3 Days...

Well, here I am. Again. Counting down the days (on one hand, mind you!) until I depart for Latin America on another journey. This one I call my year as a Fulbright Colombia ETA, and if you haven’t read all of my ridiculous Facebook posts, it’s the proudest thing I have ever accomplished in this life.

As any traveler will tell you, the feelings leading up to the departure date are mixed. We feel excited, nervous, scared, anxious, blah blah blah. I’m sure there’s nothing I can tell you that you haven’t already heard in another traveler’s blog. But this blog, I want to be different. I wrote my first blog when I lived in Chile as a high school student. When I tell people that I lived in Chile at a young age, they usually become very excited, and oddly surprised. “Wow, Anna, that’s SO cool! You’re SO awesome!” While I am very flattered that ANYONE thinks I’m awesome J, I also feel as though I can’t take credit for being awesome for having gone abroad. In college I have learned that traveling, although a beautiful and life-changing experience, is also a privilege. I was privileged to be able to be a foreign exchange student. Did I use up all the money I had saved from my job? Damn right I did. But did my parents also help me pay for the program? Damn right they did. Did I have a Spanish teacher that encouraged me to use my passion for the language to spend a year in another country? You can guess the answer to that one.

My school friends and I in Talca, Chile. The blonde one with the tongue sticking out? Yours truly.

The thing is, not everyone has these opportunities. Not everyone has a family who will allow them to leave the country at the age of seventeen to live for a year in Chile. Even fewer families are willing to help fund this experience. Not everyone has a public school teacher who sees potential in them and encourages them to do such things. And not everyone grows up believing that yes, they ARE capable of doing so. But I did. I am a very, very lucky individual. So when people tell me how cool they think I am for having been a foreign exchange student, I try to say, “Thanks. I’ve been pretty lucky.” It’s hard for me to say much more than that.

If someone asks about my experience in Chile, I always say that it was the best and hardest year of my life. Some days were great, other days were terrible. I won’t even go into how much I cried, or how many situations I encountered that made me feel uncomfortable. But I also met some of my best friends in the entire world, and can honestly say that every person I met in Chile taught me something. You know you’re in a good spot when you can learn something new from everyone around you. My experience wasn’t perfect, and to be honest, I don’t really think I believe in a perfect experience. Life is full of imperfections, beautiful imperfections. If it weren’t, the world would be boring and we would never be challenged. And that, my friend, is not a life at all.

Yep, that’s me, crying in Chile. But it was at my going away party, so it’s okay J

Looks like I got side-tracked. Always happens when I write about my philosophies on life and how I choose to live mine. I sense that I am probably not alone in this J. To go back to what I was saying ONLY a few paragraphs ago, I wrote my first blog when I lived in Chile. I wrote mostly about cultural differences, my friends, how people perceived me, you know, the usual written reactions to culture shock. I probably talked a lot about Chilean slang, which is something that I only get to practice with Chileans and Spanish speakers who have lived in Chile because, let’s be real. The “cachai” and “po” and “puta la weaaa” usually result in an either confused or wide-eyed look when relayed to other Spanish speakers I have met. I started learning Spanish in high school, but I truly learned to speak it while in Chile, which is why I speak with a weird Andean accent. When I speak Spanish with non-Chileans, I almost have to monitor my speech (trust me, I still have a gringa accent) so that I can filter out all the casual chilenismos. Sometimes, it’s actually painful not to speak the way I am used to. Remember Anna: it’s not “estai” anymore!

When I returned to Iowa during the second semester of my senior year in high school, I went on the big college search. Having taken the ACT half a year or a year earlier than everyone else, my scores were a bit bleak. But DePauw University in Greencastle had a Romance Languages major, gave me the best financial aid, and wasn’t full of yuppies! (Or so I thought.) I think it was probably around this time that I found out about the Fulbright Scholarship. I don’t remember exactly who told me about it, or how I read up on it, but once I did, I became VERY interested. After being pretty politically active in high school, I decided that I wasn’t interested in politics anymore and wanted to go into education. Of course, I can’t rightly say that I wasn’t interested in politics anymore; in fact, it’s one of my pet peeves when people say, “I hate politics.” Politics determine so much of our life, and our privileges. If you’re reading this, trust me. You care about politics. You care about the right to bear arms. Abortion. Marriage equality. Student loans. White privilege. Gender discrimination. The fact that you can’t say swear words in a job interview. It’s ALL politics. I, for one, have always cared deeply about these issues. But I suppose I started thinking about them in more of an educational way. If I can become more educated, and in turn educate others, maybe the world we live in can change. In many ways, I still think this way. But yes, I vote in every election. Don’t ask me why.

Got side tracked AGAIN. This is why it takes me so long to write blog posts; I just have so damn much to say about everything. I was once called a woman with very strong opinions. I still spend time each day trying to think of a clever response to that one. Any ideas? J

Image #3 depicts opinionated woman. Anna: If we are going to be photographed, let’s make a statement!

Okay, BACK to square one. Well, maybe now we’re at square two or three. I went to college at DePauw University, and there truly are NOT enough pages to describe how I feel about that place, my experience there, or the people that attend the university and are employed there. The feelings are beyond mixed. But looking back on it, I can say that I did learn a whole hell of a lot in those four years. And I met a lot of people from all over with very different experiences, who taught me so many of the things that I preach today. And I got to study abroad in the Dominican Republic, which brings me to my next blog. When I studied in Santiago, Dominican Republic during the spring of my junior year, I decided that while abroad, I was going to take advantage of everything. I wasn’t going to cry, I was going to enjoy myself to no end and make friends and learn everything I could from living there. While I did take advantage of everything I could and have some beautiful (and crazy) stories from living there, I never allowed myself to be sad. And every time I felt an emotion that wasn’t pure joy, I beat myself up over it. And man, that is no way to live. When I wrote my blog, I tried to write in a more funny, sarcastic way that people could enjoy. But all of that raw emotion that I had felt while living in Chile? I relayed none of that. I was happy and grateful, and that was that, damnit! Sometimes I go back and read that blog, and although it’s entertaining, it doesn’t shed light on some of true sentiments experienced by a very matter-of-fact and down-to-earth Midwestern 4H girl living in the Caribbean. If you talk to me in person (which I hope one day you will…because if you’ve read this far either you really need to get out and meet new people or we have something in common), I can explain to you more how I felt living in the Dominican Republic. But now is not the time for that story.

Me at Carnaval in Santiago de los Caballeros. The DR is a beautiful country with loving people.

This brings me to my third blog, and definitely my favorite one I’ve written so far. I got a $3,000 grant from DePauw University to cover my living expenses while I did an unpaid internship in Indianapolis during the summer of 2013. Again, “I’ve been pretty lucky.”  In return for the grant money (which saved my ass, mind you!), I was asked to blog every week about my experience. I worked at a non-profit organization teaching English to mostly Burmese refugees living in the Indianapolis area. Now, when teachers say that they often learn more from their students than their students learn from them, it’s not just a cliché. My students were a blessing to me, and taught me about strength, courage, and wisdom, as beginning English learners. This is why I say that language barriers are no excuse not to try to communicate with someone. I don’t speak Karen or Chin (or Burmese, for that matter), but in those three months I learned to truly love and appreciate my students, as I know that they love and appreciate me. Sometimes we still write. And if I were a better person, I would write more. I would drive the six hours to Indy to go and see them. But I know myself, and I know that I won’t. I am leaving the States and won’t be back for quite some time. I have always been flighty, and although part of me wanted to stay in Indianapolis with my students, I went back to my last year of college and I did what I always do; I moved on. And I think about my students with great fondness. I write to them, I write about them, and I talk about them. Although I am not with them, they were some of my greatest teachers, and I will always carry them with me. Along with a great burden of guilt that I did not stay longer.

Some of my students and I on my last day at work. I would see them once more in the following year.

It was not hard to write once a week about my experience in Indianapolis. I wrote about everything; I wrote about learning how to live on my own, I wrote about the challenges of intercultural communication, I wrote about social justice issues, I wrote about Burma and its current situation (or, at least, the little that I knew about it), and I wrote about teaching. I loved being a teacher and a mentor. I learned something new every day, and was able to adjust my methods constantly to better serve my students. This is one of the reasons that I applied for the Fulbright; in college, I loved to be in class and to learn, but I did miss having the role of a teacher. In October of 2013 I applied for the Fulbright ETA Grant to Colombia. In the way of Fulbright grants, DePauw is an exceptional institution. Around forty seniors applied for Fulbright grants, and we had every resource available to us. We had former grantees come and talk to us, a quarter credit class on grant writing to work on our essays, countless workshops, a resource team, faculty advisors, you name it. When I found out about all the resources, I became more determined than ever to apply. I talked to every person I could and signed myself up for the class, did endless research on countries. Ultimately I decided on Colombia because I had a strong desire to work with displaced people. Having worked with refugees in Indianapolis, I began to develop a passion for the struggles of those who have had to leave their communities and create a new life in an entirely new place. So often, these struggles go unnoticed by others. I decided that I since I wanted to apply for a grant in Latin America, I would try to go to Colombia, the country with the world’s highest number of internally displaced people. This was the place I needed to go, and this was the community that I wanted to learn from and work with. But deciding where to go was just the beginning.

If you’ve ever applied for a Fulbright grant, you understand what it’s like. You have to communicate your entire story on a single page, to be skimmed over by committee members going through hundreds, if not thousands, of other applications. Clearly I didn’t learn much, as we’re already on page five of this blog post. (If you’re still reading, by the way, bless you  and your poor eyes. And your patience. And sanity.) Along with the essays, you have to come highly recommended by three of your professors or employers. I guess I chose wisely…thank God! You have to have good grades, good experience, and a really good reason as to why you need to be in that country and nowhere else. I was fortunate enough to have a strong argument for my application, and although I probably went through over twenty drafts of my essays, I managed to get it turned in on time. Again, thank God. I think the first thing I did when I finally turned it in was go to my fridge, grab a beer, sit on the couch, and drink it. I probably slept soon after.

What I imagined myself looking like during the Fulbright application process…

…What I probably actually looked like…

Next step was the interview. I did a lot of research about Colombia for this interview; I memorized statistics, thought of questions they might ask me, and practiced my professional Anna voice. I haven’t used the professional Anna voice once this summer, which is probably why I feel kind of brain dead. For some reason, I have always interviewed well. Something sparks in me and all of a sudden I become this smart, confident woman who is strategic, but also has a sense of humor. Again, “I’ve been pretty lucky.” This interview was with four DePauw professors, only one of whom I knew (he was also my Fulbright advisor and probably the coolest dude at DePauw.) They asked me a lot of questions that I was expecting, and I felt like I was doing pretty well. Especially when my advisor started speaking to me in Spanish to gauge my proficiency, and knowing that I had lived in the Dominican Republic, asked if I had read any Junot Diaz. Ha! Lucked out on that one; he’s one of my favorite authors. It was a definite “sigh of relief” moment. But then they asked me a question I wasn’t at all prepared for. “Anna, you seem to be a bit critical of Colombia’s political situation in your essays. Now, if I were the Colombian government, are you sure that I would want someone in my country who was criticizing the way things are run here?” I sat for a moment and stared. I wasn’t expecting this one. Even though it’s a perfectly logical question. I racked my brain over and over and over, and I could see the professors looking at me. The only answer I could come up with was the honest truth, so I said it. “Well, professor,” I said. “I don’t want to go to Colombia to overthrow the government; I want to work with its people. And if the government can’t understand my vision and doesn’t want me there, maybe this isn’t what I need to be doing.” I still can’t believe that I said that in my interview. I had no idea what they thought about that answer. But I guess it goes to prove that honesty is the best policy. And that I’m one hell of a lucky woman.

After applying in October, we had to wait until January to hear if we had made it past the first round (there are two.) My three housemates and I had all applied for the grant to different countries, so we were all nervous. They said they would reply sometime in January. I’m pretty sure we heard back on January 31^st. No joke :). Strangely enough, I had gotten an email the day before from Fulbright Colombia asking for a Skype interview. I was very confused because I hadn’t even heard back about the first round. Needless to say, I made it past the first round, along with six other of my fellow seniors at DePauw. Everyone heard back at different times about the final decision. In the meantime, I applied to the French TAPIF program, as I also studied French in college. I was accepted into the program and was given twenty days to respond. The twenty days came and went, and still no word from Fulbright about whether I had received the grant or not. I accepted the TAPIF program reluctantly, as I felt better safe than sorry. After two days, I got the email. I remember it very clearly; I was sitting at the dining room table in my little house with my roommates, doing homework. I had gotten the email hours and hours beforehand, but hadn’t checked. I was about to go to bed and I thought I would go back and check my email one more time. As soon as I saw the “I am delighted to inform you” part, I burst into tears. This had been my dream for years, and it happened. I can’t really explain in words how I was feeling in that very moment, but I know I was crying like a baby and tried desperately to call my parents, who were asleep at the time. I got more hugs the next day than I’ve ever gotten. It was truly the happiest and proudest moment of my life.

And here I am, three days away from flying off to live in Bogota as an English Teaching Assistant with the Fulbright program. I am not packed (of course…procrastinator), but for the first time the entire summer, I feel like it’s finally happening. And it will. And it will be a wonderful year of this life of mine. There are a lot of things about me and my life that I have chosen not to write about, mostly because I actually want people to keep reading. And I want this blog to be pure and honest Anna, writing about her year in Bogota, about the people she meets, the experiences she has, the sentiments she’s feeling, all of it. But this is the last time she’ll speak in third person..weird.

Per usual, the time has come for me to go again, and I am ready. Ready to learn again, ready to be challenged by everyday life, ready to dive into new things and to come out of them a more wise and aware human being. After all, that’s all we can really ask for.

Next time I write, I’ll be writing from Bogota.

All the peace and love in the world,

-Anna-