A rainstorm is the last place one thinks about seeing illumination, but the impossibility of this idea was disproven to me the other day.
I was driving on the interstate, Murfreesboro-bound, after a long day at work, when I ran into a torrential downpour. Insistent to reach my destination, I pushed on, though at a much slower rate than the 70 mph speed limit.
The further I drove through the storm, the more the clouds began to change. Little by little, they lightened from a blackish-grey to a lighter and lighter gray. Eventually I could see beams of sunshine breaking through the clouds.
But the rain never ceased. It became lighter at points, but not once was I able to turn my windshield wipers off. In spite of this, I soon found myself reaching for my sunglasses. What a silly notion, wearing sunglasses in the rain!
And yet the brilliance of the light reflecting against the rain made those shades so necessary to drive safely.
Isn't this like life sometimes? We complain about going through storms and torrential downpours unaware that the potential for brilliance at the end of it all is magnified by that rain that we so often curse. After all, how do you think rainbows are formed?
I think next time I'm going through a storm, I'm not going to curse the rain. I'm going to wonder how God is going to use it to completely light up my life.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Stories. We've all got 'em.
Upon learning that I would be returning to work the day after our flight back from Argentina, a fellow student on the trip made an observation that I have been reflecting on for the past few days: we never can fully know the stories of the everyday people with which we come into contact.
Who knows if the store clerk has just returned from a wonderful adventure? Who knows what is happening in the lives of the people we pass on the street?
Working behind a cash register gives me a chance to talk to some people that I would otherwise probably have never noticed. Just in the past few days, some amazing characters have come through my line.
One old man purchased a cart full of items and could remember the exact price of every item he placed on my counter. I wonder what his story is.
One woman was buying sunless tanner for her husband, who was preparing to embark on a trip to Pakistan with another man from their church. He was changing his entire appearance in order to blend into the culture. I wonder what their story is.
One man had an amputated arm. Another was missing multiple fingers. I wonder what their stories are.
Another lady bought five or six large bags of M&Ms, each a different kind. Upon further questioning, I found out that she was using them in a team building exercise, comparing different personality types to different kinds of M&Ms. What a neat story!
The stories are endless. Everybody has a story. I wish I could listen to them all.
Who knows if the store clerk has just returned from a wonderful adventure? Who knows what is happening in the lives of the people we pass on the street?
Working behind a cash register gives me a chance to talk to some people that I would otherwise probably have never noticed. Just in the past few days, some amazing characters have come through my line.
One old man purchased a cart full of items and could remember the exact price of every item he placed on my counter. I wonder what his story is.
One woman was buying sunless tanner for her husband, who was preparing to embark on a trip to Pakistan with another man from their church. He was changing his entire appearance in order to blend into the culture. I wonder what their story is.
One man had an amputated arm. Another was missing multiple fingers. I wonder what their stories are.
Another lady bought five or six large bags of M&Ms, each a different kind. Upon further questioning, I found out that she was using them in a team building exercise, comparing different personality types to different kinds of M&Ms. What a neat story!
The stories are endless. Everybody has a story. I wish I could listen to them all.
A list of firsts
From living a month in Buenos Aires, I've experience my:
*First transcontinental plane ride.
*First overnight plane ride.
*First time being in a country whose primary language isn't English.
*First use of my passport.
*First time in a city of millions of people.
*First subway ride.
*First public bus ride.
*First taxi ride.
*First time negotiating a sale in Spanish.
*First time learning a new Spanish dialect.
*First experience with street entertainers (I love mimes!).
*First time seeing a store that's open 25 hours.
*First drink of mate (an herbal tea traditional to Argentina).
*First use of a metal straw (to drink hot tea, of all things).
*First time making empanadas and tortas fritas.
*First taste of dulce de leche ice cream (my taste buds will never be the same).
*First tour of a futbol stadium.
*First excitement about futbol (Thanks to the World Cup!).
*First visit to a ranch.
*First horseback riding experience.
*First taste of wine (or any kind of alcohol...it was gross).
*First tango lesson (Argentine tango, different than what they taught us in the US!).
*First sighting of a live armadillo! Granted, it was in a cage.
*First taste of cow intestines (chinchulines).
*First time in my life I actually wanted less meat and more vegetables.
*First tango show.
*First salsa lessons.
*First night in a club.
*First tour of a basilica.
*First time watching a dog fight break out in a cathedral.
*First play viewed in Spanish.
*First pair of Toms...that aren't really Toms. Toms stole the design from Argentina.
*First true TaeKwonDo withdrawals.
*First mosh pit.
*First true "cross cultural experience," which occured in aforementioned mosh pit.
*First tour of a mosque.
*First time sending my laundry out to be done. It smells so awesome!
*First boat ride not for pleasure (across the widest river in the world, no less).
*First time eating at Hard Rock Cafe.
*First time seeing the equivalent of a Broadway show (La Bella y la Bestia)
*First time hearing Spanish spoken with French/Italian/Asian accents.
*First trip to a casino (to change money...nothing else).
...and many more, I'm sure. These are just the few that come to mind.
Lots of firsts, hopefully not many lasts.
Yep, I'd say I had a pretty productive first trip outside of the country!
*First transcontinental plane ride.
*First overnight plane ride.
*First time being in a country whose primary language isn't English.
*First use of my passport.
*First time in a city of millions of people.
*First subway ride.
*First public bus ride.
*First taxi ride.
*First time negotiating a sale in Spanish.
*First time learning a new Spanish dialect.
*First experience with street entertainers (I love mimes!).
*First time seeing a store that's open 25 hours.
*First drink of mate (an herbal tea traditional to Argentina).
*First use of a metal straw (to drink hot tea, of all things).
*First time making empanadas and tortas fritas.
*First taste of dulce de leche ice cream (my taste buds will never be the same).
*First tour of a futbol stadium.
*First excitement about futbol (Thanks to the World Cup!).
*First visit to a ranch.
*First horseback riding experience.
*First taste of wine (or any kind of alcohol...it was gross).
*First tango lesson (Argentine tango, different than what they taught us in the US!).
*First sighting of a live armadillo! Granted, it was in a cage.
*First taste of cow intestines (chinchulines).
*First time in my life I actually wanted less meat and more vegetables.
*First tango show.
*First salsa lessons.
*First night in a club.
*First tour of a basilica.
*First time watching a dog fight break out in a cathedral.
*First play viewed in Spanish.
*First pair of Toms...that aren't really Toms. Toms stole the design from Argentina.
*First true TaeKwonDo withdrawals.
*First mosh pit.
*First true "cross cultural experience," which occured in aforementioned mosh pit.
*First tour of a mosque.
*First time sending my laundry out to be done. It smells so awesome!
*First boat ride not for pleasure (across the widest river in the world, no less).
*First time eating at Hard Rock Cafe.
*First time seeing the equivalent of a Broadway show (La Bella y la Bestia)
*First time hearing Spanish spoken with French/Italian/Asian accents.
*First trip to a casino (to change money...nothing else).
...and many more, I'm sure. These are just the few that come to mind.
Lots of firsts, hopefully not many lasts.
Yep, I'd say I had a pretty productive first trip outside of the country!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Lessons from South America
Things I learned in Buenos Aires
*Subways are crowded. There are people on the subways who will gladly stick their hands in your pockets or purses if you do not stick your own hand in your own belongings as a safeguard. Also, when one cannot reach something to hold onto, using TaeKwonDo stances allows one to maintain at least a small sense of balance. Sadly, the same trick cannot be used while standing on the public bus.
*Mate is an acquired taste. I have definitely acquired it and will miss it greatly when I leave. I plan on buying one of the mate cups and taking it with me, even though the metal straw does burn my lips (yes, they drink hot tea from a metal straw). It's that awesome.
*I honestly sometimes can't resist the urge to call people "gringos." For example, when a member of the group is walking a few paces ahead of everyone else calling over their shoulder in English about things like how many dogs there are or what the buildings look like. My response: "Please quit being such a gringo!"
*People in Argentina love futbol (soccer). When Argentina plays in a World Cup game, the entire city stops. Shops close, restaurants turn on the sound to their TVs, and the population as a whole cheers for every goal, save, and good play. I personally am not a sports person in general, but being surrounded by such passion is invigorating! And the sheer energy after a win is enough to knock you off your feet (quite literally if you get close enough to the inevitable mosh pit)!
*There is no true stereotype that fits every single taxi driver. Every single taxi that I have been in has been different from the others, in either good or bad ways. I actually have a new appreciation for taxi drivers. They have to put up with sour natives and sometimes idiotic gringos tourists on a daily basis. Also, if a story begins "This one time when I was in a taxi cab," ten-to-one it's a story worth listening to.
*Don't take the bare minimum amount of money suggested by the trip leader. Eating out everyday (plus not being able to drink tap water) makes providing for oneself slightly more expensive than normal. Thankfully, I saved up enough to hopefully be able to feed myself and still buy some cool stuff while I'm here. (And everyone who wanted a souvenir says, "Hallelujah!")
*Knowing the words of a language isn't enough. To really thrive in a culture, you have to know every aspect of the culture. You have to know the meanings behind the utterances, not just the denotative superfluities that you can learn in a textbook. Yes, the language allows for a bridge of communication, but without knowledge of the traditions and passions of a people, don't expect to ever truly understand the complete language.
*Being homesick and missing home are two completely different things. I can miss the people back in Tennessee and still love every moment of the place where I'm at. Yes, I wish they were here with me, but my life at that time may dictate that I be away from them. And my life continues in spite of their absence. I used to rely on the presence of certain people to truly complete my life...and I got hurt pretty badly because of that. As much as I love the people in my life, they're not always going to be able to be there, but they're with me in my heart, and that's what really matters.
*PDA on the streets of Buenos Aires is almost as frequent as the dog poop on the sidewalks (and let me tell you, there is a lot of caca in this city!). Honestly, I have mixed emotions about this. The first is disgust because that's how I was raised to react. The second is a little bit of jealousy because, yeah, I'm definitely single as single gets. The third, though, is the one that I choose to contemplate: the idea that I'm in a culture where showing love(whether by making out with someone on a park bench or greeting everyone with a kiss on the cheek) is not a taboo . I wonder if their divorce rate is lower here...
*There will forever be a fight between the city and country in me. Having lived in the country my whole life, I dreamed of living in the city with all the hustle and bustle of the "fast lane." I loved visiting Nashville and Chattanooga, and moving away to college has been an awesome experience. Now, having lived in Buenos Aires for a month, I can see both the pros and cons of the city life. I love the convenience of hopping on the subway or taking a taxi to hundreds of beautiful and historic places or being able to just people-watch in the shopping district when I lack something to do. At the same time though, I have a new appreciation for country life, as well: clean air, wide open spaces and roads that I actually feel safe driving, to name a few. I've concluded that no matter where I live, a part of me will just have to compromise.
*Subways are crowded. There are people on the subways who will gladly stick their hands in your pockets or purses if you do not stick your own hand in your own belongings as a safeguard. Also, when one cannot reach something to hold onto, using TaeKwonDo stances allows one to maintain at least a small sense of balance. Sadly, the same trick cannot be used while standing on the public bus.
*Mate is an acquired taste. I have definitely acquired it and will miss it greatly when I leave. I plan on buying one of the mate cups and taking it with me, even though the metal straw does burn my lips (yes, they drink hot tea from a metal straw). It's that awesome.
*I honestly sometimes can't resist the urge to call people "gringos." For example, when a member of the group is walking a few paces ahead of everyone else calling over their shoulder in English about things like how many dogs there are or what the buildings look like. My response: "Please quit being such a gringo!"
*People in Argentina love futbol (soccer). When Argentina plays in a World Cup game, the entire city stops. Shops close, restaurants turn on the sound to their TVs, and the population as a whole cheers for every goal, save, and good play. I personally am not a sports person in general, but being surrounded by such passion is invigorating! And the sheer energy after a win is enough to knock you off your feet (quite literally if you get close enough to the inevitable mosh pit)!
*There is no true stereotype that fits every single taxi driver. Every single taxi that I have been in has been different from the others, in either good or bad ways. I actually have a new appreciation for taxi drivers. They have to put up with sour natives and sometimes idiotic gringos tourists on a daily basis. Also, if a story begins "This one time when I was in a taxi cab," ten-to-one it's a story worth listening to.
*Don't take the bare minimum amount of money suggested by the trip leader. Eating out everyday (plus not being able to drink tap water) makes providing for oneself slightly more expensive than normal. Thankfully, I saved up enough to hopefully be able to feed myself and still buy some cool stuff while I'm here. (And everyone who wanted a souvenir says, "Hallelujah!")
*Knowing the words of a language isn't enough. To really thrive in a culture, you have to know every aspect of the culture. You have to know the meanings behind the utterances, not just the denotative superfluities that you can learn in a textbook. Yes, the language allows for a bridge of communication, but without knowledge of the traditions and passions of a people, don't expect to ever truly understand the complete language.
*Being homesick and missing home are two completely different things. I can miss the people back in Tennessee and still love every moment of the place where I'm at. Yes, I wish they were here with me, but my life at that time may dictate that I be away from them. And my life continues in spite of their absence. I used to rely on the presence of certain people to truly complete my life...and I got hurt pretty badly because of that. As much as I love the people in my life, they're not always going to be able to be there, but they're with me in my heart, and that's what really matters.
*PDA on the streets of Buenos Aires is almost as frequent as the dog poop on the sidewalks (and let me tell you, there is a lot of caca in this city!). Honestly, I have mixed emotions about this. The first is disgust because that's how I was raised to react. The second is a little bit of jealousy because, yeah, I'm definitely single as single gets. The third, though, is the one that I choose to contemplate: the idea that I'm in a culture where showing love(whether by making out with someone on a park bench or greeting everyone with a kiss on the cheek) is not a taboo . I wonder if their divorce rate is lower here...
*There will forever be a fight between the city and country in me. Having lived in the country my whole life, I dreamed of living in the city with all the hustle and bustle of the "fast lane." I loved visiting Nashville and Chattanooga, and moving away to college has been an awesome experience. Now, having lived in Buenos Aires for a month, I can see both the pros and cons of the city life. I love the convenience of hopping on the subway or taking a taxi to hundreds of beautiful and historic places or being able to just people-watch in the shopping district when I lack something to do. At the same time though, I have a new appreciation for country life, as well: clean air, wide open spaces and roads that I actually feel safe driving, to name a few. I've concluded that no matter where I live, a part of me will just have to compromise.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Wallflowers are pretty, too...
Have you ever felt so completely out of place that it made you want to cry?
Have you ever been the only one in the group to not receive a compliment on your appearance?
Have you ever been that one girl whose dress came down to her knees and actually had sleeves?
That was me the other night.
I already know that I'm not the most beautiful thing to grace the surface of the earth. I know that I'm quite honestly not that pretty by American standards: I'm "plus-sized," I don't have much of a chest, I refuse to fry my hair to get it perfectly coiffed, I don't wear three tons of makeup, and I'm not too keen on the latest styles and trends (especially the whole leggings as pants thing, but that's a whole other topic). I've slowly decided that the only redeeming quality I possess is my eye color.
Basically, I'm not the American beauty. Never have been. Never will be. And I've known that for a long time now.
So why does it still bother me when I have to go out with a group of "normal" people? Why do I still feel the need to compare myself with those around me? It's a curse of the human mind, and I absolutely hate it.
Here I was, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, about to go to a professional tango show and have a wonderful night, and I was worried about how I looked compared to other people.
I slowly realized reasons as to why I can't compare myself to other people, starting with the things that really shouldn't matter (such as how a size 16 can't compare to a size 2...) and ending where it should have started: God's love.
God honestly doesn't care what I look like or how big I am. He doesn't care if my hair is frizzy or my face is broken out. He loves me anyways, so much so that He thinks I'm worth dying for! He loves me enough to want to spend eternity with me. He loves me so much that nothing in this world is big enough to separate me from His love. And I'm worried about what the girls down the hall think?
In the big picture, physical appearance really doesn't bear much weight at all, does it?
I'd like to say that I'm never going to worry about what I see in the mirror again, but the reality is this struggle isn't over. Because I'm human. It's one of those things that I have to daily crucify in order to focus more and more on Jesus every single moment of my life.
No, I'm not going to be a slob. I'm not going to stop wearing makeup completely and never comb my hair in an effort to completely divorce myself from the stigma of society. That's just kinda stupid.
What I am going to do, though, is stop comparing myself to those around me: the styles they wear, their personal expectations of beauty, their opinions about what I should be doing. They don't matter. Yes, if I ask for your opinion about how I look, I want a genuine response. But I'm going to attempt to let myself get continuously bogged down by the comparisons that my own mind loves to make.
I'm a wallflower. I'm not really much to look at. But I'm pretty, too, in my own special way...because God loves me. I'm His princess, and He never lets me forget it.
Have you ever been the only one in the group to not receive a compliment on your appearance?
Have you ever been that one girl whose dress came down to her knees and actually had sleeves?
That was me the other night.
I already know that I'm not the most beautiful thing to grace the surface of the earth. I know that I'm quite honestly not that pretty by American standards: I'm "plus-sized," I don't have much of a chest, I refuse to fry my hair to get it perfectly coiffed, I don't wear three tons of makeup, and I'm not too keen on the latest styles and trends (especially the whole leggings as pants thing, but that's a whole other topic). I've slowly decided that the only redeeming quality I possess is my eye color.
Basically, I'm not the American beauty. Never have been. Never will be. And I've known that for a long time now.
So why does it still bother me when I have to go out with a group of "normal" people? Why do I still feel the need to compare myself with those around me? It's a curse of the human mind, and I absolutely hate it.
Here I was, in Buenos Aires, Argentina, about to go to a professional tango show and have a wonderful night, and I was worried about how I looked compared to other people.
I slowly realized reasons as to why I can't compare myself to other people, starting with the things that really shouldn't matter (such as how a size 16 can't compare to a size 2...) and ending where it should have started: God's love.
God honestly doesn't care what I look like or how big I am. He doesn't care if my hair is frizzy or my face is broken out. He loves me anyways, so much so that He thinks I'm worth dying for! He loves me enough to want to spend eternity with me. He loves me so much that nothing in this world is big enough to separate me from His love. And I'm worried about what the girls down the hall think?
In the big picture, physical appearance really doesn't bear much weight at all, does it?
I'd like to say that I'm never going to worry about what I see in the mirror again, but the reality is this struggle isn't over. Because I'm human. It's one of those things that I have to daily crucify in order to focus more and more on Jesus every single moment of my life.
No, I'm not going to be a slob. I'm not going to stop wearing makeup completely and never comb my hair in an effort to completely divorce myself from the stigma of society. That's just kinda stupid.
What I am going to do, though, is stop comparing myself to those around me: the styles they wear, their personal expectations of beauty, their opinions about what I should be doing. They don't matter. Yes, if I ask for your opinion about how I look, I want a genuine response. But I'm going to attempt to let myself get continuously bogged down by the comparisons that my own mind loves to make.
I'm a wallflower. I'm not really much to look at. But I'm pretty, too, in my own special way...because God loves me. I'm His princess, and He never lets me forget it.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Let the travelogue begin...
Though I had previously only posted on this blog very sporadically, I feel like now of all times, when something amazing is actually happening in my life, would be the time to insert small bits of reflections into this blog, my technological memory.
As previously stated, I'm in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I honestly don't think it's completely sunk in yet. My friends and family are on the other side of the equator. Wow. The thought kind of makes me feel like I'm standing upside down or something...
I've realized in the last 24 hours that the most valuable lessons that I will learn on this trip will not be in the classroom (even though I have already learned so much from our professor Amalia). The life experience that I gain here will be invaluable to me in the future.
It seems strange to say it, but I really don't feel like I'm away from home. Perhaps traveling is in my DNA. Perhaps Buenos Aires is just awesome like that. Or perhaps I just have the peace of God in knowing that I'm still under His watchful eye. Whatever the reason, I don't feel guilty or bad when I stumble through my words or have to repeat and explain myself in my second language. It's a growing process, but I'm enjoying it greatly!
I think, if anything, this month and all of its new experiences will help me to determine my next steps after graduation in May 2011, whether to teach English in a foreign country or go to grad school in the US. If I adapt well, teaching English is looking more and more like a viable possibility that I would absolutely love (though I don't look forward to all the "I told you she was gonna be an English teacher" comments).
So far, so good.
As previously stated, I'm in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I honestly don't think it's completely sunk in yet. My friends and family are on the other side of the equator. Wow. The thought kind of makes me feel like I'm standing upside down or something...
I've realized in the last 24 hours that the most valuable lessons that I will learn on this trip will not be in the classroom (even though I have already learned so much from our professor Amalia). The life experience that I gain here will be invaluable to me in the future.
It seems strange to say it, but I really don't feel like I'm away from home. Perhaps traveling is in my DNA. Perhaps Buenos Aires is just awesome like that. Or perhaps I just have the peace of God in knowing that I'm still under His watchful eye. Whatever the reason, I don't feel guilty or bad when I stumble through my words or have to repeat and explain myself in my second language. It's a growing process, but I'm enjoying it greatly!
I think, if anything, this month and all of its new experiences will help me to determine my next steps after graduation in May 2011, whether to teach English in a foreign country or go to grad school in the US. If I adapt well, teaching English is looking more and more like a viable possibility that I would absolutely love (though I don't look forward to all the "I told you she was gonna be an English teacher" comments).
So far, so good.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Musings of a Wide-Eyed Traveler
Yesterday I said goodbye to the green corn fields, abundant Queen Anne's lace and humid sunny afternoons of Tennessee. I crossed paths with the setting sun in Atlanta, Georgia, and when we met again, I was landing in South America.
I write to you tonight from a hotel in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I and 24 other Lee students will be living and studying for the next month.
The city is very much different from what I am used to, but it vaguely reminds me of Nashville. Keyword: vaguely.
There are trees lining the streets, and many of the apartment balconies are also bejeweled with green vines and flowers. It's slowly changing to winter here, so the leaves outside my window are all turning shades of brilliant orange. In spite of being a city of 13 million people, there is so much in the way of grass and plantlife. It makes the human life surrounding me seem that much more vibrant!
Much of the architecture has a very European style reflected in it; some of the buildings are quite gorgeous, albeit they are also quite tight fitting in the streets.
Speaking of streets, they all seem to be one-way. And there are no lines painted to differentiate the different lanes. I asked one of the guys from the seminary if that was the case all over the city, and he assures me it's not, but still...needless to say, I'm thankful to not be driving here!
I've seen beautiful buildings carved to perfection with Baroque-style ornamentation. But I've also seen homeless people curled up in the doorways of those buildings trying to get a good night's sleep.
I've seen opulent shops with the trendiest fashions from all over the world. But I've also noticed the street vendors who are probably just scratching out a living selling their wares on la Calle Florida.
Yes, traveling is wonderful, but it also makes me reflect on how blessed I am to be an American, to have grown up in a small town with a nurturing family, to know that I don't have to worry about my next meal or what happens if I get a hole in my shoes. It's nice.
And it makes me so thankful for the things that I've been given. May I soon be at a place in life where I am able to give back and provide even just some of those opportunities to others.
I write to you tonight from a hotel in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I and 24 other Lee students will be living and studying for the next month.
The city is very much different from what I am used to, but it vaguely reminds me of Nashville. Keyword: vaguely.
There are trees lining the streets, and many of the apartment balconies are also bejeweled with green vines and flowers. It's slowly changing to winter here, so the leaves outside my window are all turning shades of brilliant orange. In spite of being a city of 13 million people, there is so much in the way of grass and plantlife. It makes the human life surrounding me seem that much more vibrant!
Much of the architecture has a very European style reflected in it; some of the buildings are quite gorgeous, albeit they are also quite tight fitting in the streets.
Speaking of streets, they all seem to be one-way. And there are no lines painted to differentiate the different lanes. I asked one of the guys from the seminary if that was the case all over the city, and he assures me it's not, but still...needless to say, I'm thankful to not be driving here!
I've seen beautiful buildings carved to perfection with Baroque-style ornamentation. But I've also seen homeless people curled up in the doorways of those buildings trying to get a good night's sleep.
I've seen opulent shops with the trendiest fashions from all over the world. But I've also noticed the street vendors who are probably just scratching out a living selling their wares on la Calle Florida.
Yes, traveling is wonderful, but it also makes me reflect on how blessed I am to be an American, to have grown up in a small town with a nurturing family, to know that I don't have to worry about my next meal or what happens if I get a hole in my shoes. It's nice.
And it makes me so thankful for the things that I've been given. May I soon be at a place in life where I am able to give back and provide even just some of those opportunities to others.
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