Bigote Time

Arguably my first success as a Peace Corps Volunteer occurred during training.  The idea spawned out of sheer boredom and a desire to amuse myself over six weeks, as well as to serve as an anti-piropo from the empleadas in my house.  Any Peace Corps experience is full of personal challenges and I decided to undertake my first one in the safety net of training; I dubbed it 'no-shave FBT' (field-based training).  Like any past beard or mustache, I grew it because I can.  It's good to embrace one's greatest skill, and mine happens to be growing body hair.  I was able to overcome whiplash-inducing double-takes and vigorous head-shakes from onlookers because I feel a duty to let those less fortunate, those unable, to live vicariously through me by growing as mean a stache as possible.  Regrettably, I didn't take photos of daily growth and compile them into an electronic flip book put to the Magnum P.I. theme song, but you'll find photos of various stages of growth sprinkled throughout the blog, including a few gems in this post.

To be honest, it wasn't all fun and games.  It was difficult having to answer the near-daily questions of my perplexed co-trainees: "But why?  You realize you're scaring women and children, don't you?"  There were a couple close calls where I was so frightened by my own reflection in the mirror that I came this close to shaving the fuzzy caterpillar off (trust me, really close).  The straw that nearly broke the mustachioed camel's back was when I was nicknamed Freddie Mercury by one of the local Yuscaran soccer players and people would sing various Queen songs when they saw me.  If you heard Queen in a Spanish accent, you'd nearly shave off your mustache too. 

I really don't know where the Freddie Mercury nickname came from...

But there were occasions where I was showered with acceptance and adoration by my peers and loved ones.  For instance, when we linked up with Wat/San for the soccer match, the younger male trainees complemented me to the point of embarrassment (funny, come to think of it, the female trainees didn't say anything.  At all.).  One time at home, Lacey asked my host mother, Leticia, what she thought of my mustache.  Her reply was very motherly indeed, “If it makes him happy, it makes me happy.”  These occasions helped me persist.

People were so impressed that they eventually
asked me to ride the town buffalo everywhere I went

After I realized that six weeks was going to be too easy, I decided to add another ten days so that the mustache could join in on the photo shoot after our Swearing In ceremony at the American Embassy.  It was funny, but Embassy employees were so taken aback by the squirrel tail on my upper lip that they treated me as if I was some sort of dignitary, not just a lowly Peace Corps Volunteer.  The second after the last photo was taken, I took a taxi to the nearest grocery store and cut short the stache's life in the handicap bathroom, using a newly purchased disposable razor and hand soap.  The pain and agony in that bathroom outweighed the pain and agony of the previous two months...

RIP Freddie Mercury II
Tues March 22 – Fri May 13, 2011

Who is this guy?!  Minutes after the big shave...
(Photo credit to Andrea Sorce, who made me
wipe away the tears before taking the photo)

N.B. - I feel I ought to explain the mesh tops in the first photo.  Might be helpful later on when I am looking for a respectable job, post Peace Corps.  Brayton, Jacob, and I were overcome with awe by the many construction workers in Yuscaran who proudly rocked the Right Said Fred-inspired mesh tanks.  In tribute to them, we spent our last afternoon in town searching for some of our own.  In fact, we went to every store that sold clothing.  Only one store had any and that store only had three in stock; the three that we are wearing in the photo.  You'll notice the size of the three of us and the size of the three shirts.  The store apparently only had two adult versions and one child's size.  Guess who was the only one who could 'fit' into the latter...