Before visiting Mongolia, I never considered pine cones tasty treats. However, in the capital city of Ulaan Baator, the spiky cones were sold whole by vendors on the crumbling sidewalks, to be split open by munching customers wandering around the gray city. Pine nuts are, in a sense, why I chose to serve in the Peace Corps. After returning from my study tour of Asia, I fell back into the routine of class, work, swim practice, homework, repeated day after day. I missed discoveries like pine cones and other surprises abroad.

The Peace Corps was initially far down on my list of “things to do with my life.”  I was not attracted to a governmental bureaucracy nor the prospect of being assigned somewhere for two years. Instead, I wanted to go to graduate school and obtain funding to travel and do research. However, I surprised myself with an ever-changing menu of grad school options: economics, international affairs, Asian studies, public policy, political science … 

I recalled my year in Asia. We spent more time in India than any other country, and I remembered the spicy food, overwhelming smells, and colorful saris. There were crowds everywhere, even in the small town of Dharamsala in northern India where I shared a two-room house with a Tibetan-in-exile family of 10. I was uneasy about this particular home stay, since the family did not speak English, but a few Tibetan phrases, pictures of my family, and a smile enabled me to easily bond with my host family. We celebrated the most important Tibetan holiday, Losar (New Year), by cooking deep-fried cookies and engaging in heated debates about the popular TV show Indian Idol.

The long bus ride back to New Delhi allowed me to reflect on just how poor most people in Dharamsala really were. The toilet was a dark hole just a few steps from the faucet—the only source of running water in the house and the same faucet used for washing hands, dogs, and vegetables. The roof was tin, the grandparents were aging, and not one of the 10 family members were formally employed. In Japan, my previous home stay, adults went to work and children to school during the day, but in Dharamsala, there was no difference in household numbers at 10 a.m. or 7 p.m. The TV was stuck on Indian soaps, and my host father and mother could be heard chanting in the adjoining room. My family’s main source of income was selling knit socks, a common activity in the area.

On Saturday mornings, I observed the Tibetan mothers selling knitted goods, gossiping, and sipping hot tea, while I discussed with my English-speaking host uncle the large number of Western tourists drawn to this isolated mountain town. Together, we brainstormed the possibility of organizing the women to establish a more formal market to sell their socks for higher prices. Additionally, visiting the main temples, restaurants, and tourist spots would allow them to gain an even greater customer base, and they could invest their profits to expand their businesses. I never got to see the impact of that discussion, because my constant travel entailed a departure a few days later, and there was no time to bring about any action to the plans. Reflecting upon this frustration, I realized the almost-three-year dedication required by the Peace Corps—the organization’s minimum time requirement—would allow me the opportunity to appreciate, understand, and hopefully improve a community.

The more I learn about the Peace Corps, the more I am amazed with how well it coincides with my own goals. The Peace Corps emphasizes connections and interactions rather than results, stressing that it is more important to facilitate the exchange of skills, understanding, and knowledge across cultures than to quantify how many socks are sold at traditional and tourist markets. I realize that change will come slowly, but I look forward to helping bring about positive change. Learning another culture and language will increase my ability to understand others’ problems while allowing me to be shaped and improved by immersing myself in a dramatically different lifestyle.

Where would I go? My recruiter offered: “Tradesmen, NGOs, or cows?” The choice seemed clear (unlike with grad school programs). I chose cows, so I will be headed to Eastern Europe in September to work with dairy farmers. A fairly random, but completely appropriate assignment, I hope to spend the next several years muddying my boots, advising Moldovan farmers on how cooperatives can give them and their families a better quality of life, and maybe munching on a few more pine cones.