I Know How to Spell Camouflage Now!

As trainees and future volunteers of the Peace Corps we were each given a medical kit. Mine was marked with an “F,” appropriately. What’s inside this medical kit is simultaneously fascinating and hilarious and I had the opportunity to peruse it’s contents the other night with a group of Bulgarian women. It was one of those moments that transcends language. I knew exactly what they were saying and they knew exactly what I was saying and it was beautiful.


First, upon opening this Kit-O-Fun, we find a stream of condoms. 10 to be precise. All connected. All camouflage. Camouflage? I’m not really sure why that’s necessary in life though I have in mind a couple possible explanations:

1) If they need to be hidden for any reason, it’s simple, put them just about anywhere and no one will ever see them. They’re camouflage.

2) They are only meant to be used during times of war when becoming pregnant would be most inconvenient.

Secondly, there’s a pregnancy test. In case the condoms run out or prove to be defective (chances of them being defective are slim considering they are up to army standards and all). These two things combined created the perfect opportunity for us all to make inappropriate jokes and laugh hysterically. My neighbor, while holding her 1 ½ year-old son, told me she probably needed the condoms more than I did. I agreed and offered them over which produced about 10 minutes worth of uncontrollable laughter. It was great fun, though I wouldn’t want to potentially upset anyone (PC staff) by discussing the bright orange “attack whistle” and how the 1 ½ year-old seemed to enjoy it immensely. So I won’t.

I feel that now’s a good time for some sort of explanation. For those of you who thought this silly blog of mine would suddenly turn into something insightful and deep involving important cross-cultural affairs: reality check time. I don’t really know how to do that. I’m sure, at some point, those moments will come and I’ll share them with you here. I’ll try my best to convey the importance of my experiences and you’ll try your best to write a comment that let’s me know my effort was worthwhile. And I’ll appreciate those moments. I will. But they will be scarce as my mind tends to be drawn to things like camouflage condoms and 1 ½ year-olds blowing attack whistles. So until the time comes when I feel I’m immersed enough to actually give you a fair depiction about the people and culture I am currently trying to assimilate into, we’ll just have to stick with these sorts of topics. My poor mother. Sorry, mom, I really am doing more than just giggling about condoms. Promise.

Oops.

-Age