I highly recommend Judith Orloff’s thoughts and insights
courtesy of the below pictured,
The Power of Surrender. Any aspect of life you can think of is
covered here and how we can embrace more ideas of moving into or away from so
many parts of our life that serve or don’t serve us. Doing so without
resistance is really key. Not squashing our dreams, not overdoing certain
actions and understanding intuitively what is really playing out for us. How should
we proceed or perhaps when should we just be?
I was pretty much savoring this book as one of my last reads
during the partial metro shut down and even had my additional type of surrender
letting it go, yet it now does and can serve as my guideposts, a kind of bible
to go back to, to reference, at times to simply enjoy and get to understanding
that every light and shadow is an integral part of life. No spoiler alerts but
there are some enticing portions on health, happiness, love, soul mates, soul
friends, embracing your calling, embracing your sexuality… accepting the
surrender of death (your own and others and understanding interesting elements
of letting go and holding space in respect for the last in a particularly
special way).
Embrace illness, sadness, solutions and give into joy…the
list goes on.
Incidentally, it was also understandably entitled the Ecstasy of Surrender: 12 Surprising Ways Letting Go Can Empower Your Life. I have moved on or rather immersed myself in more teachings/thoughts on evolving mindsets (in addition to my preceding years of similar studying). Moving on from this one is not really an accurate description, however. Only literally. There are so many lessons, complementing one another, ideally continuing to intertwine along the way.
Orloff, Dr.
Judith (2014). Power of Surrender: Let Go and Energize Your
Relationships, Success and Well-Being. New York, NY: HAY House UK LTD.
Thank you IVHQ for outlining this volunteer trip for me. From step to step, this is exactly what I need right now. While in the past, I have had time to research every option from what to bring, the most ideal place to stay and what to expect, you have exactly spelled out the overview for me. This is what I need in the best way because my time here seems limited between my main job (which is currently two and a half jobs), my freelance translating, trying to stay fit, dating, constantly educating myself intellectually and spiritually, and spending much desired time with friends and family. I’ve added a lot to the list. I don’t plan on looking back with any regrets.
While I still need to organize my own schedule around my week-long stay in Puerto Rico, it is comforting to know my latest volunteer organization has built in steps and reminders along the way. I feel reassured knowing I will land in San Juan with a ride and a co-volunteer housing destination. In this way, the final step will be like Pisco Sin Fronteras (PSF)and I will know right away whether I have landed with the right group, something I knew right away when I stepped into the Pisco volunteer yard enclosure and something I felt right away when I read the background mission of PSF as well, something that unfolded more with the few pictures I saw and a single video stating we would be learning from local people and learning from and with other volunteers who after all, were some of the most bad ass representatives from their respective countries. That description of the respective volunteers was not my own 😊 while at the same time, it turned out to be very true.
I have my eyes on another group in Puerto Rico that I am
considering connecting with at a later date. For now, we will see how everything
hopefully comes together between working several jobs and keeping myself loved,
loving, happy and sane. I appreciate you here. Thank you for another chance to
share.
Returning home in late August/early September put me back with the comforting feelings of being surrounded by brothers, being chill and thoughtful, now acting as hosts within their own families. There was Voyager playing on Netflix (personally, my favorite installment of Star Trek – for my brothers it’s Deep Space Nine). I enjoy that hum of our commentary as we appreciate and make fun of certain elements of shows and life from almost a purely silly, appreciative, and intellectual standpoint. There is now a mix of nostalgia. What I am reminded of is the sound in the background throughout all our growing up. There is nothing like having my 3 brothers, with our unique interests bouncing off one another with our various creative talents being played out in each other’s company or in solitude. This gift of life includes built-in friendships, not getting along and the unique bond of being raised together by the exact same 2 people with all the parenting/familial lessons they know well and maybe not so well. I’m reminded during that time (now my beloved parents are sadly gone from this world) that my parents wrote out an interesting world for our Midwestern upbringing by way of their respective southern ones. Daddy was from Alabama. Mama was from Georgia. They ended up in Middletown, Ohio, were introduced to one another there and the rest is history. That small city was where we children were born and raised. (My brothers live in surrounding cities now). I could live in DC, where I am now until the end of time and I have been told my tenure could give me the ability to claim DC similarly. Yet, the very idea of that is still laughable to me, a bit absurd, especially when I think of the roots and energy and foundation implanted in me in the swing state. I can’t not claim it, despite its also racist painful, alienating spaces and experiences and, in fact, the pain aka the dirt is also a part of my roots – what makes me thoughtful, inclusive and empathetic today.
One of the new Ohio Johnson arrivals is my vibrant 3-year-old nephew and I decided right away that he is a rough and tumble, sweet, affectionate, rambunctious, boy. He, in turn decided early on that my name is also “Mommmy”. Truly, it is as if I made him up. This is how I would have invented every detail from the long lashes surrounded by an adorable, adoring face. Even the naughtiness and respectfulness are something I would have conjured up with just the right mixtures. This is not to mention the little actions and reactions that are very unique to who he is. Playing with him, reading to him and teaching him is at times akin to a meditative level as one gets lost in the world of youth, feeling tired but uplifted, while seeing the world through their eyes – seeing what brings them joy or disappointment. Children are great teachers, magically expending our energy, while at the same time giving us life! I understand again how natural it would be to flow into being a parent, developing with children as their needs change and they grow.
On being “Mommmy”: Despite the fact of my sister-in-law and I not looking alike, I can see he has endearingly decided that we are different versions of each other. Quite the compliment! He would call to me as he was being carted off to bed very reluctantly or wanting to eat or play with something he shouldn’t have. He was quite the explorer, like many children curious about everything around them. (We can learn so much from them).
Journey to Journey
I spent a very formative and special amount of time in Columbus, Ohio as well. I am also an alumni of The Ohio State University (yes “The” is an official part of the title which I rarely include but it is fun to know and people love to tease us about our official stance). A lot of people were impressed I chose this school as others were starting closer to southwest Ohio and I had the later knowledge of realizing just how renowned a school it is as I was enrolled there. My reasons for attending were the desire of a large campus with nice programs, of which there were many. I had quite a lot of choices. The campus was a mecca of opportunities, experiences and places nearby to explore. I learned a lot in and outside of the classroom and I also chose this academic venue for its amazing diversity-both locally and internationally represented. College life was not all glorious, not without its challenges but it led to many triumphs, fun meaningful and funny experiences, cute and painful dating experiences, included. There was some soccer – more played than watched, there was eating without gaining weight, there was dancing, there was late night studying and all-nighters, there were friends from every area of the world and so much more. Every moment, I realized early on, was one that I absolutely did not regret. I’m glad I chose to live, play and work at this school. (It also didn’t hurt that it happens to be a Big Ten Champion football school with a rivalry (vs Michigan) like no other! I play around with this with friends and even my girl boss who are fans of wrong schools. It can be fun. My COO – who is actually a Virginia Tech fan and alumni, even pretended to accidentally throw away my plushie Ohio state bobble-like head yesterday. He looked at it closer, saying he had mistakenly taken it for trash. I had joked with him long ago when I brought it in how I knew he was tempted to own it and not to steal it when I wasn’t in the office. I ain’t mad at him. I actually erupted into giggles. I have absolutely got to give folks credit for expertly delivered trash talk. Incidentally, later today, I may take in the game.
Officially official
Bye for now,
readers. I wanted to bring you this lighthearted yet deep (lol) follow up post
today. You may recall You May Go Home
Again. I will deliver 2 more September installments to you as well. Feel
free to like below and share. I look forward to sharing more travel, volunteer
and random stories and thank you again for sharing your time with me!!
Heart strings being tugged at once more, it appears that the island life is in my near future. This is true, at least for a temporary stay. I simply know it to be true since I got that familiar feeling that comes with a volunteer mission I feel in my being before I’ve even realized all the necessary steps and scheduling. Puerto Rico is next and my recent actions told me so. It is telling in the way I’ve already requested the days away before knowing if I will be accepted as part of this organization’s hurricane recovery. One moment at a time. If I can’t participate in one way, I will look at others.
Visiting my Where is Next? will
tell you where my mind has been going. Visiting my fifth post will
tell you where I began. Visiting selectothers
will tell you how I’m riskysafe and subscribing here will keep you updated
along the way.
I am grateful to have you here for these few moments and hopefully more to come. Looking forward to sharing additional past and future thoughts and experiences!
You may
always go home again. Yes. Despite the near contrary expression, I believe this
to be true. Whether it be your home away from home, where you were born and
raised, or just where you feel most yourself.
9 years
after volunteering in Pisco, Peru, I was there again and welcomed with
open arms by people I knew and to whom I’ve remained connected. I was welcomed
by new “curious friendly” * stares as well. Truthfully, the latter was just as reminiscent
of the comfort I found my first time in South America overall. I won’t say all is
rosy, but the overwhelming majority of experiences are very receptive ones.
As I also
travel back to Ohio to visit, I know going home to family is solely being wherever
they have landed. You can always go home to family, to the loved ones that love
you, no matter where they may be. The affection is multiplied by my brothers’ welcomes
and from the extended family through them.
Changes, in my perspective, only reside in how we should grow. We should not want to be the same. We should want every day to be wiser and more comfortable in our own skin, but we can also know the significance of homes as foundations that can help us grow. Also, true for our passions. We can tell where we feel the most at home by what makes us come alive. Where we find our heart with people and energy is where we find our home and we should always be traveling there.
Intriguing mishaps can meet you no matter the distance. These
would be ones like those unfolding on my early morning metro commute one very early
August morning. These would also be those hiccups that presumably seem to be
mere circumstance, but sometimes, I wonder. I wonder if certain stumbling
blocks are the signs and whispers (which I’m incidentally listening to for
guidance) — are they signs of my own misdirection. Literally and figuratively.
How about those obstacles? I happen to feel like I am at a crossroads so
naturally I wonder. When I make one decision or change my mind, I wonder. Which
step is next? Is something not seemingly working out because I need to go about
it differently or do I need to not go about it all?
Mishaps also have a brilliant way of instilling gratitude. Gratitude
could just be there on its own but there are times when I see it underscored by
the knowledge of what the downside has been or could be. As simple as the experience
of being caught out in a monstrous storm versus having a sunny day off from
work.
It was just earlier this month – heading to work. I have become
oddly accustomed to waking up much earlier to allow for the extra time it will
take to get there. You see, there is customary maintenance underway on the metro
and that means that the service for both the Blue Line and Yellow Line are
interrupted a couple stops before I get to my regular stop. Consequently, there
are free shuttle buses covering the gaps. This is when gratitude battles with
agitation = Round 1. I am actually quite grateful for the inconvenience
convenience. I remind myself.
I’ve taken this as an opportunity to engulf books – one of
my pastimes which I’m pleased I’ve avidly gotten back to not neglecting (over
the past several years). Before getting
to the shuttle, I take two trains and it’s no rush, because as I was mentioning
I’ve decided to get up early to allow for trains possibly not showing up on
time, breakdowns on buses, etc. This was the perfect day to be prepared for
both.
The second train I transfer to took about 20 minutes longer to get to the shuttle bus destination because of a down circuit at another station. Once on the shuttle bus, driven by a friendly Ethiopian American gentleman, we journeyed what seemed steadily along. However, this was not the time to get comfortable. Not yet. Not the moment riders collapse away into their respective phones and other reading material. So, it seemed, the bus suddenly could not start back up once the bus driver stopped to open the door before crossing a railroad track (the obligatory traffic regulation).
I thought the two out-of-service buses eventually pulling up
alongside him were going to rescue us from the highway. I thought this laughably
but still fully imagining the possibility. Out of Service rotating on
the bus signage where a number and destination usually was meant they weren’t
currently running a route.
A couple of anxious passengers began standing and moving up
front, towards the bus driver. They had to be thinking similarly. We had been sitting
in silence for a considerable amount of time as the bus driver tried to restart
the bus. Once, he powered down completely, the lights turned out briefly, but…nothing.
The two moving buses, however, mainly held up a few cars in
the next lane, while one of the respective bus drivers did board our bus to see
if she could help him. This also made complete sense, except for, they were oddly
not communicating with us. She finally asked where we were headed. I found this
oddly hilarious since we were not one or two random hitchhikers but rather a
bus load of about 40 passengers headed to a couple of designated stops specifically
designated by metro along a typical work route. She said she could get us to
King Street. We were so thankful for her. (I thanked the first bus driver as we
left him. He had gotten us as far as he could and now could get help without a
bunch of anxious eyes on his back).
Our new driver immediately took us to a point that has recently
become very familiar. This is where usually about 1% of the bus riders exit while
most of us get off at the second shuttle stop, closest to our employment. (There
are various shuttle buses available at other stations too, if one happens to be
traveling beyond those other temporarily closed connecting stations).
This particular day, we assumed there would be a second stop to come. We were incorrect. She said she was not a certain type of bus and we all had to get out here. I write “certain” because I’m not sure exactly what distinction there was. She didn’t say “not a shuttle” so mystery still remains there.
I felt myself inwardly – maybe not so inwardly – smirking throughout
these events. To work on limiting the anguish and knowing that I got up early
for a reason, it became one of those times, I touched on in an earlier post, on
which you will look back and laugh, but you actually find it so random that you find yourself
laughing in the moment.
Getting off the bus, I made a quick turn on to King Street, knowing I would walk the rest of the way, At least we were in the vicinity and off the highway. People were standing outside now, hesitant and agitated before figuring out next steps. I thought to myself how they didn’t realize their fortune. I thought they have obviously never been dropped off by a local vehicle taking them in the wrong direction in Havana before. (future blog post to come😊).
Overall, life is now a far cry from dealing with car notes
and car problems (though I have missed my middle-aged Ford on some grocery
store and additional weekend errands). My recollection here is just the other
side of some trouble with modern convenience but I also pause to say I am
grateful for the high probability of on-time and quick service that gets me
where I need and want to be. Since I gave up my car before heading to Peru the
first time, I’m pretty fortunate to live in a large enough area with a good
public transportation system. An added plus is living in such a walk-friendly space.
Universe just simply took a moment to say: Here’s a reminder
of the importance of leaving an hour earlier during a partial metro shutdown😊
Also, here is the importance of temporary solutions, good
systems being made better, a number of helpful people when it’s not always
expected, and a fairly healthy portion of self-reliance.
As I saw my life growing beyond a shy little girl, I mirrored
her, signing the notes I passed to my best friend in junior high by the name
Janet J. My best friend responded to those notes with her own but with the signature
of Paula Abdul. We looked up to them and this is during a life stage when you
really really dream. You feel all the possibilities in the world are yours
because you see your role models rocking this world.
I had not actually thought I could see Janet in concert
(just memorize a lot of her songs and dance and sing along) until I traveled to
Vegas for work this past week. When my friend and coworker and I suggested it
to one another, I still wasn’t sure if we would have the time.
Another limiting thought for me, personally, was how much it may cost! I lastly questioned if the dates had already passed. All of the above were exactly not the thoughts of the little girl (now inner child) that Janet had helped raise and mold while instilling so many moments of dazzling self-assurance. I knew I needed to get on with it and finally turned to Google, as the reliable friend it had become. My friend was doing the same from her computer at her workstation.
Right away, the description read that this was Janet’s Metamorphosis Performance in which she would be playing out her life, via her albums, via the life changes, including all her growth and transitions. She spoke to us several times, mentioning how funny that your life can become full circle. She was recalling having her debut in Vegas at 7 with her brother Randy and the many shows the children had put on. Her description was on point. She was actually playing a part in my now full circle. This included who I was, who I have become, and where I will be going.
There will indeed be some changes. I won’t be doing everything as usual. Rather, as I settle into my passion of helping others reach their potential, I will evolve. As I hopefully encourage others to honor their dreams, I will pay attention to where I am needed. I will listen to the whispers (as Oprah calls them) of what I need to be doing and how I must be.
As my face, mind and body light up, I will lean in more – write,
translate, read, volunteer and lean in more. As I feel the strength of what
wakes me early, keeps me up late, never drains me and gives me peace, I will
lean in. I will rejuvenate myself with my efforts, seeing how I can continually
take care of others and myself.
This past Friday night was unexpected. The MGM Park stage lit up the memories of what seemed boundless possibilities for a little girl like me. A multitude of thanks goes to Janet for radiating a warm inspirational energy while being a symbol of abundant opportunities to come.
My Cusqueño (Cusco) organization volunteer days also stood out in the difference that our volunteering constantly centered on being a good role model. While people in Pisco held us in high regard for our hard work, it was no profound secret that we down-timed thoroughly as well. At this school in Cusco, however, it seemed that every moment was a teachable one. We would not just reprimand the misbehavior of the many children in our classes for picking on others, talking over others or some other improper behavior, but we would also follow up with a proper explanation of why the right behavior was necessary. We then could follow up with how the proper behavior met with the ethical standards promoted by the school. At least, this is how my perspective developed as I was working to properly carry out my assignments. Again, I compare this to PSF. Though rules were present there, we were not always apt to follow them. On the contrary, adherence at this volunteer gig seemed mandatory. A look, a scolding and a certain type of energy from the organizers carried a lot of weight. My closest three friends (also newbies) could speak to this as well. We all happened to stay in the designated volunteer hostel. Two of us shared a room.
I took my regulated cue directly
from the volunteer leadership. You can
read a little more about them in my previous post, Initiation to a Discreet Organization. Now, I agree that promoting
good behavior and ethics and laying them out clearly does make complete sense.
However, I think the expected execution contributed to a different level of
exhaustion – different from the rewarding physical labor I had completed in Pisco.
This proved especially true since some of our noble repetition didn’t always
land in the children’s ears. We were engaging in quite the energy burn.
The inevitable strain extended past
teaching to the way we followed guidelines such as classroom setup and outside
activities – guidelines that were actually preferential etiquette rather than a
set standard of ethics. I again was more accustomed to the grass roots stylings of PSFin
which a variety of plans would still get us to the same successful outcomes.
We tried not to break with
arbitrary protocols in Cusco – arbitrary protocols such as the way our smocks
should be put away or the way we were expected to address every moment of children’s
side chatter during assembly time. But dear goodness! “To err is human;” *
Consequently, as in most circumstances, you finally learn the best way is to simply
do your bestand absolutely don’t worry as
you’re learning and growing.Easier said than done, I know, but the simplest
solution can often be truth. When we are done overanalyzing, there are some basic
thoughts left standing there.
I still wholeheartedly support the
organization’s higher mission. I just also happen to support doing your noble
best. Do right by others all you can while taking care of yourself and notice how
much more life falls into place.
Unfortunately for us, the rigid
overarching expectations continued to spill over into our home. The place was also
open for rent to non-volunteers but a significant number of us newer ones thought
staying there made sense. A couple of long timers did as well but we
had our distinctiveness and a bit of separation from them (a circumstance more
by their design than ours. The
overall mix of the space’s residents made for some interesting
interactions.
Our place was one of those open-air kind of dwellings behind a larger enclosed walled structure, keeping us safe from crime. Walking on to the terrace from our rooms meant overlooking the main downstairs open area and the ability to see across the way to other people’s closed-door rooms. The bathrooms and showers were shared. I wasn’t there a terrifically long time (not as long as I had stayed in Pisco) but I was there long enough to have several roommates, beginning with one from Canada and ending with one from the States like me. By now, I knew travelers mostly from Europe, but my close-knit group (at this time) turned into 3 people from the States, (including myself) and a dear English friend. Being with other US residents had become rare, something I found neither good nor bad, but a unique (and pretty cool) circumstance I hadn’t even imagined.
Thank goodness for Cusco nights and having our own additional outside activities. Good times and bonding in our resting place, of course, had its limitations. The computer/media room closed at about 10:00 pm, so good luck starting a 2-hour movie or winding down with friends. Don’t begin relaxing at the wrong time. We had to schedule just right if we planned on spending some quality time indoors and we decided we wanted to avoid admonishment altogether.
It was far easier to unwind by
exploring the city, dancing, mingling, walking, touring, trying restaurants and
more. Cusco is, after all, a magical city. The only downside was exposing ourselves
to potential crimes that centered on theft, including muggings (depending on which
areas we traveled and how late it was). Consequently, I could make a real case
for the hostel working on encouraging more indoor activities. Yet, the sense
remained that the school structure should mirror where we laid our heads. Whenever
we would happen to return, around 6 a.m., 5 a.m., 3 a.m., 11:00 p.m., etc., we might
spend a little time chatting in each other’s room but the quiet falling over us
more so led to us retiring to our respective beds. (Of course, we also
went out and returned periodically throughout the day as well).
Good on the founder’s objective – everything was designed to help one act right and stay safe. I also take an aside to give him much credit for the incredible design of the place both aesthetically and ecologically. I note this as much as I note my appreciation for his dedication to changing the lives of street and other neglected children.
We simply had to find our place in
this atmosphere, as we too were dedicated to the children. We did. It wasn’t all
that challenging to do. We learned our volunteer roles rather quickly, finding
our inner rhythm to a majorly conservative vibe. Our friends reflected the
world. We met up with locals and foreigners like ourselves. Outside of
teaching, we became accustomed to getting to know many others who were visiting
(typically from Argentina or Chile). We became well acquainted with 3
indigenous gentlemen. They gave us our Quechua names and taught us some wondrous
practices.
There was much to do and learn in
our home-away-from-home environment. I look back and I’m grateful again that Cusco
days and nights made up another part of my physical and mental journey. I
appreciate how my sickness there was only a near chronic cough compared to the
upsetting feeling of Pisco belly. I cannot say it was appreciated in the moment
(not at all romantic to have a coughing fit in the middle of a club or bar,
though our Argentinian and Chilean dance partners didn’t seem to mind). I additionally
can’t claim I appreciated a coughing fit or three when that notorious quiet
fell over the hostel. Oh dear. Oh well. The experience is laughable now and
little inconveniences have a way of making a person more gracious when they are
no longer present.
Interestingly, we would even find
ourselves invited to the homes of the leadership from time to time since we occasionally
dined and danced with them as well. Just the same, my core group and I had found
our own place within a reserved space. Tour guide welcomed but not always
needed. I know I discovered a lot about myself and I suspect my posse did as
well, though I can’t ultimately speak or write for them.
One more chapter – etched in my
heart and memories for all my life long. Thank you for taking the time to share
another part of the journey with me.
I don’t specifically include the name of the second Peruvian organization, where I volunteered. I do this by design. As I was writing a bit about this earlier, I don’t include it, because of some idiosyncrasies of the leadership. I want to be mindful. However, as I wholeheartedly support their mission and good intentions, I am happy to share details to get you there volunteering via email. cassandrajohnson@riskysafetravels.com.
The logo I had found, in literature and online, hovering over their wonderful mission statement to educate street children and other under-served children was exactly how the volunteer hostel appeared in real life. I had been making my way there since my challenging but magical time in Pisco, Peru, followed by my trip to Arequipa andmy harrowing journey to Machu Picchu and other intriguing sites. This would be my last hostel experience in Cusco, and it was ironic because this put me back in a not-so-safe area. As I wrote earlier, I began my time in a different risky part of the city. I later moved to a centrally safe location and now was finding myself back in dangerous territory. This time was different. I felt safe, 90% of the time. I was in my element and there is safety in numbers. I was also distracted by my new volunteer mission and spending time with more like-minded travelers.
The only oddity was the invisible
barrier between the long-time volunteers and us new ones. It is not to say they
didn’t take their time with us, explaining their methods and preferences and
even dining and dancing the night away with us. It was simply that there was an
energy almost as if they were more evolved. Understandably, they were more
indoctrinated into the organization and its… well…organization. Connections
came in fleeting moments. Some momentary concern for our safety or a physical
attraction (undeniable chemistry) between old and new. Game night and lunch fundraisers.
This was all. Admittedly, this includes a lot, but the boundary remained. If
they knew we were staying longer, certainly there would have been some more
softening.
My first day, I was to meet with one of the Directors who would explain some methods, some ground rules. He was nice. British and Indian. We sat down in the office/media room in front of one of a few community computers. He talked about how I would work alongside other co-teachers, how each grade level was charmingly represented by a different fruit. Each week would have a theme (I found this so cute because I digress mentally to how each episode of Sesame Street had a revolving theme). Every element of instruction would connect back to the main ideas, whether this was during the classroom instruction, game time, physical recreation, or art. At the end of the week, each class would put on a show according to the theme, one which they had practiced with the teachers and the school would be especially opened to families and other visitors for a celebratory performance.
Typically, each day, the children would come together, leaving their respective classrooms, as one of the Directors gave a values-based lesson. Good ethics were endlessly reiterated, and the children were reminded to behave as nice, respectful members of the community in and outside the classroom.
So, it went. I would have my initiation into a place with energy that was welcoming but with a protected heart (I don’t think the Directors wanted to be too open to temporary bodies passing through). We were appreciated for our time, but the Founder especially made a point of reminding us how we were not central to the structure. So very different from the open arms in Pisco.
In Cusco, we were only a link in a chain, a link that extended a bit of a distance. We taught and played. Mostly, we shared a lot of work and a single objective to grow the gifts the many children already possessed.
Back to the
trekking part of our mission. This included our journey on the bus to the bus
drop off for our hiking, lunch, sites along the way, dinner and settling into
our overnight lodging to get a bit of rest before our Machu Picchu visit the
next day: The long bus ride led us around some mountains that very much
reminded me of those cartoons with a vehicle traveling around cliffs just wide
enough to fit it. Dinner was included in the package. Our trek would consist of
a 4-hour walk to Ollayantambo, which was closer to 5 hours.
The curiosity was spilling over from the Argentinian young ladies sitting near me during dinner. I was waiting for the questions to begin. I know we looked quite different from each other and I get it and I more so welcome the appreciation of my journey versus quiet presumptions. Certain questions appeared to be more the norm during the touristy parts of my journeys rather than during the volunteer portions, although I was questioned there as well. I am good with being the ambassador, to represent all the brown American girls that can be backpackers too, but admittedly it sometimes does get tiring. You know how people are individuals and what not but it’s nice to represent as well. It’s also nice to be admired and respected as well for having some adventure in your heart and it’s quite fun to gradually share unexpected answers with people, as they try to find clever ways to ask where you’re from, why you’re traveling, what you’ve done and as you let them know that yes, you know Spanish. Quite crafty to show up in places you weren’t necessarily expected to be, when you were not even trying to be crafty at all.
