reflection, long form

It's what we call a cold winter's day in Momi Bay, Fiji-- 75 and sunny, with a chilly wind off the ocean. The mango trees are fruiting; when we arrived they were just starting to flower. The branches sway in the breeze. On Tuesday afternoons and evenings, some ladies come to the base from a local village and set up shop on the patio to sell souvenirs to the students the day before their departure on Wednesday nights. The heavy mango branches sway above one of the ladies' heads, having just spread out her bracelets and necklaces on a sheet on the ground, such that I am afraid a mango will fall on her head or crush some of her jewelry. She seems unconcerned.

I am serenaded by the startlingly loud chirps of the myna birds who line up on the infinity edge of the pool for their afternoon bath. They flutter around in the water, and the wind blows droplets from their bathing onto me and my laptop, which are set up on a lounge chair on the pool deck.

This is a peaceful moment that happens commonly here in Fiji. It does not happen every week that I get a moment like this to enjoy it. We have less than 50 students sleeping at the base tonight, much less than usual. The travel season is winding down, and the difference in pace is palpable.

I want to figure out how to be honest without sounding negative or ungrateful about my chance to work in Fiji for the summer. So let me first be clear about how grateful I am.

The last 10 weeks, I have lived in a part of the world I previously only daydreamed of visiting. I absolutely do not regret it one bit.  There have been moments, while standing on a street corner looking around, or listening to conversations in other languages, where I have felt overwhelmed with wonder for the world and my tiny place in it.  I had an amazing opportunity to do something I could never have done otherwise. I interviewed for a position, and was selected over no shortage of other candidates, and I am undyingly grateful for that. It gave me the chance to be flown to a new quadrant of the world at no cost to me. I came to work for and with incredible people. My accommodations have been paid for, my food paid for, and I was given a stipend for other basic living costs, for the duration of my time here. During my first week here, I was taken from place to place, was introduced to fun, lively, caring, adventurous people, and was welcomed into this place through ceremonies and hugs and conversations and warm smiles.

My first month on the job was as the first month on a new job tends to be: a little overwhelming and tiring, but in a good way, because you know you're learning, so you're energized and refreshed to put in the extra effort.

As time went on, though, things got harder and more hectic, for the most part, rather than easier or more meaningful. Each week, the number of groups increased, and the volume of work exponentially increased. I signed up for a summer where I knew my role was to support activity leaders-- who have a tough job having to be always on, always caring for their students-- knowing I would often be stuck at the base while they headed out with their groups, which would leave me with more downtime, but less adventure (though I was assured I'd still get to jump in on fun activities a couple times a week). But as things progressed, I continually saw others being able to get downtime and to participate in fun activities to make their time worthwhile, while the chaotic nature of my mornings and evenings meant I could never get ready in time to leave on group activities, and was left with a backlog of work to catch up on during the supposedly quiet days. You will note that my posts became less frequent in recent weeks. Not only was I often too busy to write, but I figured you'd seen enough photos of the inside of the office. On top of that, most days I was working alone.

I didn't want to complain, but if I only posted about fun things, I really wouldn't have been representing my trip very genuinely, because in the second half of the summer, I just felt like I playing a losing game, and was expected to play a role that wasn't feasible or sustainable. The extent to which this expectation was self-imposed, I haven't quite discerned yet.

I did get to enjoy two notable adventures: my day trip to the Yasawas, and a backpacking trip through the highlands two weekends ago, which I've had no time to write about until now. I was also granted an unimaginably nice overnight vacation mid-season. This was a bit of a double edged sword, because it gave me fun memories of Fiji, but also made me more keenly aware of how worn out I was from overworking, and made the imbalance feel more pronounced during the remaining half of my time here. But I also think I made it through the summer without an actual emotional breakdown thanks to that vacation.

Plus, each of these times away, I paid dearly for the time away with a backlog of work.

But...

I did get to go for a scuba dive, and I made it out island hopping 3 times and ziplining once. Plus I got in visits to the Mud Pools and the Sigatoka Sand Dunes. That right there is what one might do here on a week-long vacation.

Fruit bats napping in a tree 

Knock on wood: I made it through the entire summer without vomiting. There's still time, of course. I don't leave for two days. But even making it until now makes me a bit of a winner. Not entirely sure if any other staff can say that.

I can distinguish between Ritesh, Rikesh, Rajesh, Raju, and Ranju (all fellow staff members), and tell you the difference between Sasa, Suva, Savusavu, a sevusevu, and both Somosomos. I can say "thank you" and "yes" (but not "no") in two new languages.

And I can count money way faster than I used to.

The rainbow that is Fijian currency

The hardest part of ending my time here is still the same thing I expected to be the hardest part-- the prospect of heading back to my regular, year-round job after this. But it's hard for a different reason than I expected. I'm unbelievably tired, and I desperately want a vacation.

I thought I would have trouble returning to my regular life after having an amazing, transformative summer. Instead, it's hard to go from a summer job that turned out to be two jobs, to a year-round job with the same problems, but without the nice weather. I work for an organization whose purpose I believe in, but I work mostly alone (this year even without the co-workers I most came to rely on for support last year, since multiple colleagues have left) and at a job where I was told upfront when I was hired five years ago: "This is not a job for one person. This is two jobs, and you will not be able to do it all. But it's just you; no help is one the way."

So. I don't mean to be a downer. I am still in the process of figuring out what all this means for me and my life and my future. I know I want a change, but no change is on the horizon just yet.

See you at work on Monday.
*deep breath*