The Big Pineapple

"You look sad," Oh said, rather matter of factly, when she walked up to me at assembly this morning. She explained in great detail how sunken in my eyes were, and that my skin seemed more irritated than it usually was. Since daily reports on my physical appearance is something I'm used to, I responded by sticking my tongue out and scrunching up my nose. She laughed and walked away. I wasn't sad. But I guess I wasn't not sad. 

This is officially our third week being back to school since our month long break in October. I spent it with the very best buddies a girl could ask for in Krabi (Southern province in Thailand) and Cambodia (not a country in Africa, weird white lady I only knew for ten minutes). This was the longest time I had spent with my fellow Peace Corps volunteers since training, and it was a break I really needed. We caught up, hugged a lot, drank with complete professionalism, and pretended not to have a care in the world. 

Of course, there were cares. Lesson planning and staff meetings were a looming storm cloud towards the end of October. Some of us (including myself) were being welcomed back with a camp or teacher training barely after our bags hit the floor. 

While bpit term did provide us the relaxation that we needed, I don't think we were expecting it to be so hard to bounce back into work mode. Not much is different: same kids, same staff, same smiling lady who sells fried chicken on my street. That, however, is what I believe has made coming back such a challenge: time freezes here (the only thing that freezes, in fact). Friends from home are throwing on sweaters while we're still in our Chacos. Facebook will toot the horn of another engagement, promotion, or pregnancy while we're still trying to figure out the job that was handed to us 10 months ago. The days are a slow, humid haze that sometimes make us forget it's been 10 months at all. 

But then we do remember. 10 months down, 17 to go. A lot of mixed feelings in those numbers right there. I can't imagine Hua Hin not being my home in the future; I'm proud of it the way I'm proud to be a Baltimore girl. But America creeps into my head more and more frequently these days, partially because of my plans to go visit in a few months, and partially because a hug from Mom is long overdue. So some nights, I think about those numbers and the faces I haven't seen in so long and will continue not seeing for some time, and think holy shit, 17 months?!

So bring it back to this semester. The kids have been WIRED since we've been back. Sometimes in the greatest way (getting excited for games and jumping back in line for extra high fives) and sometimes not in the greatest way (pushing and shoving and making each other cry). Pretty much the same sentiment goes for the morale of the staff: sometimes we're all laughing at lunch until our sides hurt, and sometimes a teacher won't even come to lunch because of something another teacher said about her. Those not-so-great moments, I've noticed, have a tendency to carry more weight, especially at this point in my service. I think to myself  "I've been here long enough that they shouldn't be treating each other, or me, like this, right?" "Are my kids learning English?" "Does my staff trust me?" "Am I doing everything I can?" 

But here is the point I am trying to make with this rambling post. One day, everything that seemed to be going wrong was going wrong. I felt like I wasn't winning, students were unfocused, staff was in a funk, and it was about all I could do not to start crying. I felt completely disconnected from the place that is now my home for the first time on my walk home that evening...

...until Pi Wep called out "Nong! I have a pineapple!" 

I walked over to Pi Wep's laundromat, the one I use every weekend, and almost toppled over when she plopped an eight pound pineapple in my hands. I knew she had saved it for me, because she had given me one almost as big as this one the week before. I laughed and thanked her, and huffed home with my giant fruit in tow. 

I have since given this moment more thought. Things here can be overwhelming, and there are so many moments where you feel like nobody understands, and you want to throw your hands in the air and call it quits. 

But it's hard to do that when you have a big ass pineapple in your hands. 

We are gifted with these little moments, ones that happen in the thick fog of stress and exhaustion, and they mean so much. Being handed a giant pineapple from your laundromat lady. Ba Jit, the fried chicken lady, asking why I'm walking home earlier or later than usual. Nat, in fifth grade, on the first day back running up to me exclaiming "I missed you so much!" Those moments should hold as much importance as the hard ones, if not more. Because it may not seem like it, but life IS moving, and they're moving with it. And I don't want to miss a single second. 

My dear friend Sierra recently gave me some advice. "When things don't seem to be going well, you should write down the things that are good, so you don't forget about them." 

I now have a piece of torn out loose leaf paper, roughly scratched at with the words "the big pineapple," on it. 

Eat your produce, friends.