Ay yay yay.
It used to be sunnier, though. Look at us last month, out on our balcony, in our shirtsleeves, without a care in the world:
What a couple of rubes.
‘Twas our sixth wedding anniversary, the day I made us pose awkwardly for that picture. That means it was almost ten years ago that me and this lovely lady wandered into the studio of our campus radio station, announced ourselves as Ryan’s new interns, and left him with no choice but to let us play our awful emo music on his awful metal show. We all had very terrible hair.
Gee now that I’ve started this post I sure do wish I actually had something to say about marriage in general, our marriage specifically, or marriage in the Peace Corps — but I don’t, I don’t have anything to say, I refuse to reflect! So there. A couple weeks ago, one of our Medical Officers asked us whether we thought our relationship had been strengthened in our time here. In response, I think we drooled and slumped over. I don’t know, I can’t tell if we’re just very, serenely secure in Ourselves and Our Relationship and Our Decision To Come Here, or if we’re just too distracted by our jobs and Six Feet Under to really give that much of a crap. I remember hearing foreboding stuff during the application process — that Peace Corps is “hell on marriages,” that married couples have relatively high Early Termination rates (i.e., we quit more often) — and I remember not really giving a crap about that stuff, either. I mean, I know bad things happen; they just happen to other people. Right? Yeah.
Anyway, after we took the picture we went out for Korean food and beers. It was all very romantic. I should end this by saying that my profound lack of insight into our Married Persons Peace Corps Experience is partly due to the fact that thinking about the two of us is sort of boring, and almost beside the point; marriage is about more than just the people in it. So to all of our friends and family: We like you. Thanks for being so nice to us.
The last photo I want to share with you is from last weekend. It was a Sunday afternoon, and we were hanging out with a few other volunteers, making crepes, as we do. Old New Yorker magazines get passed around a lot here, and somehow we got on the subject of Peter Hessler’s article about an RPCV who served in Nepal. Specifically, the photo that went with the story. The American volunteer, wearing some vaguely safari-ish jacket, walking the dirt roads of a little mountain village, surrounded by curious, delighted children:
HA HA YEAH RIGHT WHATEVER, we snorted. That’s what everybody thinks our lives look like, but they’re wrong; we are cold and isolated and alone and children are never delighted to see us and all we have to keep us going are these delicious crepes, god.
But then we went outside, and it was a beautiful day, and we played frisbee and basketball with adorable, polite youths for an hour.
So I guess the joke’s on us.