Here goes..

Hello all, and welcome to my blog – something that is, it seems, as vital to Peace Corps Volunteers everywhere as water filters and anti-malarials. Most people start these things as soon as they send off their initial online application, but as you might know, I am a procrastinator. Plus, I didn’t want to jinx myself. That would have been embarrassing. Sorry for the length, I’m sure future posts will be shorter.

Deciding to Apply

I had actually seriously considered Peace Corps back in 2009 when, about to commence my senior year at UCLA, I thought to myself “Oh sh[ucks], what’s next?” I thought of the Peace Corps, which seemed to combine a bunch of things that I wanted to do – travel, new languages, cultures, and of course invaluable work and leadership experience. I even started my online application. But then, the time commitment – 27 months – seemed too much for me, and I abandoned the idea. I felt like I would be putting my life on hold to serve, an idea that now seems ridiculous. But hey, I was young and unwise back then.

Things changed when I discovered that a good friend of mine, whose opinion I value greatly, and whose values I, um, also value - was himself in the middle of the Peace Corps application process. I clearly remember exchanges that went something like this: Me (whining) “What am I going to do after I graduate?!” Him: “Well, you know what I think you should do after you graduate…”

I don’t know whether it was his experience that demystified the whole process for me, or whether he was just very persuasive, but I started to come around. I realized that I wouldn’t be putting my life “on hold” for two years – far from it. I would be learning, working, teaching, adventuring, and coming back to the US with that much more under my belt. So I re-accessed my barely started application (coincidentally, exactly 365 days after I had first begun) and began again. I finished while sitting in a hotel lobby in Philadelphia, where I had accompanied my friend on his pre-departure staging, and the next day, sitting in NYC’s Central Park. And here I am, almost exactly 6 months later, having just received my invitation to serve, and more excited than ever. So a huge shout-out to Eric Newton, PCV Extraordinaire, for giving me the push(es) I needed. I am extremely grateful.

The Application Process

I’ll make this part short and sweet. For those of you know who know me well, you know that I am not the most patient person in the world. So, the last six months have been trying – short bursts of action followed by long stretches of silence.

Here are the basic steps of the application process:

Online Application

The initial app is filled out online and very extensive, including personal essays and letters of recommendation. There is also an amazingly long medical portion, where they ask you about every imaginable illness or ailment that a person could have, save “death.”

Interview

Assuming you didn’t mess up your online app too badly, you get an interview with a local recruiter. Mine was in Oakland, lasted about 90 minutes, and was really relaxed – even though my recruiter, Travis, was typing everything I said. Whenever I stopped talking, he would pause, and look up at me – a new experience, as nobody has ever seemed that interested in what I was saying. Tip for applicants: speak French, they love it.

Nomination

My recruiter called me soon after that, and said, word for word, “Sooo, how do you feel about getting some volunteer experience in environmental education?” I said “So does this mean you’re nominating me for an environmental education program?” “Yeah, I was thinking about it. Sound good?” “Cool.” I got a letter in the mail a couple days later, saying I was nominated for a program in francophone Africa, leaving in March. I found a volunteer organization called “Environmental Volunteers” (how perfect is that?!) where I took a training course, and realized that I was the only volunteer trainee under the age of 40, most of the rest being retirees and scientifically dedicated mothers of third graders. I learned a lot of stuff, including the properties of salt water plants, and how not to totally bore kindergarteners.

Medical Evaluation

This was by far the longest and most frustrating part. The sheer weight of the package, when I pulled it out of the mailbox, was slightly terrifying. What followed was weeks and weeks of scheduling appointments, paper robes, shots, TB and blood tests, and even (this is embarrassing) my first cavity filling in 22 years. That’s right, boys and girls, my record was perfect until now. Although it was funny going to a voice lesson with half my face immobile from the double dose of novocaine I gladly received. And then, a month after I sent off the whole thing, I got an email requesting more forms. A bit more scrambling around phone trees and doctor’s offices, some more unusually helpful nurses getting gifts of French pastries.

Finally, fiiiiinally, two months later, I was medically cleared. But not the simple way, oh no, that would be too kind and easy. Instead they posted a vaguely menacing “A decision has been made. Please look for a letter in the mail” on my online toolkit, prompting another suspenseful couple days before it actually arrived. Sigh of relief.

Invitation

The last couple weeks, ever since I was medically cleared, I’ve been waiting to hear something from the placement office pertaining to where and when I might be departing. I was starting to think they might have missed my nominated program in March (a common occurrence), since the 6-week deadline for invitation was swiftly approaching. I wasn’t happy about that possibility. I kept my phone on me at all times.

So last Thursday, as I’m making someone’s drink, my phone starts vibrating in the pocket of my sexy blue apron. One hand holding the milk under the steam wand, I use my other to fish out my phone and – lo and behold – it’s the Washington, D.C. area code. Obviously I can’t answer my phone at work, even less so with this beady-eyed old woman staring me down across the counter (hate it when they do that), so I finish her (small, half-caf, dry, nonfat, uptight) cappuccino, practically jumping up and down in my eagerness to call them back. A couple drinks later, I tell my supervisor I’m taking a ten and go outside. The placement guy answers and starts asking me the same questions from the first interview – why do you want to join, what have you been doing volunteer-wise, how flexible are you in your choice of region/country/assignment, how do you deal with stress, etc – and my heart is sinking, thinking this will end with yet another infuriating “Well, we’ll look over your file again and call you in the next couple weeks...bye!” To my amazement, after all this, he tells me he’s willing to put me in a program for environmental education, in francophone Africa, leaving in March. He’s sending me the official invitation packet that day. I should look over it carefully, then contact them to accept or decline the assignment. I laugh. After all this time and effort and anxiety, I would have accepted a placement in the seventh circle of hell if he’d placed me there. I tell him this. “Don’t worry,” he says, “We don’t send people there. Too much political turmoil.”

So yeah, it was a long six months. Luckily, I had two jobs to distract me. In one I got yelled at, and in the other, I got to do the yelling, so they balanced out nicely. That would be working in a French café/bakery, and coaching for my old high school rowing team. Both invaluable jobs, in their own ways. From the café job, I learned A) how to do awesome latte art, and B) Don’t get between a suburban adult and their daily fix. I had to tell everyone, one early, chilly morning, that we were out of espresso – decaf only. It was a traumatic couple hours. I had no idea how many people had “death stares” as frightening as mine.

Coaching was an awesome experience, especially since it was my own club and alongside my own old coaches. Among other things, I learned A) be encouraging, understanding, and yell rarely – that way, when you’re really pissed, they pay attention, and B) plain old patience. I admire the people who do this year after year. So much patience. Deep breaths. Hopefully that will help me in my upcoming adventures, as I don’t see me making too many espresso creations in the near future.

So, here I am, headed to Senegal. It’s another 6 weeks or so until I actually leave, but I have something to keep me occupied in that time – a three week trip to Europe and Africa! It’ll be fun, especially with my abrupt change from frigid German winter to tropical Beninese heat. Talk about a bipolar packing list. And a pre-Senegal crash-course in West African survival techniques may come in handy too. Thanks in advance, Eric. Please, stop laughing and let me know if I start breaking toooo many cultural rules right away. I’ll make sure to leave my fishnets and stripper heels at home.

Until next time!