It's been a hundred years since I lay motionless on a saggy cot, dehydrated and demoralized by traveler's diahrrea, wishing away the 90 degree humid heat with all of my dwindling might, closing my eyes and dreaming of home-- oh, home-- so soft and spacious, so full of potable water and free of pickpocketers...
And then, as if I'd never packed my suitcase with my hardiest clothes, as if I'd never dreamed up this crazy trip to Ecuador, I was home, back in my old apartment, with its refrigerator and cat and running water and ample supply of cute clothing. It's so good to be home.
In the three weeks I've been home, many people have asked me about my trip-- "Was Ecuador INCREDIBLE?" they wonder. "Did you just have SO MUCH FUN?!!!"
I remain stumped as to the appropriate answer to these questions. I'm still looking for a word that says how I really felt about the trip-- "fun" and "incredible" simply don't do the trick.
I'm looking for a word, perhaps you can help me, that means that I learned a ton, I struggled a little. That means I met lots of people with whom I had varying degrees of connections and that I saw my preconceptions about developing countries crumble like so many pieces of plastic thrown in the streets to be carried away, eventually, by floods, to the ocean.
It's hard to pinpoint how my perspective on that part of the world has changed. One significant change is that Ecuador, and by association, South America, holds less mystery for me-- and not in a bad way. Rather than picturing an enchanted land of snow-capped mountains and green pastures, women in beautiful traditional dresses and brightly painted buildings, I think of it as simply another place in the world. Like the United States, Ecuador has its pockets of remarkable beauty-- as well as its ugly pockets. It has greedy corrupt people, and mean, spiteful people-- and it has kind, generous, welcoming people, too.
So, I can appreciate the joy of travel-- the amazing discoveries, the constant learning, the thrill of what's next-- without wishing to do it full time. Staying in the same place, wherever that place may be, actually leaves a lot more room for discovery. When you're not preoccupied with where you're going to sleep for the night, and where your next meal is coming from, you can actually enjoy yourself a lot more.
Speaking of places, and being in them-- I've decided where I'll be moving for grad school this fall. I'm goin' to Berkeley!
I wish I could say it was a difficult decision-- because doggonit, I put a lot of work into all of those crazy applications. But basically, it came down to Columbia and Berkeley, and when I visited both, I was practically hit over the head with the realization that Berkeley is the right fit.
Berkeley's program is full of smart, interesting, quirky, passionate people who have chosen journalism because it's the best way they've found to engage with, and make a difference in, the world. When asked what distinguishes the program from the pack, a faculty member responded by saying that there are a lot of great schools out there, and that you've just gotta find the right fit, but that Berkeley's approach is to create an environment in which professionals can grow, take risks, acquire new tools, and benefit from mentorship and community. And that's what I'm looking for.
Meanwhile, Columbia was darn impressive-- and I can't say I didn't nearly swoon when I first laid eyes on the big stone gates outside the J-school, with their imposing and commanding presence. Columbia has a killer reputation, and it opens a lot of doors for students. That was what their faculty panel focused on-- how many sweet opportunities you'd get access to upon graduating from the program. A seductive promise, indeed. But that's not why I want to go to grad school.
I want to grad school in order to grow, experiment, stretch, take risks-- you get the idea. Berkeley is my kind of place.
And so it is that I, that Eric and I, will be moving to Berkeley come August. I will miss Minneapolis dearly.
In the meantime, I've decided to write a book. It's not going to be a fancy book--nothing high-brow, or demanding of intensive research (that would just be silly). It's going to read a lot like this blog-- and it's going to be a sort of memoir, not of my life really (though that will play a part), but of life in America before the climate went haywire. Or at least, that's my "plan" as of this moment. Could change momentarily. If you have any thoughts, having followed my ramblings over the last few months, about what I should write about, or what you think people will want to read about, please leave me a comment.
On June 1st, I leave for a 2-week writing residency where I'll give this whole book-writing thing a go. I've got an interested publisher, so it's not entirely a shot in the dark. But then again, isn't life always kind of a shot in the dark?
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