Thursday, December 27th, 2012
Food taken care of, we had to make a run to the store to take care of any other needs. This meant a trip to Wal Mart, which is almost as uncomfortable for me as staying in a church, but I wasn't in a position to go elsewhere.
We rushed in to buy food, toiletries and anything else we didn't fit in our meager luggage. Admittedly, I am kind of a health nut so when I realized we would be mostly eating PB&J's for lunch and dinner, I was a bit alarmed. In addition to not being all that healthy, they're not all that nourishing and satisfying either. I really didn't want to dish out any unnecessary cash, but I couldn't compromise on vegetables. I picked up some carrots (cheers to Cory, the carrot king) and cucumbers intended for pickling, making them a nice snack size.
While perusing the veggies, I noticed the bags of collared greens, the accent and vernacular of those around me and how they were dressed. I was definitely in the South. And despite being part of the US, I think I would relate to some foreign countries' cultures than I would with the culture here. Not in a derogatory way. It's just that it feels that different to me. Plus, I'm a West Coast girl through and through. Macklemore and Sol will always trump dirty gangster rap.
40 bucks later, I trudged out with my supplies for the week, hoping carrots and Kashi would keep my stomach happy.
Now it's time for bed.
I should probably mention we're sleeping on the cushy congregation chairs that we pushed together. Other than the 6 distinct square outlines comprising my overall area of sleep, I could hardly tell. Nikki, princess of sleep, fell asleep on impact.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Atlanta at Last
Wednesday, December 26th, 2012
We've been meeting up every Thursday for the past 2 months in preparation for this trip, talking about issues we're going to encounter, how to shape our attitudes and beliefs and getting to know our teammates. And now the day is finally here.
As you can see, I had to cut my winter break short and come back to Moscow the day after Christmas. I packed my things in my tiny car, hoping for decent weather and kind of dragged my feet at the thought of leaving. Of course I was excited, but it is hard to leave a comfort zone, heading into the unknown.
I had clear roads and made it safely to Moscow, had time to clean my new apartment and move in a bit (this is going to be an adventure in and of itself...) but before I got too comfortable, it was time to leave again.
We all boarded the bus taking us to Spokane for our flight leaving at the friendly hour of 5am. As sparkling snow collected on the road, I fell asleep freezing, dreaming in Spanish.
We had little troubles checking in and I almost made it through security unscathed, but had to get rechecked because security found something questionable in my suitcase--a half kilo...of mate.
For those of you that didn't keep up with my blogging in Argentina, mate (pronounced maw-tay, not like g'day mate) is the dried leaves of the yerba mate plant that packs a punch of strong flavor and energy. It is the drink of the gods, thus making it the natural national drink of Argentina (just kidding. My Argie ego isn't that big). It looks like drugs, I suppose, and I'm addicted to it like drugs, but the TSA officer just gave me a look suggesting he thought I was some kind of dirty, worldly hippie. But I passed through to board our flight and immediately fell asleep onboard. Which is a new thing for me...
After a long day of traveling, we arrived to the swirling sunset in Atlanta at last. We were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to head to our new "home" but Hertz had some complications. In addition to giving away our reserved rental cars (seriously, what's the deal with rental car reservations. Seinfeld was right), they wouldn't let our advisor pay with his credit card since it didn't match the name on the reservation, even though he represented our university.
Old Nikki would have gone into stress mode. But reformed pseudo-Argentine Nikki sat down and enjoyed some cards and yoga with her peers. I knew we'd get a car and eventually get out of the airport. We did both. So in the meantime, I wasn't going to stress about it. Namasté.
Enterprise didn't seem to have any issues with our situation and gave us the full hook-up with some Dodge Caravans. The Black Knight and the White Stallion rolled out in a strange cavalcade--living up to their names, I suppose. It didn't take long before we passed by the glimmering lights of Atlanta. Some buildings glowed a peach color, fitting, being that Georgia is known for its peaches. I was surprised and impressed by the sparkling architecture, already excited to be somewhere new and was glad that Atlanta was breaking my expectations.
A few Apple maps mishaps later, we found our home base for the trip--Berea Mennonite church. Pastor John awaited us outside and gave us a tour of his sanctuary, which sits on several acres, despite being in the city. He was already amicable and excited to have us.
Now I know what you're thinking--wait, Nikki, you're on a religious service trip?!?! But hold on. While we will be staying at the church and doing work there, it is not a service trip, nor are there any religious components. It merely happened to play out this way. I'm still as non-theist as ever, so it is kind of strange having a glowing cross as my night light, but anyone can appreciate the generosity and compassion of a stranger that hosts you like family. Plus I know next to nothing about Mennonites so I am looking forward to understand their beliefs and background better.
Regardless of religion, hunger is a universal and all of us were praying to the food gods. We were answered by a cute neighborhood pizza joint that put me in an even better mood when I walked in and heard the cool notes of Air's "La Femme D'Argent" floating through the speakers. You're alright, Atlanta.
We've been meeting up every Thursday for the past 2 months in preparation for this trip, talking about issues we're going to encounter, how to shape our attitudes and beliefs and getting to know our teammates. And now the day is finally here.
As you can see, I had to cut my winter break short and come back to Moscow the day after Christmas. I packed my things in my tiny car, hoping for decent weather and kind of dragged my feet at the thought of leaving. Of course I was excited, but it is hard to leave a comfort zone, heading into the unknown.
I had clear roads and made it safely to Moscow, had time to clean my new apartment and move in a bit (this is going to be an adventure in and of itself...) but before I got too comfortable, it was time to leave again.
We all boarded the bus taking us to Spokane for our flight leaving at the friendly hour of 5am. As sparkling snow collected on the road, I fell asleep freezing, dreaming in Spanish.
We had little troubles checking in and I almost made it through security unscathed, but had to get rechecked because security found something questionable in my suitcase--a half kilo...of mate.
For those of you that didn't keep up with my blogging in Argentina, mate (pronounced maw-tay, not like g'day mate) is the dried leaves of the yerba mate plant that packs a punch of strong flavor and energy. It is the drink of the gods, thus making it the natural national drink of Argentina (just kidding. My Argie ego isn't that big). It looks like drugs, I suppose, and I'm addicted to it like drugs, but the TSA officer just gave me a look suggesting he thought I was some kind of dirty, worldly hippie. But I passed through to board our flight and immediately fell asleep onboard. Which is a new thing for me...
After a long day of traveling, we arrived to the swirling sunset in Atlanta at last. We were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to head to our new "home" but Hertz had some complications. In addition to giving away our reserved rental cars (seriously, what's the deal with rental car reservations. Seinfeld was right), they wouldn't let our advisor pay with his credit card since it didn't match the name on the reservation, even though he represented our university.
Old Nikki would have gone into stress mode. But reformed pseudo-Argentine Nikki sat down and enjoyed some cards and yoga with her peers. I knew we'd get a car and eventually get out of the airport. We did both. So in the meantime, I wasn't going to stress about it. Namasté.
Enterprise didn't seem to have any issues with our situation and gave us the full hook-up with some Dodge Caravans. The Black Knight and the White Stallion rolled out in a strange cavalcade--living up to their names, I suppose. It didn't take long before we passed by the glimmering lights of Atlanta. Some buildings glowed a peach color, fitting, being that Georgia is known for its peaches. I was surprised and impressed by the sparkling architecture, already excited to be somewhere new and was glad that Atlanta was breaking my expectations.
A few Apple maps mishaps later, we found our home base for the trip--Berea Mennonite church. Pastor John awaited us outside and gave us a tour of his sanctuary, which sits on several acres, despite being in the city. He was already amicable and excited to have us.
Now I know what you're thinking--wait, Nikki, you're on a religious service trip?!?! But hold on. While we will be staying at the church and doing work there, it is not a service trip, nor are there any religious components. It merely happened to play out this way. I'm still as non-theist as ever, so it is kind of strange having a glowing cross as my night light, but anyone can appreciate the generosity and compassion of a stranger that hosts you like family. Plus I know next to nothing about Mennonites so I am looking forward to understand their beliefs and background better.
Regardless of religion, hunger is a universal and all of us were praying to the food gods. We were answered by a cute neighborhood pizza joint that put me in an even better mood when I walked in and heard the cool notes of Air's "La Femme D'Argent" floating through the speakers. You're alright, Atlanta.
Atlanta ASB 2012-2013
Well, I'm sure some of you have checked up on my blog only to see that I appeared to have died in Argentina in June of this year. My trip details are etched out in a word document that I increasingly lagged in writing. Sometimes in the course of documenting your life, you get lost living it. We're almost a year after my very first day and I have to say that Argentina still rises and sets with the sun, almost as my sun every single day. It rattles around in my heart and flickers constantly in my mind. Argentina, I am a thunderstorm for you.
I'm still coming to terms with Argentina and how it changed me, but meanwhile, I am now on my Alternative Service Break (ASB) with my university in Atlanta, Georgia.
So what's an ASB trip?
It's a university coordinated volunteering trip to specific domestic and international sites to give students opportunities for service work in new places with new people. And it happens over 2/3 of our winter break...so we're giving up that time to give our time to others. Maybe that sounds self righteous, but we do work hard. And unlike some volunteering projects that are poorly organized, we are working full days doing a variety of tasks to keep us on our feet (literally...). We met weekly for 2 months leading up to the trip to get to know one another and discuss the issues and our motives/goals/expectations for the trip. We all had ideas but something tells me those will change and grow as we do on the trip.
Hotlanta Dream Team 2012 consists of 11 students and a staff member from various majors and walks of life. Not to mention all those on the ground that we're serving with. We're volunteering at 3 different organizations for the next 12 days: Open Hand Project (a super charged soup kitchen of a different sort), Berea Mennonite church and Mad Housers (homeless shelter).
Perhaps the most notable thing about the ASB trip is the word service. I say "those we serve with" not only to refer to the coordinators and supervisors of the organizations we're partnered with, but also those of whom we are "serving". This is to avoid the connotative power constructs that can come with words like "help" , meaning they are unable to help themselves, without paying attention to the contexts of the service. Thus the other key aspect of this trip: the story. We're not pretending to solve poverty, hunger or even complete all the projects we've undertaken--what we can do is listen to the stories of those with whom we interact, giving us better tools to continue to tackle the problem as well as figuring out how they play a role in our stories as individuals, lending our creativity, perspective and diligence to make a change in the world, if only but for a moment.
This is key for me, because after 2 conversations with complete strangers on a park bench in Mendoza, Argentina, I realized that the meaning of life is the story: telling ours, hearing others', changing our stories, changing others', adding new chapters and rewriting some. The narrative paradigm, as it's called, is a real theory and at its heart suggests that we're all storytellers, so here I am telling you part of mine.
I'm still coming to terms with Argentina and how it changed me, but meanwhile, I am now on my Alternative Service Break (ASB) with my university in Atlanta, Georgia.
So what's an ASB trip?
It's a university coordinated volunteering trip to specific domestic and international sites to give students opportunities for service work in new places with new people. And it happens over 2/3 of our winter break...so we're giving up that time to give our time to others. Maybe that sounds self righteous, but we do work hard. And unlike some volunteering projects that are poorly organized, we are working full days doing a variety of tasks to keep us on our feet (literally...). We met weekly for 2 months leading up to the trip to get to know one another and discuss the issues and our motives/goals/expectations for the trip. We all had ideas but something tells me those will change and grow as we do on the trip.
Hotlanta Dream Team 2012 consists of 11 students and a staff member from various majors and walks of life. Not to mention all those on the ground that we're serving with. We're volunteering at 3 different organizations for the next 12 days: Open Hand Project (a super charged soup kitchen of a different sort), Berea Mennonite church and Mad Housers (homeless shelter).
Perhaps the most notable thing about the ASB trip is the word service. I say "those we serve with" not only to refer to the coordinators and supervisors of the organizations we're partnered with, but also those of whom we are "serving". This is to avoid the connotative power constructs that can come with words like "help" , meaning they are unable to help themselves, without paying attention to the contexts of the service. Thus the other key aspect of this trip: the story. We're not pretending to solve poverty, hunger or even complete all the projects we've undertaken--what we can do is listen to the stories of those with whom we interact, giving us better tools to continue to tackle the problem as well as figuring out how they play a role in our stories as individuals, lending our creativity, perspective and diligence to make a change in the world, if only but for a moment.
This is key for me, because after 2 conversations with complete strangers on a park bench in Mendoza, Argentina, I realized that the meaning of life is the story: telling ours, hearing others', changing our stories, changing others', adding new chapters and rewriting some. The narrative paradigm, as it's called, is a real theory and at its heart suggests that we're all storytellers, so here I am telling you part of mine.
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