looks like we made it

While walking home tonight, I started thinking about all the things that I wanted to write about in today's blog post. I thought about what my life looks like now. I thought about my new home, my new family, my new friends. I thought about the scattered thoughts I have had, though none of them seem very inspirational. I thought about all of the changes that have happened since I last checked in two weeks ago. I thought about how I needed to give an explanation as to why I missed a Tuesday with Mohri.

Here's to swearing to be professionals for the foreseeable future.

So I sat down tonight and typed my opening line to this blog post. It read, "First off, I want to apologize for missing a Tuesday with Mohri". However, that is where I stopped myself. I stopped myself because I remembered one of my life mantras, words that have kept me grounded and remind me of what I am doing and why I am doing it. I remember a moment some time ago when I wrote the words, "In the end, all we really have is time, and all that really matters is what we choose to do with it". I wrote them because it occurred to me that these words change the way that I look at the world and the things on my plate every day.

That being said, I don't apologize for missing a week. I will, however, tell you why.

The past two weeks have been nothing short of a whirlwind. One thing that the Peace Corps stresses is to manage your expectations, and I completely understand and agree with that suggestion. However, there are a few things that by and large, we can expect, even of the Peace Corps. In short, my experience these last few weeks was not normal. Every event that should have transpired either didn't or did so in a way that felt like a curveball that I knew would plow my unathletic self down if it got the chance. However, here I am.

When I was told that I would be staying for two extra days in Tirana, all of my friends were jealous. Little did they know, being alone, by myself, in Tirana to me sounded like the most terrifying weekend ever.

On Tuesday of last week, I said goodbye to my family at my training site. On Friday, I swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. 2 hours later, I watched all of my friends leave on a bus to find their new homes. On Sunday, I boarded a bus that would take me to my new home. Yesterday, I started work at the Bashki in the Office of Tourism and Culture. Thursday, I will say goodbye to my site mate.

There really are no other words for this experience other than that it is hard. It is hard to walk away. It is hard to start something new. It is hard to face your fears, to be alone, to feel helpless. It is hard to know that this is all only temporary, that in a few short months, I will be moving again, then in 2 short years, I will be going home. It's hard to understand the value of time, but I can tell you that those moments in the last two weeks that I chose to spend with those I love, the time I spent exploring my training site, the time I spent exploring my new home, that is time well spent.

I know that this experience will challenge every bit of myself. I climbed 78 flights of stairs today. I spoke Shqip with 13 different people. I jotted down 9 ideas for tourism development in my city. I ate 4 candy bars. I sneezed countless times. I panicked. I stressed. I thanked God that he made me stubborn.

So, here I am. Here I am to tell you that I am home. I am home for the next two years, and I am ready to make a difference.