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Since we arrived back from our vacation in Europe (to be blogged about soon), we have been moving into our permanent apartment in Abu Dhabi. The woman who I replaced at work (and her husband) lived in the flat we are now in. We purchased much of their furniture from them before they left, which has made moving up 9 stories, from the guest apartment to #901, a breeze. Mostly we just had some personal items we brought with us to take up the elevator. At this point we are still waiting for telcom, and we need to turn on the gas to use the stove and buy a few household items, like dish- and silverware, some bedding, and some wall decorations. But so far, so good.

We are still far from completing our relocation. Transportation is a slight issue; we'd like to drive ourselves around, but new parking regulations make renting cars an issue. (Taxis are cheap and convenient, in the meantime.) My bank has been grumpy due to me changing (work-provided) mobile phones, and Tim's residency visa requires him to go through the process I went through a few weeks back, from medical examinations to application translations, to fingerprinting. It seems like a never-ending to-do list continues to confront us after a month of residing in Abu Dhabi.

All the same, with each passing week I can feel us shaking off some of the "funk" left with us from our Peace Corps/South Africa experience.

A year ago right now, our life enter into a tornado which we are now just beginning to recover from. First, our home in Swartruggens became an active site in the national teaching strike, with armed police officers walking the hallways of our building while union leaders met with our main supervisors. We moved into our beloved friend and colleague Palma's home as an emergency measure, only to have the unthinkable happen, when Palma passed away suddenly from an emergency heart surgery. After all of this our work there became impossible, and Peace Corps was on the lookout for a new site for us. As months passed in uncertainty we stayed in Pretoria and with Peace Corps friends, playing a delicate waiting game while still technically placed in the North-West Province Department of Education.

It was not until October that we had a new home and work site, and we were delighted this time for the opportunity to "rough it," without indoor plumbing. We quickly adapted to a new province and new language group...only to have disaster strike once more, as we discovered that child abuse masquerading as corporal punishment was commonplace (and endorsed) at our new site. Most volunteers have 2 or 3 schools to avoid this situation, which can leave a volunteer in a vulnerable place politically should he or she find beatings in their school excessive or unreasonable, or sickening to one's stomach or emotional well-being. But with only the one school, we wound up with little choice (save changing sites once again, which was a lengthy ordeal the first time) than turning our heads, hearts, and minds away, as we were forced each day at school to defend our choice to not beat learners to self-conscious educators.

After one last wonderful South African holiday with my dad and step-mom we made the difficult choice to leave Peace Corps, to be unemployed in the states. We were coming home from school (when we were going to school...) with boxing gloves on, ultimately failing to really cope with violence we were witnessing. It would take long-term rest and repair to heal from the feelings of hopelessness, guilt, shock, and fear which go hand-in-hand with witnessing violence and being powerless to stop it. Yet it still remained uncertain when we would even begin the healing process, as being homeless, unemployed, and 30 is not an ideal state to be in, even with an awesome family and social network in the states, and even with PhDs and a strong relationship.

Since making that choice a few short months ago, things have changed quickly. A few days back in the states and I was offered a job. The rest is history.

Life so far is comfortable here, and as we've adapted we have also begun to forget what it felt like when we were in the Peace Corps--at least the bad parts of it! Our lives from even a few months ago seem so distant from life today, like it happened five years ago that we were living in the North-West Province when the teacher strike began...It's like we've teleported to a stable, comfortable, relatively low-stress life.

Finally we have a home. We have few friends and no family with us in Abu Dhabi, but it feels good in this stage of life to finally feel like we are providing for ourselves, are autonomous and free to make our own choices about where and how to live, can afford to buy whatever groceries and other items we want, have great health care, and so on. So far I'm digging this 8-5 more than I thought I would, with a wonderful loving husband, and a beautiful high-rise apartment complete with his/hers bathrooms as my home. And the best part of it is that it is all permanent, for the foreseeable future...well, until we get antsy for those high-rises on the beach.