For those of you who are visiting my blog to find out how to live in the Solomons, here are a few quick newbie guides. I know these might be dated (after all, I've been away a year!) but I think most of the information is still valid:
Newbie Guide Part Two: What to Bring
(clearly I cannot count past two...)
(clearly I cannot count past two...)
And, of course:
For those of you who want to find out what happened to me, the wearer of said stilettos while living in the Solomons, read on:
It happened. And pretty much before I actually realized it.
One year. Really? All I can think to myself is: where did the time go?
This weekend, I sat down with a box of tissues and some
chocolate and read through this entire blog from start to finish. All 119 entries. My first impressions was: wow…I wrote A LOT. This was probably due to having a great deal
of time on my hands and all the stimulating newness that was the Solomons. But,
looking back, there was something of a catharsis going on. I can read through my process, which involved
leaving a place I had grown to love and, more importantly, rediscovering myself
after the breakdown of a marriage. While
the breakup was far from ugly, the process of self discovery was (and, at
times, still is). I made a lot of
errors, in retrospect, and fumbled my way through the process the best way I
could.
Well, I’d like to say it was all puppies and rainbows since I've returned but it hasn't been.
Reentering my life has been harder than I had imagined. In fact, there
was no “reentering”, it was basically me starting my life over again in a new
city, without the benefit of family or ready made friends. As with all transitions, this one
was tough and I didn’t have the luxury of sunning myself on a white sandy beach
or going diving to process. I just had to sit and process through stuff instead
of running away. I didn't blog about
this process because it would have been like: hmmm, had a trim flat white
coffee today. Meeting was very good, am going to make template for something that
no one will use! Yay me! Yeah, it would
have a been low in the blogsphere ratings, believe me…
A year. Really? How can I write about this year? Sorry,
still in shock. Right, where was I…for my readers who love the
juicy stuff, here it is. I moved onto a hippy commune with a gay man in February.
That was, perhaps, the best decision I made this year. Mattie, my wonderful, kind, loving, amazing
housemate has seen me through it all…rough transitions, heartbreaks, bad
decisions, hangovers, the works. He has supported me and stood by me. I couldn’t
ask for a better housemate or friend than Matt. I’m truly blessed and lucky to
have him in my life. Natalia, another French/American popped into my life around six months ago and, after moving here two months ago, makes my urban family pretty complete.
Right, more juicy: Okay, so, in April, the divorce was finalized
the same week I fell in love, really in love, for the first time since the
split. As anyone could easily predict,
it was a complete disaster (and this is coming from a woman who works in
disasters). This is the problem when your heart has healed completely after a heartbreak,
by the time you are over it, you get so excited at the prospect of being over
it that, well, anyway, I overdid it, expecting just a bit too much too soon. The less said about that time,
the better, I think.
By the time I was really over it, I was ready go back home to the
States to see Mom and Dad. That was absolutely the best time, I bought far too many shoes and not enough underwear. But moving on...Nothing cements the future more than seeing
where you’ve come from and where you have been.
For a long time, I felt adrift, by myself, alone and afraid. Going home
made me realize that I still have a wonderful group of people who are forced to
love me no matter what.
Okay, back to the juicy: I returned to Wellington with a hiss and
roar, and, as predicted, overdid it but this time in the other extreme of “I’m
not going to be the one hurting this time and commit too early” attitude. After
having one failed marriage and an unpleasant breakup in my recent past, I had a certain
mindset that possibly wasn't very conducive for dating, which was trying to
protect myself from hurt. In classic Sara style, I sabotaged some good things. Well, I suppose the best thing I can say is
about the situation is that while I can't be proud of my behavior, I can feel at least somewhat comforted that I was honest when it would have been much easier to be less than honest. Now if I can really just get the f**k over myself and the past, I'll be sweet (I think).
Right, enough juicy stuff. Work wise, I became a senior tutor at a university. Being a teacher was amazing and I really enjoyed the process. Also, I am about to start
something really scary: my PHD. Yep, I’ll be Dr. Sara in three short years. Probably. Maybe. That’s if the literature
review process and utter confusion doesn’t do me in first. But, I have one very helpful thing on my
side: I’m stubborn as hell and don’t give up easily. So here’s hoping that stubbornness sees me
through.
Before I start my PHD, I'm taking a wee break to get mentally clear on the next three years. So, next week, I go back
to where I began, to Christchurch for a ten day road trip. I figure there is a kind of nice symmetry to
it all; after all my PHD will be based partly in the broken City and, in many
ways, it is where so much of my adult life began. So, yeah, looking forward to seeing the
beautiful Mackenzie country again, with its wide expanses. I’ve added a few destinations that I haven’t
been to before including Fiordland (yes, I know, I should have gone before!)
and the South of the South Island. I may
blog it, I may not…
It’s been, clearly, an interesting year with unintended collateral damage. Returning meant
establishing old friendships and some of those old relationships didn't survive the pressure of re-entry. While I feel sad
about that, well, there are worst things in life than losing relationships that no
longer work for either party. So I wish those people well on their journey.
The other collateral loss was my lack of diving. The thing that kept me sane and going for months in the Solomons, well, I haven't done here because the water is too cold. I know, I'm a wimp...but I hope to dive again shortly.
The other collateral loss was my lack of diving. The thing that kept me sane and going for months in the Solomons, well, I haven't done here because the water is too cold. I know, I'm a wimp...but I hope to dive again shortly.
As for the cast of the Stilettos in the Solomons, things didn't pan out the way they had planned either. Tessa and Mackenzie split up
soon after I left and that was a traumatic event for all involved. Like all
splits where a couple loves each other but just can’t make it work, there were
broken hearts on both sides. But that
really isn't my story to tell and all I can wish for those involved is a quick healing process.
Marco, well, he is
somewhere off doing something (I have no idea what) but I get the occasional
photograph from one of the Stan countries and he send me emails in Italian, so
I have to use Google translator.Viola is happy in Australia, working hard (as always) and
enjoying her life (probably, when she isn't over thinking it!).
My wonderful and loyal counterpart Tina had a baby boy in
March (her last, she claims) and is still working at my host agency. I think of
anyone in the Solomons, Tina taught me the most. She always saw the good in me,
despite my many flaws and encouraged me to be better. I miss her face, her
smile, her eye rolls at my latest debacle more than anything else about the
Solomons…we are so opposite but in the core of ourselves, I believe that we
truly are sisters.
Big events are happening too…weddings are coming up
(congrats Will and Lenora, Katie and Sasha and all the happy couples over in
the islands). Speaking of weddings, I’m very pleased to be
acting as best man for an old friend who
taught me more about the Solomons than anyone else. I’m excited, I've never
been a best man before, and, while I've got mixed feelings about marriage in
general, there could not be a better suited couple. It gives me hope to see that, despite many
obstacles, people who are meant to be just…are.
In some ways, I chose the wrong year to go. This was no
doubt a big year for the Solomons: the Royals came and went from the Islands,
as did the Pacific Arts Festival. The
Lonely Planet named it number 6 on the ten best places to go for 2012. I feel honoured to have been there before it
became a truly cool place to hang out. I hope that it doesn't get destroyed by
fast food restaurants, Starbucks, Marriott and all things developed.
I’d like to say that I think of the Solomons every day but I
don’t. I think about paying my bills, getting dressed, my work and whatever
personal issue is troubling me at the time. Like an ex boyfriend, the Solomons
pop up on my Facebook from time to time and for a moment I think about the
islands and wonder how it is. But the Islands are one of those places almost
stuck in time, where everything and nothing changes all the time. If I returned
tomorrow, I would only have a handful of friends who would remember me but
within a week I’d have a handful of new friends to hang out with. Such is the way of the Islands, long may it
remain that way.
Life here takes on a pace that is both much faster and slower than the
Solomons. Adventure is replaced with
routine. I got into a car accident today, a minor fender bender which was upsetting but I kept on throughout my day, shaken up but no worse for wear. In the Solomons, 20 islanders would have come to my asssitance, fixed up my car, given me a cup of 3 in one coffee and kept me company. Here, even with the other driver around, I felt alone. Drivers kept going, people kept walking. I miss the communal life, that taking care of each other.
But I would say that my biggest challenge in coming back is learning to be comfortable with routine and to trust that life isn’t going to fall apart on me, despite what happened in the past. A part of me believes that I don’t deserve deep comfort or happiness. This deep guilt is probably pretty common, especially when we have witnessed incredible human suffering, like I saw at times in the Solomons. Or in the Christchurch Earthquakes. Or even much further back, in the Samoa tsunami…somehow I just question: why did I get so lucky? And while we can wax philosophically whether I'm really lucky to live here, let's be honest: I am very, very lucky. But, then, why me? I met 50 people every day in the Solomons who were much more deserving and better people than myself, people who aren't nearly as self centered or self indulgent or lazy. Great mothers and fathers who sacrifice every penny they make for their wontoks. People who don't make the litany of dumb mistakes I make every day, like leaving my house with my hairbrush still stuck in my hair or always being 30 minutes late to everything, no matter how hard I try to be on time...
But I would say that my biggest challenge in coming back is learning to be comfortable with routine and to trust that life isn’t going to fall apart on me, despite what happened in the past. A part of me believes that I don’t deserve deep comfort or happiness. This deep guilt is probably pretty common, especially when we have witnessed incredible human suffering, like I saw at times in the Solomons. Or in the Christchurch Earthquakes. Or even much further back, in the Samoa tsunami…somehow I just question: why did I get so lucky? And while we can wax philosophically whether I'm really lucky to live here, let's be honest: I am very, very lucky. But, then, why me? I met 50 people every day in the Solomons who were much more deserving and better people than myself, people who aren't nearly as self centered or self indulgent or lazy. Great mothers and fathers who sacrifice every penny they make for their wontoks. People who don't make the litany of dumb mistakes I make every day, like leaving my house with my hairbrush still stuck in my hair or always being 30 minutes late to everything, no matter how hard I try to be on time...
So a year has passed. And what did I do with all my luckiness? I can’t say that I continued with my philanthropy, other than a few
short volunteer gigs. I felt like I was
exhausted and didn’t have much to give, which is stupid and pretty selfish. I
think I’m learning about the small things, that I don’t have to do something
big and dramatic like live in the Solomons to make a difference. Looking on now, Matt, my housemate, is the consummate
humanitarian, working in mental health. The man receives few, if any accolades
and just goes to work, committed to quietly helping others. Or my mother who works at the free clinic one
day a week when she could be much more money a day or my dad who didn’t buy a
new suit for 15 years so all us spoiled kids could go to University…and this
list goes on.
For all those people who said when I came back that I did a
great thing by going to the Solomons, I would parry that thought with the idea
that it was those who stayed behind, worked
quietly in the background and kept things going…those are the real heroes, now,
to me.
I think I didn’t appreciate how intense an experience it is
to live there, especially as a volunteer. You can’t hide from the poverty, the
violence, the disease…no matter how much you would like to escape it. I have some deep regrets about my time there
mainly that I wish I had done so much more. I was capable of more, so why didn’t
I give more? Why didn’t I get to know people better or work harder? I know I
could beat myself up further but then, I also figure that sometimes we are just
there to bear witness to situations rather than needing to step in and stop
it. Hopefully that witnessing comforts
the sufferer and teaches the witness something so mistakes are not repeated
again.
Well, that is the hope. It’s my hope.
