Finally Getting Myself to Say Goodbye

Last night I had another dream about Fiji.

I was swimming in a very large, weirdly shaped fish tank with my fellow Fiji volunteers. After swimming around for a bit, I looked down and noticed how many fish were swimming beneath us (a plethora). I looked at my friend Holly and asked, "Why aren't we freaking out right now?" Holly smiled and said, "I've been cured!"

Scene change: I was looking at a pamphlet that had a picture of a guy and a woman in the ocean. I immediately recognized the beach they were at as a beach I went to in Fiji. I said, "That's Fiji!" And I was literally sucked into the pamphlet and transported back to Fiji. 

It was great at first. I was swimming in the gorgeous Fiji ocean, looking at the beautiful beach, and then I noticed how far away the beach was. I put my head in the water to see what I was swimming in. 

Nightmare starts now. 

The water was suddenly dark (really dark), creepy fish of all sizes were swimming around, and the water became violent. I panicked and slowly began swimming to shore, which seemed miles away. 

It was at this point that I thought, "I could continue this nightmare and wait and see if I get eaten by a shark, or I could wake up." Duh. 

So class, you've learned two things about me from this story: I have a fear of the ocean and I have the magical ability to be able to tell myself "Okay, I'm done with this dream, I want to wake up." 

Fiji changed me and I'm pretty sure everyone I know has seen the difference. It has changed my color, my overall demeanor, the way I dress, the way I walk, the way I talk, and even the way I am viewed by complete strangers. 

So now it's been over a month since I sang the national anthem in the middle of the LA airport, and I have developed another fear (one that can sit nicely with my fear of the ocean). My fear is that as time moves forward and I am farther away from my experience in Fiji, I might completely lose the girl I became there. 

I've seen snippets of this already happening, and it freaks me out. 

How do I prevent this from happening? I figure that I need to take time and remember my experiences (even the miserable ones) I had in Fiji. And I also need to find ways to continue having those kinds of experiences here in Utah. 

I guess I need to find time to wander and time to write...

time to serve...

time to work hard and time to plan...

time to kill spiders in my room (side note: I came upon a spider the other day and didn't even flinch, I just grabbed a shoe and killed it. Before Fiji, I probably would have put a cup over it, distanced myself, and pondered what I should do. Success!).... 

I just really hope I don't lose that Fijian Allyssa.

I've been thinking about this post for a while now and how it's going to be my official "Goodbye Fiji" post. I think it's about time. I mean really, it's been over a month. 

It's been over a month since they've called me Teacher Alisha? I miss people calling me Teacher Alisha.  

I also miss those incredibly vivid rainbows. I miss the people of Fiji. I miss the teachers. I miss our FENC buddies. I miss pillow talk with my flatmates. I miss being used to swimming in salt water. I even miss people trying to convince me to snorkel. 

My heart aches for my students. 

I don't think my mind has fully left Fiji yet. A couple of weeks ago, I almost said "Bula!!" to someone on campus. Last week, my niece was crying and I was trying to think of songs that would calm her down, but the only ones I could think of were the ones I used to sing with my students. One Sunday at church, a guy told me that he was Samoan and I said, "I'm Fi--". I literally (not being sarcastic and not as a joke...) almost told him that I was Fijian. And sometimes when I drive, I still have a debate in my head about which side of the road I'm supposed to drive on (it's definitely the right side of the road guys). I went on a date this past week, and while my date went to get me a drink, I naturally started talking to complete strangers.

And isn't that what my whole Fiji experience was? The people I spoke to on the bus, the taxi drivers I lied to (I may or may not have told the taxi drivers that I was engaged to a rugby player), the teachers, my students, other tourists, Australian hotel owners, the LDS ward members, and every person I lived with. They were all complete strangers. I went to Fiji and fell in love with complete strangers (not all of them, mind you).

So to make a hard goodbye even harder, moce Fiji. Vinaka vakalevu! I've got a lifetime full of strangers to meet. 

They may not call me Teacher Alisha, but I guess I can't have it all. 

Little Moments

Hey hey hey. I’m just chilling on my last night here in Fiji. And I just want to say a little something about moments. Little moments are something I’ve come to appreciate more these past two months. I’ve really enjoyed the firework moments too, but I absolutely love the little moments.

Little moments like my phone call with Warren (the Australian Safari Lodge owner dude in Nananu-i-Ra) was a funny moment. Here’s the dialogue:

Allyssa: BULA

Warren: Hello, Abi?        

Allyssa: No, this is Allyssa.

Warren: Oh hello! Are you coming back to Safari Lodge this weekend too?

Allyssa: No, I’m sick and I don’t want to spend money to sit on a beach and be sick.

Warren: Well it’s better than being in SUVA.

Allyssa: Haha, that’s a very good point. I’ll think about it.

Warren: You should really come.

Allyssa: But I’m sick.

Warren: That doesn’t matter, come anyway.

Allyssa: Huh, it sounds like some Australian man wants my money, Warren.

Warren: Uh, I don’t want your money, honey….

Pause

Warren: I was going to finish that line, but I don’t think I should.

Allyssa: Please don’t.

Or there was that time when an old married couple stopped and talked to me and my friend. The woman told me that they’ve been married 44 years, she told me a little about how they met, she thanked me for the work that I do, and she also lit a cigarette and blew some smoke in my face as she talked. Good times.

One of my absolute favorite moments was sitting next to a woman on a bus who was holding her small toddler in her lap. He was fast asleep (and I was wondering how, because the windows are open and you can hear everything on the street, and these bus drivers play their music loudly), but sometimes he would wake up with wide and confused eyes. His mother would pull him closer, stroke his hair, whisper to him, and whatever other things a mother does, and he would go back to sleep. Beautiful moment. I’m not sure the mother would agree, she could tell I was staring at her and her child and I think she thought I was really weird, but I promise I was just taking in the beautiful moment!!!!

I loved passing the temple every day on the bus, too.

There were a lot of moments of realization too. The “Wait, what?” moments, you know? The ones where you kind of do a double-take at yourself.  I remember when I realized how used to swimming in salt water I am. That’s a big deal for me.

OR the moment when I realized how confident Fiji has made me. One time I was just sitting on a bus, looking out the window, and I realized that the night before I had looked in the mirror and thought I was pretty. At that moment I thought, “Wait, what? I thought greasy hair in a messy ponytail, baggy pajamas, no makeup, and acne scars were pretty?” Let me tell you, it is a stellar look I have going on. And thank you blog post for reminding me that when I go back to the good old USA I have to start wearing makeup again.  

Let’s see, what other moments? Eating roti and curry for dinner was always a good moment.

Watching the children at the different schools brush their teeth together after lunch was a good moment.

Hanging out with some music teachers at Nuku and singing/playing “I Know that My Redeemer Lives” was a good moment. Also playing volleyball at Nuku (and killing my arms and my pride) with the teachers and students after school was a good moment.

Aw, there was that one time when I was taking a nap and I woke up and asked Kelli (my roommate) when the team meeting was going to happen. She told me it already happened and she wouldn’t let the other team members wake me up. She wanted them to let me rest. So good to me.

Bearing my testimony and singing in church were good moments.

Watching a family go from being investigators to being baptized was a lot of good moments.

I loved when I taught at Bishop Kempthorne and saw these beautiful lyrics on the teacher’s desk:

And I loved the mornings when I woke up facing the window and was able to see the beautiful sunrise.

So if you were to ask me to give you some wise counsel right now (because basically I am Socrates, right? Tell Allyssa her blog posts have been your Socrates.), I would tell you to remember and ponder some beautiful little moments you enjoyed today. They are there, trust me.

And also, just because I’m in Fiji doesn’t mean that I’m the only one that can enjoy a sunrise. Everyone has a sunrise. Go watch yours. 

That is all, now wish me luck with the water situation going on in my neighborhood right now. The situation is that we are out of water. Hopefully, the neighborhood's water is refilled soon (it's been HOURS), or my family might be welcoming a hobo home in SLC. No joke. 

Fiji, What Have You Done to Me?!

A couple of blog posts ago, I briefly mentioned how shortly before I came to Fiji, I did not want to come anymore. I was scared and I realized I didn’t want to live on an island for 9 ½ weeks. I couldn’t back out though, so I put on a show: I told my friends how excited I was, I posted pictures on facebook, and I made a blog.

After I arrived in Fiji, things were better, but 9 ½ weeks seemed so long. Oh well, I would just have to get through it and keep myself alive.  After a day, I felt like I’d been in Fiji a week. After a week, I felt like I had been in Fiji a month.

Then all of the sudden, I’ve been in Fiji for two months, the time for me to leave is coming up, and I’m already missing Fiji.

WHAT?

Yeah, I’m already missing Fiji.

I don’t want you to think I’m a heartless human being. The people here made my transition from USA to Fiji so much easier, and when I began teaching my students in May, I was immediately smitten with them. 

As I became friend with the people here and as I taught my students, I tried to predict how hard it would be for me to leave Fiji. Would I cry? Haha, if I couldn’t get myself to cry with homesickness, I definitely wouldn’t cry when I leave a place I’ve only lived in for two months. Would I miss it? I couldn’t imagine myself missing my experience here. I was sort of Hakuna Matata about it all—leave the past behind you. No worries.

Fiji, what have you done to me?

I cried yesterday as I watched my students perform a dance.

Yesterday, I was confused when I tried to imagine what an American car looks like (is the steering wheel on the right side or the left side? It’s still kind of giving me a headache).

I’m comfortable here. I’m comfortable with the people. I’m even comfortable with doing the hokey pokey in the ice cold showers.

I like riding the bus up and down different roads, taking in breathtaking views of the island while I’m on my way to school.

I like stopping and talking to people, getting to know them and telling them how nice it was to meet them.

I like saying “Bula!” to whoever I pass on the road.

I like waving to the coconut sellers and the construction workers that I pass every day on my way from the EIC.

I always thought that other people who have been abroad are cheesy when they say how much they love a certain place. I never understood how missionaries come to love a people so foreign to them. And when missionaries come home, I always thought they need to get over themselves and stop missing their mission so much. Well, they were in their countries for eighteen months to two years. I can’t imagine how hard it is for them to leave the people they have fallen in love with and lived with for so long. 

Did you hear that Fiji? That was me inadvertently confessing my love for you. Can you believe it? I’ve fallen in love with you Fiji.

Fiji, what have you done to me?!

I know what you've done. There's a cheesy quote that I liked when I was a little girl (moving from Orem to Heber, then Heber to Orem in less than a year): "You never really leave a place you love. You take a part of it with you, leaving a part of you behind." 

Would you like to know what you've done to me Fiji? You've taken a chunk of my heart. And now a part of me will always be thinking about you. And what's worse? When I try to explain to people how magical my experience was, they won't believe me, they'll think I'm cheesy, or they just plain won't understand. How could they? 

And what's even worse? You'll forget me. Other white girl volunteers will come and you'll forget me. 

But I won't forget you. As cheesy as it sounds, you'll be with me forever. 

Fiji, what have you done to me?

My Fijian Experience (as told by some of my favorite old Hollywood actors and actresses)

I came to Fiji, and obviously:

My favorite season is winter, remember?

Lots of walking and lots of sweating. Shirley and I share a bond here. 

Our country directors loaded us into the back of a sketchy truck, and when we arrived at the house we each carried our 50 lb. suitcases up a lot of stairs. Back then I was still a little nervous about frustrating people, so I tried to go up those stairs as quickly as possible. If I had to do it again, now I'd make like Jean Harlow and:

Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to look like this: 

And by the next week I gave up and celebrated this look:

After arrival, I immediately crawled into my shell and it took a lot for me to socialize with the group. 

I'm kind of shy. 

I also remember my first meetings and teaching experiences going a lot like this:

Yeah...zero confidence in my ability to teach anything. 

I know you are wondering about our weekend getaways, but I'd like you to know how we traveled to our weekend getaways first. We mainly rode in a minibus--a 12-14 seat van that sometimes squished 17 people. What else? Uncomfortable, so many hours long, queasy, my head hit the window at every turn, traveled mostly at night, and just awful. My friend Bette sums it up pretty well:

A saying eventually caught on among the team members: The days are long, but the weeks go by fast. The days were long, and by the end of them we were so tired that the smallest things either bugged us or made us laugh like this:

Oh Shirley Temple, how you represent us so well:

This is us wanting warm showers.

This is us still wanting warm showers.

A few of us went to the hospital once to see the doctor. Hey, it might have been just a cold (and a little fungus), but it was brutal. There was a sick day where three of us (Kelli, Holly, and I) locked ourselves in a room (posting a sign that threatened anyone who dared disturb us), and we tried to heal ourselves by taking a long nap. We legitimately felt and acted like this:

There were so many times (during sickness, lice infestation, numerous candy bar and cookie consumption, etc.) where we probably laughed and thought:

But there was so much happiness in our experience too. For example, some of the members of our team rescued a puppy (there are lots of stray dogs here in Fiji), and though I never actually held Tommy, he made our hearts happy and well, you know:

And so what if we ate a lot? At least we did it together. 

Speaking of together, remember how I was so shy? I ended up crawling out of my shell and now:

Needless to say, I've gone from

to...

I'm still so much of this it's not even funny:

P.S. The greatest thing about this trip is that I found the love of my life. I figured he deserved to be mentioned at some point in all my blog posts, why not now? Isn't love grand?

BAHAHA. Just kidding. Nope. This is a more accurate portrayal of my relationship status:

Sleeping with Arachnids

Don't get so worked up, it's not as dramatic as the title seems. But you know that moment when you are faced with something that usually makes you extremely uncomfortable, but this time there's not much more you can do besides sleep with it?

A few weeks ago I traveled to an island called Nananu-i-Ra. Nananu-i-Ra is gorgeous--one of the most beautiful places I've been to in Fiji.

Exhibit A:

Note: This picture was taken with a horrible camera (did you expect anything else from the girl who has had the same phone since high school? It's a really cute phone. I don't know what your problem is.) and the picture is STILL gorgeous. Am I calling myself gorgeous? YES I am. 

We arrived at the lodge at night and went straight to sleep. Sleeping conditions pictured below:

Cats eat bugs, so I guess I was welcome to a few cats crawling into my bed in the middle of the night. ?    
I kept waking up in the middle of the night with mosquito bites. I'd scratch them for a bit then go back to sleep. A little later a cat (or two) would jump in my bed, I'd wake up, find another bite, then I would go back to sleep. The next morning, when I scratched the previous night's bites, I found they did not really itch anymore. 

We were going snorkeling and we got some snorkeling gear from Warren, our Australian lodge owner dude (don't fight my English...it's really good), and I was pleased to find the remains of a dead spider in my mouthpiece. Not wanting to be fussy, I silently and quickly removed it from the mask. We headed out on our snorkeling adventure. 

I'd already been snorkeling in Fiji once before, and I handled it really well. In fact, I liked it. I was confident that I could do it again. We traveled in a little boat for twenty minutes, a Fijian man dove into the water and anchored the boat, and we put on our gear. The water was dark, but that only made me a little nervous. After I jumped in, I adjusted my goggles, and then took a peek at what I was swimming in. I don't remember much, except that it was dark, deep, and empty. I started panicking immediately, and whimpered/screamed as I swam back to the boat. The classy French couple and the Fijian men helped me back into the boat and asked, "What did you see?!" 

"I didn't see anything!!!!!!!" 

Awkward. 

One of my team members persuaded me to try again. Not wanting to be the wimp who just screamed at nothing, I tried again. My team members were good and were occasionally asking me how I was doing and asking me if I thought what we were looking at was cool. I would nod and sometimes say a really weak "Yes." It's hard to properly describe what was coming out of my mouth for most of that swim. I was trying not to make a scene, so my crying was coming out in hiccups/dog whimpers/screams/actual crying. I tried turning around and swimming back to the boat, but one of my team members caught me and encouraged me to keep going. Here came more hiccups/dog whimpers/screams/actual crying. I tried turning around once more and swimming back. I was caught AGAIN. Each time I tried swimming out after I was encouraged to keep trying, my body would do the hiccups/dog whimpers/screams/actual crying. I finally just went back to the boat to wait for the others to finish.

I really have no idea why it's so hard for me to swim in deep, dark, empty ocean. Everyone else was fine, so logically I should be fine, right? Nope. Sorry.

Let's talk about that night, because this long post really does have a point.

I found that the pillow I was going to lay my head on had a dead spider on it. I flicked that thing off and worked up the courage to go to sleep, starting to suspect that my bites from the night before weren't mosquito bites.

The night before was basically repeated, but after I found a bite on my neck (Dracula-style...I'm sorry if that brings an unnecessary level of creepy) I grabbed my flashlight and got out of bed with the intention of putting on bug spray. Something small moved in the light, and I saw a small spider slowly crawling down a thread of web that was connected to me. I couldn't scream because the other girls were sleeping, but I was surprised to find that I didn't want to scream. I didn't even jump. I just stared at the arachnid and thought of my biology professor telling us that we should name our spiders and be friendly to them. My biology professor changed my heart that day. I would like the world to know that I tried to be friendly with spiders. I gave spiders a chance, and they bit me in my sleep. I watched that spider touch the ground and crawl away (probably cackling...yeah it was definitely cackling), and I decided I would never be friendly to spiders. Ever. I turned around and looked at the wall, corners, and windows surrounding my bed and found more spiders that were larger in size. I'm still not sure how many I had been sleeping with.

A week before I came to Fiji, I woke up in the middle of the night (this post is helping me realize that this happens a lot) after having a nightmare, and I realized that I dreaded coming to Fiji. I didn't want to come anymore, but people had already donated money to the cause and I had begged my parents to let me come, so I was too embarrassed to back out. I started looking up crime rates and different news articles about Help International, and freaked myself out even more.

The point? The point: I did it. I came to Fiji! I slept with those arachnids! I swam in that dark ocean! And I have come out of it a more confident human being. You want proof? I’ve been snorkeling a couple of times in more shallow water since Nananu-i-Ra, but a week ago I went snorkeling again in dark, deep water (this time at a place called Moon Reef). Though I was scared and breathing hard, I let my friends lead me to the coral and I looked under and what I saw was the prettiest place we’ve been snorkeling to in Fiji. That’s sort of what happened when I came to Fiji. I was scared to death, but I came and I have had such a wonderful, at times really scary, life-changing experience. 

I slept with spiders, but the next morning I woke up and kayaked to one of the most amazing sunrises I've ever seen. So ask me what you should do when you're faced with something you're afraid of. I’m really not an expert, but sometimes you've got to sleep with those arachnids, you know?

  

It's About Time

So I guess I should inform people on what I'm doing in Fiji. Haha. Worst blog writer ever? Well, I'm not saying I'm the worst blog writer ever, I'm just saying that no one has ever seen me and the worst blog writer ever in the same room together.

I came to Fiji volunteering for a program called Help International. I signed up way back in January...or February...I think. At first I thought it was no big deal. And then a couple of weeks beforehand I started thinking that 2 months in Fiji was kind of a big deal. And then a week before I started looking up crime rates in Fiji and having nightmares, so I came to the conclusion that living and volunteering in Fiji for 2 months is a big deal.

Here I am, in the middle of the Pacific, sitting on my zebra patterned sheets, writing about my life as a volunteer. I've already had countless experiences where I sort of do a double take at myself and laugh, because just over a month ago Allyssa was very different than the Allyssa who just tonight hailed down what seems like her thousandth taxi.

I'm a teacher. I teach. Teaching is what I do here in Fiji. I walk a lot too, but I also teach. So far I'm teaching music everyday at a school called the Early Intervention Center. It's a school for young disabled children. These children have mental and physical disabilities. My project is helping the school make their music program more substantial and then leaving the teachers with a music curriculum that they can continue and expand on. It's been a pleasure working with the teachers, and an absolute joy working with the students. As I walk down the path to their school, the students run up and hug me. I've been teaching them Do Re Mi with the hand signals, and I wasn't sure if they were catching on but they have! Last Monday many of them were able to show me that they can almost do all of it with the hand signals. They are even singing louder too! I'm excited to leave the curriculum with the teachers because I think their teachers will be able to get even more out of them than I can. The teachers also know which songs the children already know. I've almost learned one of them, which is my favorite, that I'll share with you:

Isn't the love of God so very wonderful?

Isn't the love of God so very wonderful?

[something something something]

So high you can't get over it.

So low you can't get under it. 

So wide you can't get around it.

[something, something, something, something]

I'm also a P.E. teacher at the Hilton Special School. Older children attend this school, and their disabilities are more physical. I'm proud to announce that I'm learning the children's names like a pro. Meeting with the teacher at this school, she explained to me that the idea that people besides athletes need to exercise is fairly new. She wanted a volunteer to introduce a new P.E. curriculum. It's been great. The kids have responded really well to the program. One girl came up to me my second day and told me that "exercise" is her new favorite class and that she exercised on her own at home. She has a prosthetic leg and I'm betting someday she'll be a pro athlete.

I also volunteer with a program called FENC. It's an organization that travels to a poor village and we tutor children their. Once again, the people we work with and the children are awesome. I can't put it to words. Hm. The younger children sit on our laps and we read to them or sing with them (it's heart melting the way they sort of claim you as their white person and they just fit perfectly on your lap). We help the older children with their homework. At the end of the day, the children are awarded stickers by us if we thought they were good students, and if they get enough stickers, they get to go to McDonald's. First they'll make sure we know their name, and if we don't say their name, it's funny the way they'll switch loyalties and go from holding your hand to holding another volunteer's hand.

What else? I played volleyball with some students and teachers at another school the other day. It killed my arms and killed a little more of my pride. Eventually, the other team realized that they needed to hit the ball towards me, and then my team realized they needed a teammate playing practically right in front of me to fill in the hole that I was creating. They tried not to let me notice, but I noticed. I KNOW WHEN I'VE BEEN INSULTED! Charlie Brown guys.

So there you go. That's the real stuff I've been up to. It's been grand. This was more of a "I just need to write and say what I'm doing so people don't think I'm doing nothing" post more than a "this is gorgeously written" post. In case you didn't notice.

A Look Back at High School

So this morning I woke up and walked into the kitchen to find people discussing education around the world. The U.S.A. has the best colleges and unlike a lot of other countries allows for innovation and creativity. Which I think is true. Then they started discussing high school and how it taught them absolutely nothing and did nothing to prepare them for real life and for college. It got me thinking, and when things get me thinking, I write. And then I type it. And then I need someone to see it and read it. And then I remembered that I have a blog! 

Yes, the transition from high school to college was the worst I have ever done in school. But looking back, I don't feel comfortable blaming high school. My teachers told me that college wasn't going to go easy on me like they were. Time and time again. I thought I was smarter though and ignored them. And then college beat me up. Here's what I learned in high school and what I originally thought I didn't learn:

1. Language. What I thought I didn't learn was French, but thought I may not be fluent in French, I understand the basics of language and I am able to read through French phrases in classic literature and even in history. I can pronounce French places and names a lot better than other people can (chumps who say Champs a lee say). 

2. History. I gained an appreciation for history and the United States Government. I do not have the constitution memorized, but I understand it, who wrote it, and where and when it came from. In American Heritage in college (which was one of my best grades) and everywhere else in life, I know historical names and facts and shock myself when I'm able to mention them and explain them. I can put my two bits in different conversations because I know my history. 

3. English. I liked writing in junior high better because it was creative writing. In high school, they had me analyze poems and old books, then they covered my paper in red ink, and told me to do better next time. There was one time, after analyzing some sort of poem, where my teacher handed me back my paper and told me, "Normally I would give this paper a 6, but I felt bad for you and gave you a 7 instead." She did not say this to comfort me, she said this and laughed because she wanted me to know that this paper was not worth a 7. I have always remembered that when I write papers for my college classes and my teachers only subtract half a point or they send it back with comments such as "This essay is gorgeous." I think my English teachers in high school must have taught me something, or my college professors are wimps. Either way, it still makes me laugh when people say, "High school did nothing to prepare me for college."

4. Theater. I became a stellar actress. I know how to analyze theater and I know how to work with kids of all ages and make a production that leaves the audience wanting more or giving you an award at the end of the year. It wasn't in college that I received the opportunity to work with a Broadway actor, it was in high school. It wasn't in college that I had the chance to act in various productions and even star in a musical, it was in high school. I know it was because the high school population is so much smaller than college, but that's my point. There's no reason we shouldn't have learned anything in high school because there was so much opportunity to be noticed and learn from experience. 

5. Music. One day in AP Music Theory, the drama director came in and told the students about an opportunity to compose underscore for the school play "The Diary of Anne Frank." Though I was scared as heck at first, I thought I would try it. I had never composed anything before, but there I was volunteering to compose music for the school play. And I did. And it was great. I also became the soprano section leader for my school choir because my choir teacher asked me to (we're lucky if our college professors even know our names) and p.s. I was not a soprano. Finally I was the music sterling scholar that didn't get past regionals. I was ashamed of this at first, and now (literally right this moment, after this whole discussion) I'm realizing that prepared me for college too. It prepared me for disappointment. It prepared me to know that people outside of my teachers in high school weren't ready to worship my talents. I needed work even harder to prove to them that I have talent. 

6. Special Needs. I peer tutored in high school. Before I had done this, I was nervous around kids with special needs. But now I am completely comfortable around them. This is important, because now I teach 5 special needs classes where kids pull my skirts practically off, jump on my back when I'm kneeling down, or hit me. High school taught me to keep my calm in these situations. High school. 

High school. 
There's a lot more, but I don't want to waste time. All I want to say is that I did learn a lot of things in high school. I would also like to say, in response to all those who say that high school did nothing to prepare you for real life, in the words of my wise high school teacher, "There are those who say that real life starts after high school, or after you graduate college, or once you get married. But that is not true. Real life is now." Those who say that real life isn't now, have let part of real life fall through their fingers. I'm not stuck in high school, but I learned a lot in high school. If you're one of those people that say high school did nothing for you, here's my question: Where were you?

Brothers

So what is Allyssa dying to eat/drink when she gets back home?

Orange juice

Chicken broccoli soup

         CHOCOLATE CAKE

         Good cereal and milk

         See’s Candy

        Air. There are so many fumes from the cars and a million buses that make this place really hard to breathe in. And there are piles of garbage on the side of the road that sends its sent 50 feet away. So yeah, I really want to breathe.

         Tap water. My stomach doesn't agree with the tap water here, so I’m drinking out of a water bottle most of the time.

And last but not least….

         VEGGIES!!! I want to sit down with a bag of carrots (the carrots I’ve had in my meals from restaurants here are rock hard), and celery, and green beans, and (dare I say it?) corn, and peas, and broccoli (hence the chicken broccoli soup). I want veggies so bad.

Oh gosh, this post wasn’t going to be about food. Sorry about that. This post was going to be about brothers.

This past Thursday we were working with FENC and visited a squatter village again to tutor children. The children were still just as heart-melting and happy as before. They’ve got fun personalities.  I read with Ben and Lidiana for a little bit. I used to think that donated books and donated clothing probably wouldn’t be used, but they are. The kids don’t have enough—to the point where they have some of the picture books memorized. After we read books, the kids colored pictures of cats…all the colors of the rainbow (name that song)!

As I was watching Ben and Lidiana color, I saw another little boy with a little girl who looked too young to be in school. She was his little sister. I’m not sure what her name was, but I think his name was a Fiji version of Issaquah. His little sister was shy and didn’t talk at all. She just stared. Issaquah, who was also very small, kept a good eye on her. They were glued together. He led her by the hand and when she was distracted and staring at the big white people, he made sure she wasn’t left behind. When they were waiting in line, his hands were on her shoulders and when the children were all sitting on the ground with their eyes on the teacher, she was on his lap. When I saw them separate I saw concern on their faces.

I got really distracted watching this tender bond. I was thinking of Jackson and all the times he protected me—when we were new kids in Heber and trying to make friends, when teachers yelled at me, or when boys flirted with me. I felt what that little girl was feeling. I can’t put it to words, but I know it. As I watched Issaquah and his little sister, I missed Jackson so much, but even more than I missed him, I was grateful for him and so so proud of him. Then I thought about Trevor and how much I miss and am grateful for him. He’s married, he has a beautiful daughter, and he’s in Oklahoma following his dreams. Then I thought about Josh. Don't get me started on how splendid/brilliant Josh is. He's my best friend. 

And now I’m thinking about Jesus Christ, and how much I love Him. Issaquah was holding his sister’s hand, guiding her, and protecting her. This is the kind of bond that we have with Jesus Christ, who is our older brother. He takes us by the hand, he guides us when we’re lost, and he doesn’t lose sight of us.

I wanted to take a picture of Issaquah and his sister, but they were so shy and I didn’t want to scare them. I kept my eye on them until they left the little schoolhouse together and went home eating cookies. And I wondered if that little girl knew how lucky she is to have an older brother.

Let's not blow things into Fijian meal size proportions.

So here's the thing. This:
This. This is Kelli, say hi! But also this is some food we ordered today. We didn't order the whole restaurant, we didn't even order a large, this is just how big they wanted our meals to be. I keep kicking myself every time I order, because I always forget to order takeout (takeout orders are smaller, sometimes you can almost finish them in one meal).
Don't worry Moms, boyfriends (haha...boyfriends), skinny jeans, and swimsuits, we aren't going to gain weight here. Why? A. We walk miles every day and B. I keep finding bones in my chicken, which puts horrible thoughts in my mind. For example, "This piece of chicken has a weird shape and a different texture. What if I'm eating a chicken skull or something?" And then I want to cry, or just spit it out. Sometimes I choose to do the latter.
This meal wasn't finished. I got a to-go box (what I had left wouldn't fit in the to-go box), because I don't want to be that American who wastes more than half her meal.
But guess what? Guess what? Our dinners are saved! By a flying wild man in a loin cloth. Okay, I haven't met a flying wild man in a loin cloth (not yet at least), I just want to watch Tarzan. No, our dinners were saved by the arrival of Tiko, our Fijian cook. So far, she's cooked shepherd's pie, chicken pot pie, and tonight she's cooking veggie stir-fry.
I was trying to think of a clever way to end this post, but heck I'm not a blog writer, it's hot, and memories of the chicken I ate today are coming back. Plus there is a creepy-looking dead bug on my floor that's making me want to stay on the corner of my bed while fiercely hugging my pillow and my laptop. Um...remember when Mr. Rochester calls for Jane, and she hears him even though she's so far away? I'm going to make like Mr. Rochester and MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So today is Sunday (Saturday for you because I am a day ahead of you. I win!) and I absolutely with all of my heart loved it. These people just ooze love for the Gospel. Partaking of the Sacrament was just wonderful and brought me so much peace, which was much needed after saying goodbye to my family to go to a foreign land with people and customs I’m not familiar with. I can't wait to go again next week. 
And then Relief Society happened. At the beginning, a woman got up to lead the opening hymn, but she was looking at another woman for guidance. She had no idea what she was doing, but she was loving it. We sang “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer”, and she said, “Okay sisters, at the top it says to sing “with dignity”, so you need to sing it with you know umph!” She had us sing very loudly, and at the high notes she would sing very loudly: “It’s up there! Hit those high notes!” The very last phrase she told us to sing very quietly. After we sang, she said joyfully, “This my first time leading. In my whole life!” She laughed and sat down. A little later she was talking about how she “got married, had eleven children, yada yada yada” I’m not making up the yadas. After she had eleven children, she went back to school to become a midwife. Having a baby with her as your midwife would be the most hilarious delivery ever. Imagine a really big, loud, and hilarious Polynesian woman with you as you deliver your child. BAHAHA. 
I noticed that a lot of the woman brought their lesson manuals with them to Relief Society. I could tell they had studied them throughout the week because they were bookmarked and highlighted. Throughout the lesson, they were following closely with their manuals. When I get home I’m going to try to do that more. 
I realize these posts have been random and a bit long, but this weekend has been kind of slow and I've had a lot of free time. Starting this week we will be meeting with a lot of different organizations to figure out different projects we want to head. If all goes well, I'm going to speak with different schools about teaching music. I want to work with a school called Hilton. It's a school for special needs children. With this school, I would (hopefully) teach music, P.E., and choreograph a dance that they do at a festival thing. 
So that's an update. Points to those who actually read it, points to those who take time to skim it, and points to those who read one post and skim the next. 
 

This is a post covering about 3 days, 2 of those not having internet. So skim, or read only if you are actually sincerely interested.
I got on a smaller plane to Suva, Fiji. That plane landed, I grabbed my luggage (with my buddies, I’m a super safe person) and then saw my country director. He took us to a cute (sarcasm) truck that we were going to ride in the back of--Indiana Jones style except without the bad guys.

After lunch, we walked to FENC to travel to a village to tutor children. The people at FENC are super nice, and I was so grateful to speak to Fijians that knew who we were and why we were there. We traveled to the “squatter” village, which is a super poor village where the families live in small huts constructed with metal. When we would walk in muddy areas, it smelled like the mud wasn’t made from just water and dirt. The children were obviously wearing donated clothing, that sometimes didn’t even fit (there were a couple with shorts falling off). And someone had a pig rocking out in front of their hut. It was just chilling there chewing something.
We went into their little preschool, took off our shoes (a Fijian custom), and waited for the children. We learned about “Fijian time” which means if someone is told to be somewhere at 4:00, they will be there at 5:00. Eventually, many children came and we read with/to them. Two little boys kept gently grabbing strands of my hair and smiling. I asked them if they liked my hair and they said yes. I loved meeting these kids, and they enjoy saying "Bula!" (Hello) to us white folk.
The next day, groups of three were sent on a scavenger hunt in the city. First we bought papaya at the market, exchanged currency (I’m super impressed with myself) and ate lunch. We found large fish, touched the ocean, and I attempted to juggle papaya (the picture looks legitimate). We also got on the bus (all by our little selves), even the right bus, and got off at the correct stop. On this bus, it looked like there weren’t any seats left, so I was just standing. I heard someone making kissing noises behind me and I thought, “Oh my gosh, how rude, a guy behind me is making kissing noises at me because I’m a white girl and he wants to make me uncomfortable.” I ignored him. Then I remembered something HELP had taught me before I came to Fiji, which was that Fijians make kissing noises to get your attention. Sort of like “Psst” or “Hey, over here!” I turned around and realized that they had made room for me on a seat. Haha…oops. 

Then I ate sticky fried rice. It tasted like I cooked it…except I didn’t.

On Saturday it was raining like there was no tomorrow. And it’s not the warm rain that I’ve experienced for the past couple of days, it was cold. COLD. And for some reason, my group decided that this would be a good day to try and go to the beach to go snorkeling. This is something I should have thought through a little more. As always, I’m too cool for umbrellas. Ya dumb. This bus ride was a couple hours and even came with entertainment—a TV special of some Scottish guy paying tribute to Jim Reeves (I actually recognized a couple of the songs), and another TV special of a super happy guy imitating (paying tribute I guess) to Buddy Holly…but also singing Elvis Presley songs. Those are my jams. 

We arrived at a road that led to the resort. I decided at this point that if I were to liken myself to a Disney princess now, I would be Ariel, because I’m wet ALL THE TIME. All I can say about this day I guess is that I was soaked for 7 hours...and only 5 minutes of those 7 hours were spent in the ocean. We’ve all agreed that the next time we have to choose between going snorkeling on a rainy day or watching Bollywood movies, we’re watching Bollywood. All the way.

 

Saying that Australians are Friendly is an Understatement

Tuesday, the 13^th of May, I flew LA with my Dad at 11:30 a.m. Before my flight to Fiji, we wanted to spend a day in LA together. We rented a cool car that actually turned out to be a bit uncomfortable, we went to the LA Temple visitor’s center and then did baptisms (which was probably one of the best/most spiritual that I’ve ever done in my life), we went to dinner and ate Mexican food (love me some good Mexican food), we hung out at Downtown Disney (it was oh so painful being so close to Disneyland…yet so far [I make Disney pun]), then we went to “The Citadel” shopping outlets and hung out there for a bit. It was a very lovely day. And then I had to say goodbye. Saying goodbye to Dad was so dang hard, I was so grateful that he’d traveled with me to LA, and then went through the trouble of parking and walking into the airport to help me get checked in. When I was waiting in line for security, I turned around constantly to see if my Dad was still there watching me, and he was. That was so comforting. I can’t imagine how hard it was for my Mom and Dad to say goodbye to me and send their petite child to Fiji. No big deal.

I got on the airplane and sat down, and then a handsome Australian man sat down next to me. I was thinking, “Woah, I’m never this lucky.” Haha…lucky. It was an interesting sort of lucky. This guy, named Daniel, started talking to me a lot. He talked about his 3 week trip in America that he loved so much, and he loved Americans, except he thought people in New York were a little rude, and then he talked about how Australians are really friendly. He went to Disneyland and loved it. He asked me at one point if I smoked, and I said no, and he said he doesn't smoke either. Good for him! He then mentioned that his parents were Dutch. I took this opportunity to say, “Oh, I have a brother serving a mission in the West Indies, and he’s speaking Dutch and French!” He asked if it was a volunteer trip type of thing, and then I told him it was for my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. A Christian church? Yes. He then encouraged me to watch a documentary about animals (he had watched it on the way here and said it was really good), so I watched it. 

Halfway into the movie, Daniel got tired and laid his head on his tray with his pillow. I guess the space was too small or something, because a little later, he decided we were good enough friends for him to put his head practically on my lap. Or maybe he didn’t know this was happening because he was way sleepy…or maybe he didn’t know this was happening because he had a glass of some sort of alcohol…maybe a couple of glasses. I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what to do without being rude, “Excuse me, sir, will you please not be so close? This is awkward.” I didn’t say that. I moved a little at one point, he woke up and apologized , then DID IT AGAIN, except this time he was completely, no question on my lap. No joke. A flight attendant came by and asked if Daniel was cold and needed another blanket, and I said that I thought he was fine, the flight attendant then asked if he was my husband, and I said, “No, he’s just a stranger.” BAHAHA. I think it confused the flight attendant. Eventually, Daniel woke up again and got off my lap, I took that opportunity to return Daniel’s pillow to him, then get something out of my bag, pull my blanket over me, and then try to go to sleep. This worked-ish. He still put his head on the edge of his tray, pretty close to my lap. Australians are REALLY really rEALly friendly. 

The next morning, I woke up (like I did 50 times during the night) and started reading my Book of Mormon, so that when he woke up, he would see me reading the Book of Mormon and ask about it. But he didn’t. After I read my Book of Mormon to my heart’s content, I decided to write a note with information about the LDS church, the website, the Book of Mormon, and then I bore a quick testimony, and signed it, “Your friend on the airplane, Allyssa”. As we left the plane, I needed to claim luggage, he didn’t, so I gave him the note. He said, “You wrote me a note?” I told him it was information about my church and such. He was probably thinking, “I don't remember asking you for information about your church.” He said thank you and that he would read it later.

Anyway, moral of the story is, even if he thinks I’m a little crazy, maybe one day, he’ll meet missionaries or something and then he’ll be able to say, “I met a crazy girl, who is a member of your church, on an airplane.”

I'm trying to figure out pictures. I can't upload those as often because they take up too much information or something, and the internet here is weird.

P.S. The weather here is cooking me alive. I am literally only using a sheet as a blanket.
P.P.S. These posts are written fairly quickly to let my friends and family know what's going on, so I know it might lack in writing quality, but whatevs.
P.P.P.S. It's really relaxing to wake up here in the morning. Birds are chirping, our handy-dandy electric fan is blowing in my face, I go out into the living room and start writing this blog post, and then construction starts :JAB:LFSDN>FK SDPFJSLKEFNSDF. If I wanted, I could run out of my living room and jump off the balcony (with epic music in the background, of course) and land on the construction vehicles.