I had dinner with Rebecca last night. We ate pizza on her balcony and drank
beer. We didn’t have on Salwar
Kameezes. I have been in the US for 87
days. Probably had 2 large pies worth of
pizza and well, a lot of beer. But
sitting with Rebecca brought it all back.
We were sitting in the back of the bumpy JiVitA vehicle on our weekly 2
hour drive to Rangpur. Stomachs sick and
knuckles white we leaned in and talked about warm Baltimore summer nights,
pizza, beer and wine. And at this table
we talked about rick shaw rides and streetside samosas. Rebecca is going back to Bangladesh to finish
her project and leaves in a week. I’m
jealous.
But not too jealous.
I’ve started my real life, for the first time in my life I’m not in
school! I’m a fully functional
unemployed adult. Every day I put on
heels and have meetings, or curl up somewhere and apply to jobs. I’m looking for another job that takes me
back across the world. Looking into
being a program coordinator at a refugee camp.
Annnd every other job that’s listed ever anywhere.
In the meantime I’m living in my house with my great
roommates, going out to dinner with friends, visiting my boyfriend in DC on the
weekend (he’s also in international health and understands my curry-eating
ways), and enjoying being back in grocery stores that feel like Noah’s Ark.
But sometimes, I miss the feeling of riding my motorcycle
through the rice paddies with the low red sun behind me. Smelling the morning kitchen fires start up
and the colorful women and their swaddled brown babies. I’ll get there again.
Until next time,
Asalam Walaikum,
Chelsea
