missing "home"

Rule of thumb amongst volunteers is it takes a day to transition back to being at site after being gone for training or vacation; time to adjust back to work and the atmosphere. Two consecutive trainings down and another starting tomorrow brings hurried transition before I am swept away again.

The first training had me headed for Subic Bay, the old stomping grounds of the US Military. The training was for new PSN (Peer Support Network) volunteers to gain more knowledge and skill in order to help fellow volunteers during times of hardship or frustration. Seventeen of us, along with PC medical staff, road a coach four hours outside Manila over winding roads with a sun setting, mountainous horizon. Sadly, I don’t see this beauty often enough as a city girl so I soaked it in. We crossed over appropriately tagged (pardon my language) “Shit River” to the isolated mini-America. No traffic or pollution; lacking the ever-so common stray dogs and sari-sari stores. Manicured lawns and strategically placed palm trees were highlighted by the street lamps. It was a soundstage, like walking onto the set of The Truman Show. The city that encompasses Subic is Olongapo, a city full of poverty and grime. Going between the two was an instant culture shock. I did not like the quiet, desolate Subic, an American suburb out of place. At least my time was consumed by the training with a perfectly chosen group. Role plays and passionate, knowledgeable exchange ensued over the three days. I look forward to our outreach activities to come.

I once again returned from the great north with a cold. I took half a sick day to rest and recuperate. That left me with only a day to prepare my role as a co-Lady of Ceremony for our SNP (Supervised Neighborhood Play, a community-based preschool program) graduation. I chika-chika’d about the trip with my co-workers while attempting to brush up on some Cebuano and follow-up on a grant application. The graduation was fun and I managed to squeeze out a few lines of Cebuano when introducing the activities; thankfully no inspirational speeches this time. The seventy-five 4-6 year olds were adorable and happy as ever to be moving onto kindergarten or first grade. A joyful brief stop back at site before another training.

Off I was to Dumaguete, my homeland during my beloved three month training period. I was excited to mosey around my old stomping grounds with my fellow training-mates. The city brought an instant feeling of refreshment. The clean streets and relaxed atmosphere left me nostalgic for my early days in country.

The purpose of this visit was language camp, three days of Cebuano immersion and expansion. Through games, grammar lessons, and learning technical CYF-related vocabulary, I felt I at least gained more than I started with. Less intensity than I anticipated; it is up to me to continue pushing myself to improve my fluency. I was able to see my old host family on two occasions. First, I was mauled in the mall by hugs and screams of joy. Funny and kind as ever we picked up right where we left off. An earful of stories from the young girls and plenty of inquiries from the older ones. I visited their house on another evening. It seemed so long ago that I was putting together puzzles on that living room floor with Joie or studying at the dining room table with Marienne. I loved rehashing old memories while being surrounded by their care. Unlike some other volunteers, I don’t loathe these host family encounters but look forward to them.

I never thought I would say this, but five days was too much. It could be the time away from “home” and becoming overwhelmed by being constantly surrounded by other Americans. I was ready to leave. I miss the idea of Dumaguete, the memories of time past, but it is not where I belong anymore. I yearned for the normalcy and comfort that now lies in Cebu. I hardly unpacked and was getting ready for an overnight work retreat just outside of Cebu. I was thrown back into the beat. A weekend of reviewing my NGO’s successes over the last two years and revamping the strategic plan. Over meryenda breaks and down time I was working ahead on projects for April. I will barely get through this transition before I leave yet again for Manila. My counterpart and I are headed to a five-star hotel (no idea why it is the venue) for a HIV/AIDS training by PC and USAID. I am incredibly excited we were chosen to attend the four day training along with 19 other pairs. I foresee a week of work by day and sightseeing by night. I am eager to take what we learn and disseminate information to various communities and development workers.

After this trip I will have a week and a half back at site before returning to Manila at the end of April for Easter weekend with friends and yet another training. I am incredibly lucky to be a part of various trainings and professional development activities don’t get me wrong, but the clustering of them is exhausting. I miss out on amazing activities my NGO is implementing and feel out of the loop. I miss my room and my routine at night. I miss my new life, the home I developed. 

May has never sounded so good.