Initial thoughts upon returning...

     I'm back and yes, things are different and for a variety of reasons. I have been back in the country for just over two months now. I thought I would try to articulate a handful of the bazillion thoughts floating around these days...

     The truth is, my feelings fluctuate day to day. And if I'm honest with myself, they've been known to vary by the second. I'm trying to have grace with myself as all these feelings rush through me on the daily. But it does get exhausting at times. And there are times where all I want to do is chill by myself and watch TV. And that's OK. Wait, stop... did you really read that? It. Is. OK. Honestly, it is. I promise. I'm not saying this to worry anyone, I just want people to know where I'm at because I might not be able to express it in the moment. I think I've seen 5 friends since being back. If I haven't seen you yet, I'm sorry. Please know that I want to. But you see, I've come to enjoy the mora mora lifestyle. I'm going to slow it down, take it easy, and stress less about things. Now, this doesn't fit well with the American lifestyle ya'll are used to. I realize that, so don't be afraid to contact me and set something up. And it's OK to be very blunt about times and making sure I'm getting your messages. Sometimes I'm bad at replying but I'm not trying to purposely ignore you. Last week I got a three part text saying: Amanda! This is your wellness check. Are you good? I can not express how much that meant. *I'm not saying you need to start texting me to ask if I'm alright, I am.* However, I hadn't gotten back to a few messages from this friend. So she gave me a few days, and then checked in to the point that it got my attention and it registered that I needed to get back to her. So, thank you to that friend who gets it. Now, whether its the fact that I learned to chill out a little too well or that I basically went an entire year without having to make any plans, or just the fact that I suck at following through. I'm sorry that this is the case, but I guess that's just where I'm at these days.
     OK, so hopefully by now you're feeling better about the fact that I haven't seen you yet. Now, where shall I ramble to next..? Oh I know, how about the dreaded question of “what are you doing now?” and “what's next?”. I'm not trying to sound like a B!*#*, but those questions aren't helping anyone and sometimes make me feel like Sh!t. Now, logically I know you are asking out of genuine interest and most of you mean nothing by it. But what I hear is: why aren't you working full time? What are you doing with your life? What you're doing now clearly isn't enough… But guess what? Remember what you read up above? I'm OK with where I'm at. During our finial retreat in Madagascar, we actually practiced answering different questions that we might get asked upon returning. One that I pulled out from the envelope was basically “what are you doing now?”. I was like, oh great of course I would get this question! Others in the group already knew they would be starting school or had a new job lined up for when they got back, and then there was me. However, once again our fearless Country Coordinator, PK was there with words of wisdom. She said something along the lines of: It's OK to say you don't know. It's OK to say you're taking time to see friends/family and adjust to being back. And that my friends, is exactly what I'm doing. I'm taking time. I'm breathing. I'm evaluating what's important to me. I'm finding myself (nothing like spending a year not being able to be fully you, to make you realize how important it is). So maybe it doesn't always look like I'm doin a whole heck of a lot, but I promise you, I am. At least, I'm trying to. But to answer your questions: I'm working weekday/weekend programs for NISRA and I'm back with my old client doing some home healthcare. Is it full time work? No. Does the work have anything to do with my degree? No, not really. But I can tell you this, it's enough for right now. It's getting me out of the house, and getting a little money in my pocket. As for the future, I'd still really love to go to Puerto Rico and help with hurricane relief efforts. So that's what I'm looking into right now. That's all I got so far. Sooo stop asking! Ha (just kidding-ish) :)

     Another question people have been asking me is “what is it like being back?” And my dear friends, that's a really hard question to answer. It's weird, sad, exciting, different, annoying, good, bad... it's so many things. And it's all of this all at once. Remember me saying I'm overwhelmed sometimes? Yeah.. So anyways, I obviously had no idea what it would be like to return. I figured I would miss my community in Mada, but there's FB and I would be so excited to be home, that it would all be fine. Although I realized super fast that it's not that easy. I do miss my people and I miss certain aspect of life there (and sometimes FB actually makes that harder). Ultimately, coming back is way more than just missing people you left behind (at least in my experience). Besides the sadness that comes from leaving new loved ones behind, there's also that little thing of reverse culture shock. I really didn't think this would affect me too much, but it's surprising when it'll just slap ya in the face. Like being out for a walk and seeing tires sitting on the curb for garbage pickup and I was instantly brought back to the small village we visited and how the people there were so proud of their craft of making sandals out of used tires. I saw those tires and though of how many people could have shoes on their feet because of them. Or the day where I was being super productive and going through clothes and changing out summer for fall/winter attire. Then hours later as I'm driving somewhere I start to get teary eyed because I start thinking about the amount of clothes I have and the fact that it's absolutely ridiculous. Also, the one million options you have to pick from all the time here, wow! (and you thought I was bad at making decisions before) Those are just a few examples for you.

     Overshadowing all of this, is of course the loss of my dad. I feel cheated in a sense for not being able to put more efforts into processing leaving Madagascar and being back here. The other weekend I went to a lovely retreat with my fellow YAGM volunteers. We had intentional time to debrief parts of our year and learn about letting go and grief and so on. However, my head wasn't there for most of it. Because the fact of the matter is, that the hardest part of being home, is the fact that my dad isn't here. I have a hard time going to my parent's house. I haven't been able to go to my home church. I can't stop thinking about how unfair and messed up this new reality is. Like, it can't be real, can it? In anger I think, I gave a year of my life to go out and do some good, and this is what I get? Not only am I now forced to live without him, but I'm haunted by the fact I also missed all his “lasts”. I'm already starting to think about how crappy last Thanksgiving was, and now I'm not so sure how I'm even going to get through the day this year. Or I think about how much I missed Christmas Eve service at Zion last year, and I wonder if I'll even be able to handle it this year now.
     I miss Madagascar. I miss my people there. I miss my YAGM cohort. I miss my dad. I miss being able to say “parents”. I grieve over regrets. I grieve the fact that I might never return to Madagascar, I may never see those people that mean so much to me again. And I'll grieve the death of my father for the rest of my life. I think it's safe to say that I'm workin through a whole hell of a lot these days. I'm trying. I might be distant some days, or extra crabby. I know this, and I'm sorry.

** Edit 11/18/18

     I wrote the above words about 3.5-4 weeks ago. The day I finally felt ready to post it I was running a little late to leave the house and thought I would just post the next day. Well, that day came and my cat died unexpectedly. So, I thought I couldn't possibly post a blog saying I was OK on a day that I was very much not OK.
     And this got me thinking..... Maybe I shouldn't just say that I'm OK. Because the reality is, sometimes I don't feel OK at all. Sometimes I feel nothing, and sometimes I have a great day. Sometimes I want nothing more than to be around people, and sometimes I cant get far enough away. I guess what I really mean when I say I'm OK, is this: It's OK to not be OK. It's OK to take a few hours out of a day or hell, an entire day to sit and do nothing. It's OK to go through a variety of emotions in a 24 hr period. It's OK to randomly start crying in the car. And what I need right now, is to be at peace with this. To acknowledge where I'm at in life right now and have grace with myself. As long as I keep waking up, keep inhaling, keep attempting to live and love...... I have to believe I'll get through it all.
     Also, regarding Madagascar, I was recently informed by someone close to me that they wanted to ask me questions about Madagascar, but were afraid to. PLEASE don't let this be the case. If you have specific questions, please don't hesitate to ask. I love talking about my experiences. I just never know who really wants to know specific things and who is just asking to ask because they are seeing me for the first time. Some people are just fine with the “oh, it was a wonderful experience, very eye opening!” answer, but trust me I have more to say if you really want to know. :)

Robertho

     Life hasn't been all that rosy lately. There are certainly reasons these days that cause me to feel depressed. But that's not all life has given me. I also find reasons to smile. I'm so grateful for my placement at SeMaTo. Keeping busy all day with the kids is a lifesaver. Time with the kids usually means my brain doesn't have the room to wonder. 

     There is one special student who has really stolen my heart. Without a doubt, the days I get to see him are brighter. His name is Robertho and he's 7 years old. He is hearing, but goes to the Deaf school because he's Autistic and non verbal. Shortly before I had to leave for second retreat, he

 discovered that he loved me, and clung to me all the time. While I was gone on second retreat, I would get messages saying that Robertho was looking for me. The other teachers have started calling him my son. The fact that we have a special bond is clear to anyone who sees us.

     When I arrived back at SeMaTo after my dad's funeral, it was hard. It wasn't as easy as I hoped it would be. I wasn't in the house and surrounded by his things, but the loss still followed me. His memory, and the fact that he was no longer with us, followed me. Funny how life works. Everyone welcomed me back to SeMaTo with smiles and appreciation. Although it was hard, it felt good to be back. And one person in particular made me feel even better. You guessed it, Robertho! As I mentioned earlier, he is Autistic. So the thing about Robertho is that you are going to know exactly how he feels. He doesn't have the ability to hide his emotions or to “fake it”, what you see is what you get. And what I saw upon my arrival was one happy boy! It was crystal clear that he was excited that I was back. He smiled and hugged me, and wouldn't leave my side. And I knew this was a real emotion for him. He was excited, and that made me happy! My ears were so happy to hear his infectious laugh again.

     Not much has changed since my first day back. Every morning when he gets to school (usually late, so we are already in the church) he comes in, searches for me, lets out a giggle and runs over to sit by me. In the church the girls sit on one side and the boys on the other, except for Robertho. If I'm there, he's right next to me if not sitting on my lap. So even though I'm usually sitting there pretty tired and thinking about my bed, my morning is made when Robertho bursts through the door.
     I don't want it to sound like I don't have a good time with the other students, because I do. One of our new favorite activities is taking a million Snapchat pictures. They love the filters, and it's fantastic to see them all laughing and having a good time. I will certainly cherish those memories. I can't deny the fact though that I've worked with children with special needs for the past 10 years for a reason. I definitely have a soft spot in my heart for those students.

     I can say without a doubt that Robertho is one of my favorite humans. He has made my return to Madagascar have more meaning. And without him even knowing it, he has helped me daily to get out of bed, and remember what it's like to smile and enjoy the little moments. However, he is now going to make leaving Madagascar so much harder. I can not believe that I only have 6 weeks left at my site. How crazy that seems! I will be sad to say my good-byes. I have met some amazing people here, especially at SeMaTo. Social media gives me some reassurance in that area though. Although it's not the same as seeing people every day, Facebook will allow us to stay in contact at least. I'm sure I will still get emotional while saying “good bye” though. The connections made have been great, and the relationship will not be the same through a screen 10,000 miles away. One good-bye that I know will break my heart though, is leaving Robertho. He will not understand that I'm not coming back. Every other time I have left, I have returned. I will not be able to make him understand that my time here has come to an end. Thinking of him looking for me, makes me incredibly sad. But I am grateful for our bond nonetheless. So for now, I will cherish every moment I have with him and the other students. I will try my best to be present and enjoy the time I have left, not in my room alone, but outside with the kids. Smiling, laughing, and remembering why I came here in the first place.

 

Death

     After my dad's funeral, I came back to Madagascar. However, even here I can't seem to escape death. Not only do I constantly still think about my dads passing, but since being back I've also been around other people passing away as well.

     Shortly after I returned to my site, one of the teachers experienced a death in her family. Ramatoa is the teacher I work with the vast majority of my time. Her godson passed away unexpectedly during the night. He was one year old. It was a tragedy that rocked their family. It was devastating to me to see someone I care about hurt so much due to a death in her family. That pain for me was still so fresh and then I had to witness death hurt someone else.
The Malagasy traditions vary in regards to what happens when someone dies. However, each time a member of my immediate community has died, the tradition has been relatively the same. The family of the deceased brings the body to their house. The body is then on display in a room where the family gathers as well. The family sits there all day, while visitors come and pay their respect. Each time a death has occurred, the same steps are taken. First, money is collected to give to the family then we go to the house. Once we are there, we stand outside for awhile, then when it is our turn we enter the room where the body and family are. We sing a few verses of a hymn then someone talks on behalf of the group, then we pray, and then we sing the rest of the song. The money is handed to the family, and we shake the hands of the family members before leaving. We then congregate outside the house again for awhile before departing. This tradition is called mainangy fahoriana, I would compare it to a wake in the United States. I have been a part of this tradition three times since being in Madagascar, twice just since being back.
     The following week, the teachers went to the hospital on our lunch break to visit a student's mother. This visit definitely proved too much for me to handle. I was not ready to be in a hospital again. Although the hospital here looks NOTHING like the last hospital I had been in, the pain I felt was the same. The hospital room we were in had 10 beds in it with about half of the beds occupied. I realized on this visit that at the hospitals here, the families are basically in charge of everything but medical treatment. You supply your own sheets and pillows. These sheets are placed over a piece of foam which is your mattress. Think about how thin a sheet is, and how a sponge works. The stains on the beds that were not occupied were visible. I cringed. I was also super thankful for the resources the hospitals in States have. The families are also in charge of supplying meals for those who are sick. There is no hospital food to complain about. I was thinking of all these things as I stood at the foot of this lady's bed. I had never met her before, but I was brought to tears seeing the immense pain she was in. I wondered if she would have answers yet if she was in a U.S. hospital. I wondered how her medical care would be different. I was also selfish and thought of my dad, and cried for him. As we were leaving, we had to wait as a nurse and three other people, presumably family members carried a woman in a wheelchair up the stairs. No elevators in this hospital.

     I asked for updates on the student's mom often, and kept her in my prayers. However, yesterday we learned that she passed away on Sunday. So once again, the staff and some of the students walked over to their house to pay our respects. This was the hardest mainangy fahoriana for me to attend. I know what it's like to lose a parent too soon, I sympathized with the girl who just lost her mom. When the father of the deceased spoke to us and had to stop because he was crying multiple times, I also cried. Many people in the room were silently crying, it was an awful circumstance that we were all gathered. Later in the day the staff went back again with some of the other parents to pay respect to the family. We also witnessed the funeral (mamoaka faty), which I didn't know was happening until preparations were being made. People were seated and standing around outside of the home, and the body now in a coffin was moved from the back room to and empty room in the front of the house (it kind of looked like an empty store front). A priest was there, and a small service was held. While we were waiting for this to happen I kept my eye on our student, a 10 year old girl. I thought about how hard this was going to be for her to process at such a young age. Besides being so young, the girl is Deaf and her family doesn't know sign language. How is she supposed to even begin to process what is going on. I noted how she was smiling and playing with her cousin. I hadn't seen her shed one tear yet. At one point she went into the house and came out with her grandma. As soon as she stepped outside she broke down sobbing. I realized that she had just said good bye to her mom for the last time. My heart broke for this little girl. Not only did she lose a parent, but she was so young and I knew it had to be hard to understand. I watched her crying, and cried myself. I cried for her, and I cried for me. What a terrible and unpredictable thing death can be.
Just completely unfair.

I cry

     Although I just posted a blog, it was written over a month ago now. I almost didn't post it because it all seems so trivial now. However, those thoughts were valid at the time, so I shared. That post was about some physical expectations I had for my year here in Madagascar. I wrote about how they weren't becoming a reality. Here's the thing about those complaints, although not achieved in Mada, I can still work on those things in the States. I can get a tan if I really wanted to (but who am I kidding?!), and I can work on getting my hair healthier and losing weight. So even though these expectations were not met in Madagascar, there is still hope for them. The bigger picture remains that none of that even matters because there is one huge expectation I had that will never be realized. I expected to come home and see both of my parents. There were even recent talks about meeting up in Europe after my time in Mada. But now nothing I do here or there, will make that a reality. As my mom recently put it, my dad “flew to heaven” on March 23^rd. No matter how elegantly you put it, the truth is heartbreaking and life shattering. I won't be seeing my dad again.

     Now all I'm left with are the messages we exchanged just weeks before. Some of our last conversations were about traveling after Madagascar. He told me about how much he loved Switzerland when he went. He said it was beautiful and encouraged me to add it into my plans. He was in the process of figuring out if he could get dialysis supplies there so we could all be there together as a family. He also told me about therapy. He said it was scary to be in a nursing home, but he was getting stronger, and sounded so driven! He told me about the goals he had set, and told me sometimes he could even talk them into sneaking in an extra therapy session. He sounded so good, so positive, and was getting better... On March 8^th, I told him I went on a hike and would be leaving the next morning for our second stop on our retreat. I told him I wouldn't have Wi-Fi, but that it was supposed to be gorgeous. He told me to take a bunch of pictures. And although I did, I will never be able to show him those pictures now. On the 10^th, he told me he liked my hairdo, and the next morning I woke up to picture of Garfield hugging his teddy-bear Pookie. The caption with the picture read “A hug for Pookie!” This was the last “hug” I would receive from my dad. On March 12^th, I missed a call from him. I did not call him back, and am left to dwell on that. On March 17^th, we exchanged 2 messages each. The 18^th, I got a message that looked like a typo, and a pic of a hospital room. At first I was concerned, but then I thought maybe it was his rehab room and there was nothing to be worried about. I found out later, I should have been very worried. And why didn't I try to call him? Why didn't I speak to him one more time? These are questions I'll never have good answers for.

     Now I'm back in Mada. and the memories are haunting me. Not that I don't want to remember my dad, but I'm ready to be out of the stage where I want to cry every time I think of him. The other night I was doing my exercise and as soon as the stars came out I got teary eyed because the stars made me think of him. He had a deep appreciation of the stars and always tried to teach me about consolations. I could never spot them like he could. He told me to keep an eye out for one that you could only see in this hemisphere. But now I'll have to rely on Google to remind me which one he was talking about. I can always see 3 stars in a straight line above my building so I tell myself its Orion's belt, but he would know for sure. I get stuck on the little things too, like when I think of the fact that I don't need to bring sakay back, which is hot sauce here. And although he wasn't suppose to drink, (and I've only known him to have one drink in the past 8 years, which was with me in the Atlanta airport.) I was still going to bring rum back. And we were going to have a drink together. But now...
And the fact that he encouraged me to be here, and was proud that I was here is great. But now I'll never be able to share everything with him. He wont see my pictures, and hear my stories. And that kills me.

     The other night I decided to count how many Wednesday's I had left to teach at one of my schools before I left. I realized that the 4^th of July was on a Wednesday this year. I thought to myself that I should ask my coordinator if it would be appropriate to stop work at one place one week, and stop at another location the following week. I figured I would explain to her that 4^th of July was my second favorite holiday, and I didn't really want to spend it working, And then I immediately thought of my dad and our mutual admiration for fireworks. And I cried. I thought about how last 4^th of July did not go according to plan, and we did not spend it as we usually did. Mom and I had a wonderful time, but dad did not come. And then I thought of all the “lasts” I had missed with him by being here this year. We did not go to Chicago's International Auto Show like we have done for so many years. I did not spend his last Thanksgiving with him. I was not there to be with him in the hospital for Christmas. He wanted me here, but I missed so much. And the fact remains that no matter what I do, I can not get that time back with him. And I cried some more.
     I feel selfish. I feel selfish for being here, and wanting to be here this year even though I knew his health was not the greatest. But in my wildest dreams, I did not imagine this outcome. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was giving a year of my life to do some good in this world. And now I'm here trying to deal with the fact that when I get home, my dad will not be there.

     We were supposed to go camping. We were already talking about Le-Aqua-Na. We would get stakes from the butcher he liked and have a great time just like in years past. We made fun of the place down the road that sold “hard ice cream”, but we would definitely enjoy some together. Camping was one of our things... I'm grateful for the time we spent together, but it wasn't supposed to be over yet. We were supposed to have years of camping ahead of us. We were supposed to have many more Thanksgivings and Christmases together. My heart literally aches knowing that this wont be the case.

     People say “remember the good times”. This is fine advice. And one day I'm sure I'll be able to focus on these thoughts. But what am I supposed to do now when every time I close my eyes I see him laying lifeless in that hospital bed? I don't sleep much, and I continuously get sad at random parts of the day and night. I'm not saying that I never smile or laugh anymore. There are times I'm happy and not thinking about this new reality. But those moments don't last forever, and I never know when I'll go from fine, to sad with no notice. I often wonder if I made the right choice to return. I know I would be sad at home as well. At least I have a purpose here, and I'm finishing my commitment. I would also like to think that my dad would have wanted me to return. In the two weeks I was in America, I was told a lot about how proud my dad was that I was doing this. But, it doesn't make this any easier. I think of my mom often. I think of all the things I could be doing for her if I would have stayed. My dad wanted me to come to Madagascar this year, but he also would have wanted me to take care of my mom. So now, I can only hope that I made the right decision. I wanted to come back to Madagascar because my time was not up, I was NOT supposed to be in America yet. Also, I love my placement and my host parents and the kids I work with, and I did not give them a proper goodbye. But if I'm being honest, I also thought it would be easier. I thought I would be away from the constant reminder. But it followed me...

So what do I do now?

I get up every day. I enjoy my time with my host family. I spend time with the younger kids who always seem to have a smile and a “salam tompoko” to share. I spend time with the older girls who love to have conversations with me and although I often struggle to understand, they are patient with me and keep trying until I catch enough of it to respond.
And I remember my dad. I remember all the good memories I have of him. I look at the pictures I have of us on my wall.
I get sad. I cry. And I do it all over again.

Expectations

     Google defines expectations as: “a strong belief that something will happen or be the case.” The example sentence that follows reads: “reality had not lived up to expectations". Expectations can be a tricky thing. I've been wondering lately what made me think I could form expectations for my year abroad before leaving. For starters, I had never spent any extended period of time abroad. Secondly, I certainly didn't know enough about Madagascar to be forming such preconceived notions. However, those facts didn't seem to phase me, or others I spoke to about my year in Madagascar for that matter. Many people I spoke to told me what they thought I would look like upon returning from a year away, and it all sounded good to me. Of course I had thought some of the same things, and hoped they might be true. But I have to say that hearing it from so many others certainly made me think the chances of these changes happening were pretty good. I started forming expectations for my year in Madagascar before I even left for orientation; before I left the country, before I knew anything about what my year would really look like.
     One thing I thought I knew about Madagascar was that it would be hot and sunny. I say “thought I knew” because wow is it hott! Yes, two “t” hott! I was not exactly prepared for that. It sure is sunny though (when there isn't a tropical storm directly to the East of you like there is currently as I write). Others must have thought the same thing. I heard “you're gunna be so golden when you get back!” a lot. I thought, heck yeah! I'm going to get so tan in Mada. It's going to be great. However, the craziest thing has happened here. It turns out, that I have the same desire to not get skin cancer during my time in Madagascar as I do when I'm home in the States. So I often find myself lathering up the sunscreen before spending any amount of time outside. Of course, this is Madagascar and we are told to hold things loosely for a reason. There are certainly times where plans change and the message doesn't get to me. Like when I show up to teach my 6 classes (inside) like I do every Wednesday, and get told it's National School Day which translates into spending the entire time outside. This of course turns into a sunburn, which eventually turns into a bit a tan for a few days. I also have to admit that I have a chaco tan line. Which is ironically something I expected not to get. So although I certainly have more freckles present than I normally do in March, I'm still rather pale. My expectation of returning super tan or “golden” as I was told, will unfortunately fall short.

     The biggest expectation I had for my year away is that it would really give me time to focus on weight loss. I was going to have a year away from temptations, and I would make myself exercise all the time, I thought to myself before leaving. This thought was echoed by many of my friends and family it seemed. I often heard “you're going to lose so much weight!”, and I have to admit I was with them on that thought. I had no idea what my diet here would look like, but before I got here I sure had my expectations set. I wrongly expected that there would be a lack of processed snacks. Those are my biggest downfall at home. So a year without them obviously meant weight loss. Unfortunately they do have processed snacks in Madagascar, and some really good ones! And yes, I have found them. Since being here, I have learned that habits don't just change when you cross a border. I still like to snack. I still eat when I'm not hungry, and I even still binge on junk food. These are things I'm not proud of, but they are the facts. I also don't love exercising here any more than I did in the States and I can still easily find an excuse not to. I struggled with these things at home, and they have followed me. For whatever reason, I expected to become a new person just by living in Madagascar. Another huge factor that I did not take into account when setting up this expectation of weight loss, is the fact that I basically have no say it what is served for my three daily meals. I can clearly remember one night when dinner consisted of white rice, french fries dripping in oil and a cucumber and corn salad which had vinegar, oil, and salt in it. It was that night that I realized I would not be losing all the weight I had expected to lose. The two main foods I eat at the table are carbs and oil. I decided then that I needed to give up on the expectation of losing an exceptional amount of weight. It just wasn't going to happen. I have no say over my food. And when I do have a say, I find myself choosing cheese balls, banana chips, and cookies. So any exercise that I can talk myself into doing, would be in effort of not gain any weight here. I had to let go of my previous expectation in order to protect myself from huge disappointment. I have since come to terms with this new thought, but it wasn't easy to realize this expectation would not be reality.

     The last expectation I was holding onto unfortunately is also falling short. After I realized I would not be losing a bunch of weight my thought was, well at least I'll be going back with nice long hair! I figured I wouldn't by dying it or cutting it for a year. That had to mean I would return with healthier, longer hair! Now I find myself not even sure of this. I lose So much hair every day. I can practically make a wig out of the hair that falls out whenever I wash, brush, or touch my hair these days. It's actually been a bit scary at times. So instead of super long hair, I might be returning bald! “Will you still love me if I come back bald?” is a question I sent my mom about a moth back. A fellow Mada. YAGM who is experiencing the same thing had a friend tell her she might be lacking vitamin B12 which is found in meat and many foods in the U.S. are fortified with it. So maybe that is part of the cause and all I have to do is pop some vitamins. We shall see.

     The fact is, making all these expectations for myself for my year abroad before leaving was just stupid. I had zero idea what my year would look like, why did I think I could predict what I would look like after it? The hair example is a small one, more funny than anything. The same goes for becoming golden. I'm pretty used to being pale. However, I honestly expected to lose a decent amount of weight this year. This has been the hardest expectation to let go of. When I return to the United States in August, I will not be super-duper tan. My hair will most likely still be on my head and will be longer than when I left, but it won't be healthier. Lastly, I will still be overweight when I return. And that is OK. It has to be. But I will have changed in un-physical ways. I will have grown exponentially. That is after all, way more important. This year is about growth. And although my pre-living in Madagascar expectations are not becoming a reality, I know I am still having an incredible year. A year I will never forget and will always be grateful for. So, screw expectations. Live for the moment, and be present.

Travel

     My time spent in Madagascar so far has certainly been filled with adventures. Every day holds something new to discover. From new Malagasy words and signs, to new dishes on the table, to the variety of different customs, beliefs and superstitions; it is safe to say that I'm always learning something!

     One thing I thought a lot about during my New Year's trip was the topic of travel. Living in Chicago for about two years, I thought I had gotten pretty good with public transportation. As I got use to it, I also became pretty good at complaining about it. However, travel here is nothing like that of Chicago, and I have learned a deep appreciation of the transportation options we have available to us in the States.

     I left my hometown of Toamasina on December 27^th. My finial destination was Manakara, which according to Google Maps, is a mere 563.2 miles from Toamasina. However, the travel that laid ahead of me included three days worth of Taxi brousse rides, and stops in two cities, all before reaching Manakara. And, this was if everything went exactly according to plan. (Reminder, I am in Madagascar and we are told to “hold things loosely” for a reason). The plan was to leave Toamasina, and get to Antananarivo (Tana) on the evening of the 27^th, this was a nine hour ride. From there, a fellow YAGM and I would leave the morning of the 28^th to reach Fianarantsoa , a ten hour ride. At that point we would meet up with 3 other YAGM and we would all get on a brousse headed to Manakara, an 8.5 hour ride.

     When I arrived in Tana, I was told there were no tickets left for Fianar for the 28^th, the earliest tickets we could get were for the 30^th. This would mean missing the brousse that we already had tickets for, and not being able to travel with our friends waiting in Fianar. This would also mean missing a night in Manakara. The next 24 hrs. were pretty stressful, but thanks to some amazing people and a ton of help, we were able to get tickets for the 29^th, which kept us on track. This was bump in the road number one, and really nothing looking back..

     We all made it to Manakara and had a wonderful time. We ended our trip with a night on the farm in Vohipeno, where a fellow YAGM is placed. Although all the travel to make this trip work was expensive, exhausting and honestly just not pleasant at times, it was worth it to see my Mada-gals. As we started to make our way back to our sites, we got some news that some of our travel plans might have to change. Specifically, the two of us headed back to Tana would have to hold tight for awhile as Cyclone Ava took its course. Ava came and did a bunch of damage. Roofs flew away, markets were completely flooded out, at least one church and many houses were just gone, totally taken out by the strength of the storm. The cyclone also did a lot of damage to the roads. Roads were broken in multiple spots. Two bridges had been flooded, and washed away. There were also numerous landslides along the roads that were causing blockages. Unlike in the states, there are no alternate routs. There is only one main road that travels North to South. If that road is broken and has lost two bridges, you wait.... That's when your 11 day trip turns into a 28 day trip, and you have no say in the matter.

     What got me thinking of travel differences in the first place is the fact that the same day I was leaving for my trip, some of my Elgin family were also leaving on a trip. They were going to Arizona, which according to Google Maps is a whopping 1,763.5 miles away. They were traveling a little over 1,200 miles farther than I was. However, it was not taking them 3 days to get there. They had the option to hop in a plane that took them the 1,763.5 miles in about four hours. The fact remains that even if they decided to drive, Google says it would have taken 26 hours. (My trip of 563.2 miles took 27.5 hrs) And if something were to happen on one of the roads they were traveling on, there would be at least one if not more, alternate routs to get them to their destination.
I thought a lot about the luxury of travel options the States has while on my trip. It's not just the long trip options, but travel within the same city as well. I remember the days when I thought taking the Red Line home after work, on a night of a Cubs game was torture. It was so crowded and uncomfortable as people would rush in to try to get a standing spot. Then, while I was delayed in Tana on my way back, I accompanied Megan to work. In order to get back, we had to take a 45 minute Taxi-be ride on a van that was meant for maybe 20 people, but held probably at least 30 or more. Also, people talk a lot about how bad the traffic in Chicago is. I'm telling you, its nothing compared to the traffic in Tana. Again, there is only one route to get to where you, and everyone else is going. That night it took us two hours to get home. The next day, it took us four hours to get home. All the while we were sitting in the “jump” seats set up in between the seats that actually belonged there. So we were cramped up next to a stranger on each side, and with no back rest. I think my tolerance for a packed EL has increased!

     This is just one example of the many differences I'm seeing this year. Being in a country that is so different than you own, really makes you reevaluate things. One time while I was driving to Michigan, I got so lost! Like so lost that the GPS had to tell me “recalculating” multiple times. I had somehow ended up on a completely different road. But lucky for me, I was somewhere where there were multiple roads leading to the same spot and I got to where I was going just fine. And little did I know that standing in an overcrowded EL, is something I would learn to appreciate one day.

This is a taxi-be near Megan's. The guy you see standing in the back, stands there the entire trip. The van makes a few stops. As it does, the guy opens the door and people get on and off using the back door. He then holds onto a rope as the van pulls away.