Contrary to what my last post would probably lead one to believe, Peace Corps on a tropical island is not just suntans and sivas. I've already had plenty of days in which I've wanted to pack it all in, to go home and live how I imagine I'd be living, days when I thought what I was doing was pointless because I witnessed, silently, injustices we'd been instructed to ignore. This hasn't been just a walk on the beach. And honestly, there were a couple of weeks where I'd cry at least once a day (which wasn't necessarily a bad thing; sometimes it was just a stress reliever). I even wrote in my journal once that if I knew then what I know now about the Peace Corps, I wouldn't have done it. I don't think I feel that way anymore, but it is true that this is not what I thought it would be; pre-conceived notions of the Peace Corps and even informed and educated judgements do not hold true to actual life in the Peace Corps.
That all being said, I am learning so much here. Everything I learned and talked about, studied and read about in college is now practice, has now become reality.
And I know this, the first three months were probably the hardest I'll experience, but they also held some of the most memorable moments. "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times."