Oh, What a Beautiful Country

A few weeks into life in North Macedonia, I'm learning that I can miss home while also beginning to feel at home here.

All the Words I Cannot Find

One of the hardest parts of learning Macedonian is having so much to say and not knowing how to express it.

I'm getting to know my host family, and I want to ask more questions, hear their stories, and share my own. Sometimes, I feel like my relationships are growing faster than my ability to communicate. It's frustrating to have an entire conversation in your head and no idea how to get it out.

Some days, I feel like the newborn puppies near our school, still learning how to use their legs and second-guessing even the simplest things I'd do without thinking in English. I put pressure on myself to know more, to be further along than I am, and to find the words when I need them. It can be exhausting.

But every so often, something reminds me that I'm making progress.

Recently, a taxi driver asked if I'd studied Macedonian before coming to the country. When I told him I hadn't, he said I was doing well, considering I'd only been here about a month.

A simple comment reminded me that I spend so much time thinking about what I can't say that I forget how much I can. I'm learning enough to talk to strangers, share little pieces of myself, and make connections I couldn't have made when I first arrived.

I've been thinking about all the words I cannot find and how little they reveal about everything happening inside me. I may not always be able to express what I'm thinking or feeling, but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there, or that the people around me can't understand me in other ways.

Sometimes, being understood has less to do with finding the right words and more to do with the patience, kindness, and little moments of connection that make you feel understood anyway.

Same, But Different

During my last week in Colorado, I remember hugging my mom one morning and tearing up at the thought of leaving behind the little, everyday moments of affection I shared with my family.

I didn't expect to find that same comfort here so soon.

My host mom hugs me before I go to bed and again when I wake up in the morning. It's become part of our daily routine, and I look forward to it. I hadn't realized how much I'd miss those small gestures until I found myself experiencing them again here.

I still miss my mom, and nothing replaces being able to hug her whenever I want. But I had worried that being far from home would mean going without that everyday comfort. Instead, I'm finding it here, too.

I'm grateful for both: the love I carry with me from home and the love I'm getting to experience here.

I've also acquired a neighborhood walking companion. A black lab named Murphy frequently walks beside me or a few steps ahead, sometimes accompanying me almost all the way home. He's a true gentleman, and I love giving him pets in return for his escort service.

Oh, What a Beautiful Country

Recently, two fellow volunteers and I spent time shadowing a volunteer at her permanent site, getting a glimpse of what our own service might look like after training.

On the taxi ride back, one of the volunteers looked out the window and remarked, “What a beautiful flag. What a beautiful country.” The simple comment gave me goosebumps. I found myself looking out the window a little differently, taking in the place I'm slowly getting to know.

North Macedonia is still new to me. I'm learning the language, getting used to daily life, and realizing how much I don't know. I still rehearse sentences in my head before ordering something and struggle to follow conversations around me.

But I don't need to know everything about a place to appreciate it. Sometimes, I can simply look out the window and feel lucky to be here.

A Wild and Precious Life

My lovely cousin recently sent me a quote by Mary Oliver: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

I've had several conversations with fellow volunteers about what comes after the Peace Corps. Will we return to the United States? Continue our education? Move somewhere else? Most of us don't really know.

One conversation that has stayed with me happened on the bus ride back to our host town after a day of training. Another volunteer from my host town and I talked about what life might look like after service. Maybe more school, maybe another country, maybe returning to the United States.

We talked about the possibilities without needing to choose one.

As we headed back to the place we've been calling home for the past three weeks, the sun began to set. I looked out the window, enjoying the view and the company, and felt comforted by the fact that neither of us needed to have an answer.

I still don't know what comes next. For now, I'm learning a new language, getting to know my host family, and figuring out life in a new country.

There is still so much I don't know how to say, understand, or plan for. But I'm learning that I don't need to have all the answers to appreciate where I am.

I don't know exactly what I'll do with my one wild and precious life. For now, I'm trying to be here for it.

Oh, what a beautiful country. What a beautiful life.