“Is that a microwave?!”

So let me tell you a little story about life in Peace Corps Africa. I know, you say, I’m not in Peace Corps Africa. And you would be very correct. But, let’s start here: When I find myself complaining about stuff here (the fleeting electricity, the cold bucket baths, the dirt that falls down from my tin roof, etc., etc.), I like to say—well, could be worse, I could be out in Africa. Not that I wouldn’t have loved being out in Africa. Let’s be honest, I was a little wah, wah when I found out I was going to the DR, what good would I be in the country of the famous Punta Cana spring break? But when things get tedious out here, when I’m sitting around on a Wednesday night doing nothing by candlelight trying to catch a breeze through my slatted windows (I know, could I sound any more destitute?), I say—at least I’m not in Africa.

So fast forward: My friend Andrea (who I haven’t seen in 5 years, since our big round-the-world Semester at Sea trip) comes to visit. She’s doing this amazing thing called JetBlue’s All You Can Jet. She paid 500 bucks and can fly anywhere in the U.S. for free and parts of the Caribbean/Central America/South America for only the international taxes. Awesome, right? So Andrea’s got this family friend who happens to be doing Peace Corps Namibia right now. She left in March as well. Andrea’s mom has been keeping me updated with a few stories about this chica and up until now I couldn’t say I envied her.

Well, recently, Andrea and I decided to check out this girl on facebook, Andrea said she thought there was a picture of where she lived on there (and that it was a “pretty decent place”). We find this photo, and…ummm…this place is nicer than the townhouse I lived in at college! Part of it has hardwood floors, she’s got like Pier 1 light fixtures, an oven AND a microwave, 24-hour electricity, HOT running water, Ikea-looking furniture. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has air-conditioning. While I am sure this is not how everyone in Peace Corps Namibia lives, I will no longer say—at least I’m not in Africa. And I do feel better about the fact that I’m in the DR. We may have Punta Cana, but at least I’m overcoming arbitrary life challenges like doing nothing by candlelight on a Wednesday night and trying to catch a breeze through my slatted windows.

So on to important things…how to replace my old, decayed mantra of not being in Africa? I will now say—well, could be worse, at least I’m not Cliff. Cliff is an environmental volunteer (gotta love those enviros) here in my region of the DR. Cliff has NO electricity. Cliff has to hike over a 2-hour hill just to get into his site. Cliff grows his own food. So now, when I am annoyed that I have to sweep random debris from my bathroom floor for the 3^rd time today, I will sit back, take a deep breath, and say: At least I’m not Cliff.