Hair in Unusual Places

Sara, my traveling buddy and roommate while studying abroad, and I woke up to the sun rising in beautiful Cusco, Peru; surrounded by high green mountains, blue skys and extremely high altitudinously fresh air. We were both starving and craving good ole' American style egg breakfast sandwiches, or something along the lines of a big breakfast. Wandering through the hilly stone streets, we came upon a futbol field that happened to have a sandwich stand sitting in front of it. Just as we were hoping, they had egg sandwiches, with a South American spin. We both ordered an egg sandwich with avocado, tomatoes, sprouts, lettuce and cheese...delicious. I took a huge bite and felt automatically satisfied. This sandwich was just what I had been looking for. As I was enjoying this first bite, I caught a strange texture in my mouth. Not knowing what it was I separated it from the rest of the food and spit it out of my mouth into my hand. Laying in my hand was a dark, curly hair. Knowing that we were in Peru and knowing that more than occassionaly, a hair or two will end up in your food, I ignored it and kept eating. The next bite brought a couple more hairs, which disgusted me, but I took them out and kept chewing. Going along with my American instincts, I opened the sandwich, just to check and see how many more hairs I might find in this delicious breakfast. Sitting right on top of the tomato, was a neat little pile of dark curly hairs. It looked like someone had shaved an entire beard into my sandwich. Sara checked out her sandwich and sure enough, a dark hairy pile staired up at her as well. I felt sick to my stomach, thinking of how many of those hairs I had already eaten. Instead of going back to ask for our money, we left the sandwiches sitting next to a trash can for a stray dog to eat. Next time I guess we will know to order an egg sandwich, keep the avocado but hold the hair, please.

Peace Corps

So I have been officially applying to the Peace Corps for about 2 years now...It's not that I am putting off going or that I do not want to go; I am just waiting for the right time. I feel like I would rather have a couple years of experience and a year or two of grad school under my belt before I go so I am more prepared (if that is even possible). You cannot really be prepared for everything that will happen during the Peace Corps. I just feel like I really want to make the most of my time there- I would like to actually make a difference. I am nervous that I will go back to visit my host site 5-10 years later and everything will be the way it was before I arrived. I guess according to "Turning Stones", I changed their world just by being there...everywhere I go that place is a little different because I was there. As long as I turn one stone- as long as I help one person, then I made a difference.
5 year plan:

Grad School: MPH/Master's International PC program- concentration in International Health/Maternal and Women's Health with a specialization in HIV/AIDS
Peace Corps: somewhere Spanish speaking doing something health related

that's basically it for now...after that, we shall see what comes my way.

Old Stones, Magical Waters and Salt

Sitting in a classroom, reading a book; you usually learn a decent amount of information. You probably will be tested on it in some standardized form and will be asked to regurgitate what you have learned in an essay or two. Now I understand that this type of learning is important and I did do a lot of this while studying abroad. But I tend to believe that a hands on learning experience is much more beneficial, which is why I studied abroad in the first place. If you can combine these two types of learning, you are probably going to end up a genius, if you are not already one. If you have the money, time and opportunity to travel while you are studying abroad or to stay in the country after your classes are over, I recommend it. For two weeks after I had taken my last exams, all one hundred percent in Spanish, my roommate and I took off on a 32 hour non-stop bus ride from Cordoba, Argentina to Lima, Peru. Our plan was the take this time, while we were still in South America to travel through Peru and Bolivia, stopping along the way to see Machu Pichu, Lago Titicaca, the Salt Flats and basically whatever else came in our way. Although we had a few mishaps of a missed tour boat at Lago Titicaca, an egg sandwich with an excessive amount of hair in it and a drunken 4v4 driver who left us stranded in the middle of a Salt Flat in Bolivia, our trip was more of an education than I’ve ever received from sitting in a desk, listening to a professor drone on for hours.

Super Panchos, Empanadas y Tango: Why Cordoba, Argentina?

Cordoba, Argentina is the perfect place to study abroad. The city itself is absolutely beautiful with La Canada river running through its center, Jesuit buildings dating back to 1613, Los Capuchinos church, and the fountains and statues of Plaza San Martin in the center of the city. Because Cordoba is the second largest city of Argentina, the number of tourists who come through is noticeably lower, which means your chance of learning Spanish is even higher. Although Buenos Aires is much larger, Cordoba still has the magical gems that each Argentine city holds. Impromptu tango shows still happen in the streets, empanadas are sold in every bakery, there was a transvestite prostitute who lived on a corner by my apartment and you can still buy super panchos (hot dogs) with all the toppings you can imagine for 3 pesos (about a dollar) at 5:30 in the morning on your walk home from the boliche (club), El Ojo Bizarro.

Discovering My Inner Latina

Exiting the terminal, my eyes fighting to stay open, my hair in a nest and my stomach in a knot; I was about to embark on a life changing adventure. I was about to experience things that I could not even imagine; feelings that up until now were not even possible given the circumstances. I had finally made it to Argentina, the birth place of my father and the home to a whole group of family members, whom I had no idea existed. These family members were all standing in front of me right now, at the airport, holding a sign with my name on it. Most of them were crying and overwhelming was an understatement. I was so tired that my Spanish was not making much sense and none of them spoke any English. I spat up a simple response with a terrible accent to their questions, “oh si, um si, estoy cansada…” I remember smiling a lot during those first two weeks in Argentina.