School has been in session for two weeks, and I almost know the names of all of my students. I've assigned some of them alter-identities for mnemonic purposes: the kid who looks like my brother, the student who is really a dinosaur (the spiked hair), the one who looks like a miniature Michael Jackson... Yesterday little MJ sung his way through a quiz, and I held it together, but just barely.

There is a holiday on average once a week here. Last week we had Friday off to celebrate Gospel Day: the day the missionaries arrived on the island. There were games, singing, and some pretty excellent reenactments. The missionaries came from Massachusetts, so I got extra points. Next week Tuesday is off just because, then the week after is Liberation Week. In honor of the FSM's independence from their trust territory status, we will have a week of festivals and canoe racing. (Yesterday we were courteously told by a volunteer's host parents that it's difficult for white people to steer canoes, so not to worry if we do badly.)

So the part of me that's been a student for as long as I can remember is thrilled about all these holidays.

The idea was to segue into a conversation of church but let's just pretend that happened. The island is very religious, sort of. Everybody goes to church on Sunday. But it is also illegal to do anything but go to church (and rest) on Sunday. And Saturday is the weekend, which means nothing much goes on on Saturday. So... by the time Sunday comes around, my mindset at least is "well yesterday was nice and relaxing. And I'm obligated to do nothing today... I might as well go to church for an hour and listen to the awesome singing." And I think it might be that I'm not alone in thinking that.
Also, the pastors run for election (for pastorate) on the same ballot as the mayors and senators run for their positions.

Because the school day is so short, and because we are encouraged to volunteer elsewhere on the island, I'm going to start working with this organization: http://kosraeconservation.org/ . Specifically, I'm going to help out with the marine biodiversity project, part of which includes reef monitoring via scuba diving. Hooray!




(the sunset, five minutes from our house)

this is how I roll

That was the caption on a student's shirt the other day -- a shirt that featured a roll of toilet paper. Teaching is going well! The students are hilarious but respectful and love being asked what they think, so things look good. Stories soon.

Someone made the irrefutable point the other day that if I'm to blog about all the free time I have here, I should spend some time blogging about what it's like here. So... here is what things are like.

Tuesday.

5:28 am -- Anticipate alarm going off in two minutes as your room lights up as the sun rises over the ocean between palm fronds right outside the window. Wish for 20/20 vision. Turn off the fan so that a. you have more incentive to get out of bed and b. the cold shower becomes more attractive.

5:30 -- Alarm goes off. Roosters are crowing. Silence the alarm. Roosters keep crowing. Wonder why they're still crowing -- you've already gotten out of bed. Realize they are roosters, not alarm clocks. Wander outside to plug in the water pump. The water pump is surrounded by a dozen or so hand-sized spiders keeping vigil from their webs. Almost appreciate your lack of 20/20 vision. Grab the section of PVC pipe on the ground to poke at the spider sitting on the plug, watch it scurry away. Plug in the water pump.

Shower, etc.

6-6:30ish -- Bike to school. Spend the first mile on a causeway with the Pacific sunrise to your right and the mountains to your left. Slow down, think about how beautiful it is, think about how you should take a photo except that you're on a bike but someday you'll take a photo. Turn left at the end of the causeway as you make your way into Tofol, the capital. Start to watch out for dogs. Turn the music up on your ipod because the dog barks are actually much scarier than the dogs themselves. Say hi to your students waiting for their bus. Keep going as you remember that this part always takes longer than you think it does. Bike past several small food kiosks and bakeries as they open for the day. Make sure that the music on your ipod isn't so loud that you can't hear cars passing you.

7-7:30ish -- Arrive at the high school! Lock up your bike, walk (gingerly; it's been raining all night and everything is slippery) up to your classroom on the third floor. This is particularly exciting because it is the only third floor on the island. The principal calls it "the sky." Only juniors and seniors have class on the third floor because it is too dangerous for the younger students to be up there. Go over the lesson plan for the day. Try to switch on the lights and fan, but realize there is no power just yet. Pull a skirt on over your pants, because women have to teach in skirts. Take your time walking back downstairs, cross a muddy field of high grass to the big plastic water catchman behind the high school. Pass by a series of catchmen attached to the high school that are unsafe for drinking (see postscript), say hi to whomever, go back to your classroom, wait for your students.

8:30 -- Students walk in, class begins, huzzah, etc. They sit there and learn things, maybe, and then leave.

1:40 -- School's out. Decide to search for papaya. Bike away from home for a while. Stop at a few stores. Ask for papaya. No papaya. Keep going. "Oh, you just missed one!" you are told. But this particular store owner grabs a big stick and crosses the street to his house, jabs at a papaya tree for a while, then hands you the fallen papaya (hooray!). He then tells informs you that you are obliged to keep shopping at his store, which is fine. Bike back valiant with papaya in tow.

2:30 -- Realize you are home and the day is done and it is 2:30. A good time to relax. Take a cold shower.

3:15 -- All done relaxing. Ride your bike to the super beautiful beach three miles north of your house. Plan to watch the sunset there and bike back.

3:50 -- Rainstorm. Which you should have anticipated, because it hasn't rained yet today. Also because of the clouds. Take shelter under a thatched roof by the beach. Wait for the rain to subside. Bike back. Savor the feeling of being cold.

4:30 -- Arrive back home. Cold shower. Read. Think about lesson planning for the next day, before realizing that you've already finished planning for the week. Write some letters. Think about the feasibility of having someone mail you vacuum-packed cheddar. Think about all the other things you'd like people to mail you. Stare out at the ocean.

5 -- Take a walk.

6 -- Spend a surprising amount of time watching the puppy chase a frog around your backyard. Play volleyball with the neighbors' kids. Think about dinner. Waste time online.

7 -- Dinner. Unplug the water pump, say goodnight to the spiders.

7:05 -- Skype, read, clean, etc.

8-9ish -- Go to bed

2 am -- Be woken up by the loudest thunder you've ever heard. Feel momentarily homesick. Attempt to switch on the lights. Realize the power is out. Resort to your flashlight. Realize there isn't much to look at. Fall back asleep, listening to the pounding of coconuts falling off their trees.

Wednesday

6 -- Wake up. Still raining. No power, no shower. Be glad that at least you don't have to plug in the water pump today. Start to walk to school. Think about how you should ask someone to mail you a rain jacket. Get offered a ride when you're halfway across the causeway. Engage in small talk with the benevolent driver. Comment on his flawless English. Learn that he lived in New York for ten years while he was the ambassador to the United Nations. Well, that is cool.

6:30 -- Get dropped off at school. Sit around and read for the next two hours.

8:30 -- Five out of 25 students show up to first period. The others are on the bus that is late. Give them a task to fill the time until the rest of the students show up at 9. Class is over at 9:15. Realize you forgot to change out of your pants. Oh well.

1:40 -- Walk over to the "electricity building" to buy "cash power" -- kilowatt hours for your house. Pass by the police station on your left and notice they've trimmed the grass outside their building to read KOSRAE POLICE STATION. Think about how this is an impressive task, given that there are only four police officers on the island, the chief of which is named Robin Hood, which shouldn't have anything to do with their landscaping abilities, but is a good fact nonetheless. Get cash power. Linger because the building is excellently air conditioned. Leave reluctantly.

2:20 -- You are still not home because you don't have your bike, although it is not raining anymore. Hear a truck slow down as it passes you and the driver yells, "Hey Sammy, want a ride?" (Your name can't be Sam here because Sam is a boy's name and a last name but not a girl's name. Samia is complicated, but Sammy is ok.) It is Nixon, the papaya man. Jump in the back of his pick-up truck (be thankful for pants). Ride home in style.

2:45 -- You're home, etc. Do what you did yesterday. Bake some cookies. Go on a rampage and kill some mosquitoes. Read, write, walk around, bike around, do yoga, take some cold showers, etc., etc., etc.



ps. a funny story about water (mom you can now stop reading):

The principal of the school is named Talutson Isaac. He is an excellent person, and always in the best of spirits. On the first day of school, he announced to us that the water in the catchmen was unsafe to drink, but not to worry: his brother, Isaac Isaac, is an excellent contamination specialist who would soon restore the integrity of the water.
Yesterday, my roommate Ben ran into said Isaac Isaac.
"Ben, nice to meet you. Do you know..... Rick?" Isaac asks. Rick is our field director here.
"Yes."
"Do you live with him?"
"No."
"Do you talk with him?"
"Sometimes."
"When you talk with him, tell him..... His water is very bad."
"Ok."
"Very, very bad. Not safe to drink."
"Ok."
"Soooo much E. Coli!" (said with the same sort of surprise satisfaction you would use to talk about the "sooo many stars" you saw on a particularly cloudless night, or the "sooo many people" who wished you happy birthday. sort of like that)

Actually, Ben hasn't told Rick yet. I should probably go do that.

geckos

This morning as I swept rat poop and dead crickets out of my classroom, I thought about how I am here -- in a different way from being other places. The problem is I still can't figure out how to describe it. It's something like a distinct lack of "and then" or "so that later" to being here and to the things I do here. There are deadlines, but there is so much time to meet them that (for the first time?) they are stresslessly achievable. Maybe the feeling is a lack of urgency. Whatever it is, it's contagious, and I'm going to say that it was here before I was. And mostly, it is super pleasant. Sometimes -- once, on a rainy day -- it feels like being on a very long train ride, but in general it feels like being somewhere without needing to be anywhere else.

Tomorrow is the first day of school. So maybe that will be the end of this pleasantly purgatorial phase. (But maybe not; my workday goes from 8:30-1:30 with an hour-long break.) In any case, it will be exciting and probably a little intimidating and all those other things. So here goes!

bananino

salt air like a broadcast

7/28

Today I cleaved open a coconut using a machete and I kept all my fingers.

It's been close to two weeks and I think I have learned a lot -- about the language, history, etc., of Kosrae. But only a little about the culture. It is complicated and will take a while.
Even with 9 hour days of Orientation, there is a ridiculous amount of time. All the time I never had in college and high school was here all along. Here with all the frogs ever.

So it has been good so far. The start date of school has been pushed back to August 15, and I will teach geography and music to juniors and seniors. Ok. It still feels like high school was too recent for me to be teaching it, but maybe I will just grow old really quickly.

I miss friends and I miss Quesadilla Friday, but here is a good place to be. There is still so much that is surprising -- people eat their dogs, but not their chickens; everyone is into either Eminem or Elvis (but never both); coconuts from the sky; I have to dodge giant crabs while biking to school. It's something like a bizarre time warp, or a dream where things are just familiar enough to make the dreamstate ambiguous.
At some point, I will/should/hope to use all the aforementioned time for thinking. But for now I think I will just acknowledge and maybe even squander it.

8/1

I am now with home. My roommates Lizzy, Ben and I live in a converted motel fifty yards (fewer?) from the ocean. We have two coconut trees in our backyard and a dog named Saddam in the front. Saddam is a big bully who barks and barks when we go near, in, or out of the house, but he is a sucker for being petted and asked how much he likes the scratches.
I will be the first to get fleas.