Translating for my and my boyfriend's mothers

Since I am in a relationship with someone from another country, I have the constant blessing of participating in new experiences. Today I translated a live conversation between my mother and my boyfriend’s mother—yet another first. My boyfriend and I are staying the week at his parents’ home in Antofagasta, Chile—my second time visiting. I was skyping with my mom when my boyfriend’s mom, Nori, pops her head in my room with a huge grin and sings in her sweet way, “Hola Wendy!”

“Mom, Nori says ‘hi’ to you,” I tell her. Nori takes a few steps closer and hunches over my laptop and into my webcam’s frame. “Hi Nori! How are you?”

“Te dice ‘hola’ Nori, y te pregunta cómo estás,” I tell Nori. Translating a brief greeting turned into a brief conversation, thanking the other for a 38 different things, and talking about pictures and how excited my mom is for my boyfriend to move to my city in December.

It was a beautiful time and although brief, it was just enough to wet my palate for the day they get to meet. That day, I will be able to translate full conversations, and let the laughter and smiles translate on its own.

Peruvian Cuisine and Interview Synthesis

I savored each bite of a homemade Peruvian rice dish with chicken, hot dog, egg, soy sauce, and green onion today. I considered it a delicious treat for good journalism, which to me, means getting to the right location, or finding the right contacts. In this case, I had done both. But by no means did I do them alone--they were friends of Juanchi. So the recipe (wink) to receiving a mouth-watering meal while reporting involves four steps: Use a contact's contacts, go with a warm reputation preceding you, get invited to the home, and hold the interview in the kitchen.

The dear family I met today was the Moreno family, natives of Trujillo, Peru. The parents, Javier and Maritza, moved to Buenos Aires in 1993, not in search of a better economic situation, but simply to be able to live together in the same city. While Martiza and her young children (one is missing from the photo because he was out of the house at the time) lived in Trujillo, Javier lived ten hours away in Lima, where he worked a good job in the government. Martiza would take the children to visit their father once every two to four weeks, but that was hardly enough. Finally, they decided to move to Buenos Aires, where they could live in the same city. Yet they decided to leave their children with their grandmother while the couple began to form a life in the city. When they first arrived on August 13, 1993, they had $13 to their name. A friend told them of an Evangelical church that was receiving immigrants, so they quickly located it and moved in to the top floor that was home to about 100 new arrivals. When they first walked into the building, Javier approached a young man in his early 30s and asked to speak to the pastor. The corners of the man's lips curved up into somewhat of a smirk. "I am the pastor," he said. "I never would have thought he was the pastor," Javier said. "He looked so young." That young pastor was my boyfriend's father, Juan Peréz. Juan and his wife Nora were immigrants themselves, having moved from Temuco, Chile, as newlyweds and both certified doctors and pastors. They witnessed the dramatic increase of immigrants in the city who often slept in the streets with no place to go, so they decided to open their church as a refuge.

"It was not comfortable, but it was a place to stay," Martiza said, describing the housing the church provided. Of the 100-something people staying there, only a handful were Protestant Christians, she said. Initially, some of the women who stayed there didn't like her and said she couldn't stay. She begged her husband to go elsewhere with her, anywhere but that church. He encouraged her to try for awhile, and so they ended up staying. Martiza described the women's room as a dark environment. She said that people would get drunk, say horrible things, some women would strip and have shows, and some were prostitutes. Living there was her worst experience since arriving in Argentina.

She cried every day. She missed her children in Peru. A year-and-a-half later, she and her husband saved enough money to return to Peru and bring their children with them to Argentina. But the children would cry every day. The family squished together in one room, when they were used to their 300 square meters home in Peru. Yet for the last ten years, they have been living happily together in a cement house they rent in the city.

Javier described the discrimination that his children experienced at school and he and his wife received at their jobs. The most shocking example of discrimination and mistreatment was Martiza's experience working at a geriatric center. Since her husband worked in the kitchen, he had access to good quality food during the day. But properly feeding those who cared for the elderly was not high on anyone's priority list. Martiza was a caregiver, and she was given leftover food that was put in a blender for a disgusting and unsanitary smoothie mush. During that time, she went days without eating anything but a few oranges.

Today, their youngest son, Jeampierre, is a skateboarding fanatic and began a t-shirt company geared toward the skating crowd. His company is called DreamX, and each shirt has an X on it somewhere. When I asked him why the X is significant, his says its for extreme dreams.

Peruvian Food and Photographer's Fear

I've been in Buenos Aires for a little over three weeks now. I kissed my boyfriend for the first time in 4 1/2 months, turned 21, drank lots of wine, went running and got my boyfriend to run with me, accepted a photography job for no pay, turned down an offer to photograph a wedding in Ushuaia for pay, started photographing with my grandfather's 1972 SRT101 Minolta, and have managed to avoid buying a single piece of clothing. I've also only made one portrait of a Peruvian family for a photography project I'm working on.

I see them almost every day because they run the vegetable stand across from my apartment. I've been making a lot of contacts of people to photograph and interview, most of whom are acquaintances of Juanchi, but have been struggling to make them on my own. I don't mind his help in the least bit, but by going through people he knows, I'm strategically avoiding confronting my fear of approaching people I don't know in hopes of photographing or interviewing them about their immigration experience. A clever, but poor decision.

So I did what any bored photojournalist does when they are ready to talk to someone--I got my cameras, notebook, and went a location where I would have to be a leader in the antisocial movement to miss meeting a potential photo subject. When Juanchi and I arrived at the Peruvian restaurant, I hardly had time to visually confirm the nationality of the waiters and observe the art on the mango-colored wall before I noticed three of Juanchi's four housemates sitting in a corner table. We had just arrived from my place and weren't expecting to see them, and joined them for a lovely time during lunch. Two are from Panamá and the other is from Ecuador. Yet I didn't realize quite how globalized our table was until I asked one of the Panameños, Jan, how "broster" chicken was cooked, and he responded with "Kentucky Fried Chicken." Apparently they have those in Panamá. I asked them if they knew what Kentucky means, and they responded with "the owner's last name," then later decided it was a city in the U.S. At least they got a little closer to the right answer. I explained to them that the KFC in Chapel Hill closed because so many people were protesting it. Or at least that's why I think it closed, after seeing protestors out there one month and the building empty the next.

I ordered grilled chicken with rice, steamed potatoes, and a salad.

Juanchi ordered this:

Which to me, was the obvious star for my next picture. But for him, was a stomach ache as we were strolling around China Town in search for peanut butter, a rare commodity in Argentina.

I didn't photograph any people today. But I did make another contact. I will return to the restaurant on Friday to interview and talk with our waiter, Renaldo. I didn't explain much, but said it was for an artistic-historical project on foreigners in Buenos Aires. So for the next three days, I have interviews lined up with a family, a couple, and the waiter. On the fourth day, Argentina plays Nigeria in the World Cup, and I will be rephotographing the Peruvian family. I thought I had successfully photographed them with my grandfather's Minolta last week, but apparently I hadn't even turned on the camera when I thought I was "making frames." Classic mistake of the digital generation.

To put on plastic jewelry

For the last two months, I've been going to a Latino Baptist church in Pittsboro, NC. Last week after the service, some of the teenage girls called me over to their mom's car where they were selling colorful plastic jewelry for their neighbor who is pregnant and trying to make a living from her house. They asked me if I wanted to buy anything and were showing me some very, let's call them interesting pieces of jewelry that I think I might have work eight years ago. As a Peterson girl, I was raised to like fine, dainty pieces of gold and silver jewelry, and was the topic of discussion whenever I donned my coconut shell earrings and when I got a green studded nose ring. I was picking through the pieces with a smile on my face, trying to find something of interest to me, but ended up saying that I didn't think I needed any jewelry right now, but thanks anyways. Plus, I had used the last of my cash on the tithe, so I had a really good excuse if one was needed. Then, this 28-year-old woman who I had never met turned from the jewelry stash and asked me which one I wanted, holding out two necklace and earring very fake pearl sets, one in blue and the other in white. I politely declined and told her in Spanish that she didn't need to buy me anything, but then she informed me that she already bought it and c'mon, choose which one you want. So I chose the blue.

She proceeded to ask me what I was doing after church and I said going home, so she invited me to lunch with her family, which included her sister, brother, mother, niece and nephew. Touched by the invitation, I agreed to lunch and then drove her and her 8 month pregnant sister in my car as we headed into downtown Pittsboro to their favorite Mexican restaurant. While we were in the car and listening to the embarrassing perpetual dinging of my confused, old van, it occurred to me that I didn't even know their names. I asked, we arrived, we ate, and the 13-year-old boy asked me about my favorite movies. I regret that I'm so boring and had to tell him that I don't normally watch movies. They paid for my lunch with them and we went our separate ways.

Today, I'm about to head off to church. I'm dressed in my khakis, a nice black top, a purple shrug, and matching plastic blue earrings and necklace.

Dear Land of the Free

Dear Land of the Free, I need help understanding a recent decision that you made to deny my Argentine boyfriend a visa to visit me.
You told me to study hard, so I did. You taught me to love diversity and new experiences, so I sought after them. You helped fund my study abroad last semester to Buenos Aires, Argentina, so I was able to go. You told me to try not to hang out with Americans much so that I could be deeper immersed in the Argentine language and culture, so I did. My second weekend there, I took a risk and went on a retreat with a local Argentine church. They needed a translator during the sermons because American missionaries were visiting, so I gladly helped out.
It was that weekend that I met my boyfriend. His dark, handsome features and colorful Ecuadorian hat caught my eye, and he quickly swept me off my feet with his hospitability, musical talent and eagerness to help me improve my pronunciation.
As our relationship grew over the semester, so did our plans for the future. He would visit me the first of April, we had decided, so that he could meet my family and get to see Chapel Hill in bloom. Then, I would be back in Argentina soon after exams so we wouldn’t have to go too long without seeing each other.
Plans changed after you denied him a visa at the beginning of February. Sure, he has all kinds of factors going against him. He is a recent college graduate, doesn’t live with his parents, works several jobs and has a girlfriend in the States, which apparently is code red for “likely to stay in the U.S. to form a life, so he can’t come in.”
I think your policies are contradictory and whoreish. What I understand from this situation is that it is okay for U.S. citizens to study and learn and become better human beings from their experiences in foreign cultures and bring back the knowledge and love we gained abroad to share with people at home. But we’re not going to be good hosts and allow the people who taught us abroad to visit and learn from us if there is the slightest possibility at all that they might want to form a life here. You sold me out, America. I feel like I used the beautiful country of Argentina, their universities, the church and all the kind people who helped me along the way. I thought I was getting involved in a cultural exchange, which to me, occurs when both sides win. As much as I’d like to think that Argentina greatly benefitted from hosting me, I don’t think it compares to the ways in which I benefitted from being there.
Next time, please make it clear to all people who want to pursue foreign travel or work that they should avoid all possibilities of falling in love while they are abroad—that is, if it’s the kind of love where you would want to see the person again.

Another visa denied

There are few things that frustrate me more right now than the U.S. visa system. I will begin with the newest disappointing story I heard. Yesterday after church, I was talking to Pastor Enrique about his family and asked where his wife was. He told me that she had gone to Mexico to get her 87 year-old father a visa to visit their family in the states. The old man's wife, Alicia's mother, is also living with their family in Chatham County. So Alicia took her old father to the U.S. embassy to say, "This is my father and I came back to Mexico to get him. He's coming home with me to visit the rest of our family and his wife." They denied him a tourist visa to visit his family. My assumption is that they figured he would go to the U.S. and stay. And even if he did? He's 87 and certainly not going to fill up a job that "belongs to an American." At the very most he might use health resources he's not paying for (although his family is through taxes). Although I believe he completely deserves that, simply because his daughter does laundry at a hotel, his son-in-law pastors a Latino church and makes $16,000 a year, and also he has probably worked some job in Mexico from which Americans have benefitted in the form of cheap labor or goods. I say, "Thank you, compadre, we would be honored to host you in our country and wish you and your family a happy reunion. Let me say this again, his son-in-law is a pastor. That means he's keeping young kids off the street and men out of bars and leading a healthy environment focused on God and positive family environments. And they wouldn't let him in.

I won't continue for tonight. I'll save similar stories, and my personal visa situation, for another day. I just wanted to bring back the blog because I'm a woman with a lot on my mind and not enough ways to sort through it all.

Buenas noches.

Why I want to adopt

I came across this great video today about a boy's orphanage in west Detroit. It's heart-warming to hear about their experiences there and to see their determination to control their behavior and anger and to always persevere with their goals. While it still breaks my heart to see them in a flawed system, as just a small number of the 18,000 youth in orphanages in Michigan, I can't help but think that, according to edmundriceinternational.org, 700 kids sleep on the streets of Buenos Aires every night, and thousands roam the city every day begging for coins, often for an adult they are working for or so their parents can buy paco (the cheapest version of cocaine).

Today I was walking alongside a waterfront in Puerto Madero after leaving the library at la Universidad Católica de Argentina and saw two children walking alongside each other, each less than 3 feet tall, without shoes and clearly without bathing for a long time. What was so striking about these two young boys was that they moved about and interacted with each other as if they were 17-year-old boys. I'm not sure how else to describe it other than they had the mannerisms of people twice their age and twice their height. It was hard to miss the juxtaposition of these two street kids walking over a beautiful cobblestone path alongside flashy restaurants and happy couples and friends posing for pictures along this charming waterfront.

Minutes later, as I sat down along the curb to contemplate whether or not I should buy an ice cream from the shop meters away, a man approached me and asked me politely, yet meekly for a piece of my time, with a slightly frightened look as if I might snap at him. He started explaining to me about this magazine he was selling for 3 pesos, or about $0.80, that exists to use the proceeds to give opportunities to street kids so that they don't have to beg for money. Although I'm still not sure what he meant by that, I bought a magazine anyways (there were pretty photos). After awhile he felt comfortable enough to sit down beside me and even introduce himself. I'd definitely say he's one of the nicer people I've met in the city.

Well I didn't end up buying the ice cream, but that's irrelevant and had more to do with the fact that I just didn't want to spend the money (but really, US$4 for a small???) Anyways, I've been thinking about adoption ever since high school when I learned about Compassion International (compassion.com) that let's you sponsor a child for a certain donation each month to provide them with education, food, and other basic necessities. This world has everything we could need to sustain each human body in it, but resources are so badly distributed and hoarded by a small percentage of the world. Right now I feel so full from dinner that it's kind of uncomfortable (french fries and fried fish....Marieta and I just had a discussion about how I don't want her to buy fried food anymore and she was really surprised and said, "But I thought you'd like it since you're American"). I feel guilty. The guilt of the "haves." I think I'm gonna start bringing extra food with me to give out. I'm not quite sure why it took me 2 months to get to this point, but if I'm so unsure against giving out money for fear of supporting someone's drug habit, a healthy food is a great alternative.

Noting the above statement, I realize that I tend to end my more pensive blog posts with some sort of tangible way to apply what I've learned. So for me, I'll say that this week I'll buy more fruit at the fruitería in the mornings to give out as I go along during my day. And I will be praying about adoption. How will you respond?

Quiero conocer tu corazon

The city is treating me pretty well. I'm finally starting to fall into somewhat of a routine since now I've decided upon my classes. In case anyone had their doubts about whether I would have a legitimate academic experience here, let me tell you that it's very different, but surely difficult. In 3 of my 4 classes I have more reading assigned each week than I would normally have in my classes in the states, plus it's all in Spanish, so I'm, honestly for the first time, learning how to deal with the heavy loads of work, trying to skim the readings efficiently yet take away the main ideas. There's never enough time in the day! I think the reason each day is so short is that so we'll choose wisely what to do with our time. This week I've been editing photos taken by other individuals for an NGO here called Pilotos Solidarios that was started by this compassionate doctor here, who goes by motorcycle to isolated communities that are unaccessible by car and brings them medical care and other things that improve their quality of life. You can check em out on YouTube. So I just made a slide show of the edited photos for an event they are having tomorrow night at a local bar to raise money for their program. I wish I could go, but I'm pretty stoked about what im doing instead! Tomorrow I'm leaving for the weekend (not too far, somewhere nearby in the province) for a women's retreat with my church here. Two weeks ago they had a men's retreat and now it's our turn :). I'm looking forward to getting to talk to the women and get to know them better, because I probably only know about 8 or so at the church.

And before I sign out, I want to leave you all with the wise, kind words that my friend Amanda, one of the freshman girls who was in my bible study last year, shared with me yesterday. "Your identity is not in what you wear, the activities you do, or the job you have. It's in the way you love people and emit God's love to the world!"

I'm pretty much overwhelmed with all the blessings in my life! Que sean bendicciones al mundo!

A month in...

Hey friends and fam! I am pleased to inform you that I have not fallen off the face of the earth, only down to the southern hemisphere. I have been in Buenos Aires for just over a month now. After 2 1/2 weeks of orientation, visiting different Universities, and an extremely disorganized and overwhelming class registration process, I am finally about to start my third week of classes. There is one more week of a shopping period during which time I am trying classes in three different universities. Classes are long (usually 3 or 4 hours), with a 15 or 30 minute break halfway through. One of the private universities I am studying at has a lovely modern architecture and is composed of 3 buildings that are alongside a beautiful water front called Puerto Madero, which is near some of the classiest bars and restaurants in the city. I have a class called "Political and Economic Geography of Argentina" and "Compared American Revolutions" there. The first class is mainly Argentine students and the second one, which I am still deciding on keeping, is specifically for foreign students. I am trying 3 different classes at the most renowned public university in Buenos Aires, although it can hardly be compared to the wonderful public university that I call my home back in the States. UBA has buildings for different majors spread out all over the city, and at the moment I have class in the Philosophy and Social Sciences ones. Graffiti decorates the outside of the buildings and almost every classroom. The inside is filled with posters demanding that the school remains unaffected by inflation or that show the face of a recently disappeared youth. This Monday I start my class called "The crisis of capitalism and its consequences in Argentina" with a professor who has a leading role with the Worker's Party in Argentina. I'm really hoping that I'll like that class, because the others that I have tried there have yet to live up to their titles.

Don't worry, I dont think I'll be coming back a Marxist, but certainly with some more open perspectives on things. I have learned so much already despite the fact that classes are just now starting.

More fun things: Ya'll know me and know that it doesn't take much time for me to get busy with activities. My second weekend here I went on a retreat with youth and young adults from a church in the province of Buenos Aires and had a great time and translated from Spanish into English during the sermon on Saturday night, since there was a group of about 25 Americans there. A guy who I had met briefly last year here saw on my Facebook that I was in Buenos Aires and invited me to come to his church and asked me to come to the camp to translate. I am so lucky to have met such an awesome community of Christians in Buenos Aires, and have really enjoyed hanging out with them since.

I have gone to listen to live jazz music twice, once in a library/cafe and another time in this semi-secret house/bar that you wouldn't know about unless you're deep in the music scene (thanks to my very talented musician friend). Tonight I'm going to another friend's band's concert. I've found a rock climbing gym here that I've gone to once. I will also be doing some volunteer work here with photography, which actually plays out pretty comically because I will be photographing some events in bars as humanitarian work. How does that make sense? Well it's a new bar that's hosting benefit events for some local NGOs.

Additional random updates: I got a nose piercing (Mom, even you'd like it). It's a super cute little green stud. I went to get pierces one night after a Spanish-placement exam with two other American friends. Just wanted to throw that out before I got home. Ok so this is just an enormous city and I've never considered myself a city girl, but I'm really loving it here. I do miss my people in the States and my friends dispersed across the globe (shout-out to Mexico, Spain, Italy, Jordan, Benin and Thailand). But I must say that I feel at home here. Last year I said that I want to live here at some point, and look at me now. Today, I'm saying again that I would like to live here at some point (except I'm really torn between here and Mexico, but hey, who says you've gotta pick just one?), so we'll see what happens after graduation.

I send hugs and kisses in all directions and hope and pray for the best for all of you!! Keep dreaming and be pro-active!!!

Summer Unrest

I feel so old, even though I can't even legally drink. Among my girlfriends, none of us are actively pursuing an MRS degree, but today I discussed adoption with one and giving the maid of honor speech at my wedding with another.

I feel so young. We sit and stare into the Carolina Blue sky (good choice, God) and dream together about the endless possibilities, people, and places that our futures hold.

I don't ever want to stop dreaming.

I don't ever want to stop dancing.

I want to be the 60-something couple dancing to live jazz on the grass at Weaver St. Market, their hair poofy and grey and faces illuminated with the animation of children.

I want to keep cracking open watermelons on rocks near a creek in the woods and slurping them until my stomach's aching.

I want to be exactly who I am today.

A Healing Soldier, a Heartful Conversation

During my recent visit to the state of Iowa, I was so blessed to have met a 23-year-old man, we’ll call him Aaron, who serves in the National Guard and trained and fought in Iraq for about two years. At a glance, I couldn’t help but notice his tall, strong build, his big white truck that he had just bought that morning, and his humor that he wears on his sleeve. After talking for a while, it became evident that Aaron has many creative ideas and hopes for future businesses and investments—a very intelligent person.
Aaron and I got to have lunch together one day, during which time we shared ideas and stories about war and peace. Aaron told me several stories from his time in Iraq, about the machine that he was turned into as a designated marksman, and about how he lost his faith in God during his time there.
As the designated marksman, he was given full authority to shoot an enemy if he saw them even with just an automatic car key that had a button—anything that could potentially be used to detonate. After seeing some awful things done by Iraqi soldiers, Aaron found himself hoping that the people in his scope would pull out a similar tool of sorts, anything, just so that he could have a reason to shoot them.
As I sat across from this man, I saw the desperation of confusion reflected in his vibrant green eyes. I saw a loving person who was placed in a hellish environment that calls forth the worst in anyone—an environment that harnesses anger and fear and turns it into a hunger for justice—an environment that estranges one’s own reflection in a mirror.
“I used to be so strong in my faith,” Aaron told me. “I wanted to make sure that everyone knew about God. I used to be such a compassionate person.” He said that he just eventually stopped praying in Iraq. “Some people didn’t lose their faith,” he said. “Some were able to look at all the hurt and the evil and understand that there is a plan for all of it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see a way to justify it all.”
I told Aaron that he was precisely right in not justifying the evil that he saw and perpetrated with the often over-used phrase “I know God has a bigger plan.” I didn’t try to comfort him with this phrase either. I would be lying through my teeth and serving as a false witness to God if I had done so.
I surely hope that Aaron will find a good reason to rediscover his faith again—now that he is out of battle, now that he has started to overcome PTSD, now that he has courage to ask what is good.
I’m glad that Aaron didn’t find his strength in war by praying that God would bless and keep his hands that killed, because I don’t believe that the God of the Bible does that. I believe that God sent Jesus to Earth as an example for us to follow. WWJD? He wouldn’t kill. When he was beaten, he turned the other cheek, not because he was weak, but because love overcomes evil. Jesus let them kill him, and then he overcame death.
So what should we do when our nation asks us to go to war, to kill, to defeat evil? First, we should ask ourselves to whom we answer: to God or to America. If the answer is America, then going to a state-mandated war is disobedience to God in the form of idolatry (just as many things could be, ie: the church, a substance, an education, a job…) If the answer is God, then we must answer to God in the form of obedience, which manifests itself as trying to follow the righteousness and holiness in which Jesus walked—a life of radical love that overcame evil—in any situation we face, even if that is during a time of war.
At this point, Aaron is unsettled by violence, which has taken a toll on his body, his mind and his faith. And that’s the first step in becoming a peacemaker.

My [Un] Patriotic Mantra

My Twitter friend and favorite author, Shane Claiborne, had a live interview with CBS one morning while he was in Baghdad as a peacemaker (story told in his and Chris Haw's book "Jesus for President"). They asked him what he thought about America and they hung up on him in the first minute. Curious if Shane and his friends had committed treason, they later inquired if they were "traitors." Shane wrote them the following response:

"Traitor?

If this bloody, counterfeit liberation is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If depleted uranium is American... I am proud to be un-American.

If US sanctions are American... I am proud to be un-American.

If the imposed 'peace' of Pax Americana is American... I am proud to be un-American.

But if grace, humility, and nonviolence are American... I am proud to be American.

If sharing to create a safe, sustainable world is American... I am proud to be American.

If loving our enemies is American... I am proud to be American.

Regardless, I would die for the people of New York, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world.

I would die for the people of Baghdad, but I will not kill for them... my kingdom is not of this world. I will stand in the way of terror and war... my kingdom is not of this world.

I will pledge an allegiance deeper than nationalism, to my God and to my family... my kingdom is not of this world. I will use my life to shout, 'Another world is possible' ... for my kingdom is from another place. 'My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight... but now my kingdom is from another place' (Jesus; John 18:36)."

Thanks, Shane, for writing that so eloquently and clearly. Today, and every day that I see an American flag or hear talk of the military, I find myself moving further and further from patriotism. Let's look back at how America achieved its reputation as the great, the rich, the powerful, and the free. Ever since the days our founding fathers, America has encroached upon the freedom, well-being, and resources of others to secure its own. As far as I can remember, this has never been a good strategy of making friends. However, many are still drawn to this sexy, alluring beast that is America. "Come sit, come dine, come taste our fine wine," she invites. We are drawn. We approach the table, only to realize that the seats are limited, and there are many of us. Pushing and shoving ensues as we fight over a seat at the table of wealth and satisfaction. Although the seats are filled, we wait, because we see the guests at the table drinking the sweet wine, laying their heads on the table, and drifting to sleep. Once in a deep slumber, they get carried away by men dressed in uniform, and there's a space open at the table, so we begin to push again, so that we may have a taste, just so that we can know, because with watching, you can only fantasize.

Don't taste the wine, friends. In fact, don't even approach the table. There are green pastures and fresh air on the other side of the door. There are tie-dye t-shirts instead of red, white and blue ones. There are washing machines powered by stationary bikes and centers where kids and adults sit side-by-side to create music and art. There is no need, because everyone shares their resources. There is no wine to allure you (although we can make it out of water in an instant), but you can smell the aroma of coffee that was fairly traded.

Come play with us. Come and create with us. Come, and let's live the dream that another world is possible.

Nearly Done

I leave El Gusano this Thursday night or Friday morning. That's 3 days more, tops, in the place. I'm gonna miss it a lot. I have a ton of pictures so I'm pretty ready to get home and dive deeper into the editing process and work with sound as well. I'm just trying to collect some final stories and some pictures that were so basic that I overlooked them.

I'm excited to share the stories with anyone who will listen of the people I met. Let me know if you want to see some, and I will try to make it happen before I leave for Argentina on the 19th. Lots of stories, a complex issue. I put two pictures on www.flickr.com/photos/brittanykamalei of a lovely woman in the community, Lupe. It's a good place to start.

I hope all is going well on your end, wherever you are. Please send me updates, I'd love to hear about it!

Besos!

Clean Water in Tamaula

Francisco Laguna is one of the elders in the community who has spent his time working in the States but now is in Tamaula to stay. He said that potable water is not an issue during the rainy season, but that they suffer much during the dry season. Each house has a water tank that collects rain water and can store up to about 500 liters. Once the rain stops, their supply dwindles quickly.

The government helps provide water during the dry season, although they are an unreliable source. They bring up a truck of water generally once every eight days that they pour into large water buckets alongside the soccer field, if they remember.

Francisco says that what the community really needs is for each family to have a 20,000 liter water cistern, which is about $600 each to construct. About eight families have already built these, yet the remaining 37 families cannot afford this cost as they struggle to buy food each week. It would cost $22,200 to build a cistern at the rest of these houses. That’s $22,200 for an entire community to have potable water, which is the cost of a semester for of college some of the students who have volunteered Tamaula this summer. While this cost could be gifted by a private donor, there’s an even more sustainable way to go about funding the construction of these cisterns that, over a few years, would be a cost to no one, and even a financial gain to some.

The government probably spends a quarter of the $22,200 in gas and labor costs each year in bringing up water to the thirsty community. If this cost comparison was shown to someone in the local government in Guanajuato, they would be able to see that if they made this investment of $22,200 this year in building these cisterns and stop trucking water up on a weekly basis, then after four years they would have gained the money back in savings gained from a proper reallocation of financial resources.

Although a private donor could gift this money to the community to construct the cisterns, it is better that the government recognizes this plan as a sustainable, effective means of providing a necessary service to its people. This way, they can enact this plan and both save money for themselves over the years and begin to regain the trust of its people.

Another problem is that many people, such as the government, don’t believe that these are real problems because almost everyone in Tamaula lives in a fancy, large house, often times furnished with the riches of the north. However, this supposition is false. The men who migrated north to find jobs sweated over years saving enough money to build these expensive houses. Although water no longer leaks through the roof during the rainy season, new problems have surfaced and continue to abound in Tamaula.

Ignacio Laguna was able to afford an comfortable, one-story house for his wife and daughter, Clara and Luz. The luxuries of this new home include a bathroom, three large bedrooms, two televisions, a large kitchen, and solar panels. While this family lives in Mexican luxury, they continue to use electricity because they cannot afford to replace the dead batteries in the solar panels.

Mexico is full of towns like Tamaula with stories like the Laguna family. The question that political scientists, social critics, and many migrant families are asking is, “Will Mexicans continue to have to migrate to the US in order to provide for their families, or is there another way?” May we never stop thinking creatively and may no box constrain us as we re-imagine a new way.

Adventures abound

I spent the past 3 days in Tamaula, another small rural community in Guanajuato where FCB works and has some projects. They work with some groups that provide goats to families and others that provided some equipment so that a few families can make and sell goat cheese in larger quantities in the community. I loved the family I stayed with. The couple was Ignacio (Nacho), Clara, and their daughter Lucy (Luz). They were so great to spend time with and talk to. Clara and I talked about everything from healthy diets for children to discussing the similarities in her Catholic and my Protestant backgrounds. Shaw and I listened to many stories from Nacho, including how he crossed the border 3 different times (which required several attempts each time) to how he got in an really bad car accident in the states that required so much medical treatment, including a new set of teeth, that he had to go back to Mexico where it was cheaper. In that community, if there is a man over the age of 20 or so, you can ask what part of the states he's been to and there's a 95% chance that he's been. They're all back though, bc life in the states is rough. No jobs, as they kept saying. Not all went illegally though. I think about 9 guys had visas to work with a landscaping company in Washington. One man had a story that just broke my heart. He was working in the states and met his wife (also Mexican) through the company they were both working for. They had a daughter together and were living pretty happy lives. She had gone through the process and gotten papers, and he was working on it, until he got pulled for a minor driving infraction, didn't have a license, and the cop asked him to show his papers, which he obviously couldn't, so he got sent to a holding center or essentially a jail, with all the other people who were gonna be deported. This happened in Alabama, where I'm pretty sure it was illegal at the time for the cop to take the liberty to ask for documentation-that's only legal in a few counties, like Durham County near where I live, for example. Anyways, now he is working with the goats in Tamaula with his father, waiting for Obama to change the immigration laws to allow people who have family legally in the states who were deported due to a minor, minor infraction to be able to return to their families. His wife has another child on the way. Thankfully, they're coming to visit Tamaula next month so that he can see them and his daughter will stay with him for awhile while his wife returns to have the child in the states. C'mon Obama. There are families that are divided due to racist police officers and others all down the system. This is injustice.

So many other thoughts but I've gotta go get ready to go to another community now. I'll write more on the water situation there in my next post.

Shalom.

El Gusano

I arrived in El Gusano last night and already today Adriana, Shaw, Ian, and some of the women and I went into the town of Dolores Hildalgo to get a few things, which is why I ended up in an internet cafe. So El Gusano is completely desolate. There´s a long dirt road that runs through the community. I arrived last night to all the kids hanging out and playing basketball by the school and started to meet everyone and hear tons of new names which I´m so gonna have to write down. I´m staying with this girl Maria and her family which includes her mom, sisters, brother, uncle, and lots of cousins. Their property has a big cement wall around it with different buildings for the bathroom, the kitchen, and different rooms, so there´s a lot of open space in the middle. I´m staying with them because they are one of the 2 houses with a bathroom. There´s no sink though, or shower. So this will be interesting. Once you use the bathroom you have to put water in the toilet to flush it. I asked Teresa, the 10 year old girl there, where I was supposed to brush my teeth and she pointed to the side of the little courtyard. Then I asked where I spit and she said just on the ground. So that´s how super baller my hygiene is, at least there´s water, that´s all I´m sayin. I have my own room and a double bed and it´s pretty nice, but I woke up this morning with little mysterious bites on my legs. Looks like I´ll be using bug spray before I go to bed.

This morning in the city, I got some yummy fruit for breakfast, which Shaw heavily advised against and said I´d be sorry later, but it was fruit that had peels so I should be fine. I haven´t taken any pictures really yet, I´m first trying to get to know as many people as I can right now. That´s all. Take care everyone!

24 hours into the trip

So I´ve been in Mexico for 24 hrs now and have already had quite an adventure. Yesterday evening Kaitlin, a girl who is interning here from Chicago and is staying with Adriana, has been here just over a week so she showed me around the town. It´s a lovely place here with lots of big plazas where people of all ages hang out and sell goods and listen to music. There was this one huge fountain that spouts water along with the beat of the music. Last night the music there reminded me of Disney songs. Muy interesante. Kaitlin and I bought big smoothies and sat in the plaza, the only 2 gringos in sight.

Today I accompanied Adriana to a meeting with a wide range of people from University profesor to people running social businesses and other community organizations. It was hosted at a hotel by a group that helps advise the state government as to the actions they should take to benefit the community. So they hosted all these people as a sort of screening of the community needs. We each had a keyboard in front of us and they asked us to type suggestions as to what we thought the state government should do in the upcoming 3 years, classified them into several different groups like education and or sustainability, and then voted our our top choices in each category. Afterwards, I went with Adriana to a brief meeting with 2 people who are working with her to investigate the depression that many women face in these communities that are hit heavy by migration. Then we drove into the actual city of Guanjuato to stop by an organization that gives grants for projects like this research one so she could say hi to the people who make these decisions (good move, since it´s all about showing up, my dad used to tell me). The city was gorgeous! All cobblestone, narrow roads, beautiful old plazas with lots of trees situated between tall, colorful houses and businesses, withe the whole community embedded in the side of the mountains. We drove through these great stone tunnels that are very unlike those in the states. These are all the natural stone on the inside and have a few lights and not only go straight but turn every which way, with people parking on the side. It was just like a normal street, but underground.

I´ll leave in just a few minutes to go to El Gusano where I will be spending most of my time here. I will also go to 3 other communities for about 3 days each to photograph there as well, but El Gusano is the focus. I will be with Ian and Shaw the whole time (now you can breathe freely, parents) and supposedly I even get to stay in a house that has a bathroom! I can´t wait to see the guys and hear about their adventures thus far, and I especially cant wait to meet the people of El Gusano. It has been a semester building up to this. Even though I dont know them yet, I have so much hope in their capacity to love and I think they have a message to teach the world and hopefully my work will be able to provide an outlet. Adriana and I are both dreamers, so putting us in a car together, we came up with some tight ideas for ways we can use photography to teach in the states and raise money for la Fundacion and El Gusano.

Time to go. I´ll hopefully get internet connection around the 2 or 3 of June, so look for more updates then. Much love, and keep dreaming big and loving recklessly!

Irapuato

It´s time to bring back this blog, although Im not sure how lively it will be or how often I can update because my internet access will be pretty inconsistent. Anyways, Travel was fine. I did a lot of reading and writing and thinking which was fabulous and now Im at Adrianas house, the woman who runs FCB (fcb.org). Her place is lovely colorful and enormous! Shaw and Ian are already in El Gusano, and I will go to meet them tomorrow morning. I can hardly believe it! I confronted a lot of my fears and insecurities on the way over here, just trying to tell them that they are irrational and have no place with me. So I wrote about 12 pages in my journal about liberation. What it means, how God liberates people, how people liberate people, and if and how Mexico can liberate itself. This was all provoked by Jesus for President, a book I{m reading that is coauthored by Shane Claiborne and Chris Hay. Im completely wiped. I slept for 1.5 hrs last night. I guess that could classify as a siesta. Hopefully I can get a nap in before dinner. Hopefully dinner is soon, tengo hambre!

Please email me and let me know how youre doing and what youre up to and ill try to get back to you if i can. time to go rest up. many blessings to you all!

Saludos, Montevideo

I always knew the day would come when I'd have to bid this fair country goodbye, I just didn't know how I'd go about handling it. Right now, I'm using drugs. Queden tranquilo! It's just over-the-counter medicine that I'm legitimately taking because I have a cold. Last night I slept for 13 hours and took a nap today as well. I never expected to spend my 2nd to last day in Uruguay too lethargic and pitiful to leave the house (except to go to the mall to use their wireless). But it's okay. Today I've just been reading and packing. I started reading "Saving Fish from Drowning" by Amy Tan a few days ago...a book gifted to me by my aunt and uncle two years ago for Christmas. I started reading it because of a comment my friend made to me a week ago. We were sitting around the fireplace in his house with some friends when Andres said to me "You don't read, do you?" It was an innocent comment, but probably said in the wrong language. If he asked me in Spanish "No lees mucho, no?" I wouldn't think anything of it, just a simple question. But since it was in English, it didn't sound as innocent with the same sentence structure. Puf! Of course I read! Then thinking about it, I realized that I really don't read aside from what I need to read for school, my Bible, and skimming over the news at cnn.com or in Newsweek. So thanks to the innocent challenge from my Uruguayan friend (or was he Swiss or Argentine???) I decided to start reading this silly book. I'm almost half-way through and it's pretty good. This is the first fictional book I've ready since my English class my Senior year of high school (I'm not counting all the books I read for philosophy 1st semester freshman year at UNC, because those were more painful reads than pleasure reads). It tells about the adventures faced by a group of 12 rich, intelligent Americans as they travel through China and Burma, all narrated from the perspective of their dead friend (who also narrates from the minds of each of her friends on the trip) who organized the trip but died about 2 weeks beforehand. There are a lot of Buddhist influences in the book and so far I've only counted one reference to Baptists and one to Catholicism, which I like because I have yet to read a book with as much Eastern influence. Tan does an amazing job with her apt descriptions of those precise, unforgettable travelers moments, but is a bit obvious with her foreshadowing and symbolism. But that's okay, right? If it was any harder to pick up on, this would greatly narrow her audience and thus her sales. Anyways, I'm really enjoying the book and hopefully it'll keep me sufficiently busy on the plane.

Plane. Tomorrow. I kind of fear my travels tomorrow, because for 20 hours, I'll be commuting through what feels like no-man's-land. Neutral territory. I'm not completely gone but I'm not completely home. I'm so not a fan of big change like this, and I am even less of a fan of saying goodbyes. I'm horrible with them. I never say what I want to say, nor know how to respond when people say really kind things. I also get really tempted to make promises I can't keep, such as "Yeah, I'd love to come back to experience the Uruguayan summer!" during which time I'll be in school or on Christmas break and visiting family. I guess it'll benefit my social side to get some more practice in. I'm pretty much packed right now and tomorrow I'll go into the city one last time to buy a few last minute things and have one last peaceful ride on the omnibus. Please pray that my health will improve for the flight!!!

To those I am leaving in Montevideo and Buenos Aires: Voy a extranar ustedes un monton! No pueden entenderlo, porque muchos veces, no tenia bastante palabras a decirlo o describir como siento. Pero gracias por todo que hicieron en mi vida...por orando conmigo, hablando conmigo, compartiendo su cultura y su vida con mi. Si pueden venir a los Estados Unidos, siempre tengan hogar en mi dormitorio!! Espero que podemos estar en contactos, y que van a decirme que esta pasando en sus vidas. Te banco!!! Besos mil!!!

To those I am coming home to: I love you all so much and can't wait to see you! I apologize in advance if I am spacey or acting overly attached to my experiences in Uruguay and Argentina. It's gonna be really hard for me to be away from this place, this way of life. But I am really looking forward to being a part of your lives again! I hope I don't seem too different, and that if I changed in ways that are evident, it is for the better. And please be patient with me if I give really vague answers about how my trip was because I'm still processing it and unfortunately don't have a catchy 2-sentence summary of the trip yet. Thanks for all your support and I'll see you soon!!!

Much love to all, you'll hear from me again in NC!!
Besos mil!!

Brittany

My Life Plan: A Response to my Father's Questions

Yesterday I received a worrisome email from my father filled with questions about how my time here in Uruguay relates to my education and my future, and how I'm going to validate the amount of money spent on my education. He posed some pretty big questions, some that I thought were a bit far-out to be considering now (such as what job I'll have the day I graduate), but nevertheless, could only benefit me to ponder. Entonces, I'll take it question by question.

Disclaimer to my dad: I believe that these questions are referring to my Uruguay trip, but as you know, I also went to a 10-day prayer evangelism conference in Buenos Aires, Argentina, spent a few days there before and after with some friends, visited an Argentine family I met in a church there, returned to Uruguay, and went back to BA to visit them again, thus totaling about 26 days in Argentina. While the conference was unrelated to my trip to Uruguay, it was a perfect compliment to my time here, so when I talk about experiences and lessons, it will encompass both countries. More of a disclaimer: Feel free to hold me to these hopes and plans of mine, but I'm not promising that any of them will happen. Life is a mystery and my path is unknown to me. I can only speculate what it might hold, and looking at where I am, my desires, and where I've been, this is the best I can come up with.

What did this experience do for you?

My understanding of the Spanish language mushroomed. My writing skills have improved by writing only in Spanish in my journal for the trip and also through communicating with friends here over the internet. I hear Spanish all the time and have a ton of Spanish music now that I've been listening to endlessly. I read the newspaper when I can and also read my Bible in Spanish. I've been writing down many new words I've learned and up to this point, I'm at 371. Granted, not all of them are in my working vocabulary, but there are also a lot of words that I didn't write down because now I use them so often, it seems pointless to define them. If it was just learning the language better, then I'd rank my experience here as a 9 out of 10. Todavia, es dificil para conjugar los verbos muy rapido, pero eso es algo que puedo practicar facilmente con mis amigos en mi universidad. Bueno?

I am also leaving this country with a new love/frustration (not hate) view of men here. Love them because they're very attractive, they can dance, they are protective, and they are very affectionate. I am frustrated with them because they honk/yell/whistle/stare at me when I'm running or just out on the street, many of them go to whore houses to lose their virginity at age 14 or 15 to "become a man," and they clearly show interest in certain unavailable girls but deny it later to their faces when confronted about it. But lucky for these guys, I also met some incredible men here whose impressions on me were so strong and positive that they more than cancelled out the negativity and I now can respect and cherish these men.

I'm leaving in awe at the hard work people invest in their jobs and studies, which I hope and believe will continue to shape a hard work ethic for me.

My experiences here taught me to believe in the power of the Holy Spirit and to make room for it to work in me and through me. Really. One thing that is so different about Christianity from other religions is that we believe that when a person becomes a Christian, God sends the Holy Spirit to live inside of them and be their guide and their strength. I was terrified that once I arrived at the evangelism conference, someone would load us up with salvation pamphlets and New Testaments in Spanish, send us out to the streets, and take tallies at the end of every day of how many we distributed and count success in that manner. But that was so far from what actually happened. How about for the first 2 days, the group, made up of people from America, Canada, South Africa, England, and Argentina got together to worship God, to hear testimonies and receive prayer from "born-again" prisoners (specially released that day to come and share with us), and to listen to some pastors and other people speak who encouraged us to "move our tent stakes" to make room for what God can and will do. We prayed for each other, we repented of sins, we got out of the way so that God had room to work. And man, how He did work!!! Short digression, I must tell Alejandro's story. I met a man, about 45 years old, in a plaza in downtown Buenos Aires at 6:45am. I was standing by a stone wall with about 7 people from the conference one morning and one girl was playing a guitar and we were singing some worship songs. It was still quite dark outside and so there weren't many people on the street yet. Some people looked at us as they walked past and others hurried by on their way to work. Alejandro looked, slowed down almost to as stop, which was just enough time for my friend Abby to say "Hola." Without hesitating, I walked over to him and started talking, not really sure what to say or why I went. After talking for several minutes, he joined our group and listened to the songs. We found out that he was a Christian, married with kids, and was on his way to look for a job because he had, just minutes ago, been turned away from one business he went to. We prayed that God would help him find a job that week, and we believed it. After sharing with us what joy it brought him to meet us, we told him we'd be out there the same time for the next 3 mornings while we stayed in the particular hotel and then we parted ways. Two days later, Alejandro returned with such joy on his face. He had to catch a bus at 4:30am to meet us out there at 6:30, but he was glad to do it because of the story he wanted to share. Alejandro got a job! Just later that day after we prayed for him….he was hired at a place where he will make significantly more money than his previous job! He also told us about how on the bus ride home, he started talking to a man who told him many of his problems and Alejandro, joyful as all get-out from just getting his prayer answered and being hired, shared his testimony with this man and led him to the Lord! Alejandro shared many things with us, and he returned again the next morning for the final time there, and we got him the phone number and address of the awesome church we were working with that was in a town near his, and he was so excited to be able to go there and bring his family! While Alejandro is sharing his story and ours, we are sharing his. Bryony, the girl who was playing the guitar that morning, and I got up to share his story in front of the church we were working with…the church that Alejandro planned to attend. This story is a motivation for me, and hopefully can be for you as well, if you'll move your tent stakes further, mas allá, to make room for God to work. This is just one story. There were many, many more. But I would like to think that those should be shared over a cup of coffee rather than in a blog. What did this experience do for me? It increased my faith. It repaired it, strengthened it, molded it. And for that, I will forever be thankful!

The last thing that I'll briefly touch on is perhaps the most dangerous thing that this experience gave me: it gave me friends and family down here. It gave me a reason to return. I remember that when I was booking my plane ticket back in March, I decided that I wanted to come down here for 2 1/2 months because I wanted time for real relationships to form. I can't even begin to explain how thankful I am for the people I met, the strangers who helped me get off at the right bus stop, the Santacruz family that let me live with them in Uruguay, the Salamone family that let me stay with them 2 different times in Argentina, my friends who took me out dancing, the incredible hospitality I received, the bilingual people who still let me speak Spanish to them even though English would have been faster, the Clarks for connecting me to the Santacruz family, the people who prayed for me. Then there's Ana, my sister, teacher, preacher, gourmet chef, fashion consultant, dance instructor, translator, guide, ambassador. I'd return just to see her. I have lots of reasons to return, and I probably will. I want to study abroad in Buenos Aires. I would love to live here…as in the Rio de la Plata region (name of a river that separates Uruguay and Argentina, thus I am referring to both countries). Don't worry, I won't make any hasty, reckless decisions. Oh wait, *remembers title of blog*, ok, I won't make any reckless decisions per se, but I probably will make some with reckless abandon. :) Que vida la mia!

How are you thinking about incorporating whatever you learned into your UNC education?

For starters, I'm hoping to get an A in my next Spanish class, which is Spanish 300, grammar. I haven't made an A in Spanish since my first introductory class my sophomore year of high school. I'll hopefully rock the conversation class (if I can get into it). Next semester I am taking a class for my Social and Economic Justice minor that is an introduction to Global Issues. I hope that I'll be able to incorporate what I've seen and learned about poverty and the socialist government here into what I learn in that class. I'm sure I'll be able to pull out a few examples from my experiences to include in papers. I've already seen improvement in my photography through the 2048 pictures I've taken. Almost half of those were taken for two fantastic organizations, Juventud para Cristo and CAIF (which educates children and adults on child sexual abuse)…which I can add to a photojournalism portfolio in the future. I'm sure I'll benefit more educationally from my experiences here than I can even begin to fathom, but this speculation is only of the horizon in the distance. Once I get there, there will surely be more to see and experience.

Also, I think my experiences in South America will greatly affect my time at UNC, education aside. After hearing the testimony of some prisoners down here and getting to go to a church service at a prison, I'll be getting involved through a ministry in my church in the Durham prison probably helping out with a Bible study they have there. I also will hopefully work more with the Hispanic community in Carrboro, a little town within walking distance from campus. There are a ton of ways to volunteer in that area. And I have faith that my strengthened faith will impact students on my campus as well in various ways. UNC prides itself on being more than just a superb liberal arts education, but rather a unique, diverse, and rich experience for each student who is willing. And that's what I have to offer next year, along with every other student. Our experiences, what we've learned, and how we'll let it change us and others.

Have you thought about having a job the day you graduate from UNC?

What would you say if I said that I wanted to marry right out of college and take care of the house and have babies? Relax, okay! That's not my dream. While I'd love to be married, make babies and adopt them, and share house responsibilities with an amazing husband, that's not what I see on the horizon. Maybe the next one, or the next, but surely not this one. I actually hope to not work the day I graduate, but rather spend time with my family and friends. But in all seriousness, the day or week after, I would love to think that I'd be working for Newsweek or The New Internationalist, but I'll need more experience beforehand. I can see myself working for a local newspaper or in publicity or something for the University. I think that I could easily work as a wedding photographer by then. I'm not sure that's something I'd want to continue as a career, but it could be fun for awhile. But I may go to grad school. Who knows though. If I do, I'd probably take a year off, during which time I'd like to return to Uruguay or Argentina and teach English in a private institution. I've already asked around and found out that, as a native speaker, I could easily land a job doing just that and make enough money to live off of and pay rent. While that probably wouldn't help me too much in saving money for when (if) I return to the US (or perhaps it will if we're in a depression by then, but hopefully not), it would pay for the cost of living where I am, thus being self-sufficient and not needing to ask my family for help. Let's pretend I stay in the US. I'll work as a translator somewhere. With the words "UNC graduate" and "bilingual" on a job application, it shouldn't be too hard to get hired somewhere. And once again, if we're in some horrid depression (which hopefully we won't be with a Democrat in office…please excuse my political comment. I just wanted to put an Obama plug in this. I actually am fully aware that it is not actually the president's fault for causing a depression or recession, unless they started a war *cough*, nor is it their responsibility to pull us out of one since the economy has its natural "ebb and flow" cycle)and jobs are impossible to come by, I'll just come here and get a job. Actually, what would be way ideal is being employed for the US but living in the Rio de la Plata region, thus making the salary of an American but living as an Argentine or Uruguayan. Omigosh, I sound so ridiculous saying that. Seriously! But I mean, it'd be like working for the US Embassy or something, which once again, I haven't ruled out.

Oh yeah, one final job proposition. I also have considered going to Seminary School for grad school. Or if not that, or even after that, I could work as a missionary. Did you know you get paid for that? I mean, if you do it through an established organization or church, they fund your time as a missionary. I'm talking salary. Crazy huh? Get paid to plant churches or do whatever missionaries do.

If it costs you $12-14 grand to be there each year, what path do you take that validates the cost of tuition/room/board?

My path is priceless. Isn't that not what you were looking to hear, haha. I think the bigger question, the question that you're actually wondering, is "What will you do with your life to validate all the money and time spent raising you?" It's a good question. Raising a child is expensive and what a "bajon" (bummer) it would be for her to continue taking and taking and not giving back to society when she is an adult? One part of reality is that I do need to give back financially to my country (and thus my parents' social security), but do note that I already have. Remember how much stuff I've bought over the years? All the things I've spent my money on? I've been giving back financially. The other part of reality is that the path I hope to take probably won't have much relevance in the validation of the cost of my college education, but will be a test to validate the energy, time, and love poured into me by my family, friends, teachers, and various Christian ministries. And the test or question of ultimate validation is whether or not I live my life walking humbly with my God and as a poured out offering of love for my family, friends, neighbors, strangers, and enemies.

After 4 years at around $50K, what's your job when you graduate?

See answer to the third question.

Now to anyone, especially my Dad, feel free to call me out if any of this is unrealistic or entirely illogical. I know I'm not the best at being a realist since I'm not yet jaded by the world, but I gave it my best shot.