Hail to Alberta!

I am so sick. Ok, not so bad I suppose, but I have developed a superb chest cold which is settling happily in my throat, and a good side-helping of body aches. I don't really know where it came from, but I ended up skipping my Spanish class today because I was exhausted and dealing with random nausea.
But that is besides the point. It's Monday night and I am two weeks out from my first University finals, and this week, my one and only term paper is due. So guess what I've been doing today, on my "day off." Writing, and thinking, and nursing Neo Citron. I have chosen a good topic at least: Panama and the United States and their relations. I'm excited about it. I have post-it notes mapping out my thought development on my wall. All of my walls, as a matter of fact, are covered in post-its. Either from LAS, Linguistics, or Spanish nouns--such a good way to study. Any way you look at it, I am wearing thin. What a great time for me to get sick, huh? I mean, I just need to pull through these next 2 weeks and I'm golden. I refuse to let my grades slip now.
Work is going so well. I'm still having trouble being sold on Starbucks, but the wage is good and my co-workers are people who make my day brighter and have done so much to help me feel like Abbotsford is my home (for the moment). Getting to know them, getting to know and remember their names...has made such a difference.
I was at Save On Foods a couple weeks ago and I found this coffee brand called Ethical Bean. So good. It grind some every morning. It reminds me of my Fratello roots. But don't tell Starbucks.
This evening, the most amazing thing happened. It started snowing. It has not even stopped yet. There is something about snow that makes me think of home; it makes me warm. It reminds me of digging crazy forts and tunnels in my back yard in Beiseker with my brother when we were little. It reminds me of my Grandparents, and of course, putting up Christmas lights with dad. I love snow--I even like shoveling it. I asked my best friend to enjoy the snow in Edmonton for me just last night, and today, God blesses me with my own snowy evening. I love it. It was great fun for me to watch a 1/2 tonne 4WD duelie try to crest the hill and drive off. The guy who drives it is a bit of a prick, speeding at insane speeds up the curvy road of my hill. I laughed at him as his macho-man truck failed him.
Its been almost 2 months since I was last back in Linden, and I feel homesick. I call mom and dad very often, which really helps. I mean, for as much as I do miss home, I like it here. I'm so excited about my future and enjoy making new friends. I don't know, when I say I am homesick, I guess I mean that I miss knowing the people I pass as I walk down the street. I miss knowing my customers at the coffee shop and being able to sit down and chat for a while. I miss worship practice. But I love this independence.
It has been a hard month. There's been a lot happening to me and the people I love, and in the world immediately around me, but more than ever, I have noticed God showing up. I'm not saying that this is a new thing for me, but everything has been taken care of for me. Thank you for all of your prayers; I need them so much.

Post-it notes for one thought on Manuel Noriega

Looking out from my front door onto the driveway and street

The stairs leading up to my land lord's front door

385 Days and Counting!

So today was a fabulous day.

I’ve set a goal to study abroad for a semester next year, well, actually one year from now I will hopefully be doing the last of the leg work and taking off. Taking off…I am so excited. I mean, I know it is a year away, but after meeting with the Study Abroad department today, one year certainly does not seem so long!

Basically, in four months time, I am to have made a final decision on where I want to spend four months of my schooling. Although a seemingly easy task for such a long amount of time, it is really a big one for me. I mean, for Pete’s sake, I want to see the whole world and now I am making a head start on it—for me to decide where I want to start is one very hard decision. However, the nice lady in the International department helped me narrow down some of my choices.

For starters, UCFV does not yet have any partnerships with Latin America, which is the one place I would jump to if the opportunity presented itself. But this whole experience is about broadening my horizons, so I am excited at the opportunity to whet my appetite for yet another culture. The first thing my adviser asked me was what kind of place I was interested in going to; my immediate and unrestricted response: “Somewhere that doesn’t speak English and has an entirely different culture.” A smile bust upon her face.

Three options were given to me to consider, though please know, there are far more places I could go (http://www.ucfv.ca/international/MOUs/Web_MOUs_per_country.pdf). These three options were, in this order: Turin, Italy, Surabaya, Indonesia, and lastly Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. The Italian school, I knew about already and was already interested in, and it, of the three suggestions, is the one which will most likely work best for me. The last two are schools which focus more on business, while in Italy I can take more political science; please do not think that I have in anyway already ruled out any of the three schools listed above.

All in all, I have a good four months of consideration ahead of me. Italy would be…so amazing, and an Asian school would be…so amazing too, and cheaper! Oh, so much to think about. But either way, I am defiantly going to go full-steam ahead with the semester abroad thing; my adviser encouraged me that I am a perfect candidate, and that although the process may seem daunting (even when I apply, I am not guaranteed an acceptance, and I have to keep a great average), with the field I plan go into, with my future goals, and for my interests, this is not only the perfect time for me to be considering a semester abroad, but the perfect “program” for me to really look into.

An Evening at Starbucks

Am I racist?

The thought had never really held any true consideration in my mind until recently. I was very fortunate to grow up in a household where cultural exploration was encouraged—most of this was facilitated by my family’s close bond to a Guatemalan family in the next block. But, my “cultural exploration” was somewhat hindered by the simple fact that I lived in a small town; most of my cultural awareness came from my interaction with missionary pen-pals and studying the atlas with my older brother. I have learned, now, however, that writing to someone about a foreign country or culture is so far removed from the experience of it, and it is very difficult to gain a real understanding of how another place in the same world can function so differently.

Irregardless, I have set my goals high for my life, wanting to spend as much time savoring and living in as many different countries and cultures as I can before my days run out. I am fascinated by the world we live in.

But now, after being in University in what I consider to be a city, I am really questioning my formal belief that I am not racist. I am a minority at my school as a normal “white girl” with Anglo-Saxon roots. My classmates are from the entire world, mostly from India and the Orient, some from Latin America (or their parents are, at the very least), and I…am from Canada. Now, for the most part, I consider these people to be my equals, my compliments; they are better at some things than I am and vis versa. I don’t feel contempt towards them in the slightest, I don’t think of them as invaders of “my country.” I like them, I am happy that I have had so many opportunities already, to make friends and have friends all across the world. I think it is fabulous! I love hearing their musics, their family customs…their life stories, just as much as I enjoy hearing my own fellow Canadians’ stories. However, recently I have noticed that there is one exception to my openness.

I am rather hesitant towards elderly East Indian men. I don’t think I was so uncomfortable around them when I first moved to the city, but now, after an incident on the bus one afternoon, I am. Basically, what happened is this elderly East Indian man with a long white beard decided to start touching the back of my neck and petting my shoulder. It only happened for a split second before I got up and removed myself from the situation, but the fact that this man thought he was justified in doing that really bothered me; he is likely at least 40 years my senior. I had done nothing to indicate that he had the right to touch me; I had never even seen him before!

So, as a result, now when I see an elderly East Indian man, my whole body freezes up and my jaw clenches. I hate that I do this; I don’t honestly think I am justified in doing so, but golly, it freaked me out and now, unintentionally, I have placed a prejudice on that one kind of human being. I’m trying to work through it though, not that it was you know, something more serious, but he invaded my personal space and I didn’t want him to.

When did my heart become open to racism?