ProBlog - Jul. to Nov. 2009

For those just joining...
I, Aaron, your Lost Nav, signed up with the Peace Corps, left my job, moved out of my Greenwich Village apartment and expected a nice government-sponsored adventure to French-speaking Africa to follow. I think I'm back on track now, but the world didn't make it easy on me through this last summer.
Like a kid expecting a package in the mail, I anxiously checked my email during the rainy days of the summer. I was looking for my orders which I expected to have before September. They were scheduled to arrive one month before I expected to leave in October and would reveal the name of the country where I would be posted for 27 months. What could be more exciting?
I had no time to waste. I had people to see and things to do before leaving for what was sure to be a taxing, but gratifying two-year stint in Africa. I went to Chicago, Kansas City, I had a ticket for London, but did not have time for Austin. The orders still did not come. I began to divulge my plans to more and more friends, however tentatively because I learned during my Air Force days that: if you don't have your orders it's not happening.
People would ask about the program, about what was going on. I didn't know; I also didn't have a job or an apartment. The orders still did not come. Finally, after a few weeks on the couches of friends and family a vague email arrived asking that I call the Peace Corps office to discuss my future with the program.
Tentatively, I called and they said I would not likely be able to begin in October. If I would like to continue with the program, they said, would I find a quiet time to speak on Sept. 7. That was the day of my flight to London. I set the time just before my flight, packed my things and set off to the airport. I was anxious to go, but my mood was weighed down by the thought that I would come back to no job, no apartment and piling questions about what would happen in the future.
At the check-in desk they told me that I was on time for a flight which left the day before. The duffel-bag based filing system which I used while living on numerous couches failed me. There would be no refund. I bought a coffee and found that quiet spot where no flight announcement could reach and took the call with the Peace Corps.
My Peace Corps case worker told me that if I wanted to remain in their system, I would likely have to wait six months. I wondered if they would say the same thing at the end of that six months. Still, I had nothing else and I did still want to serve, so I agreed.
I looked around the airport, but all I could think to do was go back to Long Island in defeat.
The state of the economy and my lack of journalism experience left me staring at a black hole of unemployment and odd-jobs for years to come, if the Peace Corps thing didn't work out. When I got back to my parents' house I found out that my childhood pet, a nearly 20-year old cat named Max, was off to kitty dialysis. (Not including lost relatives, it had to be the worse day of my life.)
Max did not make it to 20; she hung on for another week.
Through a certain set of circumstances, I had joined the many unemployed in the country and was generally in a tough spot. I had to make quick progress or stay marooned on Long Island with few prospects. I got a door-to-door job collecting money for an environmental lobby called Citizens Campaign for the Environment. I met a good crowd there, but it wasn't my speed. I shifted my political focus to the re-election campaign of New York City Councilman Dan Garodnick. The campaign had no money to offer me, but I was back in the city. I assumed and was at least mildly confident the Peace Corps opportunity was still for real, but I would not leave it to chance. I was already planning some sort of overseas adventure whether it was government-sponsored or journalistic in nature.
Finally, while in the cramped campaign office, I got word that my orders were sent to my old apartment at Cornelia Street. My good friend and neighbor, Kaveri, delivered the orders which posted me to Morocco in March. I didn't even think they spoke very much French in Morocco anymore. I also received some starter lessons in Arabic. That answered that question.
There were a few more weeks at the Councilman's office until Election Day and I had to figure out how to spend my days from November to March. Kaveri had a six-month trip to Pune, India planned in order to see family and I thought how I might also fill a few months outside of New York. I considered spots across Africa and Asia, but as long as she was happy to have me around in India, I couldn't think of a better place. Kaveri was mildly worried about being able to travel as a single woman... it's good to have a man around, I guess. Plus, we're both reporters and she speaks Marathi, the local language in Pune, so it seemed like a pretty good match.
The plan (properly drawn on a napkin over a coffee) was that I would get my journalist visa and start in Mumbai. When she was ready to meet I would either head to Pune or she would come to Mumbai. After we linked up we would work as a crack team of journalists to get some good stories out and, of course, not miss the sights. We would eventually leave the Mumbai/Pune area and begin a tour to see as much of the country as we could manage. It sounded like a decent adventure for me, plus I had the employment safety net of the Peace Corps all the while. I frantically gathered up all of the supplies and documents I would need. I tried to fit in everything I had to do to put my life in New York on hold. I also had to say my goodbyes, which also felt like goodbyes for Morocco, even though there would be a few weeks back in the New York winter. Sure it was tough, but I figured that if I wasn't the guy who was always dreaming over the horizon, the I wouldn't exactly be the same person at all... for my own sake or for anyone else.
Some of my very good and very well-connected friends were able to set me up with a few contacts in India. The whole plan really seemed to be coming together, but I held on to a healthy paranoia and suspicion of anything that might stand in my way. I packed my new electronics (including one accidentally pink laptop), a few changes of clothes and one compass in order that I find my way home. (Even a lost navigator needs a compass, but I couldn't help but think that a compass is just as useful to leave home as it is to get back there.) I double-checked my flight reservation and headed off to India, by way of the England stop I had missed earlier. I could only imagine it would be the trip I had been missing for my whole life. With any luck these kinds of journeys would be the nature of the rest of my life to come... so long as I always make it back home now and again.
Here goes...