I am coming up on the last days of my Peace Corps journey and I can’t seem to get the lyrics of “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane” out of my head. Nor, it seems, the reoccurring dreams of being able to eat New England clam chowder soup, mushroom and swiss cheeseburgers, or green beans with roasted almonds whenever I want. I feel ready to leave. Twenty-seven months is a long time to be out of one’s own culture. However, I already have mixed emotions about going home.
I had my exit interview with my country director last week and she asked “What will you be most proud of from your service?” That is an easy answer for me; the cultural aspect of my service has provided me with the most amazing experiences I didn’t even know I could have had. I lived with the same family for two years which entailed one house, nine people, and a newborn baby. I made best friends with my counterpart and developed amazing relationships with a group of really motivated young women in my community. But that also comes with a lot of responsibility when it comes to leaving. It means I need to go over for tea and dinner at least two to three times before I leave to each house. It’s going to be heartbreaking saying good bye for the last time to some of these girls. Thankfully, most have Skype and Facebook accounts now (Facebook is in Azerbaijan in a BIG way). But, if these last two years have taught me anything, talking over internet just isn’t the same, and it gets harder as time goes on.
Along with my Azerbaijani contacts, I have made some truly lifelong friendships with Americans here. There are people I am absolutely only saying “see you later” to, for I have no doubt that we will be together again in the States. And now, I know all these great contacts if I ever plan to road trip across the country. I’m hoping to be able to run into the capital a few times in November to watch the election with them, spend Thanksgiving, and give lots of hugs before they go.
On the logistical side of the leaving path, I need to write documents regarding the sustainability of my individual, primary, and secondary projects, close my bank account, be checked out by doctors and dentists, hand in technical training manuals and books, prepare documents for my counterparts, and take a final test to see where my Azerbaijani language ended up.
As I said before, I feel ready to leave Azerbaijan. It feels like it is time. But with the looming countdown of a month to go, all of the events, activities, good-byes, and documents I need to attend to, and the nervousness I am experiencing about returning back to America, some days I feel completely unprepared. Fortunately, the dreams of knoephla soup, ice cream in the winter, and hockey games are enough to keep me going.
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