I have wanted to write about this for a few days but have been trying to avoid being cheesy and the “oh-so-eye-opening-moment” but I guess I cannot avoid it, and why would I want to? Wasn’t it moments exactly like this that I was hoping for when I signed my life away, I mean committed to serve for two years?So here goes, sentimental mush:I am standing there, white knuckle grip on the rail, sweat beading and rolling down my neck, my large purse inevitable hitting someone in the face. Now…, this scene could be from any Bart ride after an epic Giants victory, but this time I find myself on a bus ride from my village of Bolshevik to the neighboring Gokdepe. Just a few minutes earlier I, along with my host mother, host sisters and 5 other women, crammed our bodies onto a seemingly full bus. They assured me with nods and nudges that there was plenty of room. The poor kid who was sitting directly behind me would beg to differ. Regardless, as I stood there pondering how these women were not sweating off the pounds like they were sitting in a sauna, my wandering eyes were met with determined stares. I have never been up downed so many times by so many people in my life, and that includes a trip to Vegas in minimal amounts of clothing (Obviously the minimal amount of clothing being on Ploi, whereas I had a very modest ensemble). My immediate self conscious thinking leads me to believe that they must be staring at my rapidly forming pit sweat. Ha, silly me I almost forget, I am an American. Most obviously an American. So, I stared back. They are curious about me and I am equally curious about them.
Ya ya, ok so you are thinking where is this “oh-so-eye-opening-moment” you mentioned. I am getting there. I just wanted you to understand how sweaty I was. Seriously, heat plus nervous sweat, yikes. I digress yet again. But as I stand there exchanging stares with the countless women on this bus, my eyes are filled with inexplicable beauty. True, a Bart train filled with black and orange is beautiful in its own way, but this was different. Women dressed in elegant gowns and delicately placed headscarves, all representing a unity in their culture and respect for tradition. At that moment, I wish my eyes could take a photo of this moment but I know no lens could capture even a fragment of what I was seeing first hand. So I stood there, sweaty betty, and welcomed the stares in exchange for that moment.
I just continue to fall deeper in love with this country, and to think it has only been a few weeks. My time has already been riddled with mistakes, challenges and confusion but I am still not discouraged. Oddly, I am eager to continue to work my way up this massive hill and I hope to have many more beautiful bus rides in my near future.
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