As it turns out, girl cannot survive (happily) on peanut butter sandwich alone. After my forth, or maybe my fifth, I broke down and bought some apples to supplement what is arguably my otherwise nearly perfect diet. On my walk back to the hostel, with apples under arm, Table Mountain looming on my left and a slight drizzle falling from above, I started recounting the already innumerable hilarious international anecdotes my backpackers stay(s) have afforded me… as well as lessons in patience, common ground, and cultural sensitivity. There’s nothing like sleeping in a room with nine other people all living out of backpacks and hailing from all over the world. Ahh, the smells, the sounds, the stories. Yesterday, the medical student girls from Sweden and I cooked dinner together (if you could call what I’m doing “cooking”) and then picked each others brains over our various travels, research, and home lives. The well-traveled man from Bangladesh (who snores like a freight train from the moment his head hits the pillow) followed my recommendation to take the cheap train through False Bay to Simons Town and giddily came back with the greatest video of a papa penguin that nearly bit off the Bangladeshi’s finger in order to protect his young. To each his own! Who knows what (and who) today will bring.
In addition to having innumerable opportunities to practice my Swahili with staff, I also met some interesting internationals while staying at the hostel with Lucetta in Nairobi, Kenya. From the young California entrepreneurs on the bus to that other avid-traveler guy who followed us to our restaurant at dinnertime, we’ve chatted with some truly remarkable people. I’d tell you all about ‘em, but it would take 20 blog posts at least. In fact, every time I got into a cab in South Africa, Tanzania, Zanzibar and/or Kenya, it was a cross-cultural learning opportunity. I’ll never forget Paul from Nairobi (who drove Lucetta and I everywhere), or Samuel from Zanzibar (who befriended Randi and I every meal of the day), though I may very well never see them again. It’s amazing, truly, how many people there are in this world – so different from you, but all dreaming and working for the same noble things. It’s a diverse planet, but we all want to live long, comfortable lives, full of family, friendship, and basic accomplishment. There are few who really want to be bothered by wars and hate and greed. When you remove yourself from your comfort zone and really start talking to people, you come to find this.
I credit my ability to handle and appreciate these moments with any degree of grace and reception to that upbringing I mentioned in the post prior… but also to Cross-Cultural Solutions, the organization I’ve been working for the last six months. In all that they do, they strive to teach their volunteers and partners that while we come from many different countries, we are Global Citizens, and this is what binds us and holds us responsible for the fate and happiness of all human beings. So, yes, while I’m proud to be an American, I’m even more satisfied to say I am a citizen of the world at large.
I received an email from Josie (my teenage Tanzanian brother and artist-extraordinaire) this weekend – a delicious mixture of English and Swahili. He’s found the space and start-up funds for the art school he wants to open for street children like him. It’s a wonderful world.
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