Thoughts On A Second Year

Its in the second year where it all comes together.

If ever there was an argument for patience in life and confidence things will work out over time, its the phenomena of the second year.  The first year of everything is the most difficult.  Sure, we have the initial passion and enthusiasm; the honeymoon period is one of my favorite experiences-everything is new and wonderful and possible.  But eventually that initial endorphin rush will end, and we're left to see a situation for what it is.  Its intimidating or unfamiliar, boring or difficult; but it is not the easy breezy time we were led to believe.

Everything that was fascinating suddenly seems a little more boring, everything that was new suddenly seems a little more grimy, and everything possible, suddenly seems a little more unrealistic.  The burst of energy we get in the beginning ebbs and wanes and we are left feeling less confident in our new surroundings.  This is true for a job.  This is true for a marriage.  This is true for a Peace Corps Volunteer.

And as dramatically as enthusiasm may fall in the first year, confidence builds in the second year.  Almost everything I do or think about now, is accompanied by the though 'I'm so glad I'm in my second year'.  Second year volunteers have a level of confidence and competence that simply are not possible first year.  I've put in my time, paid my dues, and finally the azerbaijani cultural monkey is off my back.  I can sit at ease at dinner knowing how to toast, how to eat my rice, how to eat bosbosh.  I'm no longer looking for visual cues in this culture but I can move relatively effortlessly within it.

Sure, most of these things are learned in the first year-I was taught the correct way to eat Plov the first week in Azerbaijan-but what is gained in the second year is the knowledge that people are familiar with me now and know who I am.  Occasionally wearing shorts in my second summer is no longer considered by me to be the most unbreakable taboo-its freaking hot and I'm gonna wear shorts!  Yes that doesn't seamlessly fit in with the culture, but I already didn't.  And more importantly, the kids around my apartment know I'm a nice guy, the teachers at my school know I'm a caring teacher, and the people in my community know I have friends who respect me.

This is not experienced in the first year.  These accomplishments are realized in your second year, when you are far enough away from the culture shock and discomfort of your adopted culture to look around and see 'Hey, I'm actually living here'.  The Azerbaijan culture (and I suspect most cultures that aren't as heterogenous as America) is a somewhat closed and restrictive culture.  But there is a place for a weird American to participate in the lives and experiences of Azerbaijanis.  In the first year, there is so much learning and discovering-finding out what you can do, what you can't do, what you enjoy doing, what you hate doing-but its in the second year where that knowledge becomes integrated with who you are, allowing our many culturally fractured identity to heel the cracks and simple be an American living in Azerbaijan.

This is a nice feeling.  And its a feeling that I know I will eventually have to give up as I head onto another adventure in life that leads me into unfamiliar territory.  But I can confidently say that with time I will be back at a level of confidence, just as those AZ9s who are in their first year of Peace Corps currently will soon experience this feeling in Azerbaijan.