Don't Flush the Toilet Paper

I do not usually have a problem with spiders, but I do not go out of my way to invite them into my personal space. Here, there is no such thing. The spiders, ants, cockroaches, and flies have no fear. I often feel them crawling up my arms and legs while I am trying to work, read, or sleep, whether they are actually there or not.

Many of the windows here do not have panes. Screens, yes, but the smallest tear allows for the biggest bugs to get through. The screened windows allow for a constant breeze through the buildings. I know I will appreciate this even more so when it starts to warm up outside, but right now it is as if I am never inside.

I knew living in another country, many customs and habits would be much different from what I am used to. Leaving the airport on the first ride to the mountain I was reminded of my initial culture shock last June. At every twist and turn in the road I feared we would fall off the side of the mountain. There are no guardrails, no divider lines, and speed limits only seem to be suggestions. Farm animals hide between the trees and the tall grass, some tied up and waiting for their owners, others free range and likely without a home. People stare as we drive by: farmers in their fields, children half-naked in their front yards. Amid the errant livestock and gawking strangers lie the piles of burning trash. There is no waste management system here, so the locals manage waste in the only way they know how. Trash cans give the illusion of civility, but eventually what cannot be composted or repurposed is burned.

The food is different as well. Beans, rice, chicken and eggs make up much of my daily diet now. There are seldom dark green vegetables and I find, much to my seven-year-old self’s chagrin, I am missing spinach more than I ever imagined I could. Lunch is considered the most important meal of the day, not dinner, and is therefore the biggest. It is probably the only time I will have meat unless I choose to cook some for myself at home. I am spoiled because when I am up top almost all my meals are prepared for me. I eat with the kids, which gives me both the opportunity to practice Spanish and the chance to get to know them a little better each day.

What is hardest to remember is to not flush the toilet paper. The sewage system is unable to handle toilet paper and trying to flush it will result in a clogged toilet. This being so, there is a little trashcan sitting in the corner of every bathroom. I never recognized dropping toilet paper into the bowl as a habit I would someday have to break. The time has come, and I am constantly reminding myself not to flush the toilet paper.

It is easy to see I am not home here. I uprooted myself from the life I have known since I was born, a life I was comfortable in, and moved to a place where I am constantly uncomfortable. Despite this, I feel at home here. I am learning more about myself every day, and every adverse moment—every cockroach in the bathroom, every ant on the counter, and every spider in my bed—is an opportunity for personal growth that will allow me to adapt and succeed in any and every environment in the future.