From Guyana-land to Paradise and Back

“The traveler’s past changes according to the route he has followed: not the immediate

past, that is, to which each day that goes by adds a day, but the more remote

past. Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he

did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer

possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.” –Italo Calvino

Soon after arriving in Guyana, I marked BARBADOS in big, bold letters on my calendar for December.  I barely knew much about Guyana, let alone Barbados, but that was where I was determined to go in December, even if I had to swim over myself and pitch a tent somewhere.  I only really knew there were white sand beaches and clear water, which was enough to spark some interest.  The flight promised to be reasonable and what other time in my life would I be so close to this country?  As time went on, rumors of other volunteers’ visits lapped in my ears.  Delicious foods like sushi, time to relax, no trash, places to go out further fueled my desire to go.  Still, quite characteristic of myself I barely made our flight out.  I am highly motivated by food it seems and I just had to stop at Bruester’s before Matt, another volunteer, and I headed out.  Nevertheless, we made it and an hour plane ride later, we stepped foot in Barbados.  I also got to meet up with my two good friends from home, which was amazing and comforting to see them.  Just being able to hang out with them like old times made the trip even more worthwhile. 

            Barbados was like having one foot in the Caribbean and one foot in America at the same time.  It was glorious.  We went into the supermarket and I think I did back flips and cartwheels in sheer joy.  Luckily, Matt was there to share my excitement because my two friends from home were sort of like “Really?  It’s just a supermarket!” I think I blacked out at some point of that shopping trip and woke up somewhere in the cheese aisle drooling with like 5 different types of cheese already in my basket. 

 I did sort of resist things at first.  Maybe it was a little reverse culture shock.  I went running and was annoyed by how touristy things were. Where were all the mango trees, the market to buy greens?  Is that a Soursop tree?  Where did all these other white people come from?  Is there any Bajan food?  Then I started to notice, no one was yelling or sipping at me while I was running.  The streets were very clean, no trash.  There were public buses that were big, and ran relatively on time.  I could walk around and not have to worry about people bothering me or being chased by angry dogs.  Suddenly all of the stressors I just factored into my everyday life were lifted and I was conveniently left with white sand beaches and the clearest blue water I had ever seen in my life.  I did however, not forget about Guyanese culture.  I asked for pepper sauce when I ordered my food, I had a few phrases and a slight accent I couldn’t shake, and I was making comparisons between the Guyanese and Bajans. 

“You like pepper?? Where are you from?”  “Your accent is interesting, where did you learn that phrase?”  “You live in Guyana?  Are you married to a Guyanese?” 

I probably was irritating with my inclination to compare Guyana with Barbados, but it was interesting to me.  Those comments made me feel a little less touristy because I felt like I actually knew something about Caribbean culture.  It was probably also driven by the heavily ingrained Peace Corps doctrine to integrate, integrate, integrate.  I noticed I did possess a confidence to navigate a new place.  I road on the public buses, not entirely sure where they went; I got pretty lost one day and just asked people until I found my way.  I wasn’t worried or scared, I had been navigating a new place for 10 months now and it was sort of old hat.  It was also funny to see some things that my friends were worried about, such as no A/C, bugs, lighting a gas stove, I just sort of shrugged.  I’m sure it was funny for them to see me freak out about having some of my clothes washed by a washing machine, being able to do my hair, and did I mention eating lots of good food?  I even smoothed talked our way to get into this sushi place when the guy originally said they were packed.  “But we are Peace Corps volunteers living in Guyana” I pleaded, “this is our one real shot at sushi for a long time, we can sit at separate tables, it’s not a big deal.”  As long as we got to eat sushi and we did.  

I was relaxed, comfortable really and I didn’t even realize that I had needed a vacation.  Luckily, those bold letters were marked on my calendar and I followed through.  I saw beautiful beaches, hung out with my friends, and maybe stayed up a little too late.  Did I mention it was glorious?  As the last day of the trip rolled around, I started to get this feeling of anxiousness that gurgled up from the bottom of my stomach.  I had found something I didn’t know I missed or had just buried it far enough down so I didn’t think I missed it.  If you look at my last blog post, I talked about being so invested in Guyana.  I do care, so why did the very thought of going back made me so horribly uneasy?  I still don’t think I can quite explain it, but the aforementioned quote might help a little. 

“The traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess”

In the new land of Barbados, I dug up things I no longer possess in Guyana.  I am pretty certain we bury those things because it just makes life easier.  It doesn’t mean that you don’t want them back; they are just treasures waiting for another day.  Unfortunately, when you aren’t yet half way through your service, digging them up and burying them back again can be a bit painful.  It reminds me that doing Peace Corps and living in Guyana takes a lot of motivation.  I have lived here for long enough that I didn’t notice the absence of those things as much; I just took it in stride.  We always talk about not having the “real” Peace Corps experience living in Guyana, but it is safe to say that we do face our share of challenges. 

I would love to go home for the holidays but judging by my reluctance to leave Barbados, I am not sure how I would have handled leaving home again.  Fortunately, the other volunteers leaving Barbados felt the same way and we were able to commiserate.  We all made the choice to be here and we all know we want to be; sometimes it just takes some extra convincing, especially when you are leaving a place close to paradise.  Now Barbados is starting to seem like some sort of dream as my mind becomes clearer of my present circumstances.  It all did happen I am certain (and have photo evidence), but the further it escapes the view of the rearview mirror, the more reminding you have to do.  At some point you just get tired of it and set your eyes on enjoying the present. If all else fails, just turn up the music and dance.

                                

I now get to enjoy a 3 week break because my students have a Christmas concert and dinner this week and then 2 weeks off after that.  I will be attending several Christmas concerts, dinners, and holiday lightings.   We also are getting together as volunteers to celebrate Christmas and possibly New Years.  I am sure I will find more things to keep myself busy and get ready for the start of a new year.   My little neighbors are also mad at me for being away so much so I bet a lot of my time will be spent with them.  I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas and an excellent New Years!!!  I will be thinking about you all as I celebrate in Guyanese fashion.  :-D

Lots of Love,

KB

P.S.  I was reminded that Guyana still has snorkeling and a wonderful beach! :-)