I eventually came across one of Sargent Shriver's quotes he said that the Peace Corps is an "enterprise of self-determination," for both the volunteers and the host country nationals. Which makes the lofty concept of peace less like rainbows and unicorns, and more like bread, and shovels. I have no illusions about changing the world in 27 months. I'm going to work as hard as I can, and I'll see what happens. I'm nervous, and terrified, and practicing packing was enough to make me have an aneurism, based only upon seeing all of my pants in one place. Regardless, I wouldn't have it another way. I think there was no better preparation for me than writing this column. After pretending to be a journalist for the last six months, I know the remarkable power that two people talking frankly and on common ground imparts. After interviewing veterans and the homeless, charity workers and local bands, I know the insatiable spirit of a person is only a few questions and an open notepad away. After being a part of this community, I know that I want to be a part of a larger one. Maybe that's idealism, maybe it's not, I'll let you know in 2013.
Eric Czuleger writes: Starting on March 15th or thereabouts, I leave the well-upholstered womb that is Redondo Beach to serve as an English teacher in the Peace Corps… in Albania
Heck No: The End of Heck Yeah
Albania calls.
February 4, 2011
So I have a confession to make… I'm moving to Albania. Starting on March 15th or thereabouts, I leave the well-upholstered womb that is Redondo Beach to serve as an English teacher in the Peace Corps… in Albania. Seriously.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have known this for months and purposefully neglected to mention it to my superiors when I got this job, because, well… homie gotta get paid. That, and I truly love my work here and would rather it not be over. During the last six months I have been so fortunate to write twice a day about Redondo Beach, and I will continue to do so until the bitter end.
But as I write this, I realize that I have been astoundingly fortunate in many respects, most of this through no fault of my own. I have an incredible family, a great community, I get to write plays* for a company in L.A., and a day at the office is writing about Redondo. I'm not exactly sure how this all occurred, but I try not to complain. So this all begs the question, what the heck am I doing leaving the country for 27 months?
Apart from traveling, learning another language, and having a resume that makes women swoon**, The Peace Corps has been something that I'd wanted to do since I was about 16. I can't imagine a better way to see the world than attempting to nudge it in a good direction. What that direction may be, I'll figure that part out when I get there. In short, I've been really lucky, and it would be lame if I didn't try and help some other folks out. Totally lame.
The terms, making a difference, helping the less fortunate, and even peace seem far too amorphous and indulgent for them to be reasons for joining the Peace Corps. In fact they drive me up the wall. They raise my hackles' hackles, and ultimately mean relatively little other than something nice to explain it at a cocktail party.
They also beg the natural question of, "Who am I to claim to help the less fortunate, and bestow the absurdly vague concept of peace upon people I've never met?" Particularly, when I have difficulty learning how to change the day of the week feature on my watch, the concept of tranquility on earth and good will towards all seems just plum ludicrous. (My watch is still two days off).
As much as I like the idea of being air dropped into a foreign country with nothing but some provisions and an olive branch clinched between my teeth so that I can wage my own personal peace assault upon an unsuspecting citizenry, I don't think that this will be the case.
After spending long hours trying to nail down the concept of peace, listening to a lot of music from the 60s, and considering reading a book by Gandhi but never getting around to it, I realize, more keenly now than ever in my life that I have little idea what peace is. I have even less idea of how it is achieved. I have no context for what peace looks like, or how one creates it, or for that matter how to experience it myself.
Furthermore, Albania has been functioning long before my 23 years of life, and it will be functioning long after I return in 2013. I don't consider all of this a lack of idealism, but a starting place for realistic goals.
I eventually came across one of Sargent Shriver's quotes he said that the Peace Corps is an "enterprise of self-determination," for both the volunteers and the host country nationals. Which makes the lofty concept of peace less like rainbows and unicorns, and more like bread, and shovels. I have no illusions about changing the world in 27 months. I'm going to work as hard as I can, and I'll see what happens. I'm nervous, and terrified, and practicing packing was enough to make me have an aneurism, based only upon seeing all of my pants in one place. Regardless, I wouldn't have it another way.
I think there was no better preparation for me than writing this column.
After pretending to be a journalist for the last six months, I know the remarkable power that two people talking frankly and on common ground imparts. After interviewing veterans and the homeless, charity workers and local bands, I know the insatiable spirit of a person is only a few questions and an open notepad away. After being a part of this community, I know that I want to be a part of a larger one. Maybe that's idealism, maybe it's not, I'll let you know in 2013.
All that being said, I will tuck my soapbox away, until I actually have to say farewell to Heck Yeah Redondo. Tomorrow... I'll return to making fun of weird signs and going to bars.
