Reflections on Jamaica

I would like to begin my following blog post with a quick thank you to the USD International Center. The amount of time and effort that goes into organizing and executing a successful study abroad program is immense. Your work does not go unappreciated. I would not be who I am today without the help of the International Center. Everyone who works there has contributed in their own way to helping me grow into the healthy, happy, and well-rounded person that I am thankful to be today.

         I was nervous— as most people are before embarking on a month-long journey into an unfamiliar place with strangers. Yet, after three weeks in a little beach villa with four other gals positioned near a neighboring villa where six of our male classmates lived, Jamaica had become home. And the eleven strangers I had never met formally at USD evolved into some of the best people I’d met at USD so far.

         Going into this intersession class I had to reassure myself that I would be okay.
It may not seem like something I’d have to do after having studied abroad twice before (for a cumulative period of an entire academic year). But this was different. I wasn’t going abroad to a place where no one knew anything about me or any of the other travelers. Actually, several people on the trip had gone on the trip with their best friends by their side. Luckily, I didn’t know that bit going in and surprisingly that didn’t inhibit any strong bonds from forming. The mantras I repeated to myself before leaving for Jamaica now seem trivial. Of course, they were important in dissuading any anxiety I had before leaving, but as I would find out over the several weeks I was there— I had nothing to be nervous about.

         I told myself not to worry about the possibility of not making friends— a worry I only had because of the lack-luster success I have had at developing the close friendships I’d hoped for since my first year at USD. I had considered transferring from USD after my first year there because I hadn’t made any close friends (or at least not as many close relationships as I had anticipated or no relationships that were deep to the point I desired). The lack of these relationships instilled a deep seeded belief that maybe the people at USD weren’t all my cup of tea. With a lot of work analyzing these feelings, I have come to understand where these beliefs have come from and over time, I have helped challenge these thoughts before allowing them to take control. Sometimes I still find myself reverting to these “me against the world” mindsets. Going into this trip to Jamaica, I was anxious about enjoying my time there. I loved my previous two semesters studying abroad— this time won’t be any different, were challenged by the resounding concerns: But this is studying abroad with USD students. It’ll be different. You’re not very good at making friends with people at USD.

         So, to comfort myself I’d make up a narrative I could rely on: Even if I don’t make friends, I can just focus on my writing. And I like being alone! Although I never vocalized these concerns to anyone, I felt them *ping* inside my brain every time I thought about leaving for Jamaica.

         For the most part I think I am an open-minded person. I am always approaching new people and situations with an open mind and heart. But I’m not perfect *gasp* and before this trip to Jamaica I found myself reverting to old stereotypes I’d developed throughout my tough first year at USD. I thought everyone I’d meet on this intersession class would be a stereotypical USD student whose life revolved around materialism and social hierarchies. But that’s the issue with stereotyping people— no one is as simple as we might make them out to be. Everyone comes from a complex background of experiences and to make assumptions based on previous interactions with other people of a certain group, regardless of the similarities they share (such as all attending the same university— USD), is unfair.

         Luckily, just a couple days around the people I had assumed would not be anything like me, I found myself feeling instead like I had finally found the USD students I had spent almost four years looking for. Even though the program ended about two weeks ago, I can say, with an honest conviction, that some of the people I met on the trip to Jamaica are some of the best people I have met in my four years at USD. Even now, as I write this, I’m sitting across from one of the friends I made on the trip.

         Delaney and I were first introduced on the ride from the airport to our villas. We asked how the rooms were divided up and how many people had already arrived.

         “Well you’re actually the last two to arrive so I guess you are roommates!” remarked one of the trip coordinators.

         We looked at each other and gave pursed smiles. We talked later that evening about how neither of us had roommates back at USD. We’d both had the privilege of always having our own space— we now shared a small bedroom with two twin beds that were positioned so closely together that we could have held hands across the small gap in the middle. Although I’m not one to be picky about where I’m living, especially if its only for a couple weeks, this room was small. Especially when compared to the other bedroom that was shared. It had two full-sized beds and enough room for two armoires and a shower that was the size of our entire bathroom. The last bedroom wasn’t shared so one of the gals (bless her heart) had a king-sized bed and a walk-in closet.

         Honestly, I’m thankful Delaney and I got there last. I’m glad we got the last choice of rooms— meaning we (each of us measuring about 5’10) got the stunted twin beds dawning pink comforters with cream-colored butterfly details. I think that without having been forced into such small quarters, there is a chance we wouldn’t have grown as close and comfortable with one another as we did. It’s funny seeing her on campus all the time now. Seeing someone you know quite well in an entirely different environment than what you’d come to know them in is a bit shocking. But our friendship has transcended borders and even though I think we would both say that we are very different people— we still have a friendship that is much more than what we wear (me: band t-shirts and metal chains) (her: Nike sweatpants and black bodysuits) and the kind of music we listen to (her: rap) (me: hard rock).

         My time in Jamaica made me feel a stronger sense of belonging at USD. Not only did my friendships transcend boundaries but my understanding of who I am and how I function within USD advanced as well. To anyone studying abroad for a short or long period of time, remember that you may be nervous. You may have predetermined inhibitions to the people or place. But the more you try and ignore those fears, the more likely you are to prove them wrong, and the better experience you will have.

Traveler, Not a Tourist

            Prioritizing yourself as a ‘traveler’ and not a ‘tourist’ is vital when creating an authentic experience in another country. This concept of being a traveler and not a tourist is presented in Jamaica Kincaid’s non-fiction piece, “A Small Place.” This piece details the effects of colonization on Kincaid’s home country of Antigua and how the present-day tourism industry is an extension of this colonization. She describes the parallels of tourism and colonization through examples, including, how the tourists who often come to Antigua are white and the workers who serve them at resorts are not. She describes how the richest people of Antigua, are white people who never left after colonization. They are the remnants of colonial rulers, of colonization. They are free to come and go as they please from their large, spacious, and well-kempt houses while Antigua’s library remains destroyed from an earthquake that occurred almost a decade ago, with “closed for repairs” is scribbled on the padlocked door.

            Having fully immersed myself in this idea of being a ‘traveler’ as opposed to a ‘tourist’ has completely changed the way I interact with the Jamaican community. It’s an odd feeling, not wanting to go to a resort in another country, because the issue with resorts is that they do not allow you to truly experience the culture of the country you’re visiting. If you act as a tourist in foreign country, it is possible that the people you interact will unintentionally become pawns in your own experience. They are no longer people themselves but are stepping-stones to one’s own pleasure and goals. Approaching Jamaica as a traveler has allowed me to prioritize my interactions with the people I’ve met in Jamaica over my own selfish pleasures.

            One of the interactions I’ve had that was particularly special was a visit to the farm of a couple Rastafarians. Simply put, Rastafarianism is an Abrahamic religion (sometimes viewed as a social movement) that developed in Jamaica during the 1930s.[1] When my study abroad class and I arrived, we were greeted by the with a plate of watermelon slices, Jamaican apple (which tastes sort-of like a pear), and pineapple. An unlit joint, browned at the edges dangled at the corner of the Rasta’s mouths (marijuana is a sacrament to Rastafarians). I indulged in some pomegranate that Taxa, our class’ driver and friend, had cut into four sections and given to us. The pomegranate skin wasn’t the rich red we are so used to back in the states but it was a faded greenish-pink, with the seeds being almost entirely clear, with a yellowed tint. We listened to the head Rastafarian give a prayer from a torn book with yellowed pages and jagged edges about Haile Selassie, the former Emperor of Ethiopia who is seen as a messianic figure according to Rastafarianism. The emperor’s face was familiar, we had briefly learned about him on our trip to Kingston because he is painted one of the tapestries that hung in Bob Marley’s house.

            We began on the tour of the farm where I was able to pet the Rasta’s dog whose eyes smiled as she whined excitedly. She pushed her way through my legs to just wrap herself around them once again. My legs absorbed the slight film of dirt that covered her fur. I didn’t mind. They’d built her a little shelter, simple but sufficient like theirs: wooden planks supporting a piece of tin over her head. The Rasta leading us through the tour accentuated the importance of growing organic food with no pesticides while pointing out the large amount of various vegetable and fruit trees growing, they had large plantain and banana trees, beans, and spicy peppers. The Rasta giving us the tour had dreadlocks that were over 25 years old. They hung down low on his back, reaching his belt line. Most of the other Rastas had their dreadlocks spun into a sort of bun tucked into a knit hat or balanced atop their head. A good amount of the hats that Rastas wore were the traditional Rastafarian colors (green, yellow, and red) that have become associated with all of Jamaica.

            We saw one of the Rastafarians again when we traveled to Duncan’s Elementary School to construct a garden. He hopped in the van with my eleven fellow classmates and two professors with a blackened joint squished between his index finger and thumb. This Rasta was nicknamed Kirby but mainly responded to the endearing “Hey Rasta!” which the kids called him whenever he had a gardening tool that they were interested in. The two of us shoveled piles of dirt into a wheelbarrow that Taxa would then wheel to and dump on the garden-bed. Kirby looked at me and slowly gave me a smile, that was radiating despite the missing teeth. We chatted about veganism and his farm that I’d seen earlier that week. It was then that I realized that sometimes the people we think we’re most different from are actually the people who we share the most similarities with.

            I wasn’t expecting to go to Jamaica and realize that I identified quite closely with an aged Rastafarian man— even more than with some of my classmates. But these realizations are what make being a ‘traveler’ so important. These experiences are often inaccessible to ‘tourists’ because ‘tourists’ are unlikely to encounter the sort of excursions and relationships that I have been able to do through my study abroad experience. Next time that you travel, I ask that we all strive to be ‘travelers’— people who take an interest in the country we’re visiting, as opposed to being confined to an all-inclusive resort.

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[1]   History.com Editors. “Rastafarianism.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 31 May 2017, www.history.com/topics/religion/history-of-rastafarianism.

Gratitude & Growth

Our departure date from Jamaica is getting closer and the thought of leaving Jamaica is presenting me with a mix of emotions. Even the positive emotions I feel when I think about returning, like excitement to see my friends back in San Diego, is tinged with a sense of sadness. I’ve done this twice before; left a place that feels like it’s become home. When my time studying abroad in London ended, leaving was one of the hardest things to do. I felt an encroachment of sadness weeks before I even left. I knew I’d be okay in the end, but it didn’t necessarily feel like that. London had introduced me to people I came to call my best friends, a place I learned to love like home, and a sense of happiness I felt like I hadn’t experienced in years. Jamaica has a tinge of what it felt like to leave London.

            I’m leaving Jamaica without any souvenirs but what I’ve gained here is far more valuable. The relationships I’ve made and the memories I’ve created won’t lose their significance with time. Even as some relationships inevitably dwindle, the strength they have now will always be entwined with my memories of my time here.

            Leaving Jamaica means returning to San Diego which signifies a sort of ‘return to reality.’ I am leaving more than just Jamaica the country. I am leaving behind days spent on the Silver Sands beach, late night conversations over cups of instant coffee, the ability to solely focus on the single class that I am taking now (Public Speaking). I am returning to days spent in the USD library, late night study sessions with a couple Red Bulls, the inability to spend all the time I’d like on each class assignment. Returning to San Diego isn’t all bad, of course. There is so much I love about San Diego— but it will be my last semester at USD and frankly, that’s pretty scary.

            It’s frightening that in May I will be graduating from USD, moving into my own place in San Diego, and beginning to work full time for the company that I work for now and deeply care about, Maya’s Cookies (mayascookies.com). But, if this short-term study abroad session has taught me anything, it is to be grateful for all that I have in the present. Counting my blessings assures myself that no matter what changes will occur in this upcoming semester, that I will always have my gratitude to ground me.

            Thinking about what I am thankful for is the only way I can overcome the sadness I feel about leaving Jamaica and calm the nerves I feel about going back to San Diego for my final semester. In order to focus on gratitude as opposed to nerves or insecurities, I have begun to write letters of gratitude to those who have made a positive impact on my life— including the people who have made Jamaica a special experience. I gave a speech on the importance of acts of gratitude and after a couple hours of research I continued to find a large magnitude of studies that show the mood-enhancing effects of expressing gratitude. For example, a study in the Psychological Science magazine found that writing ‘thank you’ notes consistently put the writers of those notes in more positive spirits.[1] Another study I found, published by UC Berkeley, detailed that gratitude not only boosts immediate levels of positive emotions but also has lasting effects on the brain.[2]

            Writing letters of gratitude has been a sort of release for me. They have allowed me to thank those who have helped me in a sincere and thoughtful way while also allowing me the time to process how blessed I am to have the people that I do, standing in my corner, holding me up, and cheering me on. Sometimes when I’m feeling down, it is nice to look around and begin changing my mindset by recognizing all the wonderful people and experiences that are around me. Often times, when I am considering what I am most thankful for, I don’t count material objects but instead note my loved ones, sentiments, and opportunities that I’m granted.

            For example, three things I am grateful for today are: being able to take the time off to go to Jamaica and being able to fund my trip here. I am thankful for the new recipes I’ve picked up by cooking here in Jamaica, such as the cabbage, green pepper, carrots, and onion I have sautéed with curry spices to create a healthy and flavorful sauté to have over rice. Additionally, I am thankful for the realization that I am still growing into who I want to be and that I actually don’t have it all figured it out yet. And I don’t have to. Maybe I don’t ever have to have it all figured out. Maybe that is life: a constant rotation of gratitude and growth. Hopefully that's what life is.

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[1] Kumar, Amit, and Nicholas Epley. “Undervaluing Gratitude: Expressers Misunderstand the Consequences of Showing Appreciation.” Psychological Science, vol. 29, no. 9, 27 Mar. 2018, pp. 1423–1435., doi:10.1177/0956797618772506.

[2] Wong, Joel, and Joshua Brown. “How Gratitude Changes You and Your Brain.” Greater Good Magazine, Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley, 6 June 2017,   greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/how_gratitude_changes_you_and_your_brain.

Humanity > Gender

            A couple days ago, a young man, in a red Nike tank-top and two chains the color of a new magnet (one with a marijuana shaped pendent) approached me and began to ask me about where I’m from, what I’m doing here, and how I like Jamaica. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. Usually I would be suspect about someone who I don’t know approaching me and asking questions, but Jamaica has taught me to embrace the friendly nature of the locals. The majority of men who’ve approached me have just wanted to interact and tell me about Jamaica and about themselves. Even if they originally approached me with an attempt to sell me something, or even hit on me, they soon change their demeanor if I begin to ask them similar questions. Giving them just a minute of my day shows them that I recognize that they are humans and that this is their home.

            In my original draft of this post I had written: I understand the fear of being a woman in a foreign country. But that is simplifying the plight against women, and against myself as a female, as occurring only in foreign countries. It sounds almost like a dismissal of the fear I feel at home in the United States. Of course, the fear of traveling as a woman, especially if you are alone is different. It is a new environment and you may not know the language or the country’s customs. But the fear I have here in Jamaica of being harassed, groped, yelled at, is the same fear I have at home— I understand the fear of being a woman.

            Approaching the conversations with these men with an open mindset has automatically opened me up to their lives and what they want to share with me. As for the man in the red tank who approached me, he walked alongside me and talked about Jamaica as I took photos of boats that had been beached earlier that day. It was the sun’s golden hour, which is shortly before the sun sets. The lighting was light and airy. It felt like stepping into an air-conditioned room after standing in Jamaican humidity. Clean. Refreshing. I felt safe among the discarded wooden planks that littered the ground and the occasional forgotten plastic lawn chair, unusable because of a snapped plastic seat.

            “Do you fish?” I asked.

            “Yes. And paint.” He said, nodding towards a little greyed shack with the outer walls smeared with colorful murals. One image was of Usain Bolt, in his trademarked stance, arms raised and positioned as if he was preparing to shoot an arrow. It made me think about how a couple days earlier when my class and I drove a couple hours to Kingston where we had lunch at Usain Bolt’s restaurant, Track and Records, before going to the Bob Marley Museum where we learned that Bob Marley’s daughter became a fashion designer and designed the Jamaican national team’s jerseys the year Usain Bolt won his record title.

            I asked about the kind of fish he catches. He showed me the traps which he catches lobsters and crabs in and then talked about the snappers, salt fish, and his favorite, ‘sea-cats.’ I hadn’t thought catfish lived in the ocean. I was actually positive they didn’t. 

            “Catfish?” I inquired.

            He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips. “What is it you call it? The word… Octopus!”

            I did one of those chuckles where you’re not really laughing but your chest heaves a bit as you simultaneously shrug your shoulders. Apparently, ‘sea-cats’ taste delicious when they’re fried.

            I pointed to some beat-up surfboards that were lying on the spotty grass and on top of a table with peeling white paint.

            “Are those surf boards?” I asked.

            “Well yes,” he paused. “But fishing surf boards.”

            He pointed out the black bins that had been strapped to the front of the surfboards. He said that they are good for when the water is shallow and calm. We talked about how rocky the water had been recently before it was getting a bit too dark to take photos and we led ourselves back to the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant where my friends were waiting for their fried chicken and fries, or “chips,” as the Jamaicans call them (we can blame the Brits for that one).

            Douggie, a man who I’d met briefly a couple days earlier, came and sat by me and told me more about his rapping career that he’d already said a great deal about. But I asked him who his favorite rappers were, and we began to chat more as the other young man listened in. As soon as the food came out in shiny Styrofoam containers, the friends I’d come with jumped up and began to walk back up the dirt road that led to the beach without saying goodbye to the men sitting with us. I understood why. They were uncomfortable and felt bothered, or maybe at the least they were just a bit annoyed. I let them walk away as I wrapped up my conversation with Douggie. I gave him the quick “see you around” handshake.

            “You’re a good one. Respect mon.” 

Welcome to Jamaica!

           It’s 2020— and it’s the first weekend of the new year. Many may already know this, but I am going into my last semester of my senior year. I’m an English major with an emphasis in creative writing (poetry) alongside gender studies and psychology minors. Of course, with all those extra academic pursuits, there has been a bit of a time crunch and so after registering for the maximum credits possible for my Spring semester— I was left having to fulfill an ‘oral competency’ requirement in order to graduate. So, I began to look to see if this class was offered abroad. I spent my entire junior year abroad, frolicking in the Fall in London (United Kingdom) and savoring Spring in Sydney (Australia). Studying abroad seemed like the normal thing to do in this situation— I’d miss the extra time I could have spent with my family, but I felt like this was a perfect opportunity to get me out of my comfort zone once again.

            I’m not new to traveling, I was lucky enough to have parents who were able to and could afford to take my older brother and I traveling when we were young. As I got older, I began to venture out more on my own traveling adventures. At 15, I joined a group of college students to travel India for a month with a tour. At 19, I traveled on my own to link up with a friend in Colombia where we spent several weeks back-packing. At 20, I flew to Tblisi in the Republic of Georgia for a three-week poetry workshop led by Fence Magazine. And of course, I spent my junior year abroad, traveling to over 10 countries between those two semesters.

            I may seem like a seasoned traveler and to some extent I am. But that is one of the biggest joys of traveling— is that every time you cross a boundary, whether it be a physical or mental border, you have a new experience. These experiences are what make us grow. They are what pull our eye-lashes apart, making us widen our eyes in awe, they’re what put a little hole in that balloon that’s ever-expanding in our chest, this balloon is an expanding heaviness, making it hard to breathe. As our eyes open and our chest expands, something is let in. It might be joy or peace. But sometimes it’s anger or sorrow. But it is these emotions that cause us to expand our world-view, our understanding, and hopefully, in the end make us better people— whatever that may mean to you.

            Growth is a bit off-putting. We know it’s good for us in the end, but it hurts to get through. It’s like taking vitamins. And not the chewy cherry or orange flavored vitamins in the shape of Flintstone characters. No, the sort of vitamins or medicine that Mary Poppins talks about needing a spoonful of sugar to get down. In the long-run, these are what help your bones get stronger, or hair get silkier (if you watch enough conspiracy theories you may disagree but let’s just say the chem-trails may have gotten to me on this one).

            Even with all this supposed growth I have gotten through traveling, I have a lot to work on. Like any other overly optimistic goal-setter, I love the new year. More times for goals and growth. Yet maybe I don’t need to work on every bit of myself. Maybe certain flaws are things I can just learn to accept. Sounds like another goal doesn’t it? I mean, I’ve been on hundreds of flights, many across the world and yet I’m still anxious preparing to leave. Part of it may be a bit of my ‘type-A’ personality. The rest of it is probably just there to remind myself that I can’t forget my passport, or that yes, I do need to wake up at 2am to catch that flight to Minneapolis from Colorado before getting on another flight to Jamaica (Yeah…. geographically it doesn’t make sense. Thanks Delta.)

            In my life I’ve been to about 20 countries, which is a ton, or barely any, depending on who you ask— but to me, I’m happy with where I’ve been and I’m happy with where I am going. And I’m excited to see Jamaica! A huge reason why I chose to take this class abroad, in addition to the looming graduation requirement, is that I’m not sure how long I have here. I don’t expect anything to inhibit or end my traveling in the future, but I don’t know what exactly the future holds. I decided, going on the long-dead cliché of ‘you only live once’ (YOLO!), that I may never get another chance to see Jamaica. So, I decided to apply and take the future into my own hands as much as possible.