Here and there: Views from abroad

As I step out of the cab onto the St. Olaf campus, I think to myself, what happened to the camels, buses, overnight trains, horses, big trucks, rickshaws, elephants, motorbikes and tuk tuks? I wake up to my buzzing alarm clock at 7 a.m., but I don't hear the call to prayer welcoming me into a new day before sunrise. After being abroad on Global, I feel like an outsider in my own country.

Everything suddenly changed from chaotic to structured, from spontaneous to predictable. In America, everything is at my fingertips. Yet when one gains accessibility, other things are lost. Here, in America, we have become so concerned with work, school and chores that we forget to take time to talk to the people around us.

When I think back over the five months abroad, I see the proud women of India wearing colorful saris while their long hair dances in the wind. The joyful, rhythmic singing of the Bedouins as they cook us a meal on the cold sand of the endless White Desert. The old, wrinkled men sitting on bright, square pillows in Turkey, leisurely smoking hookah and talking about the normalcy of the day as small cats roam over laps. I see the winding sidewalk along Tolo Harbor in Hong Kong lighting up at night from the bright buildings surrounding it. Where does this type of easy-going, enjoyment go in America when we yell insults at drivers who cut us off and when we are too busy to give someone directions or to even notice the beauty around us?

Now, I have realized that it doesn't have to be this way. The last five months will live with me forever, and the admirable people with whom I experienced them will forever be a part of my family. Not only have I subconsciously conditioned myself to walk on the "wrong side" of the sidewalk, but I have learned to cherish relationships, to be even more open to opportunities and to truly enjoy every small encounter that makes me smile.

I still can appreciate the uniqueness of every day without losing myself in routine. When I go to Target, I talk to the cashier. When I do my homework, I remember to take time out of my day to see friends. Being abroad has made me realize what is important to me. Sometimes when I drag myself to class at 8 a.m., memories of playing cricket with children in India or of strangers smiling my way flood my mind and I am overwhelmed with happiness. I take a sip of coffee and smile to my neighbor, waiting for class to begin.

Dana Howell ‘12 (howell@stolaf.edu) is from Alpharetta, Ga. She majors in economics.
    
Envision yourself sitting on a bus – a tour bus made for people quite a bit smaller than you.

Your long legs are squeezed together and rammed into the back of the blue seat cushion and your weary head sits a good five inches above the tattered headrest. It is 5 a.m. and some of your friends are lying on the floor, others leaning against each other and almost all are wishing they were asleep.

They hope for rest that will never come as the uneven roads, the potholes and the seats without springs tend to make these journeys more like leapfrog amusement rides than anything else. But you sit alone and wide awake, looking out at India's countryside, absorbing anything and everything possible, because you realize that this day will soon be gone and all you will have left are those sweet memories.

America is also breathtaking. Its beauty shines through differently but it is there if you look for it – in the bare trees sugar-coated with sparkling snow, the magical view of the sun rising above the Hill, the glowing faces of students walking beneath the wind chimes.

But now, once and a while, I forget to pause and look around me. Much of life seems to be a rush, a push to succeed in the realm of capitalism, to partake in a culture of commodities and to bask in the sunshine of tomorrow. So I overlook what I long to see.

I sit here now at my desk and float back onto that bus. I see a row of aged Indian women carrying large loads of clothing and buckets of water above their  heads; a family of four speeding past the drowsy bus on their moped; young children playing in the sand on the roadside and stray dogs basking lazily in the warmth of the awakening sun.

The recollections, the colors and vibes that channel around and within me are remnants of my days spent living in India. I can still feel the energy; my heart instantly warms, even though I am back in America.

I miss the shades of flexibility and durability, the chatter and incense, the beauty and hopeful spirit of my abroad experience. I miss being with the 27 extraordinary people who accompanied me on my travels. I miss the freedom. And when I miss it all too deeply, when I become lost in longing, I let the memories fill me with calm, peace and happiness.

Chelsea Wagner ‘11 (wagnercl@stolaf.edu) is from Medina, Minn. She majors in women's studies and American studies.