02/08/13 From New York to Cap Ternay
As a New Yorker
(or any city dweller) understands, there is a long tedious although lovely
process in which one becomes close friends with someone. Usually the
circumstances have to be perfect in which you frequent the same places/study in
the same university/work together/etc. and then happen to have multiple of the
same interests to spark conversation. This process can take years or months
dependant on how reticent one is. Unfortunately/fortunately, this theory is
completely and utterly erroneous when it comes to expatriates and GVI. Want to
make some of the closest friends you’ll ever have? Spend a whopping 8 days
here. After that, then you can groan about how poor you’ll be by all the
trans-Atlantic flights you’ll be booking in the coming months to visit them. This
altered process of “getting to know one another” could slightly be attested to
the close quarters or the constant interaction, but the bulk of your
connections will be based on the single fact that volunteers and expatriates
are “do-ers.” The people I have been surrounded by are not those who talk of
the grandeur of the world and their tentative travels and then check Facebook
on their iPhone to see if they’ve been “poked.” No one here is waiting, they
are doing. Camaraderie is based on that simple fact that we’ve all left the
comforts of Dim Sum take-out Fridays or napkins and have moved on to chase sea
monsters sharks and turtles. All the inner city pressure and social norms
have been subsequently lifted. Thank God.
It’s my fifth
week here in Seychelles, this unfortunately means that the first batch of
volunteers whom I was previously living with have recently left. Now, as a New
Yorker, I may or may not be slightly apathetic. And that may or may not be an
understatement. Strangely enough, when the first batch of volunteers departed I
truly grieved. These were my buddies. These psychos were my friends. And now,
now they’re gone to Europe. And now, now I’m going to be so broke. I’m
literally going to be eating shadows for dinner. I’m going to have so many
miles on my American Airlines account to just see these psychos again. Sigh.
But since they
(old volunteers) have departed to go and wear shoes and pants once more, that
means that new volunteers have moved in. Moved into the old volunteer’s beds and
making them their beds. Now all the new Brits will be discussing their accents
for the first couple days and assuming that they all sound completely
different. They don’t. (Sorry guys, you literally all sound the same.) There will be new inside jokes and new epic
failures. There are going to be old hikes with new people. Old dive locations
with new dive partners. New bizarre Thursday night outfit choices and and Jack,
well, Jack will probably get lost again. And I, I will probably still not be a
morning person.
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