Future Travels

As I wrap up this semester in a flurry of assignments and papers and truly terrifying exams, I cannot help but be excited for the coming semester. I have been accepted to study abroad at the University of Sheffield. It is a fantastic school with a rigorous mathematics program and I am thrilled to try out a new style of learning. The minimal homework sounds fantastic, although the finals worth 80% of your grade sound intimidating. While I will not not much about the academic experience until I arrive, I have eagerly been researching the country itself.

Despite reading a thousand books set in the UK and having seen a thousand more films and television shows, I have not had the opportunity to visit in person. England’s rich history has been present in many of my history classes and my grandfather has frequently explained my English roots, many generations back, of course. In comparison with Oklahoma, or Missouri, or half the states in this country, the UK seems incredibly small. Sheffield is closer to London than Norman is to Dallas and I have gone to Dallas for day trips on multiple occasions. Granted, I will not have a car there but I am looking forward to exploring the UK and Ireland via bus, train, and ferry. At the university, I will be reverting back to freshman year and living in a dorm again. Fortunately, I will have my own bedroom, which is a vast improvement from dorm life in the United States. Not to mention, I am beyond thrilled to be on a meal plan again.

The Evolution of Eating Alone

I have always — Always — considered myself almost painfully independent. I’ve always told myself that I like to do things alone… I like to run errands alone, I like to study alone, I like to go shopping alone. I’ve never been the sort of person to need (or even want) someone else around all of the time.

So, as I began planning my solo trips, I wasn’t the least bit worried about being on my own. On the contrary, I was thrilled by the prospect of it…my own personal version of Wild or Eat, Pray, LoveI began imagining how my own novel would unfold almost immediately after booking my first flight.

I imagined all of the amazing things I would see, all of the new and interesting people that I would meet, and all of the things that I would learn about myself along the way.

The one thing I did not imagine was the sheer panic that would overtake me the first time I said those four little words.

“Table for one, please.”

I swear, the waiter had to have been able to feel the utter terror rolling off of me in waves as I stood there — suddenly hyper aware of my surroundings and completely sure that everyone in the restaurant was staring at me with pitying eyes, thinking to themselves “that poor girl has no friends and has to eat alone.”

So, as I sat down to what was turning out to be the most stress-inducing meal of my life, I had only one thought: “How quickly can I eat my lunch and get out of here?”

I spent the first two weeks of my time abroad with that same mindset…rushing through meals as quickly as I could so as to avoid the uncomfortable feeling of being a lonely bug under a microscope — a solo spectacle for other travelers to gawk at while they enjoyed their meals.

Of course, it is highly probably that no one was paying attention to me at all (what with me not being the center of the universe and all). And, its even more likely that the few people who did occasionally glance my way simply shrugged their shoulders and went on about their days.

Because, the thing is, there’s nothing sad about seeing solo travelers. I have never seen someone traveling alone (or eating alone) and thought that it was sad, or depressing, or a sure-sign of a friendless loser.

But when I became the solo traveler (and eater), my entire mindset shifted, and what had once been awe-inspiring became embarrassment-inducing.

So, in an effort to escape the embarrassment, I either rushed through my meal and made a subsequent bee-line for the door or I sat there with my eyes glued to my phone — constantly refreshing my social media accounts and texting anyone who would reply — trying to give off the impression that I did in fact have friends (even if they weren’t currently sitting next to me), and thus totally missing the opportunity to make new ones.

About a month into my time abroad, after realizing the nasty habit that I had created, I made the conscious (and, honestly, terrifying) decision to spend a minimum of thirty minutes in every restaurant I entered, and to only look at my phone if I really needed to (and, lets be real, to take food pics of every single meal I ordered).

I won’t lie to you and say that it was always easy or that there weren’t numerous occasions when I caved and pulled out my phone to scroll through hundreds of pointless memes on Facebook, but slowly my mindset did start to shift.

Suddenly, I was able to actually enjoy my meal without worrying about what everyone else was thinking.

Suddenly, I was able to have a conversation with my waiter without panicking that the only reason they were even talking to me was because they felt bad that I was eating alone.

Suddenly, I found myself noticing the subtle cultural differences between the restaurants I visited and the people who dined in them.

And, suddenly I had this new found self-confidence that I hadn’t even known I was lacking before.

So, for any future solo travelers, a word of advice:

Be present. Don’t waste your time. It may feel like you have infinite amounts of it, but you don’t. At some point it will all come to an end and you will be left only with memories.

The way I see it, you have two choices — you can either look back and remember that time you were sitting in a Budapest café watching cat videos (shameful but true), or you can look back and remember the time you were eating in an Welsh Pub and an old man came and sat down at your table and told you all about the time he met Bill Clinton (yeah, it really happened).

Choose wisely.

Modern Societies in a Global World

This semester I’m taking a class called International Cooperation and Development, where we have been studying different modernization theories and how they apply to countries around the world. We just had our mid-term in the class two days ago and I’m surprised by how much I’m learning, and how much I’m enjoying the class. A lot of the material we cover can be kind of upsetting; we primarily been discussing underdeveloped and developing nations, how all the different theories of development don’t really work. But even with the less-than-fun subject material, the class is a blast! Dr. Morias is a really good professor, and she’s making the subject a lot more interesting than I thought it could be.

Our mid-term on Tuesday was over the development theories we have studied so far:

  1.  Economic Development Theories (Classical, Keynesian, Structuralist, and Neoliberal)
  2. Marxist Development
  3. Modernization
  4. Post-Structuralist/Post-Modernism Development
  5. Feminist Development Theories
  6. Critical Modernism Development

All of them have their flaws, but all of them also have good points. The best one, in my opinion, is Critical Modernism. This theory wants to let the citizens of a country determine the countries path to development, and doesn’t decree that development has to look like the western world. It is a non-elitist theory and it focuses on direct democracy and grassroots social movements. It isn’t a perfect theory either, but it gives me hope that International Development may be moving in the right direction.

 

To Choose: Touring Auschwitz-Birkenau

These past three days, I have had the privilege to tour both the Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camps and Oskar Schindler’s Factory in Krakow, Poland.

Ever since touring the infamous concentration camps, I have been struggling with how to put the experience into words. after all, how does one describe walking on the same stretches of land where millions of people were violently mistreated and murdered?

Prior to my visit, I expected the tour to be primarily educational and, of course, a bit eerie. But, nonetheless, I expected it to first and foremost an opportunity to learn more about the horrors that the Nazi Regime brought to Poland between 1939 and 1945. An opportunity to pay my respects to the dead, to honor their memory, and then to return home and continue about my visit.

In the most basic sense, I suppose that it was a rather informational occasion. However, to describe it as such would be a terrible understatement.

Auschwitz and Birkenau are utterly chilling — haunting in a way that I had never experienced before, and never expect to experience again. Upon entering the Auschwitz camp, my guide explained that nearly 1,100,000 lives were taken there within the span of four years. She explained that the few who survived only did so after enduring unimaginable torture — both physical and mental.

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She relayed one survivor’s remark that he wished he had died in the cattle cars — among family and friends — as opposed to enduring the torturous pain of watching everyone he knew be murdered before his eyes, wondering if he would be next.  My guide explained that this man has no surviving relatives; his entire family was murdered in the Auschwitz concentration camp complex, and all that I could think was that the last time he saw his family — his mother and father and three siblings — he was standing in the very same place that I was.

He was 18 at the time. Only three years younger than I am now. That man — that boy — spent his college years in a concentration camp, while I have spent mine living in luxury…attending a top university, going out with friends on the weekends, eating Sunday dinner with my family each week, and now traveling around Europe without any fear that my friends and family may not be there when I get home.

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At the same time,  I couldn’t help but think of the startling similarities that we see between the United States today and the early days of the Nazi and Fascist regimes of the past. Of course, this is not to say that I believe we are on the verge of World War III, or that the present administration would ever go so far as to advocate for any form of cruelty that could match the atrocities committed during the Holocaust.

However, as I walked through the doorway to one of the many blocks where prisoners were kept, and saw before me the wise words of George Santayana:

“Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it”

I was immediately reminded of the fear and the hatred and the division that first enabled a man like Adolf Hitler to rise to power, amass such an army, and exterminate over 6 million people.

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I do not believe I am being an alarmist when I say that I see many of these same characteristics reflected in American society today.

I see Democrats and Republicans more polarized than ever. I see more and more of our politicians moving towards extremism, and I see more and more of my fellow citizens becoming so enraged with “the establishment” that they would rather put their faith in alt-right candidates like Donald Trump or, alternatively, in far-left candidates like Bernie Sanders than in our government itself.

Whether this is a problem of our democratic system, our politicians, or the electorate itself is a debate for another day. However, the fact remains the same: our country is rapidly polarizing.

We throw around mantras like “Make America Great Again” without knowing (or caring) that Hitler used the very same phrase — “Make Germany Great Again” — to instill a sense of violent nationalism in his followers. A sense of nationalism that preyed on their fears, and utilized their hate and division to ultimately drive them to violence

I see more and more hatred between my fellow Americans — whether it be on social media or on the House and Senate floors. I see more and more minority groups being demonized for America’s social, political, and economic problems over which they have no power to correct and little power to influence.

I hear our top politicians referring to blacks and immigrants and Muslims and the elite with the same aggressive tones that past leaders like Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini referred to Jews, gypsies, and their respective political establishments.

I see these things, and I am afraid for my country. I am afraid of the road we may soon go down — a road marred with hate and discord and hostility.

I am afraid.

However, my fear is not the sort to effectuate paralysis. No, my fear is the sort that drives one to action. I believe with the utmost conviction that I am not alone in this fear, and I know for certain that I am not alone in my desire to act.

I have seen first hand the fear — and the subsequent action — of my fellow Americans over the past two years as we have taken to the streets to advocate for what we believe in and to demand that our voices be heard.

From our collective fear has emerged a sense of togetherness — of shared activism — and it has given me a renewed hope.

This reminds me of another thing that my guide explained during my tour of Auschwitz-Birkenau.

After being asked about what could have possibly motivated Hitler to such violent cruelty towards Jews — could it have been that he was rejected from art school in Vienna by Jews? or could he have just been raised to despise the religion? — the guide merely shrugged and explained simply that there are all sorts of rumors and myths and musings about Hitler’s motivations, but ultimately Hitler was one.

Hitler was one.

“What about his followers?” she went on to ask us. what of the hundreds of thousands of people who, blinded by their hatred and fear, bought into his extremist ideology without question?

Moreover, what of those who looked on in silence as millions of human beings were being massacred? What of those that saw, and heard, and did nothing?

Adolf Hitler was undoubtedly an abhorrently vile and cruel and insolent man, but he did not single-handedly commit mass genocide.

It was the people.

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This sentiment reminded me of another quote. My favorite quote, in fact. First expressed by a German pastor named Martin Niemoller who only actively opposed Adolf Hitler after he himself was personally affected by Nazi violence:

First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

 There is a lot to learn from his words. However, first and foremost, I think that it is a clear warning of the dangers of indifference. Of inaction. Of seeing injustice, and doing nothing to correct it.

Just as the people were the driving force behind the Holocaust, they could have just as easily been the damning opposition against it.

What it came down to was individual choices. And, unfortunately, too many people chose wrong. However, we are now in the fortuitous position to learn from their examples — to take note of their mistakes, and consciously choose not to repeat them.

And there is a certain power in that. the power of Choice.

Today, I visited another monument. The legacy of another man. A better man. A man by the name of Oskar Schindler.

Anyone who has seen the film Schindler’s List is familiar with his legacy, but this museum in his honor brought to my attention something that I had previously neglected to realize.

All of the lives that Oskar Schindler was able to save. All of the cruelty that he was able to prevent. Everything he did hinged on a single choice: would he continue to support the Nazis and act in his own best interest, or would he risk it all — put everything on the line — to save the innocent?

Oskar Schindler was one man. One man that made one choice and saved hundreds.

In his museum there is a quote — a quote that has been echoing in my head since I very first read it:

“For some, war leaves no choice.

For others, it makes choosing a must.

A small gesture can yield irreversible consequences.

it can either save a life,

or ruin it.”

This quote is represented in an art exhibition entitled the Room Of Choices at the Schindler Museum, in which it is transcribed in over forty different languages:

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May we never repeat the mistakes of our past. May we remember them, and learn from them, and choose a different path for our future. May we choose it, and may we fight for it. Tirelessly.

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Carmen: el arquetipo de la seductora en España y los Estados Unidos

En la película Carmen, hay un gran número de estereotipos, especialmente sobre las mujeres.  Sin embargo, el estereotipo que me pareció ser más frecuente (y posible más problemático también) fue el de “la seductora.” Durante toda la película, Carmen es demonizado por está siendo una seductora y por influyendo los hombres típicamente muy honrados para ir por mal cambio. En verdad, en numerosas ocasiones durante la película Carmen es referida como nombres y títulos muy malas como una “siervo de Satanás,” “hija del diablo,” “una bruja” y, finalmente, “una mujer seductora.”

A pesar de estas características de Carmen, cuando una persona examina sus acciones imparcialmente, queda claro que solo raras ocasiones ella actualmente actúa diferente a sus homólogos masculinos. Por ejemplo, en la primera escena de la película, cuando Carmen entra en el patio y es saludada con las gritas muy pomposo y ofensivo de los soldados de guardia. Todos de estés soldados coquetean con Carmen sin vergüenza y hacen comentarios sobre su apariencia física y su sexualidad. Sin embargo, cuando Carmen comienza a flirtear con José, ella es inmediatamente marcado como una seductora y una tentadora

Igualmente, Carmen es reprobada por el narrador masculino por utilizando los sentimientos lujuriosos de José a su ventaja cuando ella está tratando a escapar de la cárcel.  En comparación, cuando José es agarrado visitando Carmen en el burdel por su oficial superior, él ni siquiera trata de escaparse. En cambio, el apuñala el soldado y le mata sin un pensamiento. Todavía, José no es demonizado pero victimizado; en vez de ver su violencia y tendencias asesinas como problemático, la audiencia está influido para verlo como un personaje simpático que ha sido descarriado. De alguna manera, Carmen – la mujer – es vista como culpable por las acciones de José en vez de José su mismo.

Otro ejemplo del arquetipo de la seductora entra en jugar circa del final de la película, cuando Carmen desarrolla sentimientos por el apasionado matador después de su incesante búsqueda de ella. Primero, es muy importante para notar las similitudes obvias entre Carmen y el matador para entender la hipocresía de la situación totalmente. Como Carmen, el Matador es muy bullicioso y coqueto y frecuentemente vestido en rojo. También, el matador es bastante desdeñoso del facto que Carmen tiene las afecciones de otro hombre. Su falta de preocupación refleja la irreverencia de Carmen sobre normas y convenciones sociales – sobre todo, el compromiso de José de servicio a los militares. En cierto modo, se podría decir que Carmen su mismo fue tentado por el matador en la misma manera que ella primero tentó José. Sin embargo, a diferencia de José y el matador, Carmen creída responsable por sus acciones y no le dan ninguna compasión o simpatía por el narrador o la audiencia.

Otra gran ironía del caso entre Carmen y el matador y, más específico, de la opinión de José sobre el caso entre los dos es que Carmen nunca le prometió que eran en una relación exclusiva (o incluso que estaban en una relación en absoluto). En verdad, Carmen fue muy claro sobre el facto que ella no quería una relación muy seria – con matrimonio o hijos – con él. Carmen nunca le prometió José nada y ella hizo sus opiniones sobre las ideas de matrimonio de José muy claro cuando ella se burló de su propuesta de matrimonio y le dijo directamente en diversas ocasiones diferentes que no estaba allí para el amor. En este aspecto, Carmen es posible un poco más honesto que es estrictamente necesario, sin embargo, ella todavía se considera una mentirosa.

Esta falaz caracterización de Carmen es aumentada por sus características físicas. En el primer parte de la película, el narrador dice que la mujer moreno ideal tiene tres características negras, tres características blancas, y tres características rosas, así establecimiento una estándar de la belleza femenina que es casi completamente inalcanzable. Sin embargo, Carmen es representado en la película como la mujer perfecta – parece a tener cada una de las características puestas en una lista. En verdad, ella está hecha para superar todos los estándares de belleza con sus Pechos grandes y curvilínea físico que los soldados mencionan muchos tiempos durante la película. Además, la ropa que Carmen es retratada en acentúa estés características.

También, en una escena particular, Carmen baila a la Flamenco en frente de muchos soldados, y se hace claro que la mayoría de los soldados (si no todos) encuentran su fascinación y que los lujuria después de ella. Las características físicas y los trajes sexuales de Carmen llaman un otro estereotipo en cuestión. Uno podría asumir que por bailando el flamenco, vistiendo ropa escandalosa, y coqueteando con un soldado esporádico, Carmen es, en facto, una seductora. Sin embargo, también es posible para discutir que en este momento Carmen solo fue una Cigarrillo chica tratando a ganarse una vida y bailando con sus amigas.

Como se podría esperar, el estereotipo de la seductora no es único a la película Carmen o a la cultura española tampoco. Al contrario, el estereotipo es profundamente arraigada en casi todos culturas en el mundo – incluyendo en Los Estados Unidos. Mucha gente cree que este estereotipo es basado en la historia de la creación de Adán y Eva en el Jardín de Edén y el primer pecado. Considerando esto, no es sorprendente que este estereotipo es más frecuente en el oeste parte del mundo y especialmente en Los Estados Unidos y Europa (considerando como popular el cristianismo es en este parte del mundo).

En la historia de Adán y Eva, Eva es la primera tentada por el diablo para comer de la fruta prohibida por Dios en el Jardín de Edén. Demostrando poca moderación, Eva consiente a comer la fruta e va para ofrecer alguien de la fruta a su contraparte masculina. Como Eva, Adán no demuestra mucho control de su mismo, y rápidamente acepta la fruta por Eva y come también. Sin embargo, cuando traído ante Dios, Adán es muy rápido para culpar Eva y denunciar ella como una seductora que engañó el para comer la fruta, cuando en realidad los dos son igualmente culpable y la persona que es actualmente responsable es el diablo.

Puede ver el mismo estereotipo refleja en la literatura y la industria cinematográfica en Los Estados Unidos hoy y, desafortunadamente, este estereotipo es usado en las políticas también – muchas veces para justificar el mal trato de las mujeres. Por ejemplo, en los 1960’s el presidente de los Estados Unidos creado una historia sobre una mujer que el describió como “la reina del bienestar.” A pesar de que la historia fue totalmente falsa, la mayoría de los ciudadanos de los Estados Unidos le creyeron porque es tan profundamente arraigado en nuestra cultura e historia para desconfiar las mujeres y esperar ellas para mentir y manipular otros para beneficio personal. Por esta razón, pienso que el estereotipo de la seductora es muy perjudicial a las mujeres alrededor del mundo.

 

Cyber Warfare: the Gateway for Authoritarian Regimes?

During the Spring semester, I had the pleasure of attending a lecture by Dr. Ron Deibert of the University of Toronto’s Citizen Lab about the power and influence of Cyber Warfare in the modern age — and issue that is undeniably prevalent in our day-to-day lives today.

Before breaching the issues of cyber warfare and internet security more broadly, Dr. Deibert first explained what his work has focused on throughout his career — explaining that it has primarily centered around the human rights concerns that have developed in the digital age.

Dr. Deibert explained that while these concerns vary rather significantly (touching on everything from media censorship to government surveillance to cellular privacy)  they are all equally important, and perhaps most frightening, equally at risk.

Dr. Deibert went on to discuss how the media and the internet have evolved throughout the last two decades — pointing out that with every year our societies are becoming more and more connected on the local, national and global levels.

Dr. Deibert posited that while there are certainly benefits to this new-found connectivity, it comes with innumerous risks that could potentially outweigh the benefits. Perhaps one of Dr. Deibert’s most insightful points was that our level of global connectivity is increasing at a rate that outpaces our capacity to secure our data.

What I found to be most interesting about Dr. Deibert’s presentation was the way in which he linked this lack of cyber security with the resurgence of authoritarianism in the present-day political arena.

Citing numerous examples from recent campaigns in Europe and the United States, Dr. Deibert concluded that this rise in authoritarianism is due in large part to the increasing prominence of digital media in the modern world, and the government’s virtually unlimited capacity to not only survey but also directly influence the media and thus propagate their nationalistic agendas.

 

 

English as a Second Language Tutoring

This spring semester, in preparation for my summer abroad studying in Spain, and as my meager contribution to the Oklahoma Public School System,  I decided to sign up to be an ESL tutor at a local elementary school.

I did so for two distinct reasons: first, based on the age-old principle that “the best way to learn is to teach” and second, because I can only imagine how difficult it would be to not only be expected to learn a second language at the age of eight, while simultaneously being expected to learn the other various concepts taught in the 3rd grade.

In the end, both of these goals were thankfully achieved and my expectations of the ESL Tutor program were not only met, but far exceeded.

I discovered that it is true what they say — you do not fully understand a concept, until you are able to teach it to someone else. And, as it turns out, I do not know nearly as much about the Spanish language as I originally thought. In fact, I think that I probably learned just as much from the 3rd graders I tutored as they learned from me.

If nothing else, I believe that tutoring showed me my weaknesses in Spanish, and so enabled me to work on the aspects of the language that I was struggling with prior to actually going to Spain.

At the same time, I discovered how extraordinarily gifted and talented these young students are, despite the fact that they oftentimes struggle in the classroom due to the language barrier between themselves and their teachers.

I think that it is oftentimes easy to discount the intelligence of these children as opposed to investing in their educations and providing them with the resources necessary to succeed. It is all too common that we view these children as a burden on the system, instead of as the future assets that they will be in our societies.

Voces Inocentes

This past spring semester, I attended a showing of the 2004 Mexican film Voces Inocentes. The film depicts the events of the Salvadoran civil war; however, unlike many war movies, it does not focus so much on the war itself as the tragic effects that the constant threat of violence had on the impoverished people of El Salvador — and specifically the Salvadoran children.

The film is primarily centered around an eleven-year-old boy named Chava, who is deeply afraid of his twelfth birthday. Like many of his peers, Chava fears that turning twelve will mean he will be forced to join the military voices against his will — as a child soldier.

Each week at school, all of the twelve-year-old boys are rounded up by a group of soldiers and escorted onto military vehicles and away from their friends and family without so much as the opportunity to say goodbye. On rare occasions, the boys do return to their village; however, they do not return as children, but as young men — hardened by war and violence and death.

On one such occasion, one of Chava’s friends returns to the village fully clad in military gear with an AK47 rifle strapped across his chest. Initially, Chava and the other village boys are thrilled to see their old friend, but as the day passes by the boys become more and more aware of their old friend and one-time classmate’s new position.

As the film progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that the young boys have few options before them — they can either join the rebel forces prior to their twelfth birthday (thereby avoiding the government draft) or they can bide their time until the military comes and abducts them from their schools and forces them into the military.

However, Chava’s mother hopes for a better life for her son. Knowing that the war will continue to rage on — permeating her village (and El Salvador as a whole) with violence — Chava’s mother is adamant that she wants her son to leave the country all together, even if that means that she is forced to part with her eldest child and, likewise, Chava is forced to part with everyone and everything that he has ever known.

I think that, in today’s political climate, we are quick to lump all immigrants into the same box — as trespassers in need of a firm reprimand and a ticket back home. Many believe that all immigrants are coming from Latin and South America willingly — as if they want to leave their homes and families behind to start over in a foreign country with no connections.

Of course, more times than not, this is not the case.

Nobody simply chooses to leave their home, their family, their life, out of boredom.

This film was a firm reminder to me of the conditions that many people around the world — and specifically in Latin and South America — are forced to endure. A reminder of the impossible choices that mothers are forced to make — whether to send their children off to war or to a foreign land. A reminder to look at all immigrants with a certain measure of empathy and compassion, as opposed to a blatant dismissal of their dignity and human rights.

After watching this film, I find myself even more distraught over President Trump’s immigration policies. However, I find myself equally as determined to fight for a better solution for not only American Immigrants, but also those that are unable to escape the violence and war that plagues their communities and threatens their families.

 

Thoughts on the Olympic Games

2018’s Winter Olympics is by no means the first Olympic Games I’ve watched – and definitely not the last. It is, however, one of the first Olympic games that I’ve really noticed the internal and foreign relations that affect and are impacted by the games. I remember the Sochi and Rio games very well, and I recall memorable moments from the London and Beijing games. But I don’t remember too much in the way of how the American government – or the American people – reacted to and interacted with the host governments. During the Russian and Brazilian games, we heard about the lack of facilities, the state of the venues and hotels, and other issues that impacted the games. Maybe I was just too starry-eyed by the amazing athletic feats, but it seemed to me that the athletic events at the recent Olympic Games were almost overshadowed by the U.S., South Korean, and North Korean governments relationship.

I know that the location of the games opened the door for more conversation outside the realm of athletics than usual, but in many cases I thought that the politics were center-stage as opposed to the events and the athletes. Between the Russian doping scandal and subsequent banning of Russia from the games, to the rumor that the U.S. wasn’t going to send athletes to the games, to the back-and-forth of North and South Korea joining forces on certain team events, I felt that the athletes were not the main focus before, during, or after the games (save perhaps Chloe Kim’s amazing gold medal performance that delighted Americans and South Koreans alike).

I’m guessing that the games during the Cold War and the games immediately preceding and following WWII were also focused on the politics and relations of several major nations to the extent that these Olympic Games were. With that thought, I’m wondering if relations between some of the major world players (ie: the U.S, China, Russia, and the Koreas) will warm following the Olympics or if they’re destined to continue to deteriorate to points seen during the Cold War.

Tourism vs. Immersion

Growing up traveling, I have experience with several different kinds of trips. I grew up visiting places with my family, but also visiting my parents’ home country of the Philippines. Just comparing those two travel types, I had a very different travel experience in both. When we went to Europe, we were doing popular experiences and seeing well-known sites. However, when we would go to the Philippines, we would stay at my grandparents’ farm in the mountains of Nueva Vizcaya, a rural region of the Philippines. The experiences were completely different—immersion is much more of an “authentic” experience, but tourism is a way to see important cultural or historical sites that many local people may not even know much about. When considering my own travel experiences, I have done a study abroad program in Arezzo, Italy with the engineering program. At that program, I did not become friends with any Italians let alone even really meet any Italians. One thing I’ve noticed with programs such as those based in Arezzo is that it seems like many students use it as a vacation in order to experience being in a different place with other OU students. While that is okay, I personally prefer to see how people of the country live and things that are important to them. In Bhutan, we have had the opportunity to meet many Bhutanese people and talk to them about their lives and thoughts on their country and culture. We have made genuine friendships with many of them, which was something that was never even really offered at the Arezzo program due to the OU in Arezzo campus. Now when I travel I make it an important point to try to talk to as many locals as possible to get a feel for how their experience actually is. While tourism is still fun and can be a great experience, I always think that tourism can be done while immersing oneself in a culture but never the other way around.