Woman Ambae:
A Tale of Peace Corps in the South Pacific

As the months roll by, quickly approaching one year in country, America seems almost a distant dream. Time apart from the many distractions of the modern world has afforded me a unique kind of clarity and opportunity for reflection on my life to date, particularly of recent years. It seems prior to departure my life was largely a series of inconsequential tasks to accomplish, people to impress and places to fly to in a hurry. Indeed, any personal misgivings this might imply also suggests a larger cultural fault. It seems to me we’re all rushing around with a carrot in front our noses; I wonder if we even remember what we’re chasing after anymore and what we would think if we stopped long enough to let our thoughts catch up to us. Does the quest for greatness, the pursuit of the "American dream", inherently hinder our ability to stop and smell the roses? Or have our values become so skewed in the chase we’ve simply forgotten the importance of the journey in favor of the destination? I find it hard to recall why it was so pressing to keep pace for want of a mcmansion and a platinum card in the first place.

Never the less, the longer I’m away from America the more find myself forgetting her bad parts altogether, what drove me from her in the first place. But isn’t this true with most extended separations? Time softens the edges, whittles away at any ill giving or once perceived deficiencies until you’re left with but the simple charm of the whole, a pleasant pallor of detail, the very skeleton of the thing: the corner grocery, a Sunday morning brunch, the steady hum of a city side street- a world in itself.

Is it true what they say, distance makes the great grow fonder? Or does it but make us an opportunist of memory, tricking the psyche’s sentiment in all discretion with what seemed to have been, might have been, rather than what was?

Time makes believers of us all.

Photos from last Saturday, a typical day in the village.

Photos from last week's unexpected trip to South Ambae to assist in some research/clinics with a group of professors, doctors and students visiting from the motherland, Japan and Sweden. It seems no two days are the same in the Peace Corps, I began my week teaching at the school as usual, journeyed to the deep south for some excellent quality kava and malaria/chronic disease work with some unexpected visitors and new found friends, and ended the week with a three hour boat ride in a tropical storm back to Lolowai in which I tossed my cookies more times than I can count and envisioned many a headline along the lines of, "Peace Corps volunteer lost at sea in the Pacific", only to find myself on another boat that very same night, dining on the yacht of a lovely couple from Colorado but recently based out of New Zealand, enjoying lamb, chocolate cake and fine wine... not too shabby for a week's adventure, if I do say so myself.