Peace Corps, like most things in life, comes with a few preconceptions that aren’t entirely correct.  For example, there is the illusion of saintliness that is applied to the volunteers.  This is not really surprising, since when I signed up I was spouting all kinds of angelic motivations for my stay in South America.  For a few moments before I actually arrived in the country, I had convinced myself that I was selfless, compassionate, generous, and all of those other traits that everyone throws high up on a pedestal and then rarely uses.  But as I sat on the bus as it left the Lima airport and stared at the scene that whizzed by outside my window, I became aware that I wasn’t really any of those things.  I remember how dark it was.  How all the barred windows and walls topped with shards of glass hinted at the undercurrent of crime in that seemingly peaceful community.    There were crowds of people surrounding fires burning inside of large metal barrels, and I remember thinking that I had only seen that in movies, never in real life.  It was a sinking feeling; a realization that I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew.  I began to understand that I had never actually seen, much less lived in, poverty.  I had no experience, no preparation for this.  I had no idea what I was doing.

Hence, the three months of training.  They put you in a secure community and introduce you to a nice family that is just as curious about you as you are about them.  You start to learn the language, but more importantly, you learn that there are more important things than flawless grammar when it comes to communicating.  You learn a little humility as you stumble through sentences that should be so simple.  You discover the value of a smile and a willing attitude, which I relied heavily on for the first 6 months of my service.  When you can’t communicate well, people tend to assume you are slow, but if you smile they at least understand you are trying. 

The halo that you used to see above your head slowly fades away, and you begin to realize that you don’t have to be a saint to help.  It’s okay that you need time for yourself, that every now and then you say no to projects.  You figure out that there is no need to feel guilty about taking a vacation, and that it is okay that you are looking forward to being back in the US.  I think that my time here as made a lot of my faults more apparent to me, but at the same time, I have stopped condemning myself for them.  I recognize that I have a lot to work on, but for once I don’t feel discouraged about it.  I guess in the end what I’ve realized that I will never be a saint, but that doesn’t make me a hopeless case either.  It’s just me.