long time, and she's someone I know who will always listen to me bitch and complain. She was very nice to let me crash on her couch for a bit. And she may like red wine more than me...you have to have friends like that! Saying goodbye to Kelsey wasn't too hard because for all I know she will be working at the embassy in Kigali next year. She's just that kind of person. When she runs for President I will probably vote for her (president of Nicaragua, obviously). Saying goodbye to my grandparents was...hard. I'm going to miss them so much. I'm hoping the whole skype situation in Rwanda works out because I'd love to be able to chat with them from Africa. The whole webcam communication thing is very impressive to my grandma. Saying goodbye to Eric was tough. I don't see much of him anymore, but we generally talk a few hours every week. We gab. Like old ladies. Of course I know that that is not going to be happening too much anymore (calling abroad is uh--spensive!). I think what I'm going to miss most are the weekend mornings when he would stumble into my room, turn my light on and call me a 'ho,' then plant his ass in my chair as we discuss a myriad of topics. We really should get our own NPR show.

This is a pretty long post, so to summarize: trips to NYC good. Trips to Madison very very good (of course that may just be the old fashioneds speaking). Saying good bye...sucks.

I leave you with this picture, a shot of Manhattan I took while walking back to Brooklyn.

The Countdown

Four weeks from today I will be attending the orientation for my Peace Corps service. Of course, up until yesterday I had no idea when or where exactly this would all take place. In fact, I was half expecting to call Peace Corps and have someone say, "Ian Allen? Nope, I don't see your name anywhere here, are you sure you applied?" Because I'm always nervous like that.

Well fear not Ian! Yesterday I finally got the e-mail that I had been waiting for, staging for Health 4 Rwanda volunteers will be held in Philadelphia on May 8-9. Apparently no planes from Wisconsin are leaving for Philadelphia that day (or you know, maybe they filled up seeing as we're booking four weeks out!) so they are going to fly me in the night before and put me up. In a hotel. I think. The e-mail had several instructions, the first order of business was to call SATO travel, the agency that does booking for government agencies, and arrange my flight. To my surprise it was the easiest flight I've ever booked. I suppose the big difference is that normally I am checking kayak.com every 20 seconds to see the cheapest deal I can get. When it's not my credit card and money isn't the issue, well, arranging flights is much easier. They are flying me right out of Mosinee (I can smell it already...some of you know what I'm referring to) and then to Minneapolis, then eastward bound. Staging looks to be typical orientation fair, the kind I used to facilitate at our Study Abroad office, but I'm most excited to meet some of the other people who will be in my program. Many of us are part of a Facebook group for Health 4 volunteers and this has been a great outlet for quelling some of my nerves. I mean, let's be honest, I can be a bit of a nervous nelly, but I finally have an outlet for getting some of my questions answered. Better yet, others usually ask before I do so I don't seem as needy. Everyone in our group seems so nice and just as antsy as me to go ahead and get started on our new journey.

So the countdown has begun. Four weeks. In that time I have some ambitious plans. I mean...first and foremost I have to actually pack. I don't like packing...but I have four weeks, right?! Not only that, I have to pack up the stuff I'm going to be leaving behind in my parents basement. Which means, much of what I own needs to get thrown out. I don't want to return two years from now to a bunch of paperwork and old clothes I just couldn't get rid of. Second order of business is saying my goodbyes...and having some fun while at it! Tomorrow I am flying out to New Yaaawk to visit my old college roommate and basically blow a bunch of money. Fitting. I'm also looking at planing some trips to Madison and Eau Claire to say goodbye to friends and family. And then of course, before I leave there seems to be a mound of paperwork I have to get done. Financial stuff...you know, fun stuff. I've been putting this off for a while because getting everything figured out is such a pain and I have so much time, except I don't and I should really just get this done.

Long story short, I am a mix of nerves and excitement. I am a little stressed but don't have a whole lot going on. I wish I was leaving tomorrow, and yet am happy I still have some time to put things together.

The countdown has begun!

My favorite place

Today my dad and I drove to the cabin to open it up for the year. Apparently a whole family (colony?) of flies was keeping it occupied during our time away. Unfortunately many of them didn't survive the winter, I gave them a proper funeral by vacuuming up all their dead bodies. It was gross. The lake was mostly frozen, which surprised me because I don't remember it dropping below freezing...ever. Amazingly, the temperature inside the cabin managed to be a good 10-15 degrees cooler than outside, which is a godsend in the summer but today, not so much. After college, I left my bookshelf (and by relation all of my books) here, so I was glad to get the opportunity to recoger some of them to read at my increasingly boring job. I love our cabin. In the summer it is my favorite place to be: sitting on the wooden deck grilling steaks, drinking cold beers, going for long kayak rides, swimming in the lake. There are so many memories here, and I know that once I'm gone it's going to be one of the things I miss most.

Random Musings

It's amazing how sometimes in life nothing seems to be happening and yet you feel busy/satisfied nonetheless. Maybe that doesn't make any sense. Somehow I feel like nothing has happened over the past few weeks, and yet, they've gone by (rather quickly, I might add). It's no lie that my job is a monumental bore. I sit and answer phones, do surveys, and generally listen to people yell and complain about stuff. I get to read sometimes, which was nice (I love reading), but sitting and reading for 8 hours can cause the following side effects: blurred vision, hallucinations, dizziness, confusion between what is story and what is reality.

There have been a few highlights. I'm planning a trip down to Chicago in a few weeks and am looking forward to some big city living for a little bit before I head out. I had been itching to do a road trip somewhere, but with the price of gas and size of my bank account, that's probably not going to be happening. I've managed to save up a nice sum of money from working the past few months, but when I begin to add up all foreseeable expenses (things I still have to buy before I leave, 27 months of student loan payments to be made while I'm abroad, possible future vacations [while abroad], etc) the account suddenly goes into the negative. Of course, being one obsessed with planning ahead, I'm just going to have to begin penny pinching now. Which brings me onto another topic: why on Earth is booking a flight so difficult. I mean, I check the prices of flights one day: they seem good. They next day: $200 more! Next day: Waaaaay cheaper, but the flight leaves at 2 AM makes 8 pit stops resulting in a 16 total travel time flight that should only take about 2. I had thought about going to New York, but since I checked last weekend prices have gone up, up, and away (okay, it was actually me just looking away because I was so horrified). Is there someone stalking my IP address who gleefully raises prices when I'm not aware? Also, just for laughs I planned out a trip from Chicago to Kigali, in the even that someone I know should want to visit. I think I may have spit. Literally, I think I spit a bit. There wasn't a single flight for under $2500. Now...I checked this out a few months ago and prices seemed to be a lot cheaper, so maybe [again] I was looking at a bad time? I've been told that there was this magical time (10 years ago?) when people went to a local shaman type, dubiously named an 'agent of travel.' These people booked not only flights, but hotels, whole trips even! Of course, some idiot decided to try doing it himself, maybe got a better deal, but the gods have not been kind on those who followed. I'm assuming times changed because it's cheaper to book off of sites like Kayak, but it's such a headache I would almost rather have a travel agent do it for me. I will never know if I paid way more or less that I should have, but ignorance is bliss, really. (I actually hate that statement, but I think here it applies).

Okay, I didn't mean for this post to turn into me whining...there have been positive things going on in my life as well. This week I went to the annual Youth of the Year banquet for the Boys and Girls Club of Portage County. It was held in the Elizabeth Inn in Plover (you know it...the sketchy one waaaaay out in Plover that I swear caters only to 16 year old birthday parties and methed out ladies of the night). Of course, putting aside the scary looking food (I mean really...making pasta look that gross takes a certain effort), the night was a big success, and a lot of fun. I wasn't too keen on going (tired), but I'm glad that I did, I was able to catch up with some of my old co-workers and some of the kids. At the end it made me realize just how much I miss that job. It was never easy, usually required several ibuprofen upon completion, but for the most part I only seem to remember the positive moments I had. The kids were great, and they have such a unique outlook on life you can't help but change the way that you yourself think. I talk about this a lot with my mom (a fourth grade teacher)...working with kids is a lot of things, but it is NEVER boring. Which makes the time fly (unlike this job [yes...I'm blogging at work]). There are times where you are depressed, times where you are elated, times where you are stressed, but the moment you step in that door and the kids come running up to tell you about their day, all of that goes away, and you are there, in that moment only. Sometimes I wonder I'm embarrassed by how much easier it is to talk with kids than with others adults. I'm not sure if I would ever want to do this as a career, but for the time being, it has been a blast.

Continuing with the Boys and Girls theme, I have also somehow become the unofficial videographer for the club. Back in November, there was a contest put forth by the organization's Board of Directors: each club picks their most successful program (we picked my Healthy Habits cooking class...obviously), and submits a 3 minute informational video. The winning video would receive $250 to continue the program into 2012. Now...I've never been conventional about my video projects, and I usual have a difficult time explaining 'the vision,' so I'm sure my director though I was nuts when I tried to outline what our video would entail. During my cooking class I did a three month program called 'Eat this not that,' where we would look at healthy alternatives to the easy foods that have taken over America. Example: making homemade chickens nuggets instead of those deep fried sodium balls at McDonalds, making homemade spaghetti sauce and chili using only vegetables from our garden, etc. The program became quite popular (we are all starving around 6:00, and kids will never turn down free food). I wanted the movie to evoke the excitement of preparing a meal (from the garden to the plate), but also be fun and whimsical. Well...let's just say our video was phenomenal. And we won. I would put it on Youtube (because I'm just that proud of it), but of course, it stars kids, and I'm sure that seeing as I'm not their legal guardian it's somehow illegal. So...just take me word for it. I've also been shooting a lot of footage for the club's 10 year anniversary video. The final product was amazing. A local marketing group in town edited the final version, and I was impressed with what they did with a lot of the footage. I've always considered myself creative, and can be kind of a control freak over the projects I work on, so it is always fun to see someone else's vision. I shot a lot of interviews with the kids, and lo siento to the person who had to sift through the hours of footage, but the final product was very Kids Say the darnedest Things. I've been filming some other projects for them as well, and though I may be maxing out my pro bono budget a bit, I've enjoyed doing all of the work. I'm excited to get to Rwanda and attempt some documentary-style films when I'm there!

So again, a disjointed entry, but hey, that's how I think.