I needed to write this.

My alarm goes off around 6:30am most days. Before I even open my eyes I feel heavy. Rolling over seems like an enormous effort, god forbid getting out of my bed. By 6:31am, I am overwhelmed by the tasks of the day, the next week, and even those of the coming months. My morning breakfast of oatmeal (three years later and I’m still stuck on oatmeal) is usually accompanied by a slew of tears which I quickly wipe away before they run into my first cup of coffee for the day. No one likes salty coffee. Then I realize it’s only Monday, and wonder how the hell I am going to make it through another week. Another month. Another year?

I’ve needed to write this for a while. To preface, this post was not written to garner pity from others. Nor is this a cry for help. I’m doing just fine. I am going to end tonight just as I want to… going to bed at 10:30 and watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother. But I don’t want to be “just fine” anymore, you know?. I don’t even know if I will publish this post. I’ll admit I’m embarrassed to admit the text that follows. But I have to write this post; this post is written out of necessity. I needed to get these words down on paper, or rather, my computer screen. I am hoping in posting these raw yet real feelings maybe one other person can relate and not feel so alone in their battle; because that is what it is, a constant battle. Whether it’s this or something else, everyone has a battle! Big or small.

For starters, I’m not entirely sure exactly the vibe I give off to other people, but I feel like the majority of those who disclose their struggles with mental illness receive a response like, “Wow, I never would have suspected that from her,” “She never seemed like she had ‘something wrong with her,'” “I never would have guessed.” So if readers are surprised by this post, well then yay(?) I guess my fake-it-til-ya-make-it facade has worked! Ha ha! I fooled you. Got ya.

I suffer from depression and anxiety. This post is about my story, my struggles, and my journey.

I first experienced hints of depression during college. Stemming from a combination of reduced playing time on the field hockey field, a pretty serious injury which kept me from running, family issues, and the normal college stuff, I merely floated through my sophomore and junior years of college. I briefly experienced relief during my semester abroad and my depression was band-aided by surplus amounts of empanadas and Malbec wine.

Shit hit the fan during the fall semester of my senior year. I slept for 14+ hours a day, began missing classes because it hurt getting out of bed (not only physically but this hurt came from a deep place inside), I found myself overeating in attempt to fill the enormous hole I felt growing inside me, and I distanced myself from everyone. I avoided eye contact with anyone outside my apartment. I felt heavy, like my feet couldn’t support all the emotions bottling up inside me. This went on for a few months until my birthday, October 20th. I remember walking up to my mailbox at the student union because my dad said to check my mailbox for a special birthday surprise. Yay birthdays! Well, I walked the whole .25 of a mile (to be fair, this walk was at about a 90 degree incline, if you know you know walking up THE HILL absolutely sucks) to the student union only to realize I had left my mail key in my apartment. I politely explained the situation to the employee working the mail desk who told me she was unable to open my mailbox for me due to a new policy the college had just issued. I began sobbing. I don’t mean like quietly walked away with tears welling up in my eyes saying “Oh gosh darn it Sara.” I mean I was still face-to-face with this poor employee sobbing like she had just told me a relative had died. I couldn’t stop crying. I remember shaking because I was crying so hard. At this point, I didn’t even care that I was in the middle of the student union during lunch hour (REALLY busy hour) and that the entire football team was walking by me as I sat on the floor. The employee came around the desk and began to console me, saying she would make an exception in opening my mailbox for me. Little did she know this episode had absolutely nothing to do with my damn mailbox at all. Ok well I was a littttttle upset I had to walk down the hill and back up the hill again because again, large hill! I have short legs! But this day, my 22nd birthday, was my breaking point. I welcomed my Taylor Swift year with a mental breakdown.

After I got my mail (a really cute card from my dad that also made me cry), I walked straight into the health clinic. I remember walking through campus with tears rapidly falling down my face, my eyes bloodshot from all the tears. For the first time in my life I didn’t care about what the people I passed were saying about me, most of whom were staring at me because I probably did look a little scary in all honesty. However, at this point I was legitimately concerned about my mental state and what was going to happen to me if I didn’t get help. My thoughts were scaring me. They’d been telling me I wasn’t good enough for so long that I believed them full-heartedly. These thoughts weren’t me but had become such a part of me that I didn’t know how to distinguish the two. I was scared of myself.

After what I now remember as “the mailbox incident,” I felt really awkward getting my mail from that same employee for the rest of my college days. But this “incident” needed to happen. I began seeing a therapist twice a week and while at first I will admit I thought the whole therapy thing was dumb, week by week I began to feel a little lighter. I began to interact with my social circles again. I stopped binge eating Denny’s at 3am (didn’t stop that entirely because Denny’s rocks and is great drunk food, OMELETTES. Shout out to Denny’s). I began to feel like myself again. That is the greatest feeling in the world. I was so proud of myself, I still am. I checked this breakdown off and thought that phase of my life was over and done with. I was cured and would never have to experience those emotions again! ha ha haaaa

Fast forward to law school, last fall. Legally Blonde teaches us the basics (kind-of?) accurately: law school is hard, the people are competitive and sometimes not super nice, and there will be tears (many). Once again, I found myself feeling this floating sensation: floating out of bed to classes, interacting with my classmates but only on the surface level, and crying. A lot. To be honest, it’s easier for me to remember nights that I didn’t cry myself to sleep over those that I did. I usually woke up to wet pillow from crying myself to sleep. While obviously the coursework is challenging, the environment is competitive, and I had been out of school for two years traveling around Latin America (what’s a schedule?), I started making connections to my senior year of college. And that scared me. I remember thinking to myself, “I CANNOT go back to that. I am not thatttt bad. Everyone is in the same position here. I need to get over it. I’m being a baby.” So I tried. Hard. I told myself that I just had to get to May 3, 2018 (my last exam). Once I left law school, these feelings would disappear and I would go back to being happy, I would go back to being Sara. I made a countdown to May 3, 2018 in September 2017.

Somehow (I really don’t know how but humans can really pull off amazing things you know) I made it to May 3, 2018. I had an amazing summer lined up doing work that I AM extremely passionate about: advocating for immigrant rights. However, once I arrived in Mexico City I felt just as alone and in my head as I did during law school. But this was worse, because I kept telling myself I shouldn’t feel like this. I can’t feel like this. I’m not allowed to feel like this. I was in one of the coolest cities in the world, doing work that I was passionate about, and surrounded by AMAZING advocates in the field… how could I still feel like this?! How could I feel so alone in a city of almost 9 million people?! For those who have experienced similar feelings, there is NOTHING worse than feeling like this and convincing yourself that you SHOULDN’T and CAN’T feel like this because of all that you have in said moment. That feeling absolutely sucks. So I spent my summer trying to make it through the day without crying in the office and resorting to crying myself to sleep, just in a different country, so I can check that off the list.

Now I am here. I just started my second year of law school and honestly still feel like poppycock most days. It’s hard for me to get out of bed because I am worried about things completely out of my control. My concentration levels are slim to none. My sleep patterns are weeiiiird so I really sleep for about 2 hours a night consistently. Defo need to invest in some serious eye cream, thanks depression. Last week I made myself drive home during a ten minute break between classes because I was anxious to a new level about potentially leaving the garage door open (For the record, it was closed and no randos were chilling on the sofa in the house, whew!). Making it through the day is a huge feat and making it through the day WITHOUT tears or an anxiety attack is a gold star day (NOTHING wrong with crying. your emotions are valid! However I cry if someone looks at me weird, that’s not okay because lots of people have RBF you know?). If I can read a case assigned for homework all the way through without my mind diverting to some other worry it’s a miracle. Un milagro!

Everyone has good days. Everyone has bad days. I know I have to do a little more than a “normal” (what does that even mean?) person to stay ~balanced~. I start therapy this week and honestly cannot express how excited I am. I am heavier than ever (partially because yes because I did indulge in a fair share of tacos in CDMX (#CDMX15) but mean this on another figurative level). This has been a long time coming. I am proud of myself for being able to acknowledge that I am not okay and I need help. There is nothing wrong with needing help. There is nothing wrong with not being okay. I am not okay right now, but I will be.

I’ve learned so much about myself and ~life~ during this process, so in a way, I am grateful! This is me trying to take an optimist view, what a rarity! Most importantly, I’ve learned that I have relied heavily on a select few to make me 100% happy, to “cure me” in a sense, when really I needed to look to myself to do that. Other people cannot make me happy, happiness is a state of being that comes from within. I am sorry for those who I have done this to, you know who you are. ❤

So what’s the point of this long article where I am really just piecing together my stream of conscious thoughts? Sorry I’m not really checking this one for spelling/grammatical errors. In all honesty I’m not really sure what’s of the point of this article. I can tell you readers that if you made it this far, I do feel better getting these words out, out of my head and onto this WordPress document. Also, I want to iterate that I am not in this position due to lack of support. In fact, I am surrounded by the most supportive people in any and all capacities. Actually, that’s the hardest part of this illness, having all the support in the world yet feeling so alone. So heavy. All. the. time.

I want anyone who has ever felt remotely this way to know that you are not alone. I am not alone & this will pass as I begin to take a more active role in fighting this. I have to make some changes, but change is good. I am not myself right now, and I haven’t been for some time. I am ready to welcome Sara back with open arms, when she’s ready. No more floating. Thanks for reading. xxx

The Empanada 15

This post has nothing to do with my weekend travels nor does it include scenic pictures (although I have quite the arsenal locked and loaded now) but rather this post addresses one of the few dark sides of life abroad – dun, dun, dun, – weight gain or in my case most accurately phrased “The Empanada 15.”  This is something I have wanted to write about for a long time and while it is quite an uncomfortable subject I feel it is important to open up this conversation if not for others it will at least give me some peace of mind.

What prompted me to finally write this? Well it all started on a Tuesday ( I HATE Tuesdays)…

I arrived at school with minor headache from anticipating my three hours with eighth graders. During ‘el descanso’ (the break) I took my snack and a stack of papers to grade into the teachers’ lounge where about six other staff members were chatting all seated in a circle. I greeted everyone in the room, an ABSOLUTE must in Colombian culture unless you want to be shunned, and took an empty seat in the corner of the room. I began grading some work as a male teacher approached me and said, “Sarita, you look more beautiful now than when you came because you have gained weight.” The entire room filled with laughter. Honestly, I thought I had misheard him, while my Spanish is definitely improving it still has it’s lapses. I nervously turned to my co-teacher and asked her to translate what he said to me seriously hoping the mediocre Spanish-English dictionary in my brain had malfunctioned. My worst nightmare came true, I was correct. In a room full of laughter, all I wanted to do was cry. Fighting back hot and heavy tears I forced a smile and continued to sit there. I have never felt more alone in this country.

Now, I am well aware that I live in the land of ‘gorditos’, ‘negros’, and ‘flacas.’ During my time in both Buenos Aires and here in Colombia I have grown accustomed to the uhh honesty? of Latin Culture. For example, during my first week at school, once again, in the teachers’ lounge a few were trying to identify exactly which Valentina one was referring to (I cannot count on one hand how many Valentinas I have in my classes):

Teacher A: “Which Valentina are you talking about?”
Teacher B: “Oh you know, the gordita (fat little one) who studies a lot in the tenth grade.

I once again found myself thinking, “Did I hear that correctly?” Teacher B was in fact praising this student, however, I could not get past the “gordita” comment. But in Colombian culture this is a term of affection. I cannot imagine calling a tenth grade female student “little fat one” but here it’s completely normal.

Fast-forward three months and here I am sitting in the corner biting my lip, blinking away tears, and trying to swallow that annoying weight in your throat that always comes with you’re trying not to cry. Anyways, this post is in no way supposed to be a negative reflection on my school, teachers, nor Colombia, rather, it is to highlight a cultural difference that makes me extremely uncomfortable. After all, a key component of traveling abroad is addressing and learning about cultural differences. As a twenty-something former female athlete, weight and more importantly a positive body image has been a life-long struggle. Beginning with my ballerina days I was constantly in an environment of deprivation. Coming from a history of disordered eating, I have strived my entire life to stay on track, eliminate the bad thoughts, and embrace the ‘love your body’ mentality, you know like the Dove commercials. I speak for many females when I say easier said than done. As little as a side comment can swing me off my balance for days, weeks, and even months. It’s been about two months since the said incident and those words still remain plastered in my head.

I’m not fat. I know that. I’m actually pretty athletic. I can still run a sub 7 minute mile with little training and yes, I can do pushups. In the end what is said is said and I cannot go back and “unhear” this comment. In fact, this comment was supposed to be a compliment. I’m sure the teacher had no idea I would be thinking and analyzing a single sentence. While I am aware empanadas don’t exactly have the same caloric intake as celery sticks I am enjoying my time abroad which also means embracing the culture (read: I’m eating food). So while my pants may be a bit tighter and my monthly mileage may be a bit lower I am loving every minute of life abroad. Part of experiencing a new culture is trying the local cuisine. Fortunately, my stomach has had zero issues assimilating into the Colombian way of life: the bread is rich, the coffee is strong, and the empanadas are plentiful, Sarita is happy. Colombian food is delicious, but as the daughter of two medical professionals I am constantly at war with the nutrition label (if there even is one).  In fact, even the “healthy” foods here are not exactly healthy. A few weeks ago I watched in horror as the barista poured a week’s equivalent of sugar into my juice. I hope I am still part of the No Cavity Club after this year… While Colombian women are #blessed with all the curves in all the right places, I (the gringa) am forever fighting kankles alongside the roaches in my shower.

So after living in two South American countries I’ve learned many invaluable things and would not trade my time abroad for anything, not even a year’s supply of Peter Pan Honey Roasted Peanut Butter. Since Buenos Aires I have tried to reason with myself that gaining weight is not a death sentence, that carbs are indeed meant to be eaten (and not stared at), and if someone offers you empanadas your response better be HYFR.

So senoras y senores, here is the rationale I have come up with:

Weight gain. A scary combination of words for anyone. I try not to generalize, but as a former college athlete and ballet dancer, I have witnessed quite the array of eating habits, both healthy and unhealthy. I’ve restricted, I’ve eliminated, I’ve cut. I’ve been vegetarian, vegan, paleo, gluten-free, and now my current diet: strict pastry-only. As I am forever waiting for the day that a study reveals carbs are the new kale, I do not for see that happening any time soon. So I’ve gained a few pounds, these pounds are like (semi-permanent) souvenirs. Here’s the tagline: I can lose the weight but I can’t lose the memories! In all seriousness looking back to my college years shows a true testament that yes, the freshman 15 is real, ya’ll. But I would not trade my late-night Cookout runs nor 1am drunken Dominos Pizza online orders to have a skinnier arm in pictures. That’s what perfecting the skinny arm pose is for! I’m not promoting an all Denny’s Diner diet (is Denny’s an international franchise yet?), however living abroad has taught me that I can be happy without chiseled six-pack abs (not that I have ever experienced this sensation but using for dramatic effect here). It took me a three plane tickets and a few thousand miles to come to terms with this realization but addressing alongside accepting weight gain abroad has been a monumental life lesson for me.

For me, the cheese to my hot chocolate (trying to use a Colombian food combination as a metaphor, just roll with it) about living abroad are the endless opportunities to experience a new culture. Colombian culture is constantly at my fingertips, literally sitting with empanada in my left hand as I write. From embracing a new language to testing my white girl dance moves on the salsa floor to accidentally ordering cow liver ( now that is a distinct smell I will never forget) everyday is truly an adventure. Living among the happiest people in the world here in Colombia makes me realize that worrying about a few pounds here and there is a serious waste of time.

If you have made it this far in my post, congrats! While most of my posts are full of happy thoughts (I LOVE COLOMBIA) and pictures, I hope this post gives a realistic insight to a constant struggle while living abroad. The opening of this conversation might help others but if nothing else it really helps me organize my own thoughts on maintain a positive body image thousands of miles away from home. In just 1400 words I have described around five years of frustration. As I enter the second half of my “Jordan year” here’s to a few more pushups and a little less Aguardiente (maybe). ~Sarita

Tunage:

So I apologize for the lack of this week’s TuNeS but I have been working at an English camp for two weeks without great internet which limited my tune time. Below you will find some recent favorites though.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ_Tw0w3lLA Dark Necesities- RHCP (Dad! Check this out.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfXvOXJLJK4 Sin Saber Por Qué- Manuel Medrano (Can’t get enough of this guy.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1PSltPqeQc Pierde Los Modales- J. Balvin y Daddy Yankee (What a great combo really.)

BeSiToS de Cali!

 

 

 

Studying Abroad vs. Working Abroad

Buenas, parceros.

As I approach the halfway mark here in Cali, Colombia I am experiencing a whirlwind of emotions: excited for summer vacation (Caribbean here I come), sad it’s already June, and seriously confused where all the time has gone. Donde?! In short, living abroad truly is a rollercoaster of emotions. While I may be moodier than most (remember I am a Libra), my relatively brief time here has taught me to roll with the punches, learn from the failures, and most importantly, laugh off the annoying catcalls. That being said, I will never truly get used to walking through the Centro and having ancient men (I’m talking oxygen tank and canes, ppl) whisper in my ear “monaaaaaa (blonde).” MonO means monkey so for the first month I thought I was being called a monkey. But seriously, next time you say that imma unplug that oxygen tank of yours, just playing…kinda. As some of you may be aware of already, my tolerance for elderly people is very, nonexistent.

Anyways, before arriving in Colombia I had, or so I thought, a faint idea of what to expect that was based off my semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Since January, I have learned that Argentina and Colombia are two very different countries with different customs, populations, and cultures. ~~*gasp*~~ Further, there are quite a few differences between studying abroad for a semester and living/working abroad for an extended amount of time. I am #blessed to have experienced both during the past two years and have enjoyed both for different reasons. While Buenos Aires is full of breathtaking monuments and lined with cafés where some of the world’s most famous writers sipped on a cup o’ joe, Cali is truly an undiscovered paradise with a beautiful passion for life in every city corner. Below I’ll try to sound smart as I relay my personal thoughts on the pros, cons, as well as differences between studying abroad and working abroad.

Studying Abroad-

If you are a recent college graduate from the United States, it is more than likely that you took part in a study abroad program, so did your sibling, your sorority sister, your freshman year roommate, etc. etc. Studying abroad almost seems like a rite of passage for the modern day college student. In my case, it was actually cheaper to study abroad for a semester, gotta love liberal arts schools. You probably have enough pictures from your semester to fuel an entire calendar year of #tbts. Honestly I cannot talk because I have my own personal arsenal ready at any Thursday’s notice. I spent my junior year spring in the “Paris of South America,” Buenos Aires. I went with the School for International Training (SIT) on a program that focused on the study of human rights and social movements in Argentina. I took classes at a private university with the other twenty-five Americans in the program along with a Spanish course at the University of Buenos Aires (UBA). In Buenos Aires I had limited interaction with Argentines due to a busy class schedule that I shared with the others in my program however I lived with an AMAZING host family which immensely improved my Spanish skills.

It also marked my first time living outside the United States which is an intimidating move for any twenty-one year old especially when your only prior experience with public transportation is a single Uber ride. Honestly I had never even flagged a taxi prior to Buenos Aires. In short this experience was a huge step for small-town Sara. But when looking back two years later I have to admit I wish I would have pushed myself more: to meet locals, to travel outside the city, to venture outside tourist traps, and to say yes more.

My fellow classmates in the program were and continue to be nothing short of amazing. Many of us stay in contact through various forms of social media and I consider them some of my lifelong friends. When you and a group of complete strangers are dropped off in an unknown city with a different official language you form a bond. Then when you go wine tasting on bikes in Mendoza that’s when you REALLY solidify your friendship, see pic below. But in all seriousness shout out to the lovely putas/ (and three hombres!) on my program. SIT did a wonderful job assisting us in every way possible: through orientation, 24/7 support, and a lovely staff. Truly we were “babied” because we constantly had someone checking in on us, assistance with language, and even though it did not seem like it at the time, we were really just American tourists with a better title, “studying.” I could take personal days from class and no one would ask me why or for a doctor’s note. In short, study abroad life was an extended vacation and I definitely miss the perks of being an exchange student with few responsibilities.

I would be lying if I said my abroad experience was always wonderful. I struggled a lot during that semester and at times even second-guessed my decision to come to such a large, Spanish-speaking city. “London would have been sooo much easier!” I scribbled in my journal on April 10, 2014. I was in constant battle between craving familiarity and desiring the unknown. As an insecure introvert I was ashamed at my intermediate Spanish which swayed me away from interacting with Argentines when I had the chance. On a tourist visa and with a return ticket back to the States, I was very listo to come home in June.

At the time four and a half months was just enough for me outside the United States, away from my friends, and missing binge drinking weekends in college, however I left BA wanting more: more adventures, more Spanish, more unknown, and more Latin America. My semester abroad was pivotal in widening my limited sight preoccupied with Friday’s themed party (how do I make a toga?!), stressing over 35 page history papers (due tomorrow), and trying to please everyone around me. Pardon the cliché, but study abroad changed my life by shattering my comfort zone that I hibernated in throughout my college days. I returned to Davidson with more confidence and happier than I had been in my prior three years there. In fact, senior year I drove the struggle bus and things I used to enjoy around campus now seemed quite dull after living in BA. I counted down the days until graduation when I could once again depart from the United States in search of a new challenge. I didn’t want just to talk about “that one time I studied abroad,” I was ready to have a life abroad.

Working Abroad-

Lately I have received quite a few emails asking if I actually work here. Answer: I do indeed have a job forming the minds of Colombia’s youth, in English. I just happened to choose a country that has the second most holidays in the WORLD. Nice work, Sarita. Thus, in reference to working abroad I can only speak to life as a teacher.

My year in Colombia has proven to be the perfect next step in my travels. A full year, a job contract, daily interaction with Colombians, and just enough time for domestic weekend travel = perfecto. I truly could not have asked for a better first “job” after college graduation. I put job in quotations because I rarely feel that “omg I don’t want to go to work today” feeling. Living in the happiest country in the world truly is contagious.

As an English Teaching Fellow I am contracted by Heart for Change (HFC), a Colombian non-profit that recruits native English speakers around the globe to work (co-teach) in public high schools throughout the country. The majority of my Colombian students have limited access to English and most have never interacted with a native speaker. The organization works in tandem with the Colombian Ministry of Education, so yeah, we are kinda a big deal. In all seriousness, I have nothing but great things to say about the staff, administration, and overall organization of HFC. If you are considering a meaningful position teaching abroad, I highly recommend adding HFC to your list.

While the thrill of living abroad has yet to wear off, working abroad is significantly more difficult than studying for a semester. For starters, I am here for a full year, January-December 2016, however, while at first this time frame seemed daunting I am quickly realizing how short a year can be! Further, I am not just passing through this beautiful country. I have an official cedula (the Colombian identification card), a Colombian bank account, and health insurance through the government. I do not have a return ticket home and honestly I am not sure if the States will be my return destination at the end of this year, TBD. With such an open-ended time frame this gives you more time to have those “OMG what am I doing?” moments, which I promise you will occur more than once. Also, in Buenos Aires I had concrete plans upon my return to the United States as I had a final year of college left to complete. Ask any of my friends and they will tell you I have a different post- program plan for each day of the week here. The majority of my notebook is filled with life plan scribbles and tables. With that American mentality of work,work,work,work,work (thnx riri) it adds an additional challenge to living abroad. As an avid planner, I constantly feel the need to plan out EVERYTHING: my day, the following month, year, my five year plan, omg where am I going to retire!? (jk kinda). Especially in a country that truly takes things day-by-day this can be a serious challenge. Colombia has taught me to chill TF out and no one actually knows what they’re doing in life, we’re just good at faking it.

So yeah work. The expectations are higher than when I was studying abroad, okay yeah duh but that means fewer personal days for Sarita. My students are my motivation to go to work each day. Upon college graduation I did not know exactly what I wanted to do but I knew exactly what I did not want: 9-5 behind a desk. While I won’t (literally cannot) glamourize the sweaty bus ride to work each morning, I arrive each day greeted by brace-faced smiles and lots of laughter (probably laughing at my sunburn) but irregardless each day is different. The greatest part of my job is the opportunity to interact with my Colombian students during the week. While I may have the official “Professor de Inglés” title on my lanyard, I have learned an incredible amount from these hilarious teenagers. Best part of my experience here, hands down.

 

While I am contracted through an established program with support as needed, I feel much more on my own than when studying abroad. In Colombia it is “sink or swim.” While most learn to swim, mas o menos, the communication errors run high between locals and myself especially in a less-touristy (actually really not touristy at all) city like Cali. You truly are on your own here. That being said, the best part (okay there are like 17 best parts of my job, sorry) of this program are the fellow “Fellows” placed throughout the country with you. During orientation in January I met many others from around the world who came to Colombia through this program. Since Cali is such a large city (3 milli milli milli), there are around 50 English Teaching Fellows in the city with me. I have made lifelong friendships with Fellows from across the globe. It is so nice to have them around as we are all sharing a similar experience living and working outside of our home countries. I am very grateful for them. Me luv ya’ll long time.

You can truly do anything for a year. Like I said before a year is seeming shorter and shorter with each passing day. The United States is starting to feel more and more distant as a ”home-base,” which I do not think is necessarily a bad thing. I still feel pride for my country, except for this whole Trump candidacy/ his existence, but I cannot get enough of Latin America: the buena onda (good vibe), the distinct cultures, lovely language,  and the constant challenges.

Conclusion-

So I have been writing this post for a little while now; tweaking a little here, a little there. This is a topic I have wanted to write on for quite some time now because I think it is very important to explore and unfold some of the misconceptions concerning both methods of travel. Studying abroad was a truly transformative experience and expanded my horizons at a time where I could barely see past adding more clothes to my closet. The relationships I formed during the study abroad program led me to where I am today. Studying abroad was like an electric shock to my system, waking me up for the first time in years.

Colombia, mi tierra querida,  Colombia. As I sit here typing (hella hand cramp rn), I am full of nothing but gratitude and happiness. My experience working here has been quite different than Buenos Aires. I push myself on a more regular basis to speak Spanish, interact with locals, and say YES. The amount of personal growth experienced here is incredible and while I rarely say it, I am proud of myself.

Overall, I am extremely grateful to have both experiences and have learned oh so much during my varying times in each country. But once you start, you cannot stop. Traveling truly is a (healthy) addiction and I am hooked. I am the luckiest girl in the world and would not trade my travels for all the money in the world, however, if your pockets are feeling a little heavy I can give you my PayPal account information. In closing and perhaps the most important excerpt of today’s word vomit is I have learned that everyone travels differently, and that’s okay. For me the most important thing is that you get out there: for a long weekend, a week, a month or a year. Stepping out of your comfort zone is the hardest thing you’ll ever do but it is truly the best feeling ever. It will leave you wanting more, te lo juro. So mess up verb conjugations, accidently eat cow liver, ask someone if she’s pregnant instead of drunk (the Spanish words are REALLY similar); its all a part of the experience. Always remember, it’s okay to get lost for a little while.

on repeat this week:

Desde el día en Que te Fuiste (Version Reggaeton) – ChocQuibTown, Wisin 

To My Love – Bomba Estéreo

Bajo el Agua (Acústico) – Manuel Medrano ***I realize I have shared this Tune (capital T) before but hold the phone the acoustic version is straight fuego!!)

Also, since I am an effing pop princess, Biebs covered Drake’s One Dance.  You’re welcome.

besos-sarita ❤

Some Peace & Quiet: el Eje Cafetero

I love my placement city, Cali. From the omnipresent positive energy to the overwhelming kindness of Caleños, this large metropolis truly feels like home..

…however, el ‘eje cafetero’ (the coffee region) has stolen mi corazon.

Cali boasts a population of 3.5 million people which can get loud. I rarely set an alarm because around 7am the old lady selling avocados yells in my window, “AGUACATES!” Her voice is actually even more unpleasant than the annoying I-phone alarm tone I have grown to hate over the years. Each day I walk roughly a mile to the bus station, board the E37 (which is more than likely over capacity), and get off in my school neighborhood, Salomia, where I usually join some of my students in the seven block walk to the doors of Simon Rodriguez. My daily commute also includes dodging persistent street vendors, ignoring the constant “OMG there is a real blonde walking down the street” comments (summarized for brevity), and the constant sweat running down every inch of my body. Commuting through the city has become clockwork for me. The dimensions of my personal space bubble have significantly decreased due to both public transportation and Colombian’s “touchy/ feely” nature. Cali is a wonderful home-base but for this “I went to a college with less than 1,900 students” girl the city life is a lot, all the time.

The coffee region provides the perfect escape. The area is comprised of three departments: Caldas, Quindío, and Risaralda. The triangle is full of breathtaking views, rich coffee, and for me, three-five hours of winding road-induced carsickness. From the minute I purchase my ticket I sprint onto the bus hoping to catch a seat in the front to avoid the roller coaster ride that is guaranteed with every purchase while sitting in the back. Below you will find my evolving strategy to avoid being the gringa vomiting everywhere:

1. Drink water…but not too much because there will (probably) not be a bathroom on the bus andddd the driver may or may not stop along the way. My last trip I had to ask the bus driver to stop for a bathroom emergency…that was fun.
2. Have a tranquilo playlist ready for the road. The bus driver will blast his preferred music which usually means you will hear the obnoxious beat of reggaeton (basically Spanish rap) for the entire duration of your trip. Further, many rides include 1.5-2 hours of a movie. Initially I was excited about this feature, however, the movies have provided more headaches than entertainment. I have watched “Little Man” on the past three bus rides. It is that horrible movie about a criminal escapee (who also happens to be a midget) who pretends to be a baby in order to complete a robbery. Yeah, it’s as bad as it sounds, especially with Spanish voiceovers. Commence the tranquilo playlist. The most recent addition to mine is Colombian artist, Manuel Medrano. Check him out here.
3.    Try not to stare too closely at the gorgeous views just outside your window! The mountains are lovely but the roads are long, winding, and you never know when a speedbump ( or seven) may appear. Thus, take a few window pics and return to your forward gaze.

Obviously, the main attraction of this region is the coffee and believe me when I say I have personally funded some of the coffee farmers’ retirement funds. But outside of the coffee industry the cities themselves seem far from tourist destinations. This past weekend a friend leaned over and said, “I haven’t seen a gringo all weekend.” This holds true for the majority of Colombia. This country, previously known solely for cartels and cocaine, is relatively new on the tourism scene. Obviously Cartagena, Santa Marta, and the Caribbean coast are a different story as tourists flock to these tropical paradises year-round. But the interior regions of Colombia have only recently attracted an influx tourists.

I have traveled to Peirera, Salento, Valle de Cocora, and most recently, Manizales. My quick but incredible trip to Manizales did not disappoint. This university town is full of places to explore, a vibrant nightlife and surrounded by a lovely landscape. We traveled around the city via cable car, which proved to be both an efficient mode of transport as well as a great photo opp to view the whole city.

We arrived mid-day Friday (perks of the Colombian education system, we rarely have a 5-day week) and immediately set out in search of 1) a cheap yet plentiful Colombian lunch 2) coffeeeee! Luckily, we found both without any trouble. While our waitress wasn’t thrilled to be in charge of a table consisting of eight gringos we managed to order and actually receive our food within the same time frame. While Colombians are extremely nice people, customer service especially in restaurants is less than stellar. If you have a group larger than four you are going to be waiting a while for your food… and drinks. We continued the day frolicking around this mountainous town and enjoying the wonderful climate, a luxurious change from Cali’s heat wave. Saturday we hopped on a(nother) bus to the hot springs, Termales de San Vicente. Yeah it’s as nice as it sounds. While I was hoping to bask in the sun , the rain felt quite refreshing while switching from natural pool to another. Since Manizales is home to a large university the nightlife did not disappoint. Following the recommendation of another fellow we headed to an incredible night club on the top of a hill just outside the city center. While the entrance fee was steep (meaning five dollars), the music was amazing. We made friends with some locals and since Colombians are so nice this included free shots all night. I love Colombia.

Sunday, after some minor issues with the manager of the hostel – long story, inquire for details- , we embarked on the five hour journey down the mountains and back to the Valle (a.k.a. Cali). As if I already do not get carsick I had a rather strong guayabo (the Colombian word for hangover which sounds just so much better than hangover). Luckily, the driver stopped about 1.5 hours into the journey in Peirera where I found a Dunkin Donuts and refueled with an iced coffee (huzzah!). Next trip I will think twice about that double shot of Ron Valdas…

Now that you learned about the worst guayabo since senior beach week, here are some photos from the past weekend. My mediocre descriptions just do not do the region justice:

So how’s school? How’s your “job,” the reason you have a visa? Well, my response varies depending on the day you ask me, but overall I am enjoying my time as Profe Sarita. However, this is the most difficult job I have ever had and probably ever will have. While I am so appreciative of this opportunity as an English Fellow I am placed in a already broken system and then told, “swim native English speaker, swim!” While consistent 4-day weeks are #baller for traveling, this significantly disrupts classroom time and makes it nearly impossible to build on lessons. For example, I have not had class the past four Thursdays due to Ministry of Education events, teacher meetings, and city-wide teacher strikes. Are the students learning a lot of English? Honestly, I am not sure. I am definitely learning more Spanish than they are learning English. In my opinion, the main problem lays within the preexisting / nonexistent study habits of Colombian students. Obviously in every high school there are stuents that just do not care, never do their homework, and spend their time listening to music instead of the teacher. But in Colombia, this is the norm. You say complete the table and you will be LUCKY if maybe five students actually complete the activity without copying eachother. But this is what students are accostumed to and classroom management is far from enforced. Thus, as a 5’3” American I am placed in a more than difficult position. On one hand I want results. I want tangible progress I can see, however, if I came into class everyday with that attitude I’d be eternally depressed. Honestly I cannot tell you how many times I have contemplated quitting in the past four months. I am constantly thinking, “What am I doing here? These kids aren’t learning anything. I am more like a glorified babysitting than English teacher.” But recently I have learned to count the small victories. Yesterday in English Club my students, without continuous instruction, ACTUALLY tried to speak in English. While this may see like “duh” they should be speaking in English this was a glorious moment for me. Now my eighth graders are another story. I think my version of hell is eternal damnation in an eighth grade classroom.

Thus, here I am in Colombia: learning, teaching, walking (a lot), and eternally sweating. I hope all is well with you, homies. Talk soon and until then here’s to a May full of quiet classes…not.

besos- sarita

New Room: A Brief Monologue

I hate the word “quit.” I always have. For me, quitting equates to failure, disappointment, and disapproval. The word carries a negative connotation. A quitter is never enough: not strong enough, not smart enough, or not good enough to continue. In short, to quit is to take the easy exit. Occasionally, I let my immense fear of the word inhibit my personal happiness. Disapproval is one of my greatest fears in life and drives more decisions than I would like to admit. Living abroad helps curb this fear and has made me realize that knowing when to quit is an extremely important skill to possess, especially as an international traveler. This is not only a skill but also a hard life lesson to learn.

I firmly believe in order to grow as a person you have to push yourself out of your comfort zone every day (blah blah blah). Personally, I find the edge of my comfort zone located somewhere outside the United States. Life propelled me to Colombia and have not looked back, however, since my arrival I have faced my fearful foe, the “Q-word.” *~gasp~*

I spent my first month in Cali living in a home stay. As a tight-knit Colombian family they took me in and treated me as one of their own: I had a designated chair at dinner, my own chores, and even learned the secret ingredient to Abuela’s magical frijoles (it’s an assortment of animal ears if you were wondering)! This experience was one I wanted to relive after my incredible time with my Argentine host family in 2014 (love&miss you Ale y Naty!!). But this time something did not feel exactly right. I was fine in the home, but I was not happy. I found myself making excuses and drinking an excessive amount of coffee in order to avoid returning home. After one month with the family I knew it was time to reassess my living situation. A combination of lack of privacy, a dysfunctional bathroom, and wildlife (in my room) brought me to yet another room search. Initially, I was hesitant to leave because this meant giving up on my goal to live with a Colombian family. Essentially, this meant quitting. This terrified me. After about a week-long migraine and endless trips to my favorite Juan Valdez Café I concluded that I had to prioritize my happiness over my fear of disapproval. Who is going to be mad at me for putting my personal happiness first? The answer: absolutely no one.

I randomly stumbled upon a room for rent in the historic part of town last Thursday afternoon. Immediately after I stepped inside the house I knew it was fate that brought me here. I now live in San Antonio, a peaceful barrio lined with small cafés and restaurants. Basically if you are looking for a “touristy” part of Cali, it is here. My land lady is an artist so the walls are full of her artwork. I already found a local coffee shop close by that has both a strong dark roast and a peaceful environment, an absolute necessity for me.

After three months in transit I feel at ease. Finally, for the first time in five years, I feel like I have a home.

Besitos,

Sarita

 

 

 

 

 

Caffeinated Thoughts

A game of fútbol prior to catching the bus in Salento

Buenas noches followers.

Perdón (pardon//sorry) for the lack of posts lately. Finding time to write reflective and somewhat witty summaries of my life here in Colombia has been challenging between a 40+ hour workweek, butchering Spanish with my host family, attempting to make friends in this large city, and overall just being a sweaty human being 24/7. Writing has been the furthest thing from my mind. To be honest, the past two weeks have been stressful and I have spent more time than I would like to admit retreating to my sauna room in search of a good Gossip Girl episode. (But seriously, when do Chuck and Blair get back together!? Sadly, their tumultuous relationship is only an additional stressor here. @JuliaGuthrie)

It is official; the honeymoon period of my travels in Colombia has subsided, cue this thing called real life. My weekdays now follow a routine (what’s that?), my tourist glow is now a greasy gringo shine, and my Spanish is not improving at quite the rate I anticipated. What started as a relatively small list of frustrations has exploded into one equivalent in size to the weekly French family grocery list. If you are not familiar with this comparison, well, our grocery lists are rather long. Also when Jojo and I accompany Mom to the supermarket other things magically appear in the cart…in short, we have the art of sneaking Oreos into the checkout line down to a science. Before I turn this post into an ode to Oreos, let’s backtrack.

I anticipated this “slump” in my travels as I have experienced it before around the same time (2.5-3 months) during my stay in Argentina. It is difficult to explain through a computer screen, however, I will do my best to convey this temporary downhill ride in this crazy rollercoaster called life. For starters, I do not want to come home. I am not regretful, angry, or sad. I am generally very happy here. Do I miss my family and friends? Absolutely. The weekend is the most difficult time for me as Colombia is very family-centered. Most Colombians spend most of their Saturdays and Sundays with their family in their homes. While I have made friends here and met amazing souls it is still difficult to log on Facebook and see close friends from home all together. I rarely experience “FOMO” (for the older generation that stands for Fear Of Missing Out), but lately these posts have hit home a little harder. In fact, everything is hard. For example, I went to recharge my phone with data the other day and I was told that all the cell phone lines were down for an unknown reason so I was unable to acquire data leaving me without any service or way to communicate. When ordering food at a restaurant there is rarely a menu. The waiter comes to your table and spews out the daily lunch specials, which I usually catch about half of what he’s saying, and I make a rash decision that usually results in “diner’s regret.” I honestly never know exactly what I am eating here. Thank god I gave up my “save the world, go vegetarian regimen” because even the “vegetarian friendly” meals come stuffed with chicharron, ham, and other assorted meats.

I miss my ‘home’ (Michigan I’m referring to you). I miss familiarity. I miss simplicity. I miss silence; man, Cali is LOUD. I love this city but it is a constant challenge each day. Cali pushes me to use Spanish (the amount of times I have had to Google Translate “our toilet is clogged” is comical at this point), board the bus that is overflowing with people on their daily commute, and explore each day. In short, Cali pushes me out of my comfort zone which forces me to learn something  new daily. But constantly being in ‘class’ can be rather tiring. I love you Cali but you exhaust me.

All this aside, I do not regret my decision to come to Colombia and know this is exactly where I am meant to be in this moment. I am not writing this post with hostility but rather want to highlight some of the difficulties of living in a foreign country. Believe me I love posting a nice Instagram of this lovely country just as much as the next white millennial girl but there is so much more that goes into making a life here in Colombia. So if finding solace at the Subway in the tourist part of town helps fill this yearning for familiarity then you will find me chowing down on my go-to turkey sandwich loaded with pickles and onions (yes, this happened tonight lol).

---

 Sara & Amy: Colombia Edition

If you have been on any form of social media in the past four days you probably are already well aware that my best friend visited! Even though Amy only had five days we made the most of our limited time in this beautiful country. We headed to ‘El eje cafetero’ aka the Coffee Region which is only about three hours away from Cali via bus. It is relatively inexpensive to travel by bus around Colombia but we learned you definitely get what you pay for. Each ticket was about $15 USD. The bus ride felt similar to riding the Beast at King’s Island (an ancient wooden roller coaster that is usually out of commission for safety reasons) with both a screaming baby and a violent Spanish film full of explosions serenading our ears. We stayed in Peirera – a small city in the heart of the region – and made day trips to smaller pueblos (towns). We also visited a coffee farm and received a tour from the owners of the ‘finca.’ After about two years of an intense obsession with coffee I think I can now sound slightly knowledgeable about this beautiful drink. The Coffee Region is absolutely beautiful. This peaceful region of Colombia is a nice break from the busy city life of Cali. Overall Amy’s visit was too short but I am so #blessed to have such a great friend that is willing to use her short time off from work to visit me off the grid! xoxoxoxxx

Representing my favorite state here in Colombia

I have a great friend from college that is currently serving in the Peace Corps in Armenia. She has been a wonderful resource and dear friend during my time here. We have been able to share our similar experiences and she has given me wonderful insight on my frustrations here. Sometimes it is just nice to be able to talk to someone who understands the struggles (and excitements) of living abroad. Love you Ariane! Semana Santa (Easter Break) is coming to an end and I will head back to school on Monday. It has only been a few days but I already miss my students and their adolescent humor. I’ve always said I am 15 years old at heart.

Es todo.

Besos, Sarita

There is always time for a coffee break on the Don Manolo Coffee Finca

 

 

I Suck at Titles

A lookout over the town of Popayan, Colombia

Greetings to my diligent flock of followers (read: probably only Dad at this point).

I hope this post finds ya’ll well and perhaps less sweaty than myself which at this point is not difficult. While many Caleños assure me that the month of March brings cooler temperatures…I am still waiting, wishing, hoping, dreaming…@jackjohnson.

Anyways, things have really started to pick up here in Cali and each day I feel less backpacker, more resident. That being said I am still learning new things each day. By learning I mean I make mistakes by the hour. For example, last week instead of just asking someone for directions I decided to be the stubborn person I am and take the wrong route (correct bus!) all the way to the northern city limits of Cali; I live in the south. So following my 8 hour workday I spent 2 lovely hours transferring bus after bus until I figured out exactly where I was in Cali. I could write a novel equivalent in size to Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” about all the mistakes I’ve made here in Colombia. In short, I f*** up a lot. Further, the whole foreign language factor adds to the FML moments. Instead of telling my host mom I have a lot of bug bites I told her I have a lot of fleas…classic Spanish vocab mix-up.

Which brings me to my next topic of discussion, I officially moved in with my host family!

I live in a nice house in the south of Cali with a grandmother, her daughter (Lorena), the granddaughter (Stefania, 14), and their dog (Winnie). I already feel at home with this beautiful family. I have the entire third floor to myself which includes my own room and private bath. I live in barrio El Templete which is a nice residential neighborhood with access to anything I may need: restaurants (obviously), medical offices (hopefully never), libraries (YAY), and multiple bus stops (huzzah). It is a nice section of town that makes the city feel a bit smaller. For instance every morning as I walk to the gym (okay that’s happened like 2x but I am going to start going more) the neighbors greet me like I’ve lived here my whole life. Then homeless man on the corner of cl. 7 y cr. 36 tells me I’m beautiful in slightly creepy yet harmless Spanish phrases. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to unpack after 1.5 months of living out of two suitcases. I have these cool things called drawers now. Thus far the only con of living here is the commute to my school which is located in the north. This means every day I spend 1-1.5 hours on the bus each way to and from school. It is never a dull experience on the Mio (Cali’s bus system). Today I witnessed a couple break-up and then get back together again all within the same bus ride. The best part of living with my host family is the ability to practice Spanish all the time. I’ll be honest sometimes after a long day of educating the future of Colombia the very last thing I want to do is speak Spanish. All I want to do is pass out on my bed without having to discuss my day, especially in another language. It is also difficult because all day I speak solely in English. But I promised myself upon my return to the United States (whenever that may be) I will be fluent in Spanish. As previously discussed, my Spanish mistakes are quite comical and provide nightly entertainment.

This past weekend a few friends and myself took a short trip to Popayan, a small pueblo about 2.5 hours outside of Cali. It is a cute, small town known for its religious ceremonies during the Semana Santa (Holy Week) which is usually in late March. On Saturday we headed to the natural hot springs of Coconuco which are located right outside Popayan. Everyone needs to experience hot springs in their lifetime. To get to the springs we took a bus to the small pueblo of Coconuco and from there we hitched a ride on a jeep up the mountain on a dirt road to the natural reservoirs. The scenery was breathtaking and I desperately wished I had a Go-Pro the whole time. We spent the entire day relaxing in a mud-bath and warm natural pools of water surrounded by breathtaking countryside. Life is hard, right?  After our return ride fell through we began walking down the dirt road knowing it was going to get dark soon and we needed to get back to our hostel in Popayan. We managed to find transportation and rode in the back of an open jeep all the way back to Popayan. The entire ride I could not stop thinking about how lucky I am to have these experiences. Absolutely nothing that day went as planned, from coordinating the bus arrivals to ordering lunch, but this made the day even better. 🙂 I plan to travel a few times each month as Cali is surrounded by small towns that have many outdoorsy things to do. Oh how I miss my Chacos.

This week I am preoccupied with giving an extremely difficult placement test to my ninth grade students that consists of 200 questions to be completed in 1 hour. It uses outdated English words like “reckon” among others that I rarely use in my daily speech. Of course, my students are not shy to speak English when complaining about this examination, “Sarita no puedooooo!” “Teacher can I answer in Spanish?” “Whyyyy?” “Bathroom break?” Luckily this exam is solely administered to track progress so the students will re-take a similar test at the end of the school year to measure the success of this program.

As I start to settle down more permanently in Cali I am beginning to experience more ups and downs than before. I would say the “honeymoon period” of my travels is coming to an end and real life is starting to take over. I now have a set work schedule (hate it when that happens), responsibilities, and over 300 students to keep in line. I also officially received my Colombian ID card and bank account! Does this make me Colombian?  Living in Cali is hard but I would not want my life any other way. Every day I learn many new things and while it can be overwhelming this dynamic way of life is extremely stimulating, something I felt my life lacked for years.

So Sara, what’s next? Cool glad you asked. Between molding the young minds of teenagers and trying not to get stuck in the closing door of the bus (not that this ever happened…) I am searching for a salsa dance school, learning Spanish cuss words, and remembering to keep laughing at all my failures. I also dropped my phone the 2nd time I tried to exercise in this city, is this a sign? So my screen is blurry and sends random people What’s App messages…sorry if this is you.

Peace. Love. Papas Rellenos.* -SF

*Papas relleno literally translates to stuffed potato and is a typical food of Colombia that is delicious! It is a deep fried potato filled with an array of things like meat, cheese, bacon…now I am hungry. I have yet to find a food here I do not like and probably look like a papa relleno right now but part of traveling is trying everything, right? If that is wrong then I do not want to be right.*

“Bajo el agua” Manuel Medrano  <— a beautiful song that is hella popular in these parts

 

disfrutando los termales en Coconuco con mis amigos// enjoying the natural springs in Coconuco with my friends

 

 

Profe Sarita

a quick selfie with my sweet 9th grade student, Ximena ❤

Surrounded by the background music of barely audible Spanish conversations I sit here at my usual café hangout with my journal to the left and coffee to my right wondering how exactly to summarize my past week in a single post. In short, everything is falling into place.

I entered my first full week of school: many new faces, new names, new rules, new, new, new. I work with two sections of 8, 9, 10, & 11 grades which equates to around twenty-four hours of teaching per week. Teaching is hard; the days are long, the classroom is hot (forget air conditioning, a single fan would suffice), the students are, well, teenagers. It is an accomplishment when I can get one student off his phone call and the others to stop taking Snapchat videos of the new foreign English teacher. Each class ranges from 41-52 students, all packed in a relatively small classroom with few windows and resources. This being said Simon Rodriguez is one of the better institutions in Cali currently ranked the 6th best colegio (high school) in the area. While ideally I hope to assist each and every student to complete English fluency, I realize this is a less-than-realistic goal. I have never been more grateful for my small class sizes at both Oakwood and Davidson. The overwhelming number of students in each class makes teaching a foreign language extremely difficult, however I found a few universal words that students easily understand: wifi, selfie, boyfriend/girlfriend and Justin Bieber. My youthful taste in pop music is appreciated in the classroom (more to follow on this). A more realistic goal I set for myself this year is to help facilitate a positive perception of English class and give students confidence to speak English outside the classroom. I want to break down the “scary” stereotype of English that is manifested within students’minds much like my hesitance to speak Spanish to natives. Hopefully together we can both tackle our language fears! Huzzah.

It is a universal fact that teachers are underpaid, work long hours, and invest an incredible amount of time into their students. On paper this profession seems both financially unrewarding and incredibly time consuming. But it truly is the students that brighten the seeming negatives of the job. As I arrive on campus each afternoon I walk in stride to the heavily accented greeting “hello teacher!” from students and cannot help but smile when I look up to see an array of colorful brace-face teenagers waving at me. One has to experience time in the classroom with these Colombian students to truly understand the energy, passion, and sheer kindness of these teenagers. During training in Bogotá we prepared for the worst kinds of students: unmotivated, distracted, and ill-behaved. I immediately thought back to my high school experience and that was the first time I became nervous to begin teaching, “What if they don’t like me? I can’t keep their attention? They make fun of me? Or throw things at me?” Yes, all of these happened during my high school days. My junior year one teacher actually quit because the students were so rude to him…he walked out during the middle of class as students threw stuff at him. Thus, getting ready for my first day of school I had images of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off constantly streaming in my mind; however my time at Simon Rodriguez has been nothing like this. The classroom is definitely loud but interactive and full of positive energy.  Colombian educators stress collaborative learning and sharing alongside a less hierarchal student-teacher relationship. I will admit I am still adjusting to the freedom of the students as they leave the classroom and speak openly. These liberties do not inhibit their kindness nor eagerness to learn. The students are extremely respectful and polite. It takes me around fifteen minutes to walk from school entrance to the classroom because I am greeted by so many students. One 9th grade told me, “Sarita, you are a celebrity here!” I am truly #blessed to be a placed at Simon Rodriguez and already feel at home in this community.

We continue to wait on our English textbooks which were scheduled to arrive last week. At this time I am trying to learn more about the personal interests of my students and gage a median English level. With so many classes there are quite an array of English levels. My students love music especially American pop and rap which is perfect for my inner tweenage self. This has proven to be a great conversation starter and I probably spend too much time during breaks discussing my love for Justin Bieber with my fellow Colombian beliebers. For those interested in visiting me, you will need to download “Sorry (Latino Remix)” prior to arriving in Colombia. You cannot go ANYWHERE in the city without hearing this lovely tune. Every Friday I will be working with a smaller group of students who are a part of the Bilingualism Committee. We will work on the blog (yay more blogging!) and create other English written materials. I would also love to start a penpal program at my school with an English class in the United States because I think my students would be motivated and excited to speak with students abroad. More to come on these activities…

My weekdays are spent at school, all day, every day. It usually takes me around an hour to get to school via public transport (always sweaty, always fun!). I leave around 10:30am and return to my hotel around 7-7:30, depending if I stop at my favorite street meat stand. The weekends I spend sleeping, stealing wifi from the coffee shop down the street and attempting to keep all my belongings together in my two suitcases that have become my temporary dressers. I hope to move into my host family’s home this week. Well I have to because I only have housing here at the hotel until February 22nd. I just learned that Colombia is in a drought so we actually do not have school today because they had to turn the water off. So that it is like snow day but slightly the opposite?

Below you will find the Facebook pages for both my school and the Bilingualism Committee if you would like to stay updated and see sweaty pictures of me!!

School Facebook Page

Simon’s Bilingual Project

That is all for now. Students are great, school is great, I am hot but life is good. Chau. -SF

***For those interested, I recently received an invitation to work as a contributing author to Elite Daily! I am extremely excited for this opportunity as I enter the freelance writing world. You can check them out here: Elite Daily Website. ***

 

Week 2 Word Vomit

Barrio San Antonio in Cali, Colombia (taken with a glass of mediocre wine in hand!)

Happy Super Bowl Sunday to my fellow Americans! #TeamCamNewton I actually am the biggest bandwagon follower in this matter. Surprisingly many Colombians are eager to watch the game as well. The extent of my Super Bowl plans include running downstairs for the Coldplay halftime show.

I write with a less than stellar wifi connection, so pardon any typos or misspellings; however I am sure Gym will send me an email with corrections later (love ya, Dad). I have some significant life updates for ya’ll:

1. Found a house! Well, room. As of next week I will be living with a Colombian host family. My Argentine host family was the absolute best part of my abroad experience and upon arriving in Colombia I knew I wanted a similar living situation. I am not permitted to speak ANY Spanish during the school days (my kids think I am an absolute idiot, more to follow on this) so I wanted to place myself in an environment that would force me to speak Spanish outside of the classroom. I will be living in an all female household with a returning English Teaching Fellow who has been here for 6 months. The days of living out of a suitcase are coming to an end!
2. I successfully took the Mio,the bus system here in Cali, to work and back all week!These little victories fuel my days here in Colombia along with my daily café con leche from Juan Valdéz. In fact, a fellow passenger even asked me for directions the other day. Of course I had no idea but was flattered that I at least appeared knowledgeable and capable of responding in Spanish. Fake it ’til you make it.
3. é á ú ñ ! After three days of internet searches and exhausting every button on this new Asus, I finally learned how to add accents to my PC. I miss you, MacBook. I can now properly type in Spanish, qué bacano!
4. Perhaps the most exciting part of my week was meeting my co-teacher and students! I will be working with both 9th and 10th graders this year. There is a wide range of English skills at my school with a few students who may even speak better English than myself to students that lack a vocabulary outside of “hello teacher.” While I am working towards Spanish fluency I cannot speak any Spanish at the school. The idea of the program is total English immersion. Obviously I can speak Spanish and using these language skills would definitely make my job easier but my lack of Spanish in the classroom forces students to search and think in English terms. I do have some fun playing dumb too… “Como estás Profe? What? English?!” This type of exchange happens daily and I love watching the students faces during this dialogue. At times during school I feel like the stereotypical “dumb blonde” but I am getting used to that as many Colombians stare at me like I am a walking toilet during my commutes around the city.

This week marks my one-month anniversary here in Colombia. The past four weeks have been full of frustration, challenges, and new experiences. (Cue the emotional reflection!!!) Perhaps the most exciting thing about being in Colombia is I have another nine months to continue pushing myself out of my comfort zone, my place of residence for most of my life: growing up in Oakwood, attending a small college, and saying no to new. My past experiences are invaluable and my time spent both at Oakwood as well as Davidson played integral roles in fostering my passions, however, since I can remember I have been controlled by routine. My routine was my comfort zone and anything outside of that was forbidden territory. A solid routine is absolutely necessary for academics and sports but I constantly found myself absorbed by calculating every minute of each day to the point that I could not tell anyone my interests outside of field hockey nor who Sara really “was.” Hell, I still have no idea who I am but my experiences abroad have helped me realize that not knowing, not calculating, and not being a slave to a strict schedule is quite okay. In short, Colombia feels good. I cannot tell you my schedule for tomorrow nor what time I am supposed to show up for work, but I am okay with that. The people here are lovely, the coffee is strong, and the food is rich (I could use a shipment of hot sauce) = I am happy. Two years ago I would have never jumped on a bus unsure if it is even going to my destination, asked a stranger in mediocre Spanish for directions, or even imagined that I would be living in the happiest country in the world.

Everyday is really freaking hard. It’s little things like “Oh do I order at the table or at the register?” “I literally have no idea what I am eating right now.” “You have to pay to use the bathroom?!” Of course all of these would be simple tasks in the United States which shows just a small glimpse of the challenges while living abroad. Obviously these are not life or death issues, why are all of my examples about food? Classic. But in all seriousness this has me thinking about those who come to the United States with little money, even fewer English language skills, and perhaps are facing life or death issues. I should probably write the rest of this post in my journal like the 16 year old I am. I could spend days discussing this…

Check out this Colombian band! The music here is fantastic. Expect a post or three on Colombian music later.

Bomba Estéreo

Also, I am crafting a Colombia Spotify playlist for all those interested (Julia).

Spotify Playlist !

Wow that was a lot of wordage, congrats if you made it to this point. I will send you an empanda or something. peace. -SF

 

 

No Snowpocalypse here.

Family, friends, & followers– hello from Colombia!

It has been an eventful, tiring, and fun 2.5 weeks since my arrival in Colombia. Despite nearly missing my flight from Miami to Bogota (hearing my name on the airport intercom was both a rush and terrifying), losing a bag en route (later found s/o to American Airlines), and experiencing the worst gastroenteritis of my life, I AM HERE. There were times during the past weeks I really thought I was not going to make it here in Colombia, but alas, I persevered.

Quick summary of events:

I spent the past two weeks at orientation in Bogota with 200 other English fellows from around the globe. I met so many new friends with similar passions for traveling, learning, and volunteering. Orientation included seminars on teaching English, culture workshops, and how to not be a dumbass in a foreign country. Of course, my gastroenteritis came at the perfect time, on logistics day which included lengthy visits to both immigration and bank offices. After spending about 12 hours on the bathroom floor I managed to pull it together and miraculously speak some of the best medical Spanish of my life to call the in-house doctor at the hotel. After taking my temperature etc. I began to zone out a bit and the next thing I know I am getting a shot in my butt. Colombia is full of firsts.

Bogota is a cool place. I only wish I had more time to explore the smaller barrios located throughout the vibrant corners of the city. Street art is quite common and you can see these intricate works on almost every city wall, bridge, or sidewalk. Traffic is horrible, much like any large city, which made crossing the street not only challenging but also a workout. While I would argue Buenos Aires is a prettier city, Bogota appears to be more “live-able” both in terms of affordability and the number of residential barrios. I will also miss the cool, mountainous temperatures of Bogota which vary throughout the day from about 55-68 degrees.

Cali:

Saturday I woke at 3:00am to catch my flight to Cali with 40 other fellows who are also placed throughout the city. Upon landing in Cali I immediately felt my hair begin to frizz. Santiago de Cali or simply Cali, is the city of about 2million where I will be for the next year. Located near the Pacific coast Cali is known for its warm temperatures and is the salsa capital of the world. I am already looking for a salsa studio where I can perfect my white girl salsa moves. While I have only been in Cali for about 72 hours its already begun to feel like home. By that I mean I found an awesome ice cream joint down the street. In all seriousness Cali is a huge city with a small town feel. I am in the process of searching for more permanent living quarters so my days are spent wandering around different barrios (neighborhoods) of the city trying to get a feel for each area. I begin teaching at my school next week for which I am both extremely excited and nervous, I want to be a cool teacher.

My time spent in Buenos Aires and in Spanish classes at Davidson are proving to help me immensely here. English is hard to come by here in Cali, exactly what I wanted. Each day is filled with a new challenge, usually something that would be second-nature in an English speaking country. Last night while ordering at an Asian restaurant I spent 10 minutes trying to explain that I wanted brown rice instead of white rice with my teriyaki chicken. There are many local words/phrases that you just do not learn in Spanish class and there are MANY words you learn in the classroom that Calenos (people from Cali) never use. Despite the language barrier and being in a constantly clueless state about what is going on, I love it here. Everyday is an adventure, a challenge, and something new to do or see. I know I will hit a breaking point soon, as every long-term traveler does, but it will only be temporary. I am ecstatic to be here; finally living and pursing what I feel I was put on this Earth to do.

I am writing from a corner café called Juan Valdez, a popular chain throughout Colombia. It is definitely better than Starbucks, although surprisingly I have seen a few Starbucks here (Dad, is your ‘Gold Card’ international?). Hopefully next time I write I will be more permanently settled with a dresser to store my clothes!! As most of ya’ll are shivering under many feet of snow, I am dripping sweat as it is about 95 degrees.

Chau- Sara

 

PSA: Mom & Dad- Internet has been very bad at the hotels due to everyone trying to sign on, will FaceTime in the near future. If someone could be so kind to update Grandmother on my whereabouts and status, that would be awesome.