Wonderful Limits

How do you find words to describe the Infinite? When I try to explain the beauty and majesty I saw this weekend, especially in Spanish, simplemente no hay palabras. I find myself struggling against my limits. And then the Voice inside me tells me to relax.

Tranquila,” it says. “We will have all eternity to discover that.” My mind is blown again.

I don’t understand the concept of eternity. But in my limits, I can wonder.

What I learned this weekend is that that’s enough.

Being in the most beautiful place we’d ever seen brought so much wonder to myself and my friends. The trip was filled with exclamations of “¡Guauu!“, “¡Mira!“, “¡Qué hermoso!“, “¡Es maravilloso!” and “¡No lo puedo creer!” We could only marvel at the beauty of the Atacama desert.

Take a look at my slideshow and marvel along with us! Fun fact: it’s the driest desert on earth.

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Being somewhere like this also makes you ponder deep questions like why we experience the sensation of beauty. My friend Erin had a very wise and interesting response.

“It’s the size of this place that makes us reflect on our own smallness and insignificance.” And that’s what wonder is.  It’s being surrounded by something that’s too big to understand. It’s recognizing our limits of size and understanding.

If we knew everything, nothing would amaze us. If we were bigger or stronger we might not be dwarfed by the majesty of mountains.

Riding around the valle on bikes made me realize how big that corner of the desert was. By the end of the day our butts were sore and legs were tired. I had pushed myself to the limit, for sure. But there was a lot of joy in recognizing my limit; it made room for appreciation of God’s creation.

I think often times we try to push our limits, or forget them. In the process, we lose sight of our place in the world. Truly, we are just one second in the span of history, smaller than one grain of sand in a desert.

We have a choice to recognize that insignificance, or not. Either we accept our place in the world or create a worldview that puts us in the very center. Though it takes a lot of humility to wonder, I can’t help but think it’s worth it.

I met two slightly unpleasant people on this trip. And I feel bad judging them on some short conversations, but I wanted to share what left a bad taste in my mouth– their lack of wonder. A Finnish boy and Australian girl were in one of the hostels I stayed at, and what both of them said was: “I’ve already seen something like that.  I didn’t think it was that cool.”

To me, who felt awestruck at the sights I saw this weekend, this attitude surprised me. Maybe I’m just less cultured and important than (they think) they are. But if that’s the price to recognize beauty and value in a place, I’m willing to pay it.

I’d much rather be like our Brazilian roommate, Sabrina, who told me, “pienso que cada lugar que visito es lo máximo”, or “I think that every place I see is the coolest.” I want her sense of wonder to see lo máximo everywhere I go.

The First Bout of FOMO

I began dreaming of my college study abroad semester pretty early on in my high school Spanish classes (what else would have motivated me to get through all those “preterite versus imperfect” lectures?). During Hope prospective student visit days, I sat front row at every off-campus study info session, stored away all the pamphlets, and talked to countless students about their experiences abroad.  When I arrived at Hope in Fall 2014, I plotted out my 4-Year Plan based entirely upon my semester abroad.  However, when it came time to actually make the plans a reality, fear and anxiety crept in.  It wasn’t that I lost the desire to go abroad, but rather that I didn’t want to leave Hope for a semester.

Clearly, events occurred that changed my mind, because here I am writing from Chile.  I can confidently say that I am exactly where I am supposed to be– being challenged, humbled, and left in wonder by this new home of mine.  However, I will break the myth that every day abroad is as much of an adventure as an Instagram picture or blog post may convey.

This past weekend at Hope was Orientation Weekend.  Having been a part of the Orientation Staff for the past two years and loving freshman orientation myself, it has been incredibly difficult to miss out on the best weekend of the year.  Flipping through all the Instagrams and Snapchats, the reality hits that life goes on without you.  When your friends are all moving in together and reuniting after summers apart, you’re not a part of the group texts to meet up at New Holland, Captain Sundae, or a Lake Michigan sunset.  No matter how much we glorify FaceTime and Skype to keep us connected, nothing adequately compensates for the 10,000 miles of distance that exists.

Amidst the FOMO, I am reminded of the gift it is to have a place and people to miss.  I would not trade this adventure abroad for anything– even for my long-awaited senior year fall semester at Hope.  As I write this, I fear that this is just the beginning of the FOMO.  There will be an abundance of things to miss out on, and plenty more anticlimactic days abroad.  However, when I allow myself to sit in that ache to be with the people that know me the best and in the place that I feel the most at home, I am grateful to carry that sense of belonging with me.  Best of all, it’s what will welcome me home in just a few months!

2 ears, 1 mouth

“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” James 1:19

My host mom has a Spanish-English Bible, which I think is great. But the translation is definitely more old-fashioned than what I usually use.

If you know my personality, you know that I am often a better listener than talker. I’m slow to contribute to conversations, and it seems like when I do speak, my words come out jumbled.
In Spanish, this is ten times worse.
Especially at the beginning of my time here, I was often frustrated by my inability to express exactly what’s on my mind.  I forget words like cuchillo (knife), bolsillo (pocket), and silla (chair), and realized I never learned how to say “spill” or “hip.”
When it comes to Latin American poetry, though, my vocabulary is impressive. The words you learn in Spanish class (like dictatorship, military coup, and communism) don’t come up in daily conversation as much, however.
Oddly, I’ve come to appreciate the limits of my Spanish.  I’ve also come up with strategies to get around them.  But, you know what, listening is an important skill. James tells us to practice listening and practice being slow to speak.
I came to Chile not knowing anything about the culture.  Sure, I read up on some history, but I still have a ton to soak up.  Which is why I need to listen to people and hear their perspectives.  Luckily, Chileans are buenos para hablar– they’ll talk your ear off.

A candid taken at my weekly Bible Study/communidad.

On Wednesday, when that verse from James came up in Bible study, my Chilean hermanos took it as a challenge.  For me, I’m already living the challenge.  I’m thankful to God for the way He’s using this experience to make me better at listening and forcing me to be even slower to speak.  After all, that’s why we have 2 ears and 1 mouth.

I’m a bad vegetarian

I’m a bad vegetarian.  I’m not Catholic, but I’m feeling a need to confess.

This last month here in Chile has really tested my commitment to my self-imposed dietary guidelines, and truth be told, they haven’t stood up to the test.  I have three (kinda funny) examples of the challenges of being a vegetarian while traveling.  Ready?  Here we go.

  1. Sushi.  (Or as Chileans call it, “su-chi.”)

I guess I’m not the strictest vegetarian to begin with because I’m ok with eating fish.  Especially here, in a seaport town, I’m not opposed to a little fresh salmon or ceviche.  So, when my host aunt/sister Flo texted me that she was gonna order in sushi for our anime night, I was all in.

“Go for it,” I told her.  “I’ll get you back.”

It didn’t even occur to me to mention that I was a vegetarian (or pescatarian).  What more is in sushi than a little bit of fish?

Apparently chicken.

In Chile, it’s common to have sushi with chicken or pork.  Flo ordered us “handrolls” which had cream cheese, avocado, and a few massive hunks of chicken, all wrapped in rice and seaweed.  It wasn’t even cut up in little slices, which I thought was funny.  That’s the most distinctive thing about sushi, right?

This isn’t THE handroll that confused me on anime night, but it’s a pretty good example of what sushi in Chile is like.

That, and the fish.

I felt bad when I realized what had happened.  And I was too hungry to make a fuss about a little bit of chicken, not when she had ordered me some yummy sushi.  So I ate it, and it was good.

Sushi here might not be what I’m used to, but it’s funny.  I was glad to have discovered a cultural quirk of Chile.  Mixing cultures always ends up being entertaining, and I guess a bit weird.

2. Completos. The Chilean hot dog.

Here’s another cultural mash-up.  Imagine an extra-long hot dog slathered with mayonnaise, and topped with an entire avocado, mashed-up of course.  Add your typical ketchup and mustard and, if you’re feeling adventurous (or just particularly German), sauerkraut. There you have a completo.

After about two weeks of hearing my gringo friends get excited about this culinary discovery, I was feeling intrigued and interested enough to try a completo for myself.  It wasn’t like I went looking for one though.  An opportunity fell in my lap one afternoon when I was working on a marine biology project with my Chilean lab group.  It was late afternoon, and we were all starving.

Usually in Chile, people eat almuerzo (lunch) at 2 or 3 pm, but once the clock hit 4, we gave up working on our project, resolved to meet another time, and jumped on the bus to Sergio’s favorite completo place.  They were really excited for me to try my first completo and since there was a special deal that day (2-for-1) Sergio bought me two, convinced I would love it.

An advertisement for a completo and drink. Only 1700 pesos!

I did.

For a hot dog, it was amazing!  A completo is the perfect twist on the American classic.  Though I wouldn’t eat it regularly, I’m really glad I tried the completo with my Chilean friends.  Since then, I’ve had a couple completos without the hot dog (the meat part isn’t the best anyway), but I don’t regret trying it the authentic way first.

3. An Asado (Barbecue).

Did you know that here, people spend Christmas barbecueing on the beach?!  And they’re jealous of us for having snow!  Personally, I would trade the freezing Michigan winter for a Christmas asado.

Here, we’re reaching the end of Chilean winter.  Which I guess means it’s asado season.  My friend Sergio invited me again to try some authentic Chilean meat.  And I said yes.

We went to his house in a little beach town about 30 minutes away. Then we started cooking.  I loved how everyone got involved in the process, but I felt a little useless because one of the tasks I was given was peeling tomatoes.  I had to admit I had never peeled a tomato.

My friend Jean on the beach after our asado.

About 2 hours later, the pinchos were on the grill.  I wish I had a picture, because the amount of food there was impressive.  And the meat was rico and juicy.

I had at least 7 skewers.  Not to mention the multiple salads, soup, rice, and bag of potato chips I munched while waiting for the meat to roast.

On the bus ride home, I had an awful stomachache.

After that pound-of-meat shock to my system, I think I’ve learned my lesson on staying vegetarian.  Sometimes it might be worth it to break it, but I think from now on I’ll stick to salads and veggies to keep my tummy happy.

Smells of the City

My friend Luisa has a very sensitive nose.  This is one of the first things I learned about her when we met three weeks ago.  She sampled my gnocchi and told me it had hints of sweet potato in it.  I had no idea.

Luisa’s nose has come in handy various times, like when we were in Santiago and she warned us to stay clear of a marijuana-smelling alleyway.  Or that time when she recognized the scent of Peruvian food just out the window and we spent the rest of our class period gazing longingly outside.

Her uncanny ability to distinguish scents has got me thinking about the smells of Valparaíso.  It is a city with a lot of different scents I’m grateful to experience. Now, where to start?

Mercado El Cardonal.

 

This is the big outdoor market in Valparaíso. Although a part of it is indoors, the market sprawls out across the neighboring streets until cars can no longer drive through, and every inch of sidewalk is covered with piles of fruit and vegetables, or vendors selling empañadas.  I walk by on my way to class, and I get a whiff of fresh lemons.  Another day, it’s bananas or eggplants that are the freshest.

The problem with the streets of Mercado El Cardonal is that at night they become dangerous.  It’s a place where lots of drunks hang out.  So, combine the smell of alcohol with some piss and leftover garbage scraps rotting in the gutters, and it’s not the most pleasant scent.  To be honest, I’d recommend visiting during the day.

Escuela Ciencias del Mar.

 

My marine biology class is in this building, and it’s my favorite because it looks like a castle.  Plus there are often sea lions lounging around on the nearby rocks. We get the smells of the ocean here, a salty misty spray might even hit you if you’re studying on the outdoor patio.  There’s also a large fish market nearby, so every time I come back from Escuela Ciencias del Mar, my clothes smell like fish. It’s really fresh though; the mariscos (seafood) here is the best!

Cerro Mauco.

 

Today we hiked up a very steep “hill” about an hour away from Valparaíso.  This area was home to the indigenous picunches, before being conquered by the Inca, then the Spaniards.  In their native language, mau means suspended and co means water; the suspended water the name describes refers to the low-hanging clouds.  While we were up there, we got a refreshing scent of rain, though the shower only lasted a few minutes.  The flowers along the way also gave a pleasant aroma, and as my friend Pablo remarked, “el aire huele más fresco arriba” (the air smells fresher up here).

Mi Casa.

 

This is the hardest scent to describe.  It’s definitely a homey smell, and when our nana, Elisa, is there, the kitchen is filled with delicious aromas of whatever she’s cooking.  The house is always spick and span, so I’m sure the cleaning chemicals contribute, and I know the laundry detergent we use is Ariel.  The funny thing is, I think I’m starting to lose the ability to distinguish the smell of mi casa.  I’m starting to smell like it.  It’s become a part of me.

My friends and I were talking the other day about how our houses back home don’t have a scent to us; that’s just the way we smell.  Here, too, mi casa es mi casa.  My house in Chile has become my home.

Cuidar la Tierra

Last week, when my Chilean family went on a hike with other families from the church, they turned it into a learning experience for everyone about caring for the environment.  It was so sweet how my Chilean parents took it upon themselves to educate people on how to “cuidar la tierra.”

One woman, Gloria, who organized the trip, was also very passionate about environmental issues.  I overheard her talking to my little brother, Camilo: “What is this stuff on the side of the road? It’s trash. Camilo, say ‘basura’.”

The group that went on the hike. My Chilean dad, Sebastián is the one in front taking the selfie.

“Tasuta,” he said back in his baby talk.

“And is it supposed to be here?”

“No.”

“That’s right, Camilo.  Basura is bad for the planet.  But we have to cuidar la tierra.  We don’t leave trash everywhere.”

And there was more.  She talked with Camilo for a while, holding him on her hip, teaching him ways to take care of the earth, and telling him why.  This was my favorite part.  Gloria told him that God made the earth and entrusted it to us.  She said it was a gift, but also a responsibility.  In order to be obedient, faithful followers of Christ, we can’t forget about cuidar la tierra.

As we wrapped up the hike, Rocío (mi mamá) and Gloria gave us a little lecture on cuidar la tierra, and they mentioned the responsibility and opportunity we have to make positive changes that protect natural spaces like the one we just enjoyed.  I understood and deeply resonated with what they were saying, but as we turned to go I made eye contact with another American girl who had come on the trip with us.  Her face looked puzzled.

“They mentioned pizza, science, trash, and God.  Then we prayed.  What just happened?” she asked.

I laughed, because those things really are connected.  But not everyone I talk to sees it that way.  I’m really grateful that I’m part of a family (and church family) here that shares my interests and worldview.

In Chile, recycling isn’t picked up on the curb. Instead there are these giant bins for plastic bottles scattered throughout the neighborhoods.

In my time in Chile, I’ve met many more people who are interested in preserving and caring for the environment.  My lab partner brought in a collection of glass jars he had been saving to recycle, and yesterday I had a conversation with a friend about alternative energy in Chile. Additionally, cuidar la tierra seems to be a theme of national conversation.  There are political parties devoted to “green legislation,” and I’ve seen commercials on tv advertising the environmentally-friendly aspects of their products.

Despite this seemingly high level of public awareness, many Chileans I’ve spoken to want to see more.

Another example of creative Chilean recycling.

My host mom, as well as two of my professors, have lamented the lack of environmental education in the school system.  So Chileans are making efforts to change that.  This weekend, I went to a museum exhibit in the Parque Cultural de Valparaiso focused on environmental issues and innovative ways to cuidar la tierra.

The exhibit touched on themes ranging from biodiversity to pollution to consumerism, and displayed a variety of mediums, including film, false advertisements, and styrofoam cutouts.  It was really cool to see artists creating such remarkable pieces for the purpose of raising public awareness of environmental issues.

I think my favorite piece was a digital creation by a Scandinavian artist.  He combined a futuristic-looking technology with a beautifully peaceful nature scene.  To me, the result is a striking commentary on the interconnectedness of people and the land, and our need for preservation/conservation.  But what I liked most about this piece was that it was another conversation-starter on the topic of how best to cuidar la tierra.

My friend Sarah pondering the digital art piece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everybody has different ideas on what the best way to cuidar la tierra is, and why (or if) it’s important.  I’m just grateful to be participating in the conversation here in Chile.  And I hope it’s continuing back home too.  I’m excited to bring my new perspectives back to the US in a few months — maybe this blog post can serve as the first link 😉

Sí, claro…

Chileans are incredible chatters, and they don’t slow down for anyone.  It can be pretty difficult to keep up, especially with all the Chilenismos and “po’s” thrown in.  Within hours of my arrival, I humbly accepted just vaguely understanding most things in the coming semester.  When I don’t know how to respond, or if I get lost in the conversation, my go-to response is, “Sí, claro.”

This response can get me into some interesting situations, and this weekend was the perfect example.  Last week, my host sister and I were talking about how I love hiking and being outdoors, and Santiago’s vast opportunities for exploring and traveling was a huge draw to my decision to study here.  Her boyfriend is a guide in the mountains, so she warmly invited me to join their outdoors group on a “hike” (this is at least what I pieced together).  Naturally I responded, “Sí, claro.”

Come Sunday, I woke up at 5:30am to gear up for the long day of exploration ahead.  Her boyfriend, Alexei, picked us up in his 4-seater Jeep, along with two other friends.  We met up with the rest of the hiking “group,” about twelve 65+ year-old men.  I’m not sure who was more surprised– me, or them when they saw the young, blonde “gringa.”

Our basecamp for the day, surrounded by the beautiful Andes Mountains!

Two hours of windy roads, an outrageous amount of speed bumps, and a stuffed Jeep took us to the beautiful Cajón de Maipo.  We pulled over at a roadside barren area, mountains surrounding us.  What I thought was a pit stop to admire the grazing horses and mountainous views was actually our basecamp for the day, which I didn’t even realize until a few hours later.

Alexei began his lesson on map orienteering, compass skills, and GPS navigation. I tried to understand, but as mentioned before, Chilean Spanish is muuuuy rápido, and I can’t say that I got much out of it.  I was also a little antsy for the long-awaited hike (that never came).  Hours later, we began knot-tying.  This is a skill I’ve been interested in picking up, so I eagerly participated.  I can’t say I have really mastered the skill, but I’ve added it to my semester goals.

I may need to retake this course in English…
Knot-tying competitions! Can’t say this was my forté…

 

 

 

 

 

After 8 hours of Outdoor Adventure Orientation, we took a short drive to a mining town to hunt for fossils.  Good conversations were had with my new adventure buddies as we admired Argentinian cordillera at golden hour, working up our appetites for the fresh empanadas that were to come.

On the late-night drive back to Santiago, my eyes batted heavily from the carsickness and exhaustion of only Spanish communication for the last 14 hours. However, I couldn’t help but laugh when I thought about how my expectations were quite different than the reality of the day’s events.

As much as I love admiring the cordillera from my apartment window in Santiago, it was so refreshing to see the Andes up-close and personal!

Language barriers are tricky, but I am excited to see what else comes from the things I accidentally respond “Sí, claro” to.

Mary, not Martha

I’ve learned that I’m a pretty task-oriented person. If you would have asked me before I came here, though, I would have said that I appreciate the journey. However, even thinking in terms of a journey implies that there is a direction and a destination. That’s different than simply being present.

In Chile, people are really good at being present. They abandon what they’re doing to hang out and talk, and often end up staying late. Chileans are Marys, not Marthas.

But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” – Luke 10:40-42

Martha is the sister that worries about serving her guests, getting things done and making them perfect. Mary, on the other hand, positions herself at the feet of Jesus. That’s where I want to be. But often times, I let my culture get in the way. American culture is very focused on appearances and people-pleasing. But here in Chile, people are willing to leave things imperfect. They accept the messiness of life. And they sit with people in the midst of it.

I’ve learned a lot this semester about the idea of Biblical suffering. My Chilean church has taught me what it means to thank God for hard things and trust Him that there is a purpose in all of it.

When Mary and Martha’s brother, Lazarus, died, Mary stayed back and sat in the suffering. She wept and mourned. Her emotion affected Jesus; the famous verse “Jesus wept” is His response to seeing Mary hurting. God hurts when we hurt. How wild is that, that He cares for our pain?

Our response to other peoples’ pain should be to sit with them in it. To love them well, and pray with them. My church community here is really good at this. We are always praying for the brothers and sisters who are going through hard things. We go and visit them in the hospital and comfort families at funerals.

I think the pace of life here allows for more genuine love and community. Rather than rushing around from event to event, Chileans are present in the midst of everything. In the good and the bad, they stay and talk. They sit and rest at the feet of Jesus.

They are Marys, not Marthas.

Surprise! Congratulations! We’ll miss you!

Last night I walked in on a bridal shower/going away party.  Honestly, I had no idea my host mom was hosting one.  I just had finished making the long trek up the hill to our house and, worn out from my first day of classes, I was looking forward to relaxing on the couch in the living room.

Instead, my host mom was making heaping plates of sandwiches and chatting with two women who were the first to arrive.  About an hour later, once everyone had trickled in, we sat down at the table, pulling up approximately seven extra chairs to accommodate all of the guests.  The kids, mostly younger than ten, and all extremely rowdy, were exiled to “la mesa de niños.” (The kid table was also a staple of my childhood.)

Anyway, the guest of honor was this woman named Jackie.  From what I gathered, she was about to marry this Spanish man named Raul.  They had met over the internet and started chatting and Skyping.  Both had fairly young children from previous marriages, and weren’t expecting anything to happen.  But they fell in love, started dating long-distance, and now, a year later, are getting married. What a romantic love story!

Here’s a glimpse of the “despedida” party. My Chilean mom, Rocío, is the one on the left, and Jackie is on the right.

Even though the bride-to-be was glowing, and her friends teased her lightheartedly about lingerie and the wedding night, there was a bittersweet sense to this gathering.

After people were finished eating and plates were cleared, we began going around the table and saying sweet things about Jackie.  Everyone wished her well for her wedding, gave some tips about moving to Europe, re-lived favorite memories with her, and expounded upon her good characteristics.  Additionally, since these women were all from my host mom’s church, they prayed for Jackie, praised God for her, and spoke truth into her life.  It was a truly beautiful night. Lots of tears were shed and laughs were had.  I was glad to be a part of the celebration of this woman’s life.  I also learned some things about Chilean culture through this experience.

1. It’s okay to be late.  Here, people often arrive an hour after something is about to start.  Time is viewed very differently in this culture; it’s not something to be controlled.  Delays happen.  To be on time is somewhat unexpected.  In light of this, it’s not important to be ready on time.  My host mom was still cooking when her guests arrived.  So they joined in.  It wasn’t a big deal, just another opportunity to socialize.  Which brings me to…

2. Chileans love to talk.  From the moment I walked in the door, the chatter was constant, with only a slight pause to pray for the meal.  As we went around saying nice things to Jackie, everyone had lots to say.  Sometimes people would jump in, interrupting with a side story, but overall the whole thing lasted almost an hour and a half.  And then Jackie wanted to do the same for everyone there! So we spent another hour receiving complements and well-wishes.

3. Family is everything.  When the women at the party called Jackie their “hermana” that was the biggest compliment they could have given.  For someone to be made part of the family is the greatest honor in Chilean culture.  Families here are big, and very close.  I am so grateful to be part of a Chilean family myself!  And I felt honored to be included in Jackie’s special night with her church family.  Surprise!  Congratulations Jackie!  We’ll miss you!

Disfruta el momento

The closest translation Spanish has for “carpe diem” is “disfruta el momento.”  Back at Hope, my friends and I tend to throw around “carpe diem” pretty often, but more as a joke or a dare than an actual mantra.  However, since being in Chile, I have learned that “disfruta el momento” is more so a way of life.  Here’s what I mean:

This morning was my first day of classes.  I began the day at a café in Barrio Italia, a quaint and artsy little neighborhood just five blocks from my apartment. I ordered a coffee, drew out my semester schedule, and journaled my anticipations for the coming months abroad.  Side note: I cannot believe my first day of class was this chill… no waiting in line at LJ’s to get a mug of 616, no scrambling to find a seat at Chapel, and my planner isn’t stuffed with coffee and lunch dates, meetings for student organizations, etc.  Disfruta el momento. 

It’s certainly not the warmth and familiarity of LJs, and I’ll admit that the latte I ordered was actually pretty bad. However, ya can’t beat the aesthetics of the café I stumbled upon today!
My two essentials: journal and “Lonely Planet” Chile + Easter Island guide book. Thinking this may be my only “textbook” for the semester…

While journaling, I realized how drastically different this semester will look for me.  It’s foreign not to feel stressed, rushed, and overwhelmed.  As an exchange student, I am here to learn from the people and place that I am in, and there are not a ton of expectations on me.  As much as I loved being so involved at Hope, there were plenty of times that I forgot how to disfrutar el momento because I got so caught up in the obligations and the resume-builders that became more draining than enjoyable. 

It took flying to the end of the world, being stripped of my roles in student organizations, and surrendering the fulfillment that comes from having a rigorous and overcommitted schedule for me to realize that disfrutando el momento is an invitation that I want to accept each and every day.  Life doesn’t have to be busy and/or productive to be satisfying.  I can merely just be… disfrutando el momento, and that should not come with guilt.

The classic “first day of school” photo for mom and dad. Although it felt odd not to be experiencing this at Hope, I think this photo encapsulates my excitement to be here!

I am so grateful for all the opportunities Hope has provided for me to use my passions to influence my community.  However, my encouragement is to recognize the gift it is to enjoy the moment you’re in.  Even if you’re not abroad, or if you find yourself looking at a crazy upcoming semester, find ways to disfrutar el momento exactly where you’re at!