Banda Calypso sta na Bila pa festa municipal! Min kre bai!

The biggest party each year on Fogo would have to be Sao Filipe's municipal festival, which culminates on 1 May. My first year on Fogo, I still remember hanging out with Darney O'Malley and Louis XVI, who was visiting from Senegal. My second year, I had a bit more fun, since I had a slightly better idea as to what was going on. I also actually knew some of the musicians by then, so I could actually enjoy the music.

However, I have just gotten word about this year's performers, and have to admit, I'm a bit floored. This year, all the way from Brazil, is Banda Calypso. I was just in shock when I heard about it this morning. This is big. This is huge. This is probably one of the biggest musical acts to ever hit CV (and for sure it's the largest to ever hit Fogo). From what I've been hearing, it's just insane in the streets. Most of the island is probably in Sao Filipe, and boatloads of people from other islands have been arriving the past few days.

I am just amazed that they agreed to come. I cannot even imagine how much money the Camara must be spending to have brought them here. I cannot imagine how many people are in Sao Filipe right now. Where are they all going to sleep?

I say all of this not even liking Banda Calypso. I know hardly anyone reads this blog anymore, but is there anyone out there who is actually knowledgeable about Brazilian pop culture? I would be really interested in hearing exactly how popular they are in Brazil. Having seem some of their performances, I've never been impressed (with one exception, I like Pra te Esquecer , and especially the Cape Verdean passada remake). And to be honest, if you watch that video, you probably won't be that impressed either. But whatever, I love that frickin' song.

So hearing about all of the chaos, just made me want all the more to be back there. Odd how I still have such strong feelings about it.

around and around i go

So, when I sit down to do the math, I've passed through four different airports twelve separate times in the past eight days. Last weekend, I went back to Mpls to celebrate My Friend (Who's Father is a Priest)'s birthday. It was the big 3-0 for her, so, of course, that one has got to be celebrated in style. A bunch of other RPCVs from CV were able to fly in, or meet up in Mpls, and so that made it extra special. Earmuffs pointed out what makes getting together with other RPCVs such a treat is that we have that shared depth and history from our PC time, and that the history links us together in a unique way. So it was a good time to catch up and just chill out, away from whatever other stresses we're all facing.

After that weekend, I thought I was done traveling for a while. Unfortunately, my mother than gave me a ring a day or two later and let me know that my grandfather had died. So, upon hearing this news, I had to run around purchasing some last minute plane tickets, some new luggage, and a tie, for my trek to Racine. The funny this is when I flew to Mpls, I passed through Chicago, using American. Then, this time, when I went to Chicago with Northwest, I was routed through Detroit. Somewhat annoying, I say. But anyways, I made it back to the Midwest, and was reunited with my mother's side of the family, who I don't think I've seen in about eight years.

The wake and funeral were all very simple (family only) and he was put into the mausoleum which he had already purchased years ago. Going back to Wisc, I realized I'm actually a lot closer to my father's side of the family, which is something I guess I never really thought of.

So now I'm back in D.C., exhausted, contemplative, and wanting to bury my head in the sand. But instead, work is going to be picking up in the next month or so, as we approach our annual conference. Then, I agreed to run a booth for them at the UUA's General Assembly, so that means I'm committing myself to being there at least until the start of July. It's down in Florida, so I'll be sure to take some extra days down there once it's all over, and just sit in the sun (if I'm lucky).

What I Lost

Last week, I ran down to Chinatown for the rice cooker that I decided to buy Pretty in Purple for her birthday (in addition to a few other things). The route I ran took me through Logan Circle, which is where I used to live. Though I'm liking my place up here in Columbia Heights, when I was running through my old neighborhood, I felt this pang. A pang of sorrow that I no longer lived in that neighborhood, and that I hadn't fully explored it when I had the chance to.

I just realized then part of what I've been dealing with since coming back from CV is a profound sense of loss. Though your identity changes a bit when you're so immersed in a foreign environment, I always knew that I was still American, which was something in the long term that would never really change. No matter how much pop culture and news I missed, or how many nice amenities I longed for, and no matter how much I wanted to fit into my community, there was something that separated me from the people at my site. Something, as hard as I tried, I knew I would never really lose. Even if I took on some surface attributes and attitudes of CVians (and I did), nothing would never change the fact that I was an American, and that I would eventually return to the U.S. to reclaim it. Heck, if I wanted it bad enough, I could just call Praia and tell them I wanted to go home right away.

But it's not the same here, now that I am back. I cannot simply call someone and be back in CV in 24 hours. America was like a fantasy that I knew I would become reacquainted with, CV is dream that fades slowly away in my mind with every passing day.

Everything that I had gained, everything I had created, everything I had eked out over the course of two years, pretty much ended the day I took that cab out of Mosteiros. No matter how many photos I have (about 6,000) or how many little trinkets that I kept (all stored in a box, though I've placed some panu de terra out for people to admire), or even if I keep up with people from my site (I IM with a few), the truth of the matter is, that I've lost it all. Everything that I had, and everything that I was for those two years. I cannot reclaim it like I would reclaim my "Americaness."

I can accept the idea of lost youth, or acknowledge the fact that as I grow older, I will change and evolve. But CV was something different. That moment I got into the cab, and I drove away, everything became lost, everything started to fade away.

And yes, I say all of this, nor forgetting or dismissing the misery (yes, misery) that I faced while there. But you know what? It was my misery. I embrace it like I embraced every joyful moment that I had on my little pile of dirt in the Atlantic.

When most people ask me about my time in PC, my first instinct is to say that it was tough for me, and start listing out reasons. The other day in the office (yes, for the love of Allah, I am employed again, back with the not-so-evil-empire I ran into a RPCV who had served in the Congo, decades ago. He asked me how my time in CV was, and I had to suppress the urge to say "it sucked and it was tough." Why? Because there was someone else in the room, someone else who (though no fault of her own) would just have taken my words at face value and just possibly left it at that.

I guess I don't even bother to try anymore when it comes to explaining about my time there. I have perfected my stump speech on the matter, and most people are satisfied by it. The depth of emotions is sometimes even too confusing for me to properly sort out, but I just know trying to explain it to an outsider is almost pointless.

Being back has been a struggle in many ways. Though my life has considerably brightened in the past month and a half or so, the illumination also makes me realize what there is in me that's left to face. When I was much more disgruntled, it was easy for me to hide all of my problems and issues behind that. But now, it's no longer an excuse.

So, I can admit it. I lost it all. Every single bit of it. Every artifact I have left from CV only helps to slightly reinforce the ever fading dream of my life there.

Looking forward is never difficult. It's letting go of what you've lost that's the tough part.

Minneapolis in D.C.!

Well, as far as I'm concerned, the big news from inside the Beltway this past week is the fact that a new Target has opened up, less than a 10 minute walk from my house. This is the first Target that is in the District proper, and the first one (as far as I'm concerned) that it fully Metro accessible. And did I mention it's a 10 minute walk from my house? It's part of the largest mall that is opening up in the city. Of course, by most standards, it's still going to be a small mall, but again, for D.C., that doesn't have a lot of big box retail, it's a big step. Though what gentrification has already done to this neighborhood and what it will continue to do isn't something I'm totally comfortable with, it's going to be damn convenient to have it nearby.

I went into it on the first day it opened, it looking around at everyone around me, it reminded me of when one of the Chinese loja's opened up in Mosteiros, with people almost walking around in a daze, looking at all of this new crap that they could buy. I've always disliked the excess of consumerism, but I sometimes still have to remind myself that people aren't always buying crap that they don't need.

I also took a little trip outside of the Beltway (only the third time I've ventured into the Virgina that exists outside of the little bubble on the Potomac) and visited Monkey Bar. He's been up to D.C. various times when other RPCVs are around, so I figured it was time to return the favor and see what life is like down in southern Virgina. And it was a bit scary.

I saw a real live girl with a mullet. I went to a chain restaurant, ordered a "nuclear burger" and when I got the receipt, saw that they had spelled it as "nuuclear burger" which I found amazingly funny. We went out to a bar one night where the DJ was playing music off of iTunes. And when they were playing music from the late 80s and early 90s, they weren't playing it in a nostalgic, "gee, remember when this music was popular?" way. No, they were playing it in the sense of, "hey, this is some great music, ain't it?" At that bar, I saw a girl hit another girl over the head with a bottle. The bouncers, who were diligent in checking IDs, seemed not to care what went on in the bar, as long as you were over 21.

So, it was a good weekend overall. Good to just hang out with Monkey Bar and chill out and not do anything. Hanging with people who were in CV with me, I don't feel an urge to have to do anything with them. We can just sit and chill, and it's all good.

Going down there this weekend also helped me realize that I'm in some kind of funk. It's not exactly a depression or anything, but just a somewhat total loss of direction and sense of purpose. I have so many options in life right now, but cannot seem to pick which path I specifically want to take. So, it's good to figure out that I'm some kind of funk, now I just need a shovel to dig myself out of it.

Those Last Photos from Six Months Ago...

Today marks my six month anniversary of my COS from CV. I can hardly believe it. I was hanging out with Some Girl last night (who COSed with me from CV) and it was just kind a shock that to think, six months ago at this time, I was hanging out with some random Senegal PCVs that I had met, getting ready for my plane ride to the Middle East.

I don't feel like I have totally decompressed from my time in CV. I COSed, went to the Mideast for a month, hung out in NYC for a few days, spent a day in Philly, couchsurfed in DC for about a month, hid in my father's basement for another month, and then moved back to DC and started my job a week later.

So now, those 14 weeks are over. I stopped mooching off of Traumatize and finally got room in heart of Columbia Heights (feel free to come by for a visit, I still don't have a bed yet, but otherwise, it's all good) and am living with two RPCVs, who both have connections with my fellow Volunteers in CV. So, it's a small PC world, even though we're spread out all over the developing world.

When I think about CV, it's still a complete contradiction. I loved it, I hated it. I wanna go back, I don't think I could visit. The other day, when I was on my third phone call, trying to order checks, I hung up in frustration and for a second, really wanted to be back in CV, where things were so much fucking simpler, and I didn't have to deal with routing numbers and address changes, and whatever else they could throw at me. Of course, when I really thought about it, things wouldn't necessarily have been simpler over there, since it's not like there is an absence of paperwork in the developing world.

It's same when looking at race. My "racial consciousnesses" has been raised after two years of being called "chines" and getting odd looks when I tell people I am American. I never really appreciated the power of ethnicity when living in the U.S., and I've become slightly more cynical about the state of race relations in the U.S., especially as everyone goes on about the dreams of becoming more and more "post-racial." I appreciated the bluntness of CVians about what they thought I was, even though it could also drive me into the most pissy of moods.

I cannot put words to why something that could drive me into a rage would also be so refreshing. For all of the bias and baggage that came with their views, I also know they were being utterly open and honest with what they thought about me. Here is America there are just so many more layers of fake-ery when it comes to race, but people seem to favor politeness (and the dishonesty that may come with it) over the rudeness that can come with being true to how you feel.

So I miss CV, but it's becoming like a dim dream. It's probably changed me in more ways than any other experience in my life, but I haven't truly even begun to process it all. I hope this time off (when I will be slowly searching for a job, and possibly doing some volunteer work) will give me some time to reflect, to really try and come to some better idea for what it all meant.

My first step in this process was finally uploading the rest of my photos on to my flickr.com account. Of course, these final few photos were from the Middle East, but it just brings things full circle for me. So, check em out!