“So,
how was your year abroad?”
It’s
a loaded question, and one that I still – three months after landing back in
New Orleans – struggle to answer adequately. I haven’t given up, though; whenever it comes
up, I sing the year’s praises as loudly as possible. “It was absolutely phenomenal. I’d
recommend it to anyone. Complete
game-changer. The greatest year of my
life.”
But
really - how do you describe an experience like this?
How do you describe the size of the universe? Sometimes I’ll gesticulate wildly,
throwing hands everywhere to drive my lofty statements home; I’ll spend awkward
seconds searching for high-magnitude words, and, in certain moments, invoke
profanity.
People get it – “Sounds
awesome,” they say, nodding - but I can tell it’s still falling a little short.
No matter how [darn] incredible I say this year was, it’ll always mean more to
me than I can actually get across.
What
to do with such an inexpressibly positive experience? I can’t just sit on it – the gap year's the type of experience that changes every life it touches – but, at the same time, it’s not an easy idea to sell. Although "world travel" does hold a certain element of mass appeal, the gap year is inherently a
risk. It's nonessential. It’s different. Gap years are often expensive, sometimes
dangerous, and always time-consuming. It’s
costly and uncomfortable, and we Americans tend to be both comfortable and cost-averse.
The result is usually a quick dismissal
of the idea.
So I’m
not, at this point in time, attempting to persuade the masses to consider the
gap year. That’s a pretty grand endeavor. But in the next few hundred words, I'd like to explain what I actually got - what I'm getting - from the whole experience.
Telling
people about the journey, to the point that they really understand it, is
difficult.
(That’s one reason it’s taken
me three months to get around to finishing this blog.)
I can’t just place people on the clay
footpath in the village of Igoda, inviting them into another riotous game of
street football as the sun sets below the Tanzanian foothills.
I can’t bring everyone beneath the cosmic sky
of the otherworldly Peruvian highlands, where the light spots outnumber the
dark and the
campesinos’ alpaca shift
and sputter in their stables.
What does
it feel like to sit in the Swing at the Edge of the World?
“Awesome?” “Incredible?” Yes –
indescribably so.
You have to
go to the Arequipa Food Festival to taste the culture, the music,
the
empanadas and
morocho, and so on.
You can’t just hear about it.
It’s that exclusivity that makes memories so valuable.
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| South America Group Semester takes Machu Picchu |
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| Cruz del Condor, Cañón del Colca, Peru |
But in
the end, this wasn’t a trip about "memories".
Great memories can be made anywhere.
I told a friend a few days ago that, all these weeks later, the impact
of this journey is just beginning to become apparent to me – long after the scenic
views have been taken in and the bucket list entries have been checked off.
It’s
the intangible side of the adventure that sticks: the broadened perspective,
the personal clarity, the happy-go-anywhere confidence of a traveler.
When you travel (not just “visit”, but travel
– there’s a difference), the mundane becomes magical. Watch a Tanzanian woman
weave a basket.
It’ll blow your mind,
and you’ll discover new appreciation for materials, for culture, and for the
individual struggles of a billion Third World families.
It stays with you.
In such a profoundly new space, simple stuff can
become challenging– try making your way across Peru by bus – even as the
world’s complications and complexities seem to dissolve before your eyes.
What if we all appreciated life as much as Mufindi’s villagers, who mostly live without electricity, running water, healthcare
access, or more than a few dollars a day, but still find the time to laugh,
play, and love each other?
What if our
priorities could be more like theirs?
I believe
that everyone should, at some point, attend a Lutheran church service in
Swahili.
Everyone could benefit from a morning bucket
shower in a cornfield.
(Ask me how much I appreciate hot water now.) It's all about perspective. Perspective. Perspective. If more people
would just
go – go to a strange land,
simply to do strange things, in strange ways, with complete strangers – the
world would become more content, more productive, and more understanding.
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| Women of Mufindi, Tanzania | Credit goes to my friend Aimi Duong, Photographers Without Borders |
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| After Igoda Children's Village "Spring Break Camp" |
I
was truly fortunate to get my first taste of the world at large before going off to college.
The benefits
of the post-high school gap year are limitless.
Academic burnout is a distant memory.
I’m more self-aware than ever before.
I became fluent in a second language while abroad, and am well on my way
to learning a third.
I learned what it
feels like to (attempt to) teach kids English, to administer life-saving
medical treatment, and to sit a the head of a traditional Kihehe farewell
ceremony.
I’ve made friends from across
the country (amazing, adventurous American travellers who I’m beyond blessed to
call close friends) and from across the world (host families,
language teachers, doctors, dentists, nonprofit leaders, villages full of kids,
and fellow explorers).
Priorities have evolved. I’ve progressed
in my relationships with family, friends, career, and routine.
And at this point I’d feel comfortable living in nearly any
city or country in the world - which is fortunate, since they’re pretty much all
on my list.
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| My mom wouldn't allow a final blog post without baby Noelle. Contact me if you're interested in adopting! |
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| Mufindi's HIV prevalence rate is around 35%. It's not all rainbows and butterflies |
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| Cusco, Peru, by night |
If the year itself was incredible, its
long-term impact is utterly astonishing. The trip was a force multiplier, a
yearlong dose of unadulterated perspective that will shape every event
of the rest of my life. I'm seeing things differently. I'm doing
things differently.
Everything is different - and, truthfully, that can
be painful at times. But in the vast majority of situations the difference is overwhelmingly positive. This was among the greatest opportunities I've
ever been given and is definitely, to date, the greatest decision I've
made.
According to Saint Augustine, "The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page." I'm only a couple of chapters in, but it's definitely a really, really good book.
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| Long exposure / Tena, Ecuador / No edit necessary |
Gap
year data and benefits:
http://www.americangap.org/data-benefits.php
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