India 101

I had hoped to be blogging more while I was here, but before coming to Calcutta (Kolkata) I did not have much time to be on the computer. Then it was nearly impossible to use blogspot on the computers. I have only 5 weeks here, and I am packing so much into everyday. Really though, I am not sure how to explain India. Its not like any place I have been. But while I am here, all of my sense are fully engaged. This country, this part of the world, these people. . . everything is like nothing I have ever experienced. It is another level of travel for myself.

Rickshaw Portrait - Kolkata

Even landing into India from Kuwait was an incredible and different experience. We had to circle around a massive amount of THICK clouds stacked up and swirled around the air above the mega-city whose environment created such crazy shapes and cloud sculptures. I've flown a number of times, but this really felt like flying through Heaven as the rising sun began to radiate through. The plane finally descended through the clouds and flew across a city scape that constantly changed from high-rise modern looking buildings with a modern city layout, juxtaposed around piles of tiny shacks composed of blue and silver specks that were the sprawling slums of Mumbai; all made from cement, blue tarps and metal scraps. The slums came right up to the wall of the airport landing strip, literally stopping at the wall that was the airport's border as we hovered just above the runway one second before landing.

Acrobat partner at the Gateway to India

Diving for the largest tide in 100 years at the Gateway

I spent my first two weeks in Mumbai, taking two small side trips during this time to close by cities. My experiences the first day sum up my time spent in Bombay pretty well-hectic and exhilarating. My friend Eddie and I were talking and describing it as the city of trying to survive. Everybody here is doing anything possible to get by and doing what is good for them. People cross the street whenever they want, cab drivers cut whoever they want off, and even the tiny creatures of the cities, from dogs to rats, have their own way to maintain their life. Here, time really is money. For me it is chaos, but for locals it's the way of Mumbai: either act or be stepped on. It is an organized chaos as there are systems in place that are invisible to myself as an outsider. The whole first day included slum visits (including Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia) as I went with Haath Mein Sehat to their home visits and met with local officials, barganining on Linking Road for birthday gifts, Hindu temple visits, racing auto-rickshaw rides, getting hassled by street children, taking the crazy packed Mumbai local trains, and having dinner in the home of some new friends house in Reclamation, a slum near Bandra. It was the most intense day of my life, and also one of the most unforgettable.

HMS Hand Washing Session at Dharavi

There are so many differences from my other travel experiences here. Like for one, it is HOT! The hottest and most humid place I have ever been perhaps. Also, it is hectic. The traffic here does not compare to anywhere in South America. The drivers are way crazier than Buenos Aires drivers, people follow traffic laws even less than in Peru and Brazil, and no one wears seat belts (they don't even exist in many vehicles). Also, the diversity of religion here is something that even impresses an American. It seems more diverse than anywhere in the States, even NYC. Temples, mosques, sikh gurdwaras, churches and cathedrals can all be found in Mumbai, and many other places, sometimes even on the same street! The diversity in languages is also impressive, about 415. Yep, 415. Each state has their own language(s), most people speak the official languages of Hindi and English, and then there are hundreds of others. India is probably the most colorful place I have ever been as well. With colorful Hindu shrines, painted trucks and saris all littering the streets - it all appears as confetti from afar. Along with the beauty, it is also hard to witness a lot of the ugly that I have never seen before - like trash heaps piled high and rotting in the sun, and mass amount of poverty that fill the public spaces. The fact that there is poverty is no different than anywhere else, only that in a country of 1 billion plus where it already has a high amount of poverty proportionally as compared to most places, the actual number is overwheling.

Since I have left the airport, my social rules have completely had to adjust. For one, personal space is a totally different. Like, there is none! Trains are packed to the brim with faces crammed up against yours. Lines consist of people stacked back to back, even holding each others hips at times. Women and men have different dynamics here than back home. It is nothing too extreme, but it just feels different. Women have greater risks for harassment here, which motivates them to cover up more and ride in separate train compartments. There are many other things as well, like only eating with your right hand, greeting others with "namaste" and prayer hands to some people, nodding your head sideways or around in circles to say yes and being a little more direct with people. It is complicated though, India is like visiting 10 countries in one. You have to adjust-not only to one kind of culture, a certain religion, one language, or one kind of tradition and history-but what feels like dozens instead. For me, it is a place that is hard to describe. My trip is pretty limiting to as to how to interpret this place. I am here for only 5 weeks, of which I spent three in two big cities and the other remaining two have been running around to a few places for only a couple of days.

Lines at a temple in Kolkata

Kolkata

There are sights for the timid westerner, the safe routes, then there are the small off the beaten track places. Even the bigger cities provides you with this traveling feeling of hiking through so many different places. I have had some rough routes and easy ones. After spending time in the largest slums and the nicest night clubs of Mumbai, I flew to Calcutta to check out the former British colony. I loved it - West Bengal has great sweets, awesome street food and great people. I love Calcutta as it felt a little smaller and a little slower than Mumbai. It is a really cool city. The temples, the Howrah bridge, the parks, the markets. . . then Darjeeling. I took a 20 hour train to the very north of West Bengal to hide in the clouds near Tibet and drink hot tea. The weather was waaay cooler. I actually needed a sweater at one point. After Eddie met me here, we headed to Nepal. This was a trip. We took a bus to Siliguri, then another bus to the border (actually we say on the roof of this packed bus as it raced through the rainy darkness of the night to the border). We followed up this unforgettable ride with a really uncomfortable bicycle rickshaw ride to the actual border, and then finally exited India and woke up some Nepali officials to get a 15 day Nepal visa. After a really uncomfortable 3 hour night sleep and eating with some nice Nepali family, we headed by bus, a 17 hour bus ride, to Kathmandu. That city is dope. Swayambhunath Temple (the monkey temple), motor cycle rides (we rented motorcycles), Pashupatinath Temple (temple of the living beings), yoga with swamis, awesome food, funky Nepali shrines, Buddhism, plush green jungle crawling into the hectic city center. . I must return. Benares was the next stop: another 15 hour bus and a 6 hour train journey. Unreal. Varanasi is unreal. We roamed the old rotted alleyways and through the old temples to the ghats where we witnessed a few funerals, people bathing upon the holy river spot, and men preparing for the cremations. We were able to the early morning 5 am boat ride on the River Ganges, as well the sunset ride to see the fire and dance rituals. It was pretty touristy, way more than I anticipated, but still special. Our trip ended as we took a very long 24 hour train ride in the general class compartment to Agra, to catch a glimpse of the Taj Mahal before I left India. Now this place I knew would be touristy, but it was way more special than I anticipated. It is gorgeous in fact!

Kathmandu

Varanasi

By the end, as I raced to Dehli to fly to Mumbai and say goodbye to the Maximum City before heading to Italy, I was overwhelmed with new sights and experiences. Now here I am, my last day in Mumbai before I head out. I almost feel the exhaustion that Siddhartha describes as he hangs with the Samanas and loses the Self to realize true reality in Herman Hesse's novel. A little dramatic of a comparison, but I don't really know how else to describe my mind. I have seen things I never thought I would see, and I can not think of anything else besides this moment - not pleasure, not excitement, not sadness, not even judgement. I have also become pretty sick and think I've lost about 10 pounds. I don't know how to sum it all up, but my India trip is over now.

Kathmandu

Agra

Welcome to India my friend. Chalo! Chalo!

The Mumbai Local Train

Today marks one week in India for myself. I am in one of the largest Indian cities, Mumbai. From the moment I pulled away from the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport I quickly came to realize, and haven't forgotten since, that I have never been anywhere in the world like here. The pace of big city life here, the culture, the appearance of the streets, the ubiquitous extremities, the flavors, the aromas, the traditions and customs, and even the mannerisms have all completely isolated me to understand that India really is a world of its own. (It even has its own time zone - IST!)

Mr friend Eddie met me at the airport. I had gotten in a little late from my layover in Kuwait. That was an interesting experience-my first time stepping foot in the Middle East. From the Arabic scripture, the deep voiced arabic chanting and singing, as well as being surrounded by people in turbans, burqas, face cloths, and long cloaks-I was already enchanted by a totally eastern religious and cultural ambiance. After a 7 hour layover and crazy jet streaming through time zones across the globe, I was finally seeing Eddie after almost two months since he left for the Philippines. We high-fived and jumped in the funky auto rickshaw* that is so characteristic of Asia and drove away from the airport buzzing through tiny paved streets past the modern architecture of the airport and right to the wider and busy pot-hole cracked streets and massive intersections that were bustling with a million people and lined with various food and craft stands. Right away we drove into a different world, where buildings are rotting along the streets and slum looking shelters are stacked high upon one another. I looked to my left and saw a man in ripped clothes running along the street manually pulling a wooden tow full of tomatoes, mangos and wood. On my right was a woman dressed in a Muslim all black burqa that covered all of her head and body down to her feet, except for her eyes, holding her face cloth and standing in the median between the rushing traffic as black smog clouded around her. After waiting to cross, she darts across the street right in front of our rickshaw with her child rushing behind hand-in-hand. The crowds of people were mixed with bright colors, as we passed most men in button-down and tucked-in dress shirts with retro and striped designs, along with tighter pants with dress shoes. The women were the eye catchers as many of them were covered in sari designs draping around them. As I sat in wonder watching the Indian big city scenery roll by me, I was awoken from my jet lag to the intense multi-sensory introduction to this foreign place. "Welcome to India."

Eddie told him, "Andheri East please, J.B. Nuggar." The cab driver shook his head sideways, appearing like he was saying no, and looked forward continuing to drive. To say yes here is not done by nodding up and done, but rather rotating your face side to side like a bobble-head figure. It took me awhile to get, but I have a feeling that now it will be hard to stop doing even once I return to the US. As we drove in the three wheeled little box of a rickshaw, I was so confused and completely overwhelmed with where I was. Only 10 min in and I was wide-eyed and bedazzled by the Indian street scenes. We flew through traffic ubrubtly jolting from right to left, cutting people off, just barely missing by a hair running over pedestrians that were crossing from all directions. Motorcycles zoomed all around us, some with up to 5 people packed on. Whole families rode by us on one motorbike, with the children staring at us like we were the strangest looking people they had seen. There were cars coming right up to the sides of the car, no clear lanes painted or followed, another rickshaw driving right towards us in the wrong direction, and a cow walking along the smoggy loud black traffic atmosphere that was filled with rushing vehicles from all directions. We were driving on the left side of the rode, a traffic system left behind by the British Raj. But, it was hard to even notice this as we randomly kept switching sides of the road. I quickly learned that whatever works in India, go with it. Just don't cause an accident and no one will care.

Vegetable Seller (subziwalla)

We pulled up to his neighborhood of "J. B. Nagar" and began to zoom through small curving streets of the community. Immediately I smelled an intense combination of Nag Champa incense, raw sewage, roasting Chai tea, fresh cilantro, rotting vegetables and who knows what else, spices and sweet scents, and a variety of so many other tantalizing and unrecognizable smells. My senses were completely overstimulated. I hadn't really realized but Eddie was talking to me the whole time. I was so distracted with all that was going on while he was already adjusted and normalized to all of the organized chaos that was Mumbai. "Are you tired from the trip, or are you ready to run around with us today?" I was so ready! As we stepped down from the rickshaw, I realized I was already sopping in sweat from the hot humid air. The sun was kind of breaking through the clouds, but right now is Monsoon season in most of central and southern India. I was told it was a pretty sunny day compared to the others. We walked up to his building that was covered in cracks, dirty grime and black rotted coloring over the baise stuccko. It looked over 100 years old, but actually was only 35 years old. Construction in Mumbai isn't the best quality, unless its for a really wealthy person or company. The extreme weather conditions of so much rain and humidity also really put a wear on the buildings here.

My first day was intense. It was probably not like most peoples first days in India. I walked into a small flat that was filled with about 6 other sleeping bodies scattered around the place. These were Eddies group members of Haath Mein Sehat (Hindi for "Health in Your Hands"). They were all here for the summer implementing a water sanitation, health and education project in a few of the slums of Mumbai. Mumbai, or Bombay, is 55% slums. The gap between the rich and poor here is tremendous. Health is a huge concern here also, as many children and adults lack simple health care and education of preventing sickness. Diarrhea is a huge problem as sickness is spread through contaminated, mishandled or unproperly stored water and food. With clean water not being supplied or maintained by the government, its up to the people to take care of themselves, but sometimes their sources for water especially is not a clean source. So many people, especially children, die or suffer long terms effects of diarrhea caused by water bourne disease and dysentary. With all this said, HMS was here to work with local college students and schools to go into a few slums and educate children in schools and family in households how to prevent sickness. So after meeting a few members, a few which were sick and all of whom were tired as the prepared themselves for another tiresome day in Mumbai as they drank hot gatorade and peanut butter for hydration and energy and the girls covered themselves in Indian saree and scarf material, we ate some breakfast and left for Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia.

We stopped on the street after leaving and bought my first Chai from a man that was cooking it up on the side of the street. It was so delicious and strangely pleasant to drink the boiling hot chai in the high temperatured weather. We got into a rickshaw that took us to the train station. The Western Railway runs along the western route of India and travels through central and suburban Mumbai. The cars are separated by 1st class, 2nd class mens and 2nd class womens. The separation was weird to me at first for a public transit, until I realized that it was for the safety of the women as the trains get so overpacked. I had a ticket for second class-a great start as a Westerner to these trains. The train approached and as it came nearer, I saw bodies hanging out the doors of the train. I was confused. Men started shouting and jumping off the train before it stopped. As the door stopped right in front of me, more than a dozen Indian men pushed off of the train and stampeded past me, while simultaneously two dozen others crammed from behind me and started pushing me. Always remember- "Do as the locals do." The only way I was getting on was to push with them. I shoved and grabbed a handle of the train as it began pulling away. It was nuts!! All of these people hanging off and hundreds of bodies crammed into each car. We began to take off and I finagled my body inside and just fit into the door. I just laughed and gave Eddie a look of craze. Once again, "Welcome to India!"

The amount of people here is absolutely mad! Everywhere there were massive crowds filling streets and buildings. After getting beat up upon entering the train, we had to still mantain standing and holding our things without getting lost amongst the people or getting pushed off at the wrong stop. Then make our way to the opposite side to exit the door at our stop, shoving people, stepping on legs and feet, pushing faces and arms out of the way. An older man looked me in the eye and said "Which stop?" "Bandra!" "Ok, wait and we will get you out." I was a little skeptical about all of these people really caring about these two random white guys, but sure enough, at our stop, people began shouting and pushing us through. Just as we were getting to the door, the train started departing and we jumped out while it was still moving! I caught my breath and just laughed at all of my soar muscles, then we got back on track and started moving forward.

Next we checked out a Mumbai College where we met with a group of about 12 Indian college girls. They work with HMS and will carry the project through the year. We discussed proper ways to approach families in the slums and discuss disease spread through germs, the importance of hand-washing and practiced a song they all came up with in Hindi about washing your hands. It was really sweet and pretty cool to be around. Afterwards we went to Dharavi, what most people refer to as a "slum," although it is actually a place way more complex than just a ghetto.

We got out and walked one block to his flat. The neighborhood was a suburb, so pretty far from central Mumbai and from the tourist areas. We were the only light haired and light colored people in the streets. Most people didn't pay any attention, other stared and smiled, laughed or shouted hello. Some were absolutley dumbfounded to the pupose of our presence in their neighborhood. I became so paranoid with traveling through Latin America that I took their stares in threat and looked down and held onto my things tight. I would eventually learn about the Indian stare and its true intention is simple curiouslity. Most people are uninterested in robbing you, but more interested in your western appearance and you completeley foreign look to them. So many faces walked by, some with bindhis and tikka painted on their forehead (usually in red), some with small usually white muslim prayer caps others with big glaring eyes through face coverings.

We arrived at an elementary school where we met with the organizer of another program that HMS is working with as well as a female prinicipal of the school. We walked into the humble small school classroom with wooden long tables as desks, and about 45 small 1st grade Indian children stared in playful wonder at us. I was so excited to be there with them, and it was an awesome experience as we taught the kids and practiced the Hindi hand washing song that the group made up. It was amazing to see the kids catch on and do the motions of washing their hands along to the song. Afterwards we collected samples of the bacteria on the kids hand before they washed their hands. It was so great to help out and be included. The kids were so weirded out as we put their hands in water bags and rubbed them-they stared into my eyes and at my hands and watched their hand in the bag, saying a few things to me in Hindi randomly. I felt bad that I couldn't speak back and had to have a college student from Mumbai help translate.

Remember, this is all still my first day. . . .

We eventually left the children and took off for some shopping around a crazy Indian market and busy shopping street, along with my first Indian meal. I was harassed right away by ten different men selling misclenaious junk, from little pink elephants on strings, to huge maps of India, to jeans and underwear. Street children followed me for blocks asking me for money or to buy them food. The poverty here is intense, and the poor are in pretty bad shape. It's an tremendously difficult moral dilemma to decide whether or not to give money. I kept giving money away in Latin America to the poor, but they would keep asking for more, then more and more children, old women or other people would appear. Here its the same, and I quickly had to realize that handing out money on the streets like some rich saint was not the key to solving India's desperate problem with poverty. As a foreigner, the responsibility can not be put on you to act this way, nor should you be flashing money around arrogantly to people. I am a broke student in my country, and I study poverty, so I knew helping in other ways to actually solve permanent problems was probably more efficient than these temporary fixes. But, it never got easy to say no and then continue on to buy crap souvenirs for people or more food for myself, and then pass a person covered in flies and starving to death. Whenever I could, I just gave them the food or water I already had.

The night ended with dinner in Reclamation, another "slum" community. We met a few guys in their late teens in the rain near their naighborhood and they walked us to their house. We entered a small 15 feet by feet room and sat down on the floor. We met Vicky and a his brother and their friends. They were all Indian and all from Reclamation. HMS had been working with them the previous year and they invited us over for dinner. They were funny and nice guys and they showed us a really fun time. We listened to Michael Jackson and Vicky showed us some dance moves and made me show off some amateur pop-and-lock moves I bragged about. He totally called me out then showed me up! The experience was great as they opened up the doors to their home to us and I saw their world for a night. We had dinner and ate the tradiational Indian way-with your hands! I laughed at the doctor visit I had the weeks before and the warning of where to eat and how to eat, and here I was, first night and on the floor of a house in a slum neighborhood eating with my hands. This night humbled me and of all the things Ive seen here in India so far, this is the experience I will never forget. They bosted Bollywood moves and sang songs in Hindi and they each had their own talent. These guys showed me high spirits and seemed so human, all in a place that was bare concrete floors and a blue tarp for one of their walls.

This was only my first day, and I still have so much more to get to know. I am excited as a week has gone by now and these experiences have already been combined with so many more. Over and out for now. . . .

Another Slingshot Abroad

Here I go again. . .
Tomorrow I am leaving for India. This year has been one big run-around to various corners of the world. On a whim and driven by certain causes, I decided to continue my year of discovery and take a plane half way across the world to continue the life-long learning process of myself and this world. This time, I will be the fursthest away from home then I have ever been! After a hard first semester at Berkeley and making a new life for myself in the Bay, I am off to see a new place.

Alamo Square, San Fran Summer 2009

I am currently in Ohio visiting my family outside of the Cleveland area in a town called North Olmsted, where I grew up. From here, I will travel to New York in the morning, where I will eventually take off later in the day to Mumbai, India. I will be meeting a friend there who is working on a water sanitation project in the slums of the city. After that, only endless possibilities lay ahead of travel around the country that has fascinated me beyond plain curiosity for quite some time.

My family - brothers and Mom

After a monumental election, new social policies, and tremendous amount of attention from the rest of the world from news headlines of terrorist attacks and Slumdog Millionaire, there is no better time to immerse myself in one of the worlds most interesting and fastly growing economic powers. I will put my travel knowledge to test and open myself up to the Indian experience - whatever that is. At this point, as I fumble abroad again and barely get ready, all I can really think of is no expectations an no worries. I have never planned so little for a trip! But, this should definitely be a trip to remember 50 years from now. Mumbai, here I come!

 Goodbye summer 2009. . .

Big Sur, California - June 2009

Andrew Molera National Park, June 2009

Mom and I at Niagara Falls, Canada - July 2009

Post SA Thoughts

Since my return, I have also noticed that I now how a few more clarifications in my life. Of the which are:

-I want to become fluent in Spanish. I am declaring Spanish as a minor in a addition to my major in Anthropology.

-I most definitely want to continue studying Anthropology. Although this trip has revealed a few concerns of mine with the subject.

-Working with some sort of non-profit abroad is one thing I will incorporate into my next travel abroad. Through my minor program at Berkeley, Global Poverty and Practice, I plan to achieve this and work in a poverty stricken area of a certain chosen country.

-I love Peru. I need to explore more, and crave to return to understand smaller communities and the whole of Peruvian affairs overall.

-Explore more of the North and West of Brazil.

-Be passionate. Latinos definitely taught me to express myself, honestly and unforgivingly.

-Cook more exotic foods. Make more smoothies. These are both from Peru and Brazil mostly.

-Smile and Laugh. Make eye contact. Always tell people what they mean to you. Be real and genuine with people.

-Fall in love more. This isn't hard in South America!

Peace for now, until the next adventure.

Ryan

Re-Americanization of the Self

It's hard to become "American" again. This has been the constant daily revelation since my return on December 21. I have been back in the States for over a month now, and the shock of returning has slowly subsided as I weave my inherited culture back into my life.

The mindset and attitude, the language, the personal space, the security, the "tidiness," the styles of dress, posture and poise, even the way people eat, are all characteristics I am all of a suddenly observantly, and unaviodably aware of. I am truly culture shocked by the place I have lived my whole life. My first experiences coming back were located in airports, prime locations to really witness the true nature of people in social cotext as they deal with stress in a public setting. Seeing people ran past and into eachother, ignoring the masses of other people around, demonstrated the lack of concern in their attitude for most people outside of themselves. Nobody was making eye contact, smiling, laughing, kissing cheeks, nobody even touching others to let them know they were moving past them. Just pushes and shoves. I was no longer hearing the fast spitted instructions in Spanish from flight attendants, or the amorous poetic words of love "en espanol." Instead American accents, the invasion of "like" in every other breath, rude comments and swear words filling vocabulary. On top it all, it was Christmas time, the most stressful and, ironically, negative time of year in the United States. I sensed the pressure everyone was feeling as couples and families faught rather than show the open affection that I became so adjusted to. Everyone seemed miserable and airline employees impatient and rude. Suddenly, airport employees were yelling at me for their mistakes, instead of being nice and talking to me like a human being. I was back in the corporate America game, where I did not matter to huge companies. Only my money did. I got more respect off of the starving homeless and pan handlers in Peru. Of all the overcrowded and disorder of South American contexts that I had experienced, this seemed the most chaotic and absurd.

After a long 8 hour flight and 3 hour train ride, I finally arrived in San Diego in the afternoon of Sunday the 21st. Jessica, a good friend, picked me up and we drove through downtown San Diego. Right away it was so shocking to see the tidiness and order of the city. Essentially no litter, polished modern architecture, people obeying traffic laws, shiny new and oversized cars, no starving children or families on the street; everything was the exact opposite of what I was just surrounded by for the previous four months. The air was also clean and pure, zero humidity, and clear, sunny skies with warm temperatures. My home for four years felt like a completely different world!

I eventually made it home to Cleveland, Ohio. Yes, I still call it home as I can undoubtedly feel at home there. My trip taught me two important lesson: love life and love your family. This past time going back to my family was probably the best return I have had since I moved to California. After staying with so many latino families in my travels, I finally learned that, as completely different as they are, my familiy operated similarly to the passion and loyalty that is very evident in most latino families. It was great to finally celebrate my own traditions and feel normal with my own people. This is where I'm from; it has undeniably humbled me and made me the person I am today. I appreciate and love it.

But, I still yearn for my travels all the time. I went back to San Diego to see the life I had missed so much and regretted giving up, and aside from very good friends, beautiful weather and the amazing restaurant I worked at, I realized I was done with Ocean Beach (for now, until I decide to become a lifetime surfer). Now, after driving a Penske semi up to Berkeley with all my shit, I am starting a new adventure through school at UC Berkeley and living in the major metropolis of the Bay Area. But all I can think about is salsa in Buenos Aires at Azucar, CitiBank still corrupting the Argentine economy, daily spanish lessons at 8am on 3 hours of sleep, rafting through rough waters and riding bikes on a wine buzz in Mendoza, those 20+ hour bus rides, drinking shots of Cachaca and caipirinhas on the streets of Rio at night and moving my hips harder than I ever have to the rhythmic bumps of Samba while Christ the Redeemer watches over, standing under a natural waterfall in a tropical forest outside of Rio, encountering wild oxen in the brush of the island of Florianopolis, debating complex issues like "globalization" and its effects on Natives People, along with love, human rights and religion all in spanish while roaming the streets and beaches of the crumbling city of Montevideo, winding up lost in the middle of Brazil with crowds of eyes fixed on my every move, walking with Angel through the crowded Plaza de Armas in Lima, Peru and into a dark and silent church filled with human skeletons in the foundation, escaping the buzz and contamination of the city for the untouched Colca Canyon to watch the majestic and respected Condor fly over head, having a 3 hour in depth conversation in spanish about life and the such with a girl from Spain, and of course, hiking a long and well deserved three day excursion through jungle terrain with snakes, wild orchids and fresh mangos, to the sunrise kissing the forehead of Mach Picchu. All I want is to go back. But, instead, I will continue to contain the wide-eyed curiousity and passion for newness and express it in my daily life, as their is so much to learn and view even within our own culture.

I am now at U.C.B., fulfilling the dream that I longed for before and even during my trip. I am ready for this challenge and looking forward to paving the path for wherever I am headed next! I hope to return to Peru specifically. I know I am not done there yet. . .