Closing reflections on Morocco

      Although I returned from my placement almost one month ago, it has been a crazy month so I am just now posting this. Overall, my experience in Morocco was good. I learned a lot about Amazigh women and how they are treated in Morocco, and it also inspired me to think more about women's rights. Not particularly the women's rights that a lot of groups in the States focus on, such as rebelling against shaving, modest clothing and considering "you guys" a sexist term, but actual important things like being ignored in court and legal matters, forced to marry your rapist, coerced into child marriage, and being heavily discriminated against in the education realm and employment market.
     While I ended up not having much to do by the end of my placement, I did get the opportunity to interact with activists and women directly and learn more about these kind of situations and what they are trying to do about it. I met very inspirational people and I think that the length of time that I stayed in Morocco was perfect. Twelve weeks was an adequate amount of time to really adapt to the culture and the host family experience, as well as identify my biases. When I look back at my notes from my initial observations of Morocco, I can see now them from a completely different perspective, for which I am glad.

    That being said, I ended up having a kind of sour end to my stay, as I began to get the feeling that the director of the program was more after money than anything else. Once I was in Morocco, he was attentive to any concerns I had but seemed to focus tremendously on bringing more people in than helping the students that were already there. I found out he was trying to get students to make large money transfers for him through their bank accounts, and he paid them back in cash.

    During my last week in Morocco, I was walking at night with another student who was staying the same host family as me, at around 11pm. It was a sidewalk by a very fast road, and somewhat deserted at this time of night, while well-lighted. There was a man following us and we crossed the road and he seemed to go on his own way. About half an hour later, I turned back and saw the same man behind us, this time running. The next thing I knew, my friend was on the ground and the man appeared to have a cord around her neck. I couldn't believe that this was happening, and started yelling and hitting the man. We eventually made such a commotion that a car stopped, and the man ran off. It turned out that he was trying to snatch her purse, but for some reason the strap from her purse snapped and he started attacking her with it. Thankfully she was not hurt besides a few scratches from him, and cars started pulling up to make sure we were okay and we happened to be right across the street from the American embassy, who called us a cab. While this was a scary experience, we never walked alone at night again.

My last night in Morocco, I was trying to figure out how to get a ride to the airport, as my flight left pretty early, at 7:55am but I needed to leave my host home at 5am. My placement director offered to arrange a cab for me, but told me it would be 500MAD (about $60). That sounded extremely high and a local told me that the average price for an arranged cab was no more than 200MAD (about $23). I told him I would arrange my own ride and I never heard a reply from him. The near-mugging experience had just happened so I was wary of going anywhere alone at night. I asked my host family if they would take me to the airport, but for some reason I couldn't understand (this was in Arabic, and mine was not quite up to par) they wouldn't take me to the airport. I asked them if they could at least call and arrange a cab for me (so that it wouldn't be overcharged, if i asked I would get ripped off as a foreigner). They then told me that my placement director had instructed them not to arrange a cab for me or help me get to the airport. I couldn't believe that he would do that, and my host mom eventually had sympathy and arranged a ride for me. It ended up costing 200MAD, not the 500MAD that my director had originally charged me.

Aside from this negative and unfortunate experience with my placement director, Morocco is a wonderful country and I would like to go back and visit the friends I made, just not with the same organization. It is a small organization that is just starting up, but definitely seems poorly organized and just about making money and petty arguments. I would not like to repeat the same experience.

I am glad that I was in Morocco this summer and it absolutely changed my perspective on life and the way I view the world. I'm spending the fall semester in Turkey now and it is really interesting to have a point of reference from another Muslim country and be able to draw connections and differences. I learned so much Arabic from being in Morocco and am truly glad that I was able to participate in the Global Scholars program.

Time for Reflection

I am finally back in Tallahassee and settled into the new school year. Which means that I am faced with the daunting task of mentally and physically processing the things that happened this summer. I have hardly looked through my 500 GBs of pictures and videos, I suppose I'm putting it off to avoid admitting that it's over. But it's that time. The time for reflection where we all have to put into words something that could never be explained.

Katrina and I have been thinking tirelessly about India, and have come to some conclusions regarding the complexities of the project we are putting together. Our anthropology research shed light on the values of the people of Pamohi. We were particularly interested in their value of education. Parijat's philosophies (as well as our own) indicate that education is really the only way to break the generation-long cycle of poverty that plagues low-income families of rural India. We used our research to inform our project, to apply our skills in the most efficient and fruitful manner.

We recognized the potential for growth in both the volunteer program and the student body involvement at Parijat, so we left a volunteer resource that will assist future volunteers and help them continue the lessons and projects we started (such as art, photography, and fundraising programs). We learned that the only way to maintain a truly sustainable program is by connecting past and future volunteers so that we can all work together to help Parijat. We also helped start the first ever club, called Parijat Youth Club, that will serve many purposes at the school. PYC consists of a group of local volunteers and older students who will connect with future volunteers and help them start and continue sustainable programs at Parijat. They will allow the students to participate in organizing events and after-school activities, and they will ultimately take on the responsibility of extra-curricular activities, relieving Uttam (the principal and founder) of that particular duty so that he can focus on the growing school. So, we collaborated with our fellow local volunteers, who go to college in Guwahati city, and our fellow international volunteers, and decided that PYC could be really beneficial to Parijat and the students.

Our personal project, however, will consist of a documentary about Parijat, their mission, and what it is like to be a volunteer in Pamohi. We will also create an ethnography which will be accompanied by the photographs we took. The ethnography will attempt to break down the complexities of the social problems in Pamohi and shed light on art and education as a tool for communicating and breaking down barriers. And finally, we will take our documentary and our ethnography and use them to create articles that will serve to inform the public about Parijat and other similar missions that need attention.

We will be presenting our ethnography and photographic essay along with a shortened version of our documentary at the Undergraduate Research Symposium on October 1st and will be publishing the rest of our project soon after.

I have learned so much through this experience— about myself and about the world. I'm looking forward to putting everything into words so that I can finally have an answer for people when they ask me how India went. 

Back in the USA

Well, I've been back in the U.S. for a couple of weeks now and I already find that my time in India has affected me so much. Interestingly enough, I expected myself to be overwhelmed with the U.S. upon my arrival, but I've found that I adapted way faster than I thought I would. I feel more relaxed and at ease. I'm still being productive and engaging in the hobbies which I enjoy, but this underlying pressure that I need to be doing-something-every-second-of-the-day mentality seems to have diminished. It's wonderful! I look forward to the Global Scholars Welcome Back event. Goodbye for now, Daniela.

It was harder than I thought.

I left Haiti 13 days early and it broke my heart. I developed a blood clot that needed to be removed, so I was obligated to find a flight home before I was originally scheduled to leave August 6th. The last month of my time in Haiti was definitely the hardest emotionally, but it grew me immensely. I felt challenged to the point that I thought I wasn't going to be able to keep going. I was saddened with the recognition that sometimes things look so beautiful from the outside, but we are unfortunately tempted by the enemy daily, and sometimes we falter. It was hard to watch that happening around me, and it was hard to feel that the enemy was tempting me with doubt. I could hear him saying, "See, your work here is useless. Your love for these children is useless. Your work here is done and I want you gone."  I could feel my body fatiguing and my soul became very downcast. I cried every day, multiple times a day, for about four days in a row. The hardest part of this time was that the people who I had relied on the entire time I was in Haiti, had all left. I felt so incredibly alone, even though their kind words from afar attempted to lift my spirits. The beautiful thing about New Life is that there are always teams of people coming in and out, and sometimes there are certain people that God sends at the perfect time. That happened for me, and there was a woman who lifted my spirits beyond her own recognition. I just needed someone to sit with, talk with, and listen to, and she did that for me. She was Christ's love for me on that Sunday morning, and my heart was won over by the fact that Christ has already won. I basked in His love for me and was reminded of His might; this woman I barely knew was in our weekly church service which I had chosen to skip that morning. She said in the middle of the service, God was urging her to come to my room and speak to me. Little did she know, my heart was aching and all I needed was what she offered me: a listening ear and her loving presence.

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by how much our Savior loves us, and how deeply He KNOWS us. The Lord is deeply captivated by us and He is enthralled by the beauty that we possess through His grace. He knew I was hurting and He came to my rescue.

Even though my heart had been lifted, I could feel my soul telling me, "Lindsay, you did what you were called to do. Now it's time to rest." I was saddened because I was leaving the kids early, and I also was going to miss Emily coming home before I was expected to fly out. If you don't know who Emily is, that's okay, but just know that woman is my other half, I feel. My soul is so deeply connected to hers, and over the summer she became one of my best friends, and leaving without getting to say goodbye to her hurt my heart more than she'll ever know. However, I know God moves when it's time to move, and He was instructing me that my time there was done and it was time to rest.

See, this is something I have a hard time articulating...how much I love my friends. My friends are my family and my very best support system. God has TRULY blessed me with incredible friends, and I am humbled every day by their love for me. Over time, my biological family has become more of my family and I am learning to trust and rely on them in ways most people do with their family. However, my friends picked up the slack when it was needed, and for that, I am eternally grateful. They inspire me to be better, and coming home to them was the biggest gift I could have ever received after a long summer. It was a long day of flights getting delayed, but when I finally made it in by midnight, their faces were like shining stars that I had missed more than I knew. They had guacamole and listening ears ready, and it was beautiful- just what I needed. The next morning, I woke up and thought to myself, "Okay, now what do I do?" I went next door to my friend Anna's house, and we had coffee and I shared a few Haiti stories with her. I then asked her what her plans were for the day, and she said that she and our group of friends have been going to the projects of Tallahassee, the Joe Louis community, to mentor and tutor. For a second I thought I should stay home and rest, but quickly decided that I wanted normalcy, and to be able to see some kiddos and love on them was just what I needed. I also couldn't express how much I loved my friends in that moment she shared with me what they have been doing all summer. I was humbled in that moment- something I didn't share with her- and realized that my biggest fear of coming back was that no one would understand me. I was afraid I would become angry with judgment on people who spent their summers doing anything other than what I had done, and experienced anything other than what I had experienced. And here I was listening to her tell me stories of all these kids who she and my friends have been ministering to the whole summer, and I could hear God saying, "Don't you understand how vast my love is for the poor? Don't you see how I have called you all to serve the least of these, and they have done that? Don't you see how deep my love is?" Internationally or nationally, poverty is poverty and God deeply cares for those who have been forgotten. He uses us in many different ways to be His vessels to the poor. How incredibly beautiful is that? And I am incredibly blessed am I to have friends that understand the depths of my soul who share the same exact passion.

As I sit here writing, I can feel the words melting off my heart. My desire to be understood is no more, my desire to be heard is no more, and my desire to be accepted is no more. God our Savior has accepted us and welcomed us in to this beautiful place of selflessness where we are offered a gift we cannot refuse- to serve the least of these with a passion that burns so deeply that it reflects Christ's own love for you and me. And in return, we are then given the opportunity to receive others' love for us that reflects how Christ feels about us.

As I start school in a sea of thousands of other students, my passion for the poor is still burning, and I hope it carries with me through out my last semester of college. I am so incredibly grateful for what I experienced this summer in Haiti.

Football I Remember [J]

Everyone wants to know, "how was your trip to Costa Rica?" It seems I should have put more thought into how I would answer that question. I respond in various ways depending on the audience: "it was a great experience," "it was fun and different," "I'm basically a super hero (to some of my sarcastic friends)." What do I honestly think? I would say that I went to work in paradise; that I learned a ton and met incredible people. However, most of my friends can not relate to how different rural Costa Rican life is from what we as Americans are accustomed to.

Initially, when I arrived in Miami, I experienced complete culture shock. I am still in awe every time I enter a massive local grocery store that has everything I need, all the time. But I need shoes and a shirt to enter. Having a car is nice. Having to drive two hours to the nearest beach is not nice. I don't even want to talk about shaving. It's safe to say my return has been bitter sweet.

During my stay in Potrero I was able to design four different surveys, execute, and analyze the data of a total of 94 interviews. These tasks accounted for the bulk of my time spent in Costa Rica. Not to mention my assistance in the classrooms along with other AM programs. I also was responsible for creating a "How-To" guide for future community sentiment surveyors. Ultimately I wrote a comprehensive report of my work with AM. The report is a qualitative summary of the quantitative data. The previous year's community sentiment survey yielded more or less 20 surveys.

Now that I am home, I have a week off before I get back to work. School and work begin on Monday. It is going to be a busy semester. I made some ambitious goals for development in Tallahassee. I plan on making international service learning an annual habit. I have thought about where I would like to travel to next year. My experience in Costa Rica led me to acknowledge the importance of volunteering in a community in which you speak the language.

Special Thanks to Latika Young, Dr. O'Shea and the rest of the Global Scholars community.

Turning over a new leaf

Some times I sit in complete darkness and listen to the silence of the world.
This is often the closest feeling that I can get to Ghana, when living in a fast paced America where time is money.
It is during these times that I am able to best reflect on my experience as a whole.

While sitting,

I think about how far I’ve come…
Literally in Distance. ( I’ve caught 10 planes this summer now making me a pro, and I’ve been in every form of transportation that you can think of from a horse carriage to a Canoe.)

I think about the independence I’ve gained
When you’ve traveled halfway around the world forced to lean upon your own judgment and make life threatening decisions in a matter of moments, you learn that there is not much that you can’t do, and no one, not even yourself can dare to tell you different.

I reflect on the supernatural powers that I’ve gained
The ability to keep your composure when everything is falling a part.
The ability to move forward not knowing if you’ll ever return.
The belief that change will soon come, even if the world around you shows you different.
The ability to treat Triumph and disaster the same.

I examine the importance of communication
I understand the importance of asking questions, knowing when to speak and knowing when its time to listen. Both Ghana and Germany has shown me this. Too often, as I’ve witnessed, foreigners can offend the country hosting them simply because of the way that they choose to communicate with others. Communication is what tends to help locals be accepting of us, it shows that we have an understanding and a sense of respect for their way of life.

I reminisce on moments that I’ve shared with amazing friends
However, my biggest fear is that I become a statistic to them. I do not want to become like the friends they met last summer, you know the ones who allowed life to get in the way of the back and forth communication, i would hate to let them down that way. To be able to build friendships with such beautiful people, has truly been a blessing. I honestly cant explain how thankful I am for the relationships that I have made this summer. When I am asked how I made it through, the support of local friends is what I am always quick to answer with.

I think about who I am as a person
Even more important, I am now coming to understand where I fit in with society.
I must admit that I often suffered from a lost of identity this summer, which was one of my biggest challenges. Although I am not Ghanaian or African, I was treated as such. Although I am not Jamaican, I was often referred to as such. In some parts of Ghana, I do not think people really understands what it means to be a Black American in the U.S (although they do know the term) or any other ethnic group outside of “White.” Although I did not discover my exact roots this summer, I have grown to be okay with it. What Ghana did help me to do however, is find a better understanding and a new love for my own ethnic group. Before my trip, I use to think that it was not enough to just be a Black American. I believed that if I really wanted to understand my culture, I would have to reach back into my roots, which I’ve now found is not necessarily true. As a Black American, I too have a culture of my own outside of that of my African ancestors that I can identify with, and for this I am proud.

I think about the after life,
life after Ghana that is, and what it will be like to turn over a new leaf.
I am more than certain that I want to peruse a Career working in Public Administration, after my experience working with the Department of Social Welfare. It is my desire to use all of my knowledge, all of my energy, and all of my time working to better communities, through program development and by implementing effective policies and procedures for organizations serving communities both here in the U.S and other countries as well.

While I sit in silence, I try not to be sad because Ghanaians don’t cry. So Instead of crying, I hold on to my memories, my friendships and the things that I’ve learned about my self and about those who are slightly different from me. While doing all of this, I remind myself that this is only the beginning. There is only a matter of time before the call of adventure provokes me once again to head off into the world of the unknown.

If a picture says more then a thousand words...then why is there room for a caption?

Besides all of the souvenirs I brought along with me, I truffled along an entire three months worth of experience through the airport which caused me to struggle “plenty” as the Ghanaians would say, ‘as I carried what felt like the weight of the world inside of my bags. I am embarrassed to admit that I often contemplated putting down all of my things and staying right there in the airport out of fear that “they” would not understand the things that I carried with me. “What’s the point of carrying all of this luggage full of stories, new experiences, culture, love and friendships back with me if they won’t even get it?” I asked myself.

Before my last week in Ghana, I never thought about how big of a task it would be to come back to the U.S with the responsibility of painting a picture of a place that majority of those whom I would be painting it for, would never go. Throughout that whole week, I constantly wondered how I would be able to address the stereotypical questions about Africa asked by my fellow Americans. My good friend Qwesi (meaning Sunday born) assured me that as a good storyteller I would be able to paint a picture so clear that the listener would feel as though they have lived in the moment also. “But painting a picture of Ghana to Americans is different” I told him. Qwesi had given me the task to preach the good news to the american people, encouraging me to explain to them that not all of Africa rings “poor” and that Africa should not be generalized since every country has a different culture.”

As he spoke this to me, I tried to figure out how I could paint a picture of a place so beautiful as Ghana without my Camera which had been misplaced to assist me. My sister Ekewa (Wednesday born)reassured me that my words would be enough one day when we were having a conversation about how pictures can often do more harm than good. “Even if you had your camera to show pictures of Ghana, you can’t take a picture of the Camera” she said. Confused, I asked what she meant by this. “What I mean is that a camera is only good for taking a picture, it does not reflect the opinions and insights of the photographer who had the privilege of seeing the prop in reality.” Qwesi agreed, a picture only gives room for those with no background knowledge to pass their own judgment, and usually their personal judgment is off.

Ekewa and Qwesi are both right. Although a picture says more than a thousand words, there is always room for a caption. Since I’ve been back in the U.S, I have found myself unpacking my luggage full of stories culture and experience in order to give my full insight on what it is like to live in Ghana. While telling this story, there are many times that I find myself captioning with great detail to many of my Black American friends and relatives who have a huge misconception of Ghana and of Africa as a whole. Because of their misconception, I do my best to enlighten them so that “my brothers and sisters in the U.S are not ignorant about their people in Africa” as Qwesi requested. “Make sure that they know that trouble does not only know our skin color by name, but blessings know us also.” “I will do that” I reassured him when he gave me the task. Qwesi’s request is what gave me the strength to drag all of my luggage full of culture, experience and love through the airport that day. Although I was emotionally torn and mentally beat up from my departure with Ghana back to the U.S, I am always eager to dig into my luggage and tell stories of what I witnessed this summer.

I have been telling stories of both Germany and Ghana for almost two weeks now and the more stories I tell, the better I become at telling them. One thing that I’ve noticed though is that Americans are so caught up in their own world that they really don’t have much knowledge on other countries in comparison to the great knowledge that other countries have on them. The few things that Americans do know however is based off of an idea of what someone else has told them. This puts great pressure on me to make sure that the things that I am sharing with others about Ghana are not biased. Ghana is one of those countries that knows a lot about the western world. I once asked someone why this is so, and he explained that many Ghanians long to adopt some of the ways of the Western people. As a result of that longing, Ghanaians have come to study the western world a little closer, primarily America.

As I am finding a lack of knowledge on behalf of Americans about other cultures, it is my goal to advocate as much as possible on what I know about the cultural differences and similarities in both Ghana, Germany and the U.S. In addition to these three countries, I would love to travel whenever the opportunity presents itself (soon I hope!) I also would love to become involved in many organizations on campus that are tailored toward global awareness. It is my hope to better bridge the cultural awareness gap between Americans and the many other cultural groups around the world!

Wrapping up the last couple of weeks in Morocco

As I look back on my time in Morocco and prepare to leave next Friday, I'm reviewing my capstone project and everything that I've learned, the people that I've learned from, and how my perceptions have changed.

This is the first time I have been away from America for this amount of time, and living with a host family really exposed me to what everyday life is like in Morocco. Besides increasing my language comprehension, it magnified my ability to understand the culture, from the staples to bread to the nightly prayers. This experience has been extremely valuable.

While my internship was not as engaging as I expected, because we mainly just worked on the website, came up with promotional strategies and applied for grants, the site visit to the Sahara was an amazing experience. I also got to learn a lot about the situation of Amazigh women in Morocco by speaking to urban Amazigh activists. I leave Morocco truly inspired by people who, although dissatisfied and disillusioned with their country, refuse to leave. They will not stand for hypocrisy and will do whatever it takes to ensure that Amazigh people are well represented, even if it means being arrested and beaten multiple times.

By observing Rabat closely, the protests, the citizen-government dynamics, the homeless people on the street, the ill and crippled people asking for money, the extremely laid-back lifestyle and
I've been able to make connections with a lot of the EDGE material to understand and make sense of these situations. I've also been trying to see Morocco as clearly as possible while being aware of my initial bias, while at the same time building relationships with people at my placement, host family etc. and hearing their stories and opinions about how their country works.

The most memorable thing to me about Morocco has been the way that people care about each other. Not just for family members, but how they win friends almost instantly through their smiles and how they make people feel. I will really miss this about Morocco, but at the same time I am encouraged to approach others at home with the same attitude and mindset of genuine interest, even if they are strangers. 

A Will and Testament for my life in Kolkata

As I hopped from stall to stall this morning on the hunt for my convenience-food breakfast, it finally occurred to me how this phase of my life is almost dead. I've lived and worked in this quiet, middle-class sector of Kolkata, India for the past two and a half months, and even though I knew I wouldn't be doing this forever, it didn't ever feel like it was coming close to an end. Today, however, was different.

It happened when a shopkeeper asked me if I wanted the big jar of jam or the small jar.

Of course, I automatically chose the small one, thinking that I'd never be able to finish off 500 grams of sickly-sweet sugar gel before I left. Then a voice in my head annoyingly chimed in by saying, "You don't have time to finish the small jar, either!" It was too early on a Sunday morning for that kind of wake-up call, and I might have been hoping for a more story-worthy moment, but I guess you don't get to choose when it will hit you.

And then I had a moment of anxiety about who I would leave this stupid jar of mix-fruit jam with when I moved out. Should I leave it at the office? Should I give it to my landlord? Would that be offensive? (Almost certainly). Should I just throw it out? After living in poverty-stricken India for three months, the thought of throwing out a perfectly good jar of life-giving sustenance turns my stomach (unless that was just all the sugary sustenance I just crammed into my mouth for breakfast). For five minutes I puzzled over the question, during which time this jam became, in my mind, a metaphor for the transitory nature of life itself.

And then I came home and had my coffee and got over it.

But the awareness that I really am about to make another large transition remains. I was hoping to avoid that realization until the moment that I stepped onto the first of a series of airplanes. By then, I'd be so fed up with the Kolkata airport that I'd be grateful to leave, grumbling about India's inefficiencies and shortcomings all the way to my seat. Then I wouldn't have to feel this sadness of having to leave behind my little perch in this strange and wonderful world. My supervisor told me once, when a staff member had to move out of Kolkata to take care of her sick father: "I don't believe in saying goodbye. It's always, 'until next time,' in this office." But now I'm sitting in my apartment, taking in all the little details, not in terms of what I should get around to cleaning but in terms of what I'll miss. I can't help but feel like I am quietly saying farewell.

So this is my goodbye blog post to Kolkata, which serves as my first (in-country) blog post for Global Scholars. Go figure. I still have two weeks left in India, so that's two weeks worth of memories, but now it's also time to look back on the ones I have and turn them into stories before they flutter away like so many cut kites. 

la Negrita [J]

Computer free time.

The end is near. I have less than two weeks left in Potrero. AM continues to offer me new projects to undertake. I spent this past week supervising the computer classes AM offers 1.5 hours per day. Next week I will assist with the English classes in Brasilito. I am excited to return to the children of Brasilito whom I bonded with. In addition, I have been asked to transfer the data of the community sentiment surveys into an excel workbook, execute the analysis of the data, design a step-by-step how-to for all the work I have done with the community sentiment surveys, design a revised version of each of the surveys we created less than two months ago (to be used next year), and author a report which summarizes my work. Also, since more surveys translates to a more accurate representation of the population, continuing to execute new interviews remains imperative. I am currently 30 surveys short of my goal. To reach this goal, I will have to rely heavily on interviewing the parents of students who participate with AM.

The cavalry

"I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the earth began."

August 2 is el dia de la Virgen de Los Angeles (Day of the Virgin of Los Angeles), a national holiday in Costa Rica. Costa Rica's patron saint, also known as la Negrita, is said to have miraculously appeared in the Basilica Los Angeles in Cartago, Costa Rica. As I understand it, many Ticos believe La Negrita grants miracles for her faithful. On August 2, pilgrims from all over the country walk the 22km from San Jose to Cartago as a form of penance in hopes for receiving miracles, some even finish the pilgrimage on their knees. However, there are a few other major churches which host this celebration to make the pilgrimage manageable throughout the country. The nearest such church to Potrero is in a town called Cartagena. In effort to experience the Tico culture, I and two other AM volunteers went with Abelino on this pilgrimage. There are two routes to get there. The most direct route, which cuts through the mountains and is considered more dangerous, is roughly 17km. The other route through the cities is 29km. We took the shorter route. Our journey began at 3am, we arrived at Cartagena around 7am. The scenery on the way to Cartagena was continually breathtaking. It began with a fair night sky loaded with vivid shooting stars and brilliant constellations. I felt as if Orion was majestically laying on the mountaintop watching over us. The colorful sunrise was accompanied by a slight fog which fell from the mountains twisting its way through a multitude of tree types. The weather was pleasant. We arrived at the church about 1.5 hours before the parade which carries a separate monument of the virgin for each of the major towns of Guanacaste. As I entered the church, I witnessed two men on their knees who prayed at the entrance of the church then proceeded on their knees to the altar.
Hundreds of people attended mass. The town then continues the celebration day and night. Traditional food, live music, dance, games, and horseback activities keep the masses entertained. It is quite a social event.

We were tired when we arrived at the plaza in Cartagena.

How to get a visa in Morocco

 This feat is not for the faint of heart. After weeks of submitting paperwork to the Turkish embassy, I was finally set to receive my student visa for my fall as an exchange student in Istanbul. When it came time to pay, they could not take my dirhams because they told me it was policy to only take USD.

I zigzagged from bank to bank to bank. I probably visited at least nine banks in the vicinity of the embassy, only to get rejected each time. I was reaching despair. I heard different reasons each time of why they could not give me dollars for dirhams; it turns out that there is a shortage of USD in Moroccan banks, and even if there were dollars available, a residence card or Moroccan passport is required. I also learned that foreigners without a residence card must go to the airport if they wish to exchange their dirhams for foreign currency through the bank.

At last I made it back to the main street where I had originally been advised to try my luck. At the final bank I visited, I was chased for nearly a block by a bystander, who had overheard incorrectly and wanted to sell me his Moroccan Dirhams. I was out of options and running out of time, for the embassy was on Ramadan hours, and I was nearing desperation, so I asked my program coordinator at the Moroccan Center for Arabic Studies if he could be of help and exchange the dirhams for me. He kindly did so, but the only American currency that the exchange office had at their disposal was a $100 bill.  That was the most beautiful $100 bill I’d laid eyes on in a while. I walked out of there breathing sighs of relief and trekked back to the embassy. I gave them my prized $100 bill and they told me I was in luck, because someone had just paid them the $60 visa fee minutes before, so they were able to give me change. They stamped my visa and I heard the sweetest words “you can enter Turkey. Goodbye”. I left the embassy victorious after a four hour traipse around Rabat, for a stamping that took ten minutes.

This is precisely why I think that everybody should allow themselves the privilege of spending some time abroad. Being in a country where you do not speak the language renders you to be in an extremely vulnerable and helpless position. It puts you at the mercy of the patience and graciousness of others, and reminds you of how insignificant you really are. Throwing a fit will do you no good. Neither will asking to speak to the manager, because you are in his country and you do not speak his language. It’s a beautiful moment when the realization comes that you are nothing extraordinary, only a speck on this spinning rock in this boundless universe.

 When you are treated well, you are reminded of the good in the world. When you are treated like an average Joe, you are forced to sit back and take a reality check. During my time in Morocco, I have realized that as an American I live in a bubble of convenience where most things are catered to me, and I have been guilty of the mindset is “my time is more valuable than yours”. Today, I have been humbled.

More than temporarily sweaty hands and a reminder of patience, Morocco has given me a lesson in humility. And for this, I am thankful.

Stoked to Get Back to Tally!

    Today is my last day in the office of Voluntario Global, and it has given me a chance to reflect a little bit about my trip over the whole summer. I am about to finish my 12th week in Buenos Aires, and believe me it has gone by extremely fast. It feels like yesterday I was on my way to my first meeting in the heat, wearing a short leave shirt and running shorts, and now i’m bundling up because it feels like it could snow out at any moment.                

Yesterday at my final meeting, where I officially “completed” my internship, I recapped on all the things I did throughout my internship for the office, which included me updating all of the social media outlets everyday, translating documents from Spanish to English, communicating between all the different partners of Voluntario Global to maintain a strong relationship between the different organizations, and finally, updating the blog database and the website. I feel like I have accomplished a lot in my time here in the office, as well as made an impact in the structure and the efficiency in the marketing and communications department.                                                   

As far as my overall experience goes, Argentina is an extremely special place. Visiting Iguazu Falls was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen, and meeting all the awesome people I have met that include locals, as well as guests at the hostel or other volunteers, I can honestly say has had an effect on my outlook on life. I  know that every time  I leave the US I am a little bit different when I come back. The last time I left it wasn´t so easy to feel the change because it was more gradual and I was much younger, but now that I am older I can better see how my future is forming before my eyes using the experiences I have gained. I am excited to utilize the skills and attitude I have gained in this internship in my future endeavours. I am also walking out of this whole thing with 3 letters of recommendation, each in two languages, two more jobs on my resume, and a certificate of completion from my coordinator, which is cool. The more I have to show how hard I actually worked her, the better off I feel I will be in the long run.                                    

Since this is the last article I have to write, the only things I have to worry about now are putting together my entire Capstone Project for Omprakash, which I am going to write a hardcopy of on the 20 hour plane ride back, then transfer it digitally whenever it is that I get a new computer (I hope youre reading this Global Scholars people). My shuttle leaves Buenos Aires center tomorrow at 12, and I won't make it back to my bed in Tallahassee for a complete 24 hours. I am excited to get back, see my friends, and most of all to go get CHIPOTLE. It’s been real BA!      

Zoo de Lujan

        By far the coolest thing I did in Argentina, should have been going to one of the 7 natural wonders of the world, Iguazu Falls. But for me, it wasn't. For me, since I am essentially a giant child, was going to the Zoo de Lujan.                                     

This may or may not be a controversial topic, but if you don’t like it you can stop reading now. The Zoo de Lujan is basically an adult petting zoo, where you are able to interact with exotic animals without getting killed. It is controversial because it is unclear whether the animals are or are not drugged and are therefore so docile. I spoke with a lot of the people working at the Zoo and asked them curiously if this giant lion I was petting is on drugs, and they all responded no. He explained, or lied, whatever you want to take it as, that all of the animals are raised since birth with not only humans around them constantly, but also dogs, which are extremely docile, for them to grow and mimic. That way, the animals learn to play with humans like dogs do, instead of treating them as prey. Whatever it is, my day went like this..

    

 First thing you do when you enter the Zoo is pay 150 pesos, which is around 25 USD. Right next to the entrance was a pen with a baby tiger, a dog, a baby bear, and farm tractor. Im not sure what purpose the tractor served but I knew from the start it was going to be a great day. There were ducks absolutely everywhere, that followed you and honked at you because they not only knew that you had food, but they also knew that you had money to buy food. The followed us all around the whole day. There are also free roaming llamas, that just walk up to you and kind of stare at you, knowing as well that you have the capacity to feed them.           

 The next thing I did was the best. They had kind of a little rink made of hay bales, which was filled with baby tigers, about the size of large house cats. You were allowed to go in and just hold and play with the baby tigers as much as you wanted, and of course we took about 300 pictures. Then, we waited on line for the lion den, where there were 2 fully grown, enormous lions. They weren't just laying there either, they were roaming around as lions do, and you were allowed to walk alongside next to it and pet it anywhere except the mane. Then, we got into the cage with tigers, regular and albino, and got to have one take a giant blue garbage can out of my hands with its claws.                                              

   Next, we went on a tour of the ostridge facility, where we got to fid and touch 6 foot tall birds, and watch them stampede around. The final part of the facility had a bear cage, with two enormous grizzly bears that we got to feed. These we weren't allowed to touch, and their pen was surrounded by an electric fence. Then I rode a camel. We ended the day by feeding an elephant, and letting exotic birds swoop down from their cage top and take fish out of our hands.     The bottom line is, to some the Zoo might seem unfair to the rights of animals. I am no PETA activist, so I have nothing to say about whether or not the animals in the Zoo are being treated correctly. All I can say is, all of them are very well fed, and don’t seem like they are living terrible lives being pet and fed all day. To say the least, I held a tiger, fed a bear, pet lions, road a camel, and played with albino tigers. Drugs or no drugs, who else can say they've done all that in a day for 25 bucks? Plus I got some great pictures. 

 

Working in a Hostel

    After about a month here in Buenos Aires, I got the opportunity to work in a hostel. Finding something to do where I could get closer to the culture of Argentina besides volunteering was one of my goals before I arrived in Argentina, and I wanted to do something where I got the opportunity to meet a lot of people. I had an interview to work at a bar owned by an American here, however I turned down the job because it paid like 30 pesos per hour, which roughly translates to absolutely nothing. One day, a friend who had been staying in the hostel after he volunteering trip was over told me they were looking for a bilingual receptionist who could work the night shift, and i figured that would be perfect since my volunteering was later during the day. I had an interview and got the job. I moved out of the house I was living in, and moved into the hostel as a permanent member of their staff.         

  
Never in my life have I met such an incredibly diverse, enthusiastic, or strange group of people that not only stay in the hostel, but work there as well. However, despite this diversity and these differences, everyone who steps foot in the door is after the same thing; to have a good time, and to experience what Buenos Aires, and the world have to offer. And let me tell you, do these people know how to have a good time.                          

   Essentially, I am an adult babysitter, where i replace feeding a baby with a bottle, for grown men and women with beer. Since I work the night shift, most of what I have to do includes just making sure nobody hurts themselves or breaks anything, make sure they pay for everything they are eating or drinking, and then clean up after its all. I work from 12 am to 8 am, so in the morning hours I have to wake up the guests who are leaving, and make sure they are ready for checkout at 10, or if they are too tired, to extend their reservation. Then, around 7, I start preparing the breakfast, which includes setting out all the cups and silverware, making coffee and boiling water, and picking up the croissants and fresh bread that arrive from the bakery every morning. I also have to count the stock, and make sure my register is correct and is in accordance with what is coming in and out of the hostels inventory.   

  I have noticed a lot of interesting things since I have worked there, not only  enhancing my personal skills, but learning a lot about people of different parts of the world themselves. First, Americans drink about 1/1000 the amount of tea that the rest of the world drinks. Since I am in charge of the stock, I can see with my own eyes how much tea the people in the hostel drink, and it is ridiculous. Each are of the world has its own types of personalities as well. Australians and Americans for example, are usually the hardest to control, and drink the most by far, whereas people from countries like Germany or the Netherlands are more low key, and would prefer reading books on their voyage instead of pickling their livers and running up their hostel bar tab. Then there are the French, who for the most part speak pretty good Spanish, but they usually all always speak English. No matter how poor their Spanish is, they almost always refuse to speak to me in English, no matter how much easier the situation would be if they could communicate with me better. I don’t know why that is, but I also don’t want to make any assumptions either, it’s just something I have noticed.       

Another thing I have noticed about language skills, is that interestingly enough, Brazilians for the most part have a hard time understanding Spanish, despite being surrounded by 19 spanish speaking countries. I can understand and read portuguese because of it’s closeness to Spanish, but it is hard for me to speak it. The crazy thing is that they can all usually speak English pretty well. The reason for this, which I was explained to by another employee who was from Rio de Janeiro, is the same reason why Americans (for the most part) don’t really speak Spanish. Its because Brazil itself is so big in comparison with the rest of the countries in South America, that it is unlikely that they will ever really NEED to speak Spanish. The effect is similar to that of the borders of the United States like Texas, New Mexico, and California, where a higher percentage of the population can speak Spanish. Those parts of Brazil that are closer to Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, or Bolivia, have a higher percentage of either bilingual or trilingual speakers because of the cultural exchange across borders. The reason why Brazilians are for the most part pretty good in English is because of the international business they exchange with the United States and the rest of the English speaking world. Most of our coffee we drink, cotton, soybeans, wheat, and apparently 80% of the world’s supply of orange juice come from Brazil. Globalization is amazing, especially when you can see it and hear it with your own eyes and ears.                           

The last part i’d like to point out about working at Hostel Estoril, is that even though most of the people are happy and seem to be enjoying themselves while traveling the world, there are always a side of people that shows a different meaning for traveling. A lot of the people that I meet, are just lost. When I say lost, I mean it in almost every sense of the word too. A lot of people don’t know where they are going, and lack all direction at all. A lot of people as well had something traumatic happen to them, or just decided one day that the things weren't going the way they wanted in their life and they up and left. Most of them too, are college graduates, who had jobs that they quit or finished school and weren’t ready yet for the real world. The amazing thing is that they know they are lost, nobody knows what they are going to do next, and everyone is completely fine with it. Its an aspect of the backpacker and traveler culture that is really incredible to me. Like when I ask someone what are you doing here, a good percentage of them will just say, “ I don't know”, then we’ll both smile and leave it at that. I like these kinds of people, because they are probably the most daring and carefree of anyone else in the world. They literally just toss their lives in a suitcase and just see where their bank accounts will take them!

A Transitory Lifestyle

 

The First Month

 

I have come to settle in quite well in Buenos Aires. At first, I was completely enjoying my vacation, and still catching up from finals week from my previous semester. By this I mean, I would sleep until 2:30 pm every day, eat at the chinese buffet next to the VG House, then make my way to the office by 3:30. After work I would come home, wait for everyone else to get back from their projects, then find somewhere to eat for dinner and stay up until late. This was for the first few weeks, which allowed me to enjoy my freedom of not having school to go to everyday, but instead being in a new city, in another country, far far away from the rigors of college.

In the beginning I was a little intimidated by the city, and a lot of the people who were in the house when I got there had already kind of done everything, so it was up to me to figure it out by myself how to get around the city and get to where I wanted. Even though I am able to communicate with the people around me, read in Spanish and follow directions, a metropolis like Buenos Aires could turn into a scary place to get lost in very quickly, as some of the past volunteers have made very clear.

 

 

New Friends

I ended up meeting a group of students that all take part of a University exchange program here in the city, who were mainly from Quebec, England, and a few from the US. I enjoyed spending time with them because they were in Buenos Aires actually living sustained lives similar to that of what I live during the year in the US, going to school during the day, and working simple jobs like waiting at night. I actually went with a group of them to Iguazu Falls in the north of Argentina for a weekend, which was probably the coolest thing I have done since I have been here. They also introduced me to an all-you-can-eat sushi place close to where they used to live, which costs what would be about 20 USD, and is now my favorite place to eat. Clearly I have a thing for asian food.

 

 

Oh Yeah, I Work Too

 

My work with Voluntario Global is what I do with the majority of my day. It started out with just me in the office,with another volunteer working from home, and has slowly grown to there now being 7 of us working throughout the work on different projects in the area of marketing and communications. Our main goal is really just to get the word out about Voluntario Global, what types of projects they offer and how people all over the world can get involved. For that reason, it is important that we have a diverse team working in the office, who are able to use their knowledge of different cultures to get the message across to others who may be interested in the work the organization does. My job specifically is everything that includes constructing a broad picture of what it is like to be a volunteer here, and the different aspects of Argentina that a person experiences in their day to day life here. This includes making videos of volunteer testimonials, doing interviews with people in order to share their jobs and experiences at the different projects, and then later sharing them throughout the different media outlets, including the organizations blog, website, as well as spreading information virally through social media like Facebook, Youtube, and Twitter. The work involves a lot of planning and teamwork, which is the experience that I was looking for when taking this internship, as well as interacting equally in both Spanish and English.

 

 

Hangin’ with the Locals

I always feel like when I leave the states that it is important for me to be around local people as much as possible, in order to really completely envelop myself in the experience of the places that I go. I really enjoy being around Argentinians because of their friendliness, as well as their ability to have a good time. I went to a friends 30th birthday party, which included a barbeque with the best beef and chicken I have ever tasted, and got to interact a lot with his closest friends who were all there to celebrate his life. I’ve noticed that they have a very distinct culture, with the way they speak Spanish, their hand gestures and mannerisms all very defined.

 

A Constant Goodbye

One of the strangest things that I have come to experience here is the concept of people coming and going, with almost a constant hello, goodbye, attitude, not only in the volunteer house, but with my exchange friends as well. I have been subconsciously experiencing this type of relationship with people since I graduated high school, where I meet someone, we hang out for a while, then I never see them again except for through the lights of my computer and their Facebook page. This time it’s different though, just because since all of the people I meet are from literally every corner of the world, it is predetermined the second that I shake their hand that after just a little while, they will be gone and that is that. Its not that I have separation anxiety from people I don’t really know, it’s just tiring, as well as demotivating. When I make friends with someone, unless they really rub me the wrong way, I have always lived with the intention of being their friend forever.

With this system of coming and going, and my impending return back to my own country, lately it’s becoming harder for me to get to know a lot of people on a personal level, especially those who know they’re staying for a long time. Its a shame, because the new group of volunteers seem really awesome, but for me it’s kind of like what’s the point? I’ll be gone before most of them even remember my name. It’s kind of sad, because it seems like everyone who comes here needs to either get busy staying, or get busy leaving. Its a type of mentality I should probably get used to after all, especially if i am going to continue living the transitory lifestyle that I have had since I moved away from home in the first place. Even still, there is something ironically sobering about sharing a beer with a friend, knowing that it will be the last one.

 

 

Coordinators

Its not all sad goodbyes though. What I have managed to do, along with a few of the other volunteers who have been here for a while, is become pretty good friends with the coordinators of VG outside of all of our individual projects. This allows it to be a lot more relaxed and efficient when it comes down to doing inter-organizational projects with one anothers different areas of work. What is great about Voluntario Global is that the coordinators are a closely knit group of people who all share the same values and goals, and use their combined efforts to bring volunteers to Buenos Aires, and collectively do great things for people in Argentina who need it. I enjoy being around people with such motivation and goals, it reflects well on me and the other volunteers to continue working hard on our own projects.

This for me, along with the experience of working in these diverse environments makes this internship completely worthwhile!

 

 

Sandra

Sandra is my sweet, kind, innocent roommate here in Uganda. From the moment I arrived in our village, Sandra has been teaching me everything I need to know about Ugandan culture. Like I said in my previous post, without Sandra, I would be totally lost.
Sandra grew up in complete poverty. When she was very young, her father took her from her mother and left her with her grandmother in a village while he took off to live in South Africa. While living with her grandmother in a village, she suffered greatly and even has the scars to prove it. She was expected to cook, clean, and fetch water, like many other village kids. If she burned the food or took too long carrying the 40lb jerrycan of water, she would receive a severe beating. After 10 years of living in the village under the "care" of her grandmother, her mom received word that her daughter still lived here in Uganda and not with her father in South Africa. Her mom literally had to lie and steal Sandra away from her grandmother.
From then on, her mother worked day and night to provide a stable life for Sandra. She was lucky enough to attend University in Kampala, but her mother could not find enough money to help her finish.
Every night, the two of us stay up late, talking about the differences between our worlds. She so longs to understand mine, and I hers. Sandra has taught me so much without even realizing it. She takes joy in the simplest things, like eating pizza, looking into a full length mirror.Although she has been a motherly figure for me here in Uganda, she has been an inspiration. She is always full of life and is ever curious. Without even trying, Sandra has really taught me to appreciate what I have. The first day here, we took a short walk to Lake Victoria from our house. On the way, we passed by tons of kids, many of whom I took pictures of. When we got home, we were looking through our photos. I pointed to one kid and laughed because this adorable little boy was wearing a shirt with a hole so big his whole stomach was hanging out! Sandra said in return "So many kids wear dirty, ripped shirts like that.. wouldn't it be nice if someone could give them a new shirt?" The next day, we marched down together and gave that little boy one of my tshirts.