Michelle's 1-Year Reflection: A Father's Advice

"Over time the novelty of the experience wears off and one day becomes just like the last, new news becomes less apparent as life finds its routine. 

I hope it doesn't happen too fast, and that each day you find something of a surprise.  Resist the mundane and find magic in each moment."
- David Harper, my daddy, August 7, 2014

The Harper clan in front of the Berlin Wall, 1990

A Little Nostalgic Context
If anyone could offer advice on how to adapt to life (as an adult) in a new country, it would be my mom and dad. We spent a lot of our life moving from culture to culture and place to place. In each place, they made an effort to learn the history and culture. My mom took German lessons from a neighbour friend and kept in touch with them for years. My dad is the perpetual explorer, seeking new information and history at each stop. Add a little revelry and that's a perfect snapshot of their life together. 

As their child, I learned how to take advantage of cultural exchanges in our community. I went to an all-German-zero-English kindergarten. My brother took French immersion classes. We would visit our neighbour's farm in England and "help" them with their lambs (I say "help" because it was more "watch" or "get in the way" than helping). 

I also remember going on infinite car trips, because they taught us (and I still believe this is true) that you cannot know a country until you SEE the country, explore its history, and meet its people. By 5 years old, I was an old pro at car games: license plates, the alphabet game, and "cows" (a game I'm pretty sure my parents made up when we were too far off the grid to see any signs, cars, or people. The goal is literally to count the cows that you see before anyone else does... riveting, I know, but we were seriously competitive).

I say ALL of this to say: when my parents give me advice for moving to a new place, I take it to heart.

"One day,  the novelty of the experience wears off... and life finds its routine."

I am blessed that my "routine" includes spending time with these ladies.

When we first arrived in country, our senses were overwhelmed with all of the new sites and sounds (which is totally justified because South Africa is a truly beautiful country). My thoughts were preoccupied with how to improve my bucket bathing techniques, the proper way to greet a person, and reading between the cultural lines to interpret what was happening but not being said.
At first, it was intoxicating. Then, exhausting. Now... well, now it feels just "normal."

I didn't really notice this "normalness" until very recently. We have been travelling and preparing for the next cohort of volunteers, so a lot of people have been asking, "What's it like to live in a village?" And I realized that I get a bit surprised by their asking... so my response is something like, "It's great! My school is supportive. My family is awesome. The place is beautiful. We have a dog..." and I quickly run out of things to say. I have to REMIND myself that they really want to hear about "village living" (water and electricity access, transportation, cultural exchange), so I add those in as, somewhat, after thoughts.

In 2011, when people asked us about what it was like to be in Tacoma, I would never have thought to say, "well, we have indoor plumbing, electricity 100% of the time..." I didn't think about it at all because, at that point it was my normal. (I'm laughing at my future self who will move back to the US and will be fully overwhelmed by these things that used to simply be normal, but I digress... ).

These are signs that the novelty of village living has worn off for me. I feel some shame in admitting it,  but, to be honest, I think it is a good thing in many ways.

First, "intoxication" and "exhaustion" are, for me, not adjectives for a sustainable, healthy way of living. Adjusting to village life is an emotional roller coaster. My heart is happy to have found some solid ground.

The second point is still a bit rough around the edges, because I am unpacking it just now... Now that it feels more routine, it also feels more authentic. I used to feel so uncomfortable with aspects of village life/cultural each that I found myself in my head a lot. I would focus on every word coming out of a person's mouth plus the spaces between each word. It took energy. I didn't feel present. It was hard.

This "new normal" is allowing me more space to share my authentic self. I feel connected. I feel relief. In other ways, I want to sit with what else might be lost when I lose this novelty. Wonderment? Have I lost any gratitude? Or awe? These are things I will be more intentional in considering as I am at my site.

So... "the novelty will wear off and you will find routine? " Yup. Truth. Check... 

"I hope each day you find something of a surprise."

Mopane worms, a type of caterpillar, are a common snack in the springtime.

Yes! Also true!
I am always reflecting on the small moments that have made me chuckle and think, "well, this is South Africa." Days when:

• Your colleagues offer you caterpillar (see photo above), cow intestines, or goat's tongue for lunch. 
• Your students sing your favourite prayer song BECAUSE they know it is your favourite prayer song. 
• Your learners do something to touch your heart and amaze you, such as, bringing their own ideas to manage the library, teaching each other the things you have taught them, or strutting in some new-found confidence that they wear like a comfortable, worn-in shoe. 
• The one million tiny, unexpected,  acts of kindness that warrant a moment for pause and gratitude.

If you blink, you can miss these everyday beauties and small surprises. I want to be more intentional to share these things with those of you at home, because these are the connection points that build the fabric of this experience for me (us).

"Resist the mundane and find magic in each moment."

Joe captured this sunrise on his way to school one morning. Beautiful...

This was my daddy's main charge. This is the piece that I want to carry forward into my second year. 
Resist the mundane. Seek magic.

To me, that means, to pause. Celebrate. Be present. Look around you. Find beauty. Giggle. Ask questions. Go deeper. When I feel like I am in comfortable depths, then I should go deeper again.

All in all, I can say that, even after 29 years of "wisdom" and a full year's Peace Corps experience (dad, get ready to take a screenshot to commemorate the time and date), a father's advice still holds water.

And, just to lay it on thick because I love you and you are so far away...

Dad, you were right.

_____________________________
Tell us what you think:
- How do you find magic in each moment?
- How do you resist the mundane?
- How do you "go deeper" once you have started to feel comfortable?