Beginning . . . Again . . .

The last few months have been such a whirlwind of craziness and change that I haven't had the time to sit down and write about it all.  So much has happened that part of me thinks I should just throw the blog out the window and start a stinkin novel :)

Deciding to leave Thailand early and end my Peace Corps experience was a mixed bag of excitement and dread, hope and sadness, huge gains and significant loss.  Before leaving I made sure to go on one last trip with Bethany and it was the best thing I could have done for myself.  I went and spent a week at her site and helped with an environment camp.  We taught the kids about recycling, planting trees, the negative effects of pollution and littering, and things of that nature.  Bethany is truly an original character and went so far as to have kids go out into the woods and actually hug trees.  The students were blind folded and lead to a tree, which they were instructed to smell, touch, and then hug.  They were all so serious about it - it was hysterical!  But more than any environmentally friendly day camp ever could have, a week in Bethany's village changed my mind about Peace Corps Thailand . . . there are still places there that volunteers can be really productive and are needed.  She lives in a little slice of Asian heaven.  Her village is on this beautiful little hill with woods and fields in abundance; directly behind her house is a picturesque lake in which the kids love to swim and play.  Just down the street there is a noodle shop where she eats everyday and down the road in the opposite direction is the school.  It is small and personal and everyone there knows and loves her.  Her porch is the daily stomping ground of at least 20 little people and her neighbors make frequent visits to check in and see how she's doing.  I was only there a day and already the kids all knew my name and wanted to come over and play, the adults were thrilled to have another foreigner around and life for a week was what I thought it would be when I packed my bags and left home behind.

After a week of eating noodles, playing with kids, and meeting neighbors we headed out for a Son Kran vacation.  Son Kran is like our spring break and everyone goes nuts; it is in the heart of hot season and to break up the monotony of the heat and beg the gods for rain they have a week long water fight.  We left a couple of days before the actual holiday began - neither of us had been up north yet and most of the other volunteers were planning on spending their vacation in Chiang Mai (the biggest northern city) and we figured we would beat them there, visit Pai first and then meet up with everyone else at the end of the week.  Pai ended up being my very favorite place in Thailand.  We took a bus to Chiang Mai and got there around 3:00 a.m.; our van up to Pai didn't leave until 6:00 so we wandered around the abandoned bus station until our van arrived and then we were off.  Pai is way up in the jungley mountains of Northern Thailand and to get there is similar to driving the winding mountain roads of Colorado.  The difference is that our van driver got paid according to how many trips he could make in a day and so was reluctant to stop even though 6 of the 9 passengers on board were puking their guts out . . . Bethany included.  It was the WORST ride of my life.  The windows wouldn't open and the the aircon couldn't keep up with all the body heat, so it was like being stuck in a vomit scented heat box for two hours.  It was so bad we were actually afraid to make the trip back down.

After the never ending venture up, we made it to this adorable town, tucked into the side of a beautiful mountain.  We stayed in a great little hut, ate fabulous food, laid around, went and played in the water, Bethany got a tattoo, we met lots of expats and fun Thai people, rode elephants, and rented a two seater bike,which I sat on the back of and let Bethany ride me around.  It was so much fun and such a great little place that we just kept staying.  We were supposed to be there for three days and then we extended a day and then another and then another.  We ended up there a whole week, completely missed Son Kran with the rest of the volunteers, and by the time we got back down to Chiang Mai almost everyone else had already headed back to their respective sites . . . it was just too good to be true and way too good to cut short.

It wasn't long after that, that the political climate started to really get ugly.  There are two major factions in Thailand, the Red Shirts and the Yellow Shirts.  The Red Shirts are in favor of electing a new prime minister and do not support the King.  The Yellow Shirts are die hard fans of the King and because the current prime minister was the king's pick they want him to remain in office.  This is all complicated by the fact that the King is about 600 years old, has spent the last year in the hospital, and isn't going to live long.  While he is intended to be merely a figure head, he wields incredible political power and no one pretends otherwise - which brings us to one of two major issues: one being the fact that Thai people almost universally love the king's oldest daughter and want to see her put into power when the king passes away, but being an old fashioned man, he has refused the idea and continues to insist that his eldest son is the rightful heir to his throne . . . his son is a nightmare.  He has serious psychological issues, has been caught producing child porn, and is absolutely crooked - people are naturally uneasy about this and know that if the current prime minister were replaced by a red shirt the monarch would lose significant power, somewhat neutralizing this crazy son as becomes the new king.  The second issue being the fact that in the last 4 elections a red shirt has rightfully been elected only to be overthrown by a yellow shirt at the request of the king.  The red shirts are tired of being overrun and see an opportunity to come back into power now that the king isn't well, and so came together and started something similar to civil war.  This is where me and the Peace Corps come into play.

I spent my last three months in Thailand studying every single day for the G.R.E.  There is an international testing center in Bangkok and so I got myself all signed up to take the crazy thing.  The day i was supposed to take it, I headed for the big city and as I was pulling into the bus station I got a phone call informing me that the testing center was in the heart of the rallies going on and would need to be rescheduled as a grenade was thrown at the sky train, shutting it down - the sky train is the only access to the building.  I bought a second bus ticket and headed back home.  About three weeks later my reschedule date  arrived and again the test was canceled.

Through all of this Peace Corps put us on stand by, which meant that we were not allowed to leave our sites for any reason and we had to check in and give updates on our locations on a regular basis.  This lasted for weeks and things didn't seem to be getting anything but worse.  It was then that Peace Corps decided that volunteers needed the option to return to the states if they were too near the danger.  I lived only 2 hours from Bangkok and the worst of the fighting, but I would be lying if I said I felt in danger and was afraid for my safety at any point - I did, however, see this as an opportunity to come home and be back with the people I love and start my life with Alberto.  And that's what I did.  I called Peace Corps and let them know that I was going to take them up on that offer and would be packing my things that evening.  They got me a plane ticket, put me through a barrage of medical junk, and sent me on my way.

Saying goodbye to the people I taught with, lived near, and got to know and love was a bit less straight forward.  Thai people don't just deal with things head on and telling them exactly what was going on inside me heart wasn't going to work.  So, instead of telling them that I couldn't imagine myself spending another 6 months wishing there was more for me to do, hoping that another day of school didn't get canceled, and missing my life at home - I just told them that Peace Corps didn't feel like it was safe anymore and that my family needed me.  They didn't question it and were really helpful in getting me ready to go.  We exchanged tears, lots of I love yous and I will miss yous and you better come back and see mes, and then they drove me to Bangkok and waved goodbye.  It was heartbreaking, but at no point did I feel like I had made the wrong decision.  It tore me apart to say goodbye to these people that I have grown to love and respect and who did so much for me - it was devastating to know that it would be months and months before I got to see the people who became my volunteer family again.  But I did this; I came and I learned a new language; I lived on my own and got to know new people in a place where I knew no one and was a total stranger to the customs and culture; I learned more about myself than I ever thought I would; and I'm proud that I was not only brave enough to pick up and do this, but that I was reflective and aware enough to know when it was time to say I was done.  As heart breaking as it was, it was also the only decision I could have made and lived with.

Now I'm home and a whole new set of adventures have already been laid out before me and excitedly embarked upon.  After the longest trip home a person has ever had to take, my parents came and collected me at the air port - no more were the days of excruciating heat and torrential rains, and back were the days of  tornadoes, thunder and lightening on a summer night.  It was perfect.

I spent the summer in transition.  It took some time to get myself back on an American time table, not only because my internal clock was 12 hours off, but because the pace of life state side is something completely different than that of life in a little Asian country.  There is always somewhere to be, people to meet, errands to run, tasks to mark of the lists of things to do that never seem to end and get longer and longer as the day goes on.  It was exhausting and such a nice change of pace . . . I forgot how much I love the feeling of being productive.

The summer went by in a rush of surprise parties, welcome home dinners, movies and fun with friends, time spent with my family, and planning for what was to come.  Alberto was stationed in Jacksonville North Carolina and I wanted to be there with him.  So, I took a couple of days and flew out here to start looking for houses and attend a job fair.  I had never been to the east coast before and never even thought about having to work my way through a job fair.  North Carolina was an easy fit . . . it had houses, a grocery store, a walmart, a movie theater, and Alberto . . . I'm sold.  The job search was another thing entirely.  I walked into this gym and was faced with easily 800, 20 something people all milling around with resume in hand hoping beyond hope that they would some how be the one the stuck out above the other 6 million people shaking hands and begging for jobs that day.  I took a second and really studied my surroundings - that's when I realized that very few people were turning their information in at the table set aside for the alternative school.  Not only did an alternative school seem like something I would like and be good at it seemed like a good bet because my application would be on of a thousand instead of a million.  I got a call the very next day, extended my trip (or more accurately, called my mom in a panic and begged her to take care of her grown daughter's problems for her, and like the magician she is she got it figured out for me).  I had an interview two days later and it went really well.  By the end of the month I was offered the job and that's what I've been doing since.

But let's stick to the proper oder of this story and keep ourselves form jumping around as tempting as it might be.

When I got back from NC we had yet to find a place to live, but Alberto was on the hunt and I trusted that he would find us something perfect.  In the mean time we were planning our Vegas weekend wedding.  In preparation for the special day, my mom got out her wedding dress and had me try it on.  We couldn't believe it when I put it on and the only thing that didn't fit was the length . . . and the style.  We started talking, pulling things in, eliminating parts all together, adding color, cutting things up, and before we knew it we had painted a picture of the perfect Vegas party dress reconstructed from the dress in which my mom walked down the isle and into my dad's arms.  It was meant to be.  We took it to a seamstress in town and got to work.  Our first visit and fitting left us feeling really uneasy and worried.  I tried the dress on so she could see where it needed taken in and shortened and things and when we started to tell her all the ideas we had about what we wanted it to look like she just kind of shut us up and told me to take it off.  I came out of the bathroom with the dress in hand ready to try again and she took it and ushered us out of her house.  Dumbfounded on the way back home, both my  mom and I decided that we were sure she hadn't heard a word we said and we were going to go back and find the dress torn into shreds.  As the case usually is with me and my mom, she took matters into her own hands and got right on the phone the minute we got home and made sure that this dress was going to be just fine . . . and it was.  After about 4 more fittings, lost of creative ping pong, and final decisions the dress was finished and it was perfect . . . well, almost perfect.  Once we found the right tennis shoes it was exactly what we had in mind and it was just right for our simple ceremony at the Chapel of the Bells.

We got married on the 4th of July, but not before my cousin could throw me an impromptu shower.  We had dinner, decorated funky "dog bones," as we called them for Elizabeth, opened gifts, and played games.  It was exactly how I wanted to be sent off into married life.  With food, fun, and all my favorite women in this world.  The next morning we got up and headed for Vegas, and by we I mean me, my mom, and dad.  Alberto got there later that night and Cody came the next day.  On the day of the ceremony I got up and went to be pampered and spend the day with my mom and the boys went about entertaining themselves.  Aside from a minor hair melt down everything went smoothly and according to plan.  My mom and I met the guys at the chaple and we were off and to the races.  There was a line, so we had to wait our turn; there was a couple in full on wedding garb (we are talking a huge formal ball gown and tux) with no guests, a couple in sporty street clothes who decided to get married in celebration of their 21st birthdays, and us.  We were third in line and so knew the drill by the time we were up, only our turn ended up being a bit different.  We weren't allowed to take pictures in the chaple so that they could charge you enough to put a down payment on a brand new house for the ones they took.  So they took our picture about a million times and the guy was all irritated with Alberto and I because we were being silly and couldn't stop gilling and junk.  I mean really, what do you expect from a Vegas wedding - Elvis is waiting to jump out of the closet at any minute and most of the people that say I do are drunk, so excuse me for having a case of the chuckles.  When the picture man had had enough and it was time for the minister to do his thing, they sent us to the back of the room, to walk each other down the 4 foot isle - we hadn't taken half a step when the minister gets a hysterical case of the hiccups.  It was so perfect in the moment that I wanted him to just marry us hiccups and all, but these people take their job serious - entirely too serious if you ask me - and so he refused and sent the camera man back in to entertain us while he got a grip.  But the hiccups persevered and we were forced to wait for the back up minister to come and marry us.  After all the waiting we finally took our three full steps down the isle and it took about 1 minute after that to complete our vows, give a quick smooch, and make room for the next couple.  I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.  It was light hearted, fun, and full of all the people I love most. I walked in a daughter, sister, Peace Corp Volunteer, future teacher, friend, girlfriend, and Brunton.  I walked out all the same things and got to add the best title a person could have to the list . . . a wife.

The next morning Alberto got on a plane and went back to NC and me and mine went back to CO.  I had about three weeks before Alberto had time off and could come get me and all of our stuff.  By  now he had found a house.  We call it the Daphne house because when he looked at it, it was on Daphne Drive and it's the one we both really liked - I especially loved that our street would be called Daphne Drive (something about the alliteration).  So we loaded up all of our junk into the biggest U-Haul rentable, dragged my neon behind it, and my mom and dad followed in the Cavalier.  We made it here, but i'm almost positive my dad went home with an ulcer from the stress and worry of that huge trailer.  And that was that.  We were here, in the Daphne house, in Hubert North Carolina, with all our stuff and each other.

I spent the first couple of weeks here unpacking and getting the house in order while Alberto went back to work.  We fell into a routine the minute we arrived and it's been magic ever since.  We laugh, we talk until our mouths go dry, we go to movies, rent movies, read about movies, talk about movies, we eat and grocery shop, mow the lawn, cook meals, and keep the house clean and we do it all like a well oiled machine.  I love being a wife.  I love making dinners and cleaning up together while me make lunches afterward.  I like sitting in the living room with him at night even if all we are doing is watching T.V.. I love date night, little adventures, and knowing that I don't have to go to bed alone.  The whole thing just fits, it feels right, like my navy blue, Levi's, zip up hoody - I put it on and I know that today is going to be a good day, I'm wearing just the right armor and nothing can touch my happiness - marriage is just that, shined, resilient, protective armor.

While marriage is something i naturally stepped into and loved, my teaching job has not been the same case.  There are days when I really like it, but for the most part it is the single most challenging thing I have ever attempted in my life and I have no idea if I am failing miserably and always will be, or if I am just in the middle of the biggest learning curve of my life.  When I think of an alternative school I think of the kind of place kids go when a normal public education just doesn't register with them.  Some of them get kicked out of school for truancy and behavioral issues, but it's minor stuff and they just need a chance to work through their issues in a safe environment.  What I'm working at should be called a transitional school, and even though North Carolina doesn't know it, there is an absolute difference between the two.  A transitional school, which is what I'm working at is a school where kids are in enough trouble to have been court mandated to either go to school or go to jail and their old schools refuse to take them back.  I work with criminal, angry, mean, entitled, lazy kids. In the first two weeks I had a fist fight in my class and had to press sexual harassment charges on a student.  It is a struggle every single day.  And there are days when something clicks and I can tell that they are interested or get what I'm trying to do with them, and there are days when I should be called a baby sitter and not a teacher.  So I do my best not to bring it home with me, to plan and do my very best while i am there, and to let it go when i get home.  My struggle now is one of philosophy.  I know that they need structure and consistency - I can give them those things, but my method of delivery is slow to get results and I'm not sure I'm willing to change it.  Most of the people I teach with think that if you are just mean and nasty they will sit down, shut up, and do what they are told.  I, on the other hand, don't want to be one more mean nasty person in their lives.  I truly believe that the only way to get them to respond to me, to respect me, themselves, and their education, is to be the one person in their life that no matter what they do or say refuses to do anything but love them.  So they do a lot of running all over me at the moment, but i am convinced that at some point they will see it and they will know that I believe they can do better, they can be better, that they are better and they will want to be those things in my class because it's what i see in them.  Now i just have to figure out a way to make all my idealist theory come true and I'll have mastered this job . . . I'll be here working on it for a while.

And that's life.  It's Friday morning here as I sit and write this . . . "Friday morning?" you say, "what is she doing at home blogging on a Friday morning?"  Let me tell you one last story and it will all make sense.

For three days it rained.  I woke up yesterday to a call that informed me that school was canceled for students and was optional for staff.  I live three minutes away and had lots to get done so I went in and on my way I couldn't help but think . . . "these people have no idea what bad weather is.  We just canceled school over some rain, toughen up.  They should sit through a Colorado snow storm and then we'll talk about canceling school due to weather."  As the day went on it never let up, it rained for hours and hours.  At noon they sent us all home in hopes we would beat the worst of the roads.  I still wasn't convinced.  Then, around 4:00 Alberto got home and was in a total tizzy because he was let go so late and almost couldn't make it home.  He said the roads were terrible and we were going to be lucky not to be in the middle of a true flood.  That's when he had me go look at our yard and we decided we would take pictures of the floods progress.  Between 4:00 and 6:30 we went from having a little bit of water at the edge of our back yard and a full drainage ditch, to water all the way up to the house.  It was insane and I spent the night swallowing my words.  School got canceled again today and I was in 100% support of the decision.  Between the hours of 6:30 am and 9:30 am Hubert got 12 inches of rain and it kept raining for 11 hours after that. Our house was a little champ and didn't get wet at all - we stayed dry and enjoyed our rainy night, like we enjoy all our  nights - together.

And now you know the story of the last 5 months of my life and i have carpal tunnel.