B.K. The Restaraunt Biz: Dateline Flo's Place, $47 check, $0.00 tip

There's a lot I can start off with right here, right now; a lot of surprising emotions and relative trespasses that won't matter to me in 3 months. But I can start off with honestly saying that if you love people that don't deserve it you are doing something un-human. I don't mean that in a pious sense, but by earnestly taking the things that selfish people do (or fail to do) and not letting them carry sway over your life you are doing both them and yourself a courtesy.

Remember that you can always tell a person's character by how they treat people that they don't need to treat well. Thanks Mission Impossible 3

Pray for the good fortune of your customers, especially the ones that don't deserve it. You'll probably never see them again anyway, so what good does it do to put more hate into the world?

Bad tips can always lead to an appreciation for better days. And ending the day on the smile is always better than going to bed with a heavy mind.

B.K. 3 Months Later

It's been a pretty good feeling being back in the United States, to be perfectly honest I was outright excited to be coming back near the end of my trip and I feel like that contributed quite a bit to my lack of reacculturation. Since I've been home I have had a lot of opportunities to become engaged with the communities I live in, and I've been very grateful for that. I made a new friend when I first came back to campus, her name was Charissa and one night she talked to me about her potential move to Philadelphia next semester.

Like many people at Messiah College she was getting tired of the 'Messiah bubble,' surrounded by a mostly conservative viewpoint of life that is more often resilient to change than not. As I remember the story now, she had gone to church one day where the pastor told the congregation that they will never be happy anywhere else unless they are happy in the here and now. Charissa heard this and told me later on that week about how it had been affecting her, about how she felt that it would also be true for her in the midst of going to Philadelphia in order to escape Messiah. How can I say that 'life will be better when this happens, or if I get there or if I get that.' Life is a struggle at some point for absolutely everyone, and when it is our time to persevere it may feel that the world is falling in on us but then that's the joy of living. In terms of being happy through it all, Charissa made me think about the price of being content, and how many people sacrifice more than I will ever be able to imagine in order to simply and humbly say "I'm happy."

The first person to come to mind with that state of mind was a poor man with crutches named Marco. I saw him everyday when I would walk to school in Ecuador and didn't talk to him nearly as much as I should of. I do know that he was happy though. One of the most grateful people I've ever met, especially considering his circumstances.

For all of those students who will be going on a study abroad or looking for advice to give to someone leaving the country, the greatest encouragement I could offer is smiling. Teach yourself to be happy where you are at all times because no matter how hard things may be. Like time, it too shall pass. Through this you may express a gratitude for life in itself to God. Go and make stories for yourself, and then be generous both with them and in them.

Smile, I love you
sincerely.

xanga.com/whatsmine

B.K. Might as well be walking on the sun

Might as well be walking on the sun

That was the first thing to pop into my head in lieu of having this crazy sunburn that circles around the back of my neck and onto my chest. If I wasn't fairly tan at this point, it would never bother me, but it feels like my entire neck-head was placed on my body as a mask. But that's ok! Because I can fix it with even more time at the beach this weekend!

This week has been non-stop presentations and tests, and oh boy am I excited for it to be over. I have been in a fetted love with my theatre class of actuacion all semester but then I feel a little bit...unprepared for the show that we'll be presenting tonight? At 7:30 there will be a montage of 6-12 plays that will happen in accordance with the will of God, none of which have a connection to any other one, and none of have a scene change that is accomplished in less than 3 minutes. Not that I'm bitter or peeved, I just have never been in any sort of production that has been so...haphazard. Of course there is never a production that has ever been ready on the opening night of a show, but then I've always had a sense of anticipation to the oncoming hour of the curtain being drawn. Tonight I just want to go home and sleep. Tomorrow my other theatre class of voz y movimiento will be presenting an abstract piece incorporating our own dreams (spoken in haphaphappy spanish!), song, rasabox techniques (which were made in India, COOL), and dressing/undressing; all in the main hall of the school! Now that will be a capstone to such a long week.

Tomorrow afternoon, 32 of us gringolandians head off to Papallacta, a man-made series of holes in the ground which make it easy for shmoes like me to sit down and get the energy sapped out of them by thermal springs. Oh how torturous life is!

Lastly, it has been on and off for me the past two weeks whether I have wanted to come home or not, but then here comes the break down:

-I finally learned how to speak spanish comfortably, even if I'm not perfect, I'm better than crappy.
-I know I'm going to lose my abilities in Spanish over time, which is something not to be confused with awesome.
-I am going to miss people, lots of people, Ecuadorians, North Americans, and especially some Switzerlandians.
-I'm honestly kind of scared about reacculturation.
-I am relatively poor now. I am relatively happy.
-What does someone do on breaks from school anyway?
-Living in an apartment again when I get back to school, kind of missing out on that community thing.
-Class. Class is going to be something hard again.

But then these are all the negative things. Certainly, I will love seeing friends and family again, but then how easy will it be to get out what I've been accumulating inside me over the past 5 months; when I came back from Albania I was told that stories will eventually end with people having a glazed look in their eyes, finally coming back into reality with the presentation of the line "and so I hope to go back someday."

There's a lot to wrestle through with the landing of my plane back in Florida and I will definitely not be comfortable, but I look forward to the adventure of coming home. Someday it might just not affect me.

B.K. 34:12

B.K. Clandestiny

Last week I came back from my home, it smelt of pizza crust and dirt. I met people that I had never seen before, but it felt like I had finally arrived at the family reunion that I'd been missing for always. Standing at the shore I was swallowed by the salty waves - wanting to drown in my own paradise amidst the wind-whipped trees and mottled buildings that once stood at the beaches as proud hotels before hurricanes left them as ransacked refuges for drunkards and horny teenagers. The morning rose on Sunday as I walked through the streets alone without a sense of direction; never having been so lost, never having felt so right about where I was supposed to be. I'll go back there someday, I'll know my family and claim that sense of belonging that I've only had a taste of - much like a deer that has it's first savoring of a salt lick; a guilty pleasure that satisfies a carnal longing while at the same time putting it right in the line of fire. I think of that place everytime I look at the sand now. I remember the happiness of the people and the life of not having material pleasures everytime I see the faces of the homeless. I forget what needs to be changed because life there was simple but still in longing; an existence of self-perpetuated longevity that has worked for decades. I recall the smoke of a cigar from a man who sold old pocket watches in the street, cascading up his face in a fluid sort of ephemeral beauty; dissapating into the air like a stone sinking into the ocean. I remember the cotton soft sky. I will go back and find a resting place for my ashes.

B.K. 25 Days Later

Currently Listening We Run This By Missy Elliott Lose Control see related I was on a plane from Ecuador to the United States. I had gone everywhere and done everything that I had hoped to do, and then some. I knew how to hold my own in Spanish, being able to get more information than just the location of the bathroom. I had made children happy. I had made grown men smile. I had made cuban women laugh. I didn't have to miss my mother and sister anymore. I didn't get upset about getting change in pennies and nickles on the bus. I had gotten a little tanner. I fully appreciated having a blue passport that entitled me to go anywhere in the world. I was grateful that I was not born into slavery, poverty, or malnourishment. I stopped turning into rice. I said good bye to some of the greatest people I had ever known in my life. I was still happy. I planned on coming back.

B.K. This entry is not about McDonald's

Welp, I was partially right about the Galapagos Islands. But then that's what I get for liking mountains more at this point in my life.

For those who don't know, I like to think of people in one of two ways, mountain-folk and beach-folk. I don't really think you can effectively stereotype the sort in a "you must be a silly introvert / impudent extrovert person," but then I don't think you can really like being on a mountain or at a beach equally. So if you think you do have one of those un-biased respects for these two beautiful settings, pick a side and get off that fence!

Of course there were penguins, and a seal decided to swim with me. These are the highlights, I would happily take one of each home just so I could show you how much fun the two can be, but then I do not own a swimming pool or a bathtub large enough to keep them happy.

1 Week later I sit at a computer in a district of Quito known as La Mariscal, it's the place where all of the foreigners come to drink and party and be loud at night. And I'm not as comfortable as I used to be here. I think I've developed an aversion to the touristy parts of life, the areas that are mainstream and common to the norm. I enjoy the gritty and foreign, the things that people would like to avoid normally - and I don't just mean non-pricey souveniers and trips to foreign places; but also the dark alley-ways and uncomfortable conversations with strangers that no one likes to start because such folk are 'poor' or 'dangerous,' or 'want nothing to do with you'. All the same I have never felt comfortable in shopping malls. When I used to work at Bath and Body works I would go home most nights feeling a sense of self-commercialization, which in no way I want to start downplaying America through ranting about big corporations, but then after 4 months away from home I have come to another realization. In knowing who I am and having a slight understanding of the things I am repelled from, I have come to know that America is a great, great country. Granted there are a few horrible things that revolve around corruption and a seemingly endless lack of care for those in less-fortunate conditions on a national and global level, but then there is so much more to be praised about that nation.

I've had talks about politics in the States, and how much they suck and deprive other countries of benefits for the sake of personal gain - and those are things I can't defend or agree with, but I can say that it has still worked. Things like Free Trade Agreements that seemingly benefit 3rd world countries by giving them global market prices for products are hated outside of the States by many because it still ensures enormous profit for the companies involved while those on the lower end continue to just make ends meet. But then not all actions can be meant for the sake of evil by the hands of the wealthy.

More important than money though, let me say something about people. I have also talked with people here about the condition of a class system. What I have realized through this is that in America, everyone is equal regardless of finance, race, or employment - far beyond that of many, many, many other countries out there. Here at the university of Quito, people are considered unworthy of dating if they receive a scholarship. For those of you at Messiah College who are paying $30,000 dollars a year to go to school, feel special becuase as one of the top 5 schools in Ecuador, the students of the University of Quito pay a mere $10,000 dollars a year to receive their education. The school is populated by the wealthiest of Ecuador's top families, who though I hate to say it, would come off as your stereotypical University of California student, just as opinionated against the student whose family can not afford to pay for them to go to school completely, imagine that where in the States people are praised for their scholarships, for their good grades and citizenship. Also with racism and prejudice, where it is a daily pass to see derogatory statements written about people from all types of walks on garage doors and brick walls, such is not publically tolerated in the States anymore. But I have to stop there before I make statements that can be overgeneralized.

The United States is not perfect by anymeans, I have never been one to think that and I never will. But the one thing that I can assert with more confidence than not as to what the States has been doing better with more than ever is that of respect. I talked to a woman here who told me that when her son was 18 he went to the States to finish high school. Near the end of the school year her son called home and said that he was going to stay in the States to go to college. The mother of the child, distraught as one might imagine, asked feverishly why? The son replied that in the United States, he was treated like anyone else deserved to be treated: that he could make a living scrubbing toilets and still be looked in the eye, greeted with courtesy, and respected as an individual that he ever would in Ecuador. And that still applies here with maids, indigenous families, and especially the poor.

There is a drastic separation of worlds here in Ecuador, just as there was in Albania, more so than I ever thought about the States - where there are the richest poor people in all of the world. Here you can cut the class system with a chainsaw and find just a stark number of people making the effort to mesh them together. The impoverished beggers, the middle class strugglers, and the upper class loungers: full of the wealthy and the non-residential tourists.

I applaud tourism though, it does wonders for the economy in whatever country it is implemented, but then I think there's so much more that could be done with it. I will be going to the most special place in the world for me in 5 days time, but I'll probably have to refer to it by a different name though for evading legal liability in the future. I'll tell you if I figure out what more can be done with that tourism when I get back.