Of all the travels I have done, my trips to El Salvador have had the most profound impact on my life. While I did not spend months and months there, the experiences I had there and continue to have because of the people I know there still resonate with me, even from nearly 8,000 miles away.
A couple of weeks ago, I received notice of a fatal accident that happened, but before I can get to that, I need to give some background.
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Last January, one of the people I met when I was in the community was Billy. He must have been 21 or so and, in fact, he didn't even live in our community but, rather, in a nearby one. During the course of that trip, he did seem a little strange but, because sometimes people are just strange, we didn't think much of it. So, during those three weeks, he was just someone of whom to be mindful, but not to fear.
In June, our interactions with him were a little bit different. When working on one of the physical labor projects, he was talking with one of our group members and mentioned that he only had one pair of shoes, the shoes he was wearing. The delegate from our group asked how much shoes cost and he said about $20. She then pulled out $20 and gave it to him so that he could go buy a new pair of shoes. Upon hearing this story later and asking community members if what he said was, indeed, true (it wasn't), we were told a few more details about this guy. I learned that he would come around more often when the gringos were there and that he had a history of un-kosher activity (stealing (not just from the gringos), making people feel uncomfortable, etc.). So, we started to keep an eye out and take active precautions to make sure nothing would happen.
A few days after we heightened our skepticism, one of the members of the community ran to where our group was eating lunch to tell us that Billy had just had a seizure and had hit his head. He had been sitting outside of the community library (about 20 yards away from where we were) and had fallen off the ledge, hitting his head on the cobblestone ground. We all ran to see what was going on, and since I was one of only a few people with a cell phone, I called the doctor we had on call and explained the situation. He gave us instructions on how to handle everything and within several minutes, Billy was in a car on his way to the hospital. Considering the previous days' events of having him lurking around, it was actually a relief to know that he was in the hospital as opposed to hanging around the community. So you can imagine the unsettled feeling I had when he returned around dinnertime, only several hours later and with bandages (no stitches) on his head. (We had found out that what had led to his seizure was that he had stopped taking his medicine, which was both for his mood and to prevent seizures..I suppose that'll do it.)
After our evening activity, as we were all leaving to go home, he pulled me aside to apologize and to tell me that he really didn't mean any harm and that, after what happened earlier in the day, he knows that we're good people. He said that we took care of him in a crisis and he respects that and won't forget it. Following that conversation, our group decided to be accepting without being inviting (a subtle -- yet important -- difference). We would say hello and ask how things were going but would not extend any offers to partake in what we were doing. I'd say that we all ended up on okay terms with him and left the community practically unscathed, save that initial incident of his having conned one of ours.
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Now fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. Billy had been working in a nearby nightclub, I think it was, when someone came to seek vengeance upon another. Billy, however, got caught in the crossfire and was shot, succumbing to the injuries shortly thereafter. The guy for whom the shots were intended was fine. The whole thing was deemed accidental and the shooter went to jail....for four days, at which point, he paid the authorities some money and was set free.
When I first heard the news, I felt sorry for Billy. It wasn't fair, no one should die that way -- let alone accidentally -- and though he wasn't the poster child for a good Samaritan, he didn't deserve what happened. But then I think about the way he acted and the air of sketchiness that surrounded him wherever he went, and in a way, it's kind of like when he was at the hospital and I actually felt relieved to know where he was, even if only because it *wasn't* in the community. When I try to apply the same logic here, though, I feel kind of guilty, because I would never wish anyone dead. And while I am truly sorry that that was his fate, in a way there is a sense of security (both physically and mentally) that (at least, in my opinion) has been restored to the community. Should I feel guilty? Is it wrong to feel at least a little relief? What do you think?
From what I could tell, the community didn't seem too fazed by what happened. My guess is that the reason why not is that it's not entirely uncommon. El Salvador is ridden with gangs and corruption. Their largest source of income comes from remittances -- that is, money that friends and family send back from the U.S. There is no reliable system in place akin to checks and balances that actually endorses prudent business practices and, well, ethics. And though it is sad to report on Billy's tragic passing, perhaps it is even more disheartening to know that that was just another day in a country not so very far away.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Giving thanks for the gift and re-gift of thinking
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, it is time to give thanks for something in a less traditional manner than other people might. I realize the holiday is about appreciating what you have and showing gratitude, but I don't believe I've ever heard of it being associated with taking action to pay that gratitude forward.
I know someone who used to work with USAID maybe 30-40 years ago and spent a chunk of time in Ethiopia. When he was there, he saw such a dire need for help that he told the people there that he wanted to stay. They told him no, that they didn't want him to stay. "Why not?" Well, because they said he would be able to do more to help their cause from the U.S. than he could by staying there with them.
Now, it's my turn to do my part. There are organizations that ask for money and infomercials that shamelessly plug their causes, but the most important element that goes largely unpublicized is that of awareness. Someone can very easily write a check and never really know what it's going toward or whom it will help. Awareness of the surrounding issues, however, ends up becoming a currency of its own, one that is much more powerful and far-reaching than the value of a dollar (or its equivalent). You might be thinking, "Well, awareness doesn't exactly put food on the table, now does it?" And, technically, I guess no, it doesn't directly do that. However, consider a poor village where food is not plentiful. An informercial advertises, "Send $20 to our organization and you can feed a family." Truth be told, the money would, indeed, help. But after those $20 are spent, then what? What's the family to do? What awareness would do, on the other hand, would be to teach the family how to survive past those $20. You know, in a "You give a man a fish, you feed him for a day; you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime" kind of way.
I can assert with confidence that the people in these communities do not have fewer resources for lack of trying. In fact, they work harder on a day-to-day basis than many people do in high-paying jobs in the U.S. The difference isn't even necessarily a "poor" vs. "rich" mentality. While some people may have fewer material resources, that does not automatically translate to poverty. Especially in what many people might consider to be "poor communities," there exists a certain richness that comes out of such simplicity, of not having all of the material wealth that often clouds people's ideas of what is important in life.
What these people do lack, though, is awareness. Living in an isolated community does not suggest a lower quality of life but it does make it more difficult to have access to information, services, and more. For example, in a village in El Salvador, it is unusual for people to continue past 9th grade, if they make it even that far. (One reason is that it becomes expensive, having to take the bus to school, which would cost $0.50 round trip.) Kids also have to go to work to help support the family. In my host family there, the father works at a milpa and has done so all his life. He has never attended school and, thus, is unable to read or write. He has four children and one of them dropped out of school a few years ago because it just wasn't for him. That child, who must be 11 or so, now spends his time going to work with his dad, a machete being his tool of choice (not uncommon). When I found out that he wasn't in school and wasn't planning to go back, my instinct told me to try to convince him otherwise. Something stopped me, though, and upon further reflection, I decided that I couldn't justifiably persuade him to do it. His attendance at school wouldn't earn the family any money, he wouldn't push himself in academics, and really, he wouldn't be working toward a tangible goal. Even if he did finish school, what job prospects would there be? The answer is few, if any. And so, working at the milpa becomes the obvious default, and attending school would actually be a time waster in this case. After all, when it comes to providing for the family, knowing about the process of metamorphosis or how to do geometry doesn't really rake in a day's wages (which would, at best, total around $5 for a full-day's work).
In this community, a trash service comes once a year. The nearest post office is in a town 20 minutes away. The local river (used for swimming and for laundering clothes) is connected to the septic system. Despite these inevitable frustrations, though, the community is making progress. Nearly one year ago, a bunch of us (in a study-abroad program) brought the community three computers and Internet, replete with online encyclopedias and learning games. Besides the actual information contained in those programs, what we gave them was the gift of access. Access to education, access to knowledge, and access to the rest of the world, whose exchanges and experiences would open the doors to a whole new realm of thinking. Most importantly, this technology would give them the power to make decisions based on what they want and need (higher-level thinking), as opposed to not even knowing there were alternatives to their age-old processes. In other words, we gave them the power to think for themselves and to be able to broaden their own horizons (and that of others), an asset that is truly priceless (more so than those Mastercard commercials).
I Skyped with the community today and, in doing so, I learned that the kids are on vacation now, as their school year runs from January-November. That means that the kids have found out if they were promoted to the next grade or if they were held back. It makes me happy to know that the two girls whose education I sponsor were both promoted. Looks like next year, I'm gonna have an 8th grader and a 3rd grader on my hands! But just knowing that every day they are expanding their minds and accumulating experiences in all aspects of life (both inside and outside the classroom) is rewarding...and honestly, the gift of thinking goes much farther than that $20 check.
Happy Thanksgiving to all -- may you all realize how lucky you are to have whatever you have and to be able to know how to appreciate it. Here's to hoping that you take your gift of thinking and re-gift it.
I know someone who used to work with USAID maybe 30-40 years ago and spent a chunk of time in Ethiopia. When he was there, he saw such a dire need for help that he told the people there that he wanted to stay. They told him no, that they didn't want him to stay. "Why not?" Well, because they said he would be able to do more to help their cause from the U.S. than he could by staying there with them.Now, it's my turn to do my part. There are organizations that ask for money and infomercials that shamelessly plug their causes, but the most important element that goes largely unpublicized is that of awareness. Someone can very easily write a check and never really know what it's going toward or whom it will help. Awareness of the surrounding issues, however, ends up becoming a currency of its own, one that is much more powerful and far-reaching than the value of a dollar (or its equivalent). You might be thinking, "Well, awareness doesn't exactly put food on the table, now does it?" And, technically, I guess no, it doesn't directly do that. However, consider a poor village where food is not plentiful. An informercial advertises, "Send $20 to our organization and you can feed a family." Truth be told, the money would, indeed, help. But after those $20 are spent, then what? What's the family to do? What awareness would do, on the other hand, would be to teach the family how to survive past those $20. You know, in a "You give a man a fish, you feed him for a day; you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime" kind of way.
I can assert with confidence that the people in these communities do not have fewer resources for lack of trying. In fact, they work harder on a day-to-day basis than many people do in high-paying jobs in the U.S. The difference isn't even necessarily a "poor" vs. "rich" mentality. While some people may have fewer material resources, that does not automatically translate to poverty. Especially in what many people might consider to be "poor communities," there exists a certain richness that comes out of such simplicity, of not having all of the material wealth that often clouds people's ideas of what is important in life.
What these people do lack, though, is awareness. Living in an isolated community does not suggest a lower quality of life but it does make it more difficult to have access to information, services, and more. For example, in a village in El Salvador, it is unusual for people to continue past 9th grade, if they make it even that far. (One reason is that it becomes expensive, having to take the bus to school, which would cost $0.50 round trip.) Kids also have to go to work to help support the family. In my host family there, the father works at a milpa and has done so all his life. He has never attended school and, thus, is unable to read or write. He has four children and one of them dropped out of school a few years ago because it just wasn't for him. That child, who must be 11 or so, now spends his time going to work with his dad, a machete being his tool of choice (not uncommon). When I found out that he wasn't in school and wasn't planning to go back, my instinct told me to try to convince him otherwise. Something stopped me, though, and upon further reflection, I decided that I couldn't justifiably persuade him to do it. His attendance at school wouldn't earn the family any money, he wouldn't push himself in academics, and really, he wouldn't be working toward a tangible goal. Even if he did finish school, what job prospects would there be? The answer is few, if any. And so, working at the milpa becomes the obvious default, and attending school would actually be a time waster in this case. After all, when it comes to providing for the family, knowing about the process of metamorphosis or how to do geometry doesn't really rake in a day's wages (which would, at best, total around $5 for a full-day's work).
In this community, a trash service comes once a year. The nearest post office is in a town 20 minutes away. The local river (used for swimming and for laundering clothes) is connected to the septic system. Despite these inevitable frustrations, though, the community is making progress. Nearly one year ago, a bunch of us (in a study-abroad program) brought the community three computers and Internet, replete with online encyclopedias and learning games. Besides the actual information contained in those programs, what we gave them was the gift of access. Access to education, access to knowledge, and access to the rest of the world, whose exchanges and experiences would open the doors to a whole new realm of thinking. Most importantly, this technology would give them the power to make decisions based on what they want and need (higher-level thinking), as opposed to not even knowing there were alternatives to their age-old processes. In other words, we gave them the power to think for themselves and to be able to broaden their own horizons (and that of others), an asset that is truly priceless (more so than those Mastercard commercials).I Skyped with the community today and, in doing so, I learned that the kids are on vacation now, as their school year runs from January-November. That means that the kids have found out if they were promoted to the next grade or if they were held back. It makes me happy to know that the two girls whose education I sponsor were both promoted. Looks like next year, I'm gonna have an 8th grader and a 3rd grader on my hands! But just knowing that every day they are expanding their minds and accumulating experiences in all aspects of life (both inside and outside the classroom) is rewarding...and honestly, the gift of thinking goes much farther than that $20 check.
Happy Thanksgiving to all -- may you all realize how lucky you are to have whatever you have and to be able to know how to appreciate it. Here's to hoping that you take your gift of thinking and re-gift it.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
And in my spare time, I try to save the world
I used to want to save the world. We're not talking small-scale stuff, like doing a mitzvah a day and holding the door for someone. We're talking Mother Theresa (born Agnesë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu -- who knew?) with a lot more pizazz and a lot fewer wrinkles. A few years ago, there was a benefit concert called Live8 that took place in various cities around the world (London, Paris, Berlin, Rome (I was there!), Philadelphia, Barrie, Chiba, Johannesburg, Moscow, Cornwall and Edinburgh) and was organized by Bob Geldof and Bono. It inspired me to want to have *that* kind of effect on the world, to work to promote the resolution of worldwide issues at the most grassroots level possible. To work with people like Bono (ok, not just people like Bono, but also (and especially) Bono himself) to use their celebrity to do good..and to do it well. I remember job-searching for fun and productive non-profit jobs involving human rights issues -- basically, looking for someone to pay me to do community service...not because I wouldn't do it for free (because I would), but because I need to earn money to be able to afford life's expenses and such, and if my full-time job wouldn't pay me anything, I wouldn't be able to take on the assignment. Kind of strange how that works, really. I would devote so much of my time to these causes in exchange for the luxury of not needing to find another job merely for the sake of 
paying bills, but yet because that's not realistic, I can't afford to spend several hours a day fixing the world's problems. I wonder how many other people out there have found themselves in the same predicament. At the very least, maybe people in those jobs end up with a few free highlighters and other office supplies, but are those cool neon colors and heavy-duty staples really worth billions of people not having clean water? Or millions of people suffering from the AIDS epidemic? Or 80% of humanity living on less than $10 a day? 
Just think, two (maybe three) Starbucks mocha-nocha-whatever-ccino drinks cost more than 80% of the world population's daily standard of living. There's a doozy for you. Of course there are organizations dedicated to eradicating poverty from the planet (like One or the World Bank) and to securing clean water for everyone (like Water.org), but let's face it -- there's an organization for everything these days.
I thought that in my quest to "help people," I had to work at a project that already had its foot (feet?) in the door, one that was far-reaching and able to distribute their resources evenly among those who needed them most. But then, if all of that existed, then wouldn't it be a much easier goal to achieve, since it's basically a ready-made recipe for world peace?
In researching what kinds of jobs might be for me, I (briefly) entertained the idea of law school. After all, don't those public defender people get to help people *and* get paid for it at the same time? After 19 months (but who counted?) of experience working at a law firm, it turned out the part I liked best was the pro bono work -- in other words, the work the firm did for free. Well, shucks. Back to Square One, then, since law school apparently wasn't in the cards. I saw more paperwork going back-and-forth than actual results showing the fruits of our (long-houred) labor. And since perhaps saving the world might include an effort or two to go green, then probably throwing out thousands (and millions, etc.) of papers that were stapled horizontally instead of vertically would not be the answer.
Upon further reflection, I have come to believe that the answer to the world's problems (pay special attention and then tell everyone you know, and even those you don't) is the following: communication. A novel idea! Oh, and also collaboration. I don't think we need any single organization to achieve that goal; rather, a little effort from a lot of people would probably do the trick. What do we (as a collective world) have to lose in trying, anyway?
There are several films that promote selflessness and living in the moment. The two films that stick out in my mind are "Pay It Forward" and "The Bucket List." Now, I don't necessarily think that these films are Oscar-worthy or anything like that, but the messages contained in them were (and are) definitely worth
perpetuating. The concept of "paying it forward" is one that promotes the idea of doing good unto others as a means of showing gratitude for the good done unto you. Take a minute to think how random occurrences in your life have had a significant impact on you at a later moment, by no calculated planning of your own. Now take a minute to think about how if everyone transferred that idea to other people (even complete strangers), how many people would then end
up being the recipients of said significant impacts? It would start a (hopefully never-ending) cycle of human kindness, of human understanding. And, maybe in a karmic six-degrees kind of way, that benevolence would ultimately come back to you, though the point of doing it in the first place would not be for oneself (if it were, then karma would get you anyway).
While I truly believe that everyone is capable of making a difference, I think the collective effort would be infinitely more successful than individual strides. Philosophically speaking, it's all about synergy, the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. With that said, I invite all of you to join me in paying it forward and seeing if we can help preserve and advance humankind. Neil Armstrong might say that that would be one small step for man, but if he were to work with billions of others, then I think billions of steps might pave the way to more than just one giant leap for mankind. So, in the words of Jerry Maguire, who's coming with me?
paying bills, but yet because that's not realistic, I can't afford to spend several hours a day fixing the world's problems. I wonder how many other people out there have found themselves in the same predicament. At the very least, maybe people in those jobs end up with a few free highlighters and other office supplies, but are those cool neon colors and heavy-duty staples really worth billions of people not having clean water? Or millions of people suffering from the AIDS epidemic? Or 80% of humanity living on less than $10 a day? 
Just think, two (maybe three) Starbucks mocha-nocha-whatever-ccino drinks cost more than 80% of the world population's daily standard of living. There's a doozy for you. Of course there are organizations dedicated to eradicating poverty from the planet (like One or the World Bank) and to securing clean water for everyone (like Water.org), but let's face it -- there's an organization for everything these days.
In researching what kinds of jobs might be for me, I (briefly) entertained the idea of law school. After all, don't those public defender people get to help people *and* get paid for it at the same time? After 19 months (but who counted?) of experience working at a law firm, it turned out the part I liked best was the pro bono work -- in other words, the work the firm did for free. Well, shucks. Back to Square One, then, since law school apparently wasn't in the cards. I saw more paperwork going back-and-forth than actual results showing the fruits of our (long-houred) labor. And since perhaps saving the world might include an effort or two to go green, then probably throwing out thousands (and millions, etc.) of papers that were stapled horizontally instead of vertically would not be the answer.
Upon further reflection, I have come to believe that the answer to the world's problems (pay special attention and then tell everyone you know, and even those you don't) is the following: communication. A novel idea! Oh, and also collaboration. I don't think we need any single organization to achieve that goal; rather, a little effort from a lot of people would probably do the trick. What do we (as a collective world) have to lose in trying, anyway?
There are several films that promote selflessness and living in the moment. The two films that stick out in my mind are "Pay It Forward" and "The Bucket List." Now, I don't necessarily think that these films are Oscar-worthy or anything like that, but the messages contained in them were (and are) definitely worth
While I truly believe that everyone is capable of making a difference, I think the collective effort would be infinitely more successful than individual strides. Philosophically speaking, it's all about synergy, the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. With that said, I invite all of you to join me in paying it forward and seeing if we can help preserve and advance humankind. Neil Armstrong might say that that would be one small step for man, but if he were to work with billions of others, then I think billions of steps might pave the way to more than just one giant leap for mankind. So, in the words of Jerry Maguire, who's coming with me?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Majority...rules?
When you walk into Chipotle or another fast-food restaurant, it is not uncommon for the person behind the counter or cleaning up after you to be of Latino descent. When you pass a landscaping truck, it is not uncommon for the people crammed into the car to be of Latino descent. In encountering people of Latino descent in everyday settings, I've noticed that in "our" (and I use that to mean the collective "our," as opposed to the non-Latino "our") society, Latinos are automatically perceived as non-English-speaking people who are no more capable than the jobs they have. They may have a university degree from their home country and not be able to find a comparable job in the U.S.; they may have a family to support and believe that the U.S. will provide them the greatest opportunity to do so, regardless of the job they find. While I could write and write and write about the perspectives that U.S. Americans have of (and display toward) Latinos, that is not the focus of this post.What I'd like to focus on instead is on the concept of minority. For years, Latinos have been thought of as the minority in the U.S. The Latino population is rising so quickly that soon, they will not constitute the minority. The concept of minority/majority, however, doesn't refer solely to the numbers of people comprising a certain population (for instance, more people must equal "majority" and fewer people must equal "minority"). That terminology suggests a certain kind of perspective, the idea of thinking of a "we" and a "them" no matter which group you are talking about. While people will always identify with different groups -- and even possess membership in multiple ones -- there needs to be more of an effort to bridge the groups perceived as the "minority" (thus implying a "less than," or group that is deficient in something) and "majority" (suggesting a "more than," or group that possesses superiority). In the case of politics, it comes down to numbers: who has more/fewer votes and other such examples. I have no problem with the terminology in that environment. When it comes to people, though, I'm not a big fan.
In traveling abroad, I have often felt like a foreigner -- like a member of the minority, not just because I was in a different place geographically, but because the environment was new and different from my own. In traveling so far away, though, I come to expect it before each trip (and look forward to overcoming it). I didn't expect, however, that when I drove 5 miles away from home last weekend to go to my soccer game, I would be the only gringa around.
Immediately upon entering the Sportsplex, I noticed that there was a different ambience from the one I often experience during the week. During the week, the Sportsplex plays host to everyone who participates in the adult soccer league, representing a slew of ethnicities, native languages, etc. While many of the people who participate in those leagues are, in fact, Latino, last weekend I experienced something entirely new in being the sole gringa. I noticed that rather than play into a suggested inferiority complex to those born in the U.S. (something that might happen to Latinos regularly in the "real world"), there was nothing but fútbol on everyone's minds. The Latinos were the experts -- the majority -- and no one could take that away from them. It was I who received the looks that seemed to say, "¿Qué haces aquí?" ("What are you doing here?"). My unspoken response, however, was just the same as theirs: our purpose for being there was nothing more than the love of the game. Just playing fútbol. It makes me wonder why the ethnic group which I must call my own doesn't give Latinos the same chance as they gave me. They accepted me into their fútbol game without question; why can't other people in our shared society give them the same opportunity to prove themselves?People always make fun of the Mexican gardener, fast-food worker, construction worker, maid, etc. (regardless of whether or not the person is actually Mexican), but what right do we (who is that "we," anyway?) have to play God and decide who is better than whom?
Of course, no one is exempt from holding stereotypes. When I was standing with my (Latino) friends at the Sunday soccer game, (Latino) friends of theirs came up to say hello and see what was happening. After a brief conversation in Spanish, they turned to me and introduced themselves in English. I responded, "¿Qué? ¿Tengo la cara de alguien que no habla español?It's funny how the dynamic inside the Sportsplex is completely the opposite of the way it is outside, at least from the way I see it. In a society that is dominated by the "majority-White" mentality (whether or not the majority is actually White), how can people just go through their daily routines as if we all belong to an unacknowledged caste system and not try to equalize the playing field?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
And now back to your (not so) regularly scheduled program...
Hello again, dear readers,
It has effectively been a year and a half since my last post and I'm toying with the idea of starting up with this whole blogging thing again. I have been thinking about it for maybe a year or so, but every time I write down "blog" on my to-do list, it always seems to end up getting trumped by something else. The thing is, inspiration strikes me more often than the opportunity to travel arises, so maintaining a blog in real-life will be a new - and challenging - experience for me. In the past, I have blogged solely during my travels -- it served not only as a way to keep in touch with friends and family but also as an easy way to share my experiences and invite further commentary on my ruminations.
I remember one time, in an Italian literature class I took in college, I read that the concept of an autobiography is doomed from the start. It was while we were reading Italo Calvino's La coscienza di Zeno, a story of a man named Zeno who writes his autobiography as an exercise given to him by his psychotherapist to help with his treatment. Near the end of the story (no spoilers ahead), Zeno identifies an intrinsic problem with the literary genre of "autobiography." He explains that in the time it takes someone to catch someone up to the 'present-day,' there is an interval of time that has elapsed between the present-day of the autobiography and the present-day of reality. Thus, no one is ever truly capable of writing an autobiography that contains any part of the present, since the present is forever changing, and the literary present will never catch up to that of real time. For some reason, this notion has always stuck with me.
Whenever I wrote a blog during my travels, I always felt "caught up" as I left the internet cafe, almost as if it were time to go create more experiences that would undoubtedly make their way into future posts. In writing those posts, however, anything that may have occurred during those hours in the internet cafe got shelved since, essentially, there could always be someone or something to write about and, at some point, you just have to decide what makes the cut. Otherwise, people would never *stop* writing, but then again, they might have very little to write about if they lack the time to actually live. It's a strange, roundabout logic, really. I even think that sometimes I made more of an effort to "do stuff" since I knew I would be writing about it, and I didn't want to have "nothing good" to write about, because, well, that's just boring...and I don't want to be boring (does anyone?).
For now, the important part to me is recognizing that every time I published a post in the past, I felt caught up (both with updating my readers and with sorting out recent encounters or experiences). I also looked forward to seeing the commentaries and insights shared by my readers. In that vein, I hope to elicit more commentaries and more perspectives this time around (which may or may not be "a time," but, rather, the new beginning of my blogger self).
Anyway, I hope all of you readers feel strongly enough about something I write here to share your own thoughts. I use this forum not as a diary, but as a place where I can give shape to my observations/experiences/etc. with the hope that they then inspire others to do the same. I make no guarantees about how frequently I will post, but since observations and experiences (and especially "et cetera") come in many shapes and sizes, that kind of keeps it interesting. I promise I will never post just for the sake of posting; what's the point of that?
So, I think I'm gonna give it a go, see where it takes me. After all, you never know if you don't try.
It has effectively been a year and a half since my last post and I'm toying with the idea of starting up with this whole blogging thing again. I have been thinking about it for maybe a year or so, but every time I write down "blog" on my to-do list, it always seems to end up getting trumped by something else. The thing is, inspiration strikes me more often than the opportunity to travel arises, so maintaining a blog in real-life will be a new - and challenging - experience for me. In the past, I have blogged solely during my travels -- it served not only as a way to keep in touch with friends and family but also as an easy way to share my experiences and invite further commentary on my ruminations.
I remember one time, in an Italian literature class I took in college, I read that the concept of an autobiography is doomed from the start. It was while we were reading Italo Calvino's La coscienza di Zeno, a story of a man named Zeno who writes his autobiography as an exercise given to him by his psychotherapist to help with his treatment. Near the end of the story (no spoilers ahead), Zeno identifies an intrinsic problem with the literary genre of "autobiography." He explains that in the time it takes someone to catch someone up to the 'present-day,' there is an interval of time that has elapsed between the present-day of the autobiography and the present-day of reality. Thus, no one is ever truly capable of writing an autobiography that contains any part of the present, since the present is forever changing, and the literary present will never catch up to that of real time. For some reason, this notion has always stuck with me.
Whenever I wrote a blog during my travels, I always felt "caught up" as I left the internet cafe, almost as if it were time to go create more experiences that would undoubtedly make their way into future posts. In writing those posts, however, anything that may have occurred during those hours in the internet cafe got shelved since, essentially, there could always be someone or something to write about and, at some point, you just have to decide what makes the cut. Otherwise, people would never *stop* writing, but then again, they might have very little to write about if they lack the time to actually live. It's a strange, roundabout logic, really. I even think that sometimes I made more of an effort to "do stuff" since I knew I would be writing about it, and I didn't want to have "nothing good" to write about, because, well, that's just boring...and I don't want to be boring (does anyone?).
For now, the important part to me is recognizing that every time I published a post in the past, I felt caught up (both with updating my readers and with sorting out recent encounters or experiences). I also looked forward to seeing the commentaries and insights shared by my readers. In that vein, I hope to elicit more commentaries and more perspectives this time around (which may or may not be "a time," but, rather, the new beginning of my blogger self).
Anyway, I hope all of you readers feel strongly enough about something I write here to share your own thoughts. I use this forum not as a diary, but as a place where I can give shape to my observations/experiences/etc. with the hope that they then inspire others to do the same. I make no guarantees about how frequently I will post, but since observations and experiences (and especially "et cetera") come in many shapes and sizes, that kind of keeps it interesting. I promise I will never post just for the sake of posting; what's the point of that?
So, I think I'm gonna give it a go, see where it takes me. After all, you never know if you don't try.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
So, thank you and good night
It has come to my attention over the 124 days of my superviaje that it isn't such a common thing to quit one's job just like ''that'' in order to go traipsing around, traveling, studying, etc. Now that my trip has come to an end, I can say, without hesitation, ''Why the hell not?'' Personally, I have learned far more during these past four months than I have found in any textbook or within the confines of any windowless office (or office with windows, for that matter). While I understand that traveling isn't for everyone, the experiences gained by such adventures are truly priceless: only by figuring out one's way in a place you have never been before do you really learn the true significance of tabula rasa (''blank slate''), adding to the white canvas a little more every day.
I, for one, discovered the meaning of life. What I found was that the meaning of life could be different for everyone, but that, for me, the meaning of life is the search for meaning. Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. Robert Byrne, a leading American chess player, has said that, ''The purpose of life is a life of purpose.'' For me, this quest involves doing whatever it takes to go to all corners of the globe (well, not corners, since the globe is round, but I think you get what I'm saying) in order to see what's out there, to learn for myself, and to understand by doing, rather than by reading or by hearsay.
For instance, I bet you never stopped to think about the act of picture-taking. In the United States, when a photographer wants his (or her) subjects to smile for a photo, he tells them to say, ''cheese.'' What do they say in other places? The answers may or may not, depending on how you want to interpret it, reveal a lot about the culture about each respective place. In Brazil, people say, ''abacaxi,'' [ah-bah-kah-SHEE] which means ''pineapple.'' Fitting, considering that Brazil is a tropical region that grows a lot of fruit and has fresh fruit stands all over the place. In Argentina, the word is, ''whisky,'' [WEE-skee] which could say something about Argentines' consumption of whiskey. In Spain, this one is a little curious. The word here is, ''patata,'' [pah-TAH-tah] which, yes, means ''potato.'' The explanation given to me once I stopped laughing was that, ''See? It got *you* to laugh!'' The reasoning can't possibly be the same (the reason that I was laughing was, ''What?! The word is ''patata''? That makes no sense!''), but, alas, my friend had a point. If the objective was to laugh, there I was...laughing. But even so, they do have potatoes in Spain, and they use them to make typical dishes like Tortilla Española. And in Italy and the Netherlands, they finally borrow a word from English, as they, too, use the word, ''cheese.'' And we all know about parmesean, mozzarella, and Edam, which come from those countries. Little things like this that no one would ever think about until you go to push a button and, all of a sudden, you get a lesson in culture.
Or when Brazilians take English classes in school, the first thing they learn (and often the only thing they retain) is the phrase, ''The book is on the table.'' It doesn't matter where the book actually is, but that phrase will be the ice-breaker with any English speaker from now until the end of time. Similarly, in Italy, it doesn't matter where Mr. Jones actually is, but as Italians will tell you, ''Mr. Jones is under the table.''
I believe it was the beginning of the Vittorio De Sica film called "Matrimonio all'italiana", in which the camera moves slowly but steadily through a hallway, giving the viewer a glimpse into each room it passes. In essence, that is exactly what I have done over the course of the last four months, stopping in on various places to see how the people live, interact with locals (in some places, my friends and their friends), get to know the tourist attractions, etc. And now that I have wrapped up this journey, it is time to get back in the swing of things in order to embark on a new one here.
On several occasions throughout the trip, people were surprised to find that I was traveling by myself. I don't know whether it was the fact that I was (am) a female, whether it was a trip lasting four months, or what, but whatever it was, something was surprising, and I never figured out what. What I did realize, though, was that even though I was, technically, a ''solo traveler,'' I met so many people throughout the duration of the trip -- more than I would have ever met if I had had a travel buddy, I'm sure -- that it is difficult to view the whole experience as a solo journey. At this point, I cannot imagine my superviaje without all the people I met along the way (as well as those I already knew, including you, dear readers), and while I have seen and done some great things in the last 124 days, at the end of it all, it is undoubtedly the people who have shaped the experience the most and have changed me.
"Quando você deseja uma coisa, todo o Universo conspira para que possa realizá-la." -- Paulo Coelho, "O alquimista"
"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." -- Paulo Coelho, "The Alchemist"
Então, obrigada e boa noite. Entonces, gracias y buenas noches. Allora, grazie e buona notte.
So, thank you and good night,
missy
I, for one, discovered the meaning of life. What I found was that the meaning of life could be different for everyone, but that, for me, the meaning of life is the search for meaning. Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. Robert Byrne, a leading American chess player, has said that, ''The purpose of life is a life of purpose.'' For me, this quest involves doing whatever it takes to go to all corners of the globe (well, not corners, since the globe is round, but I think you get what I'm saying) in order to see what's out there, to learn for myself, and to understand by doing, rather than by reading or by hearsay.
For instance, I bet you never stopped to think about the act of picture-taking. In the United States, when a photographer wants his (or her) subjects to smile for a photo, he tells them to say, ''cheese.'' What do they say in other places? The answers may or may not, depending on how you want to interpret it, reveal a lot about the culture about each respective place. In Brazil, people say, ''abacaxi,'' [ah-bah-kah-SHEE] which means ''pineapple.'' Fitting, considering that Brazil is a tropical region that grows a lot of fruit and has fresh fruit stands all over the place. In Argentina, the word is, ''whisky,'' [WEE-skee] which could say something about Argentines' consumption of whiskey. In Spain, this one is a little curious. The word here is, ''patata,'' [pah-TAH-tah] which, yes, means ''potato.'' The explanation given to me once I stopped laughing was that, ''See? It got *you* to laugh!'' The reasoning can't possibly be the same (the reason that I was laughing was, ''What?! The word is ''patata''? That makes no sense!''), but, alas, my friend had a point. If the objective was to laugh, there I was...laughing. But even so, they do have potatoes in Spain, and they use them to make typical dishes like Tortilla Española. And in Italy and the Netherlands, they finally borrow a word from English, as they, too, use the word, ''cheese.'' And we all know about parmesean, mozzarella, and Edam, which come from those countries. Little things like this that no one would ever think about until you go to push a button and, all of a sudden, you get a lesson in culture.
Or when Brazilians take English classes in school, the first thing they learn (and often the only thing they retain) is the phrase, ''The book is on the table.'' It doesn't matter where the book actually is, but that phrase will be the ice-breaker with any English speaker from now until the end of time. Similarly, in Italy, it doesn't matter where Mr. Jones actually is, but as Italians will tell you, ''Mr. Jones is under the table.''
I believe it was the beginning of the Vittorio De Sica film called "Matrimonio all'italiana", in which the camera moves slowly but steadily through a hallway, giving the viewer a glimpse into each room it passes. In essence, that is exactly what I have done over the course of the last four months, stopping in on various places to see how the people live, interact with locals (in some places, my friends and their friends), get to know the tourist attractions, etc. And now that I have wrapped up this journey, it is time to get back in the swing of things in order to embark on a new one here.
On several occasions throughout the trip, people were surprised to find that I was traveling by myself. I don't know whether it was the fact that I was (am) a female, whether it was a trip lasting four months, or what, but whatever it was, something was surprising, and I never figured out what. What I did realize, though, was that even though I was, technically, a ''solo traveler,'' I met so many people throughout the duration of the trip -- more than I would have ever met if I had had a travel buddy, I'm sure -- that it is difficult to view the whole experience as a solo journey. At this point, I cannot imagine my superviaje without all the people I met along the way (as well as those I already knew, including you, dear readers), and while I have seen and done some great things in the last 124 days, at the end of it all, it is undoubtedly the people who have shaped the experience the most and have changed me.
"Quando você deseja uma coisa, todo o Universo conspira para que possa realizá-la." -- Paulo Coelho, "O alquimista"
"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." -- Paulo Coelho, "The Alchemist"
Então, obrigada e boa noite. Entonces, gracias y buenas noches. Allora, grazie e buona notte.
So, thank you and good night,
missy
Amsterdam, the Netherlands: You just gotta do what you gotta do to make it through
The trip to Amsterdam was pretty uneventful after I left the Rome airport and, once in awhile, it's refreshing to have an uneventful transit experience. I arrived in Amsterdam early afternoon on Friday, May 2, to be greeted by Tim, my Dutchie friend whom I went to visit for the weekend.
Considering I had been to Amsterdam twice before, that meant that the last stop on the itinerary of my four-month superviaje could be a low-key one, without having to rush around the city, hitting all the museums and landmarks in three days' time. I spent a good part of the afternoon hanging out with Tim and Sanne, Tim's girlfriend, on the roof deck of their apartment. With a sunny, summer-like day, and a view of the city as our backdrop, it was a great way to kick-off the weekend. I even developed a game (go figure). Whenever they had a quick side-conversation or said a sentence in Dutch, I decided I was going to translate it into English for everyone. Important item to note here: I don't speak Dutch. Hence, the fun in the game! The funny part was, out of three consecutive turns, I actually got a sentence right. Guess my batting average ain't so bad.
Over the course of the weekend, I did manage to see some sites that I hadn't seen before, always with my personal Dutch guide or two. For example, I got to see Vondelpark, the Central Park of Amsterdam. The park has 120 acres, within which you can find a bike path, a film museum, an open air theater, a playground, and when it's good weather out (like it was all weekend), lots and lots of people. I also checked out an outdoor market called the Albert Cuyp Market, which is apparently the busiest market in the Netherlands. While I was at the market, I indulged in two Dutch specialties (not at the same time): raw herring, accompanied by some sort of pickle, and stroopwafel, which means ''syrup waffle.'' What could be bad about something that translates to ''syrup waffle''? (Duh -- the answer is *nothing*.)
One night, a group of us went out to an Amsterdam nightclub that was having 90's night -- roughly translated? A Dutch disco playing songs that I have on cassette tape! (Anybody out there remember cassette tapes?) And then, of course, they also threw in some Dutch classics that took over the airwaves in the 90s, so those songs were new for me. Either way, a fun night was had by all!
Sunday, I got to get to know a town outside of Amsterdam, called Monnickendam, which is the hometown of both Tim and Sanne. It's a town right on the water that has a lot of private yachts, and the old town is a charming place to walk around. Being that Sunday was May 4, that meant it was a holiday in the Netherlands: Remembrance of the Dead. It would probably be a combination of our Memorial Day and Veterans' Day. Tim, Sanne, and I went to Dam Square during the 7pm hour because there was a whole ceremony revolving around a 2-minute period of silence to begin at 8pm. The queen of the Netherlands was there, in addition to the prime minister, the mayor, and other important people (like Tim, Sanne, and me). A great deal of people filled the square, and the ceremony was televised. I was just grateful that there were Jumbotrons, since there were too many people for me to be able to see the main events happening directly in front of me.
The morning of Monday, May 5 was my last morning of the trip, and it was a little more eventful than I had expected it to be. When I arrived at the check-in counter, I had planned to check my bag (cost-free, of course) and make my way toward the gate, thus starting my long day of travel. But no. Not in the least. My bag was almost 7kg over the legal limit. That's about 15 pounds. And the penalty for excess baggage whether you are 7 kilos or 75 kilos over is the same: 50 euros ($77.60). What? I'm not paying 50 euros! I can make this work. *I can *make* this work.* My last test of the superviaje came at this point, when it came time to go back to the States, and there was no way I was giving up my euros. My options? Well, there's, take stuff out and leave it. Or ship it. Nope, not going to do either of those. Then there's, pay the 50 euros. Not going to do that, either. So, I took the suitcase off the scale, put all my stuff down on the floor, and got to work (who ever said this was a four-month vacation and there was no work involved was surely mistaken). One shirt, two shirt, three shirt, four. Five shirt, six shirt, and a Netherlands soccer jersey to top it off. Still not enough? Okay, then I'll also wear two jackets and tie my sneakers to my backpack. How do you like them apples now, check-in lady? (It kind of reminded me of a certain ''Friends'' episode, actually.) So, after putting my bag on the scale four times, resisting the check-in agents' advice to just pay the 50 euros and be more comfortable wearing my regular clothes, I went at it my own way, kept at it, and ultimately crossed the finish line at security, with all my remaining euros tucked safely away. Beep beep, beep beep. Oh boy, what now? (Fortunately, they didn't make me take my shoes off; they must have thought that the shoes tied to my backpack were my shoes that I had been wearing. I didn't even actively try for that one!) I still don't know what set off that endearing little alarm in the Schipol airport, but I do know that I did get a very thorough pat down, one that I could feel through every layer of clothing I was wearing. Eventually, as they always have in the past, they let me go. And by the time I boarded my flight, I was wearing only my original clothes and had all the extra articles of clothing in a plastic bag by my side. So, once again, I managed to keep my euros in my possession, this time perhaps at the expense of an extra stop at security. And though sometimes when it rains, it pours, in this case, it was just...hysterical. And there was no other way for this trip to end. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do to make it through.
missy
Considering I had been to Amsterdam twice before, that meant that the last stop on the itinerary of my four-month superviaje could be a low-key one, without having to rush around the city, hitting all the museums and landmarks in three days' time. I spent a good part of the afternoon hanging out with Tim and Sanne, Tim's girlfriend, on the roof deck of their apartment. With a sunny, summer-like day, and a view of the city as our backdrop, it was a great way to kick-off the weekend. I even developed a game (go figure). Whenever they had a quick side-conversation or said a sentence in Dutch, I decided I was going to translate it into English for everyone. Important item to note here: I don't speak Dutch. Hence, the fun in the game! The funny part was, out of three consecutive turns, I actually got a sentence right. Guess my batting average ain't so bad.
Over the course of the weekend, I did manage to see some sites that I hadn't seen before, always with my personal Dutch guide or two. For example, I got to see Vondelpark, the Central Park of Amsterdam. The park has 120 acres, within which you can find a bike path, a film museum, an open air theater, a playground, and when it's good weather out (like it was all weekend), lots and lots of people. I also checked out an outdoor market called the Albert Cuyp Market, which is apparently the busiest market in the Netherlands. While I was at the market, I indulged in two Dutch specialties (not at the same time): raw herring, accompanied by some sort of pickle, and stroopwafel, which means ''syrup waffle.'' What could be bad about something that translates to ''syrup waffle''? (Duh -- the answer is *nothing*.)
One night, a group of us went out to an Amsterdam nightclub that was having 90's night -- roughly translated? A Dutch disco playing songs that I have on cassette tape! (Anybody out there remember cassette tapes?) And then, of course, they also threw in some Dutch classics that took over the airwaves in the 90s, so those songs were new for me. Either way, a fun night was had by all!
Sunday, I got to get to know a town outside of Amsterdam, called Monnickendam, which is the hometown of both Tim and Sanne. It's a town right on the water that has a lot of private yachts, and the old town is a charming place to walk around. Being that Sunday was May 4, that meant it was a holiday in the Netherlands: Remembrance of the Dead. It would probably be a combination of our Memorial Day and Veterans' Day. Tim, Sanne, and I went to Dam Square during the 7pm hour because there was a whole ceremony revolving around a 2-minute period of silence to begin at 8pm. The queen of the Netherlands was there, in addition to the prime minister, the mayor, and other important people (like Tim, Sanne, and me). A great deal of people filled the square, and the ceremony was televised. I was just grateful that there were Jumbotrons, since there were too many people for me to be able to see the main events happening directly in front of me.
The morning of Monday, May 5 was my last morning of the trip, and it was a little more eventful than I had expected it to be. When I arrived at the check-in counter, I had planned to check my bag (cost-free, of course) and make my way toward the gate, thus starting my long day of travel. But no. Not in the least. My bag was almost 7kg over the legal limit. That's about 15 pounds. And the penalty for excess baggage whether you are 7 kilos or 75 kilos over is the same: 50 euros ($77.60). What? I'm not paying 50 euros! I can make this work. *I can *make* this work.* My last test of the superviaje came at this point, when it came time to go back to the States, and there was no way I was giving up my euros. My options? Well, there's, take stuff out and leave it. Or ship it. Nope, not going to do either of those. Then there's, pay the 50 euros. Not going to do that, either. So, I took the suitcase off the scale, put all my stuff down on the floor, and got to work (who ever said this was a four-month vacation and there was no work involved was surely mistaken). One shirt, two shirt, three shirt, four. Five shirt, six shirt, and a Netherlands soccer jersey to top it off. Still not enough? Okay, then I'll also wear two jackets and tie my sneakers to my backpack. How do you like them apples now, check-in lady? (It kind of reminded me of a certain ''Friends'' episode, actually.) So, after putting my bag on the scale four times, resisting the check-in agents' advice to just pay the 50 euros and be more comfortable wearing my regular clothes, I went at it my own way, kept at it, and ultimately crossed the finish line at security, with all my remaining euros tucked safely away. Beep beep, beep beep. Oh boy, what now? (Fortunately, they didn't make me take my shoes off; they must have thought that the shoes tied to my backpack were my shoes that I had been wearing. I didn't even actively try for that one!) I still don't know what set off that endearing little alarm in the Schipol airport, but I do know that I did get a very thorough pat down, one that I could feel through every layer of clothing I was wearing. Eventually, as they always have in the past, they let me go. And by the time I boarded my flight, I was wearing only my original clothes and had all the extra articles of clothing in a plastic bag by my side. So, once again, I managed to keep my euros in my possession, this time perhaps at the expense of an extra stop at security. And though sometimes when it rains, it pours, in this case, it was just...hysterical. And there was no other way for this trip to end. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do to make it through.
missy
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