I couldn't resist

5 days without rice feels so good!!!

Airport writing

**I wrote this in the airport awhile ago, and never posted it due to lack of wifi**

This is it. I'm in the airport in Quito, leaving for Atlanta in an hour.

My last two days here have been incredibly emotional. Saying goodbye to my host family in Galápagos was so difficult. My host parents, Pablo and Julissa, were not back from Guayaquil when I left, so my host grandma, Yolanda, tried about 100 different ways and tactics for me to get off the plane when we landed in Guayaquil so I could run off and say goodbye, but they wouldn't let me. I had the best host family on the island hands down. It breaks my heart to have left without giving them a proper goodbye, as well as meeting my new sister, Abby! We have the same birthday!

My host uncle didn't know I was leaving Galapagos yesterday, and he crushed my dreams when he said he had been planning on taking me scuba diving at night this weekend. Because it rained so hard this past week, the water was brown. That in addition to me flying within 24 hours made it impossible to go. He's a lobster fisherman, and it totally would have been off the books, and so cool to go catch the lobsters! My host sister cried, and told me I need to come back in exactly one year. My family served me a delicious special lunch of lobster. So yummy! I hope to come back with my family one day soon. I would love to sail around the islands with them and show them all the places I have come to know and love. I was an emotional wreck at the airport (as were most people) and felt sad, truly sad, for the first time in a very long time.

Last night was weird. There were just the weirdest vibes going on. Not everyone in our program likes each other, and there was a definite separation when we got to the hotel in Quito. I'm on good terms with everyone, but there are definitely people I prefer to hang out with. We ate dinner, and then had our last bonding moment! My friend Ellen taught us how to do this thing called a carwash, which I will explain in person to anyone who is curious. It was very intimate and very cathartic. I took a 2 hour nap, and then went back downstairs to wish the first wave of people leaving goodbye at 2:45 am. My really good friend Bryce was in that group, and it was really sad to see him and everyone else get on the bus to the airport. The hotel felt like limbo or purgatory. It was a neutral space where no one had any deep connections, and we were all just coming, waiting, reflecting, and leaving. I will probably write more about the whole purgatory parallel later one day. Fascinating!

On a happier note, I got to go visit my host family in Quito today! This was the first time I was properly (kind of) able to speak Spanish to them, and they were really excited! I had no idea my host mom was so sassy! I got to have lunch with them, and my host mom gave me a necklace and something wrapped up for my mom. I can't wait to see what it is! She also has a sister who lives in Ronkonkoma, which is about an hour away from me. She is going to visit her in either August or September, and I am definitely planning on making the trip out to see her.

We're about to board, so I'm going to go say my last goodbyes to my friends here. I still can't believe I am about to leave. I'm sad to go, but I do think I'm ready to go home. I have to take the GRE on Thursday (haven't started studying, lol), go back up to Siena on Sunday for a class and research, and start my MCAT prep. I am excited to not be sweating 24/7, to not eat rice, and to see my family and friends. I know the reverse culture shock will be weird, but I think after all I've been through this school year, I can handle anything that life throws at me.

Back in Quito

I flew out of Galapagos yesterday. Cried so much. Felt so many feels.

There are a lot of lessons I've learned during my stay in there. They range from learning that not being busy every single second of the day is a good thing, to seeing that a smile and laughter is understood in every language. I searched for better questions as opposed to answers, sat in hammocks way too often, and lost control willingly. I lived in a massive and intricate learning playground of hammerhead sharks, finches, and public health.

Huge shoutout to everyone who made my study abroad experience an unforgettable one. My family, my friends, my school, and most importantly the Riofrio and Loiza Galarza families. I wouldn't have had such an amazing time without you.

I am so lucky to have had such good experiences that makes saying goodbye to my families, the islands, wearing chacos every day and this country so hard. So I'm not going to. Until next time, Galápagos.

I'm currently in Quito for the day, and I fly out at 11:30 pm. See you soon, states.

I'll definitely do a post-abroad blog post in the near future. But for now, I am going to make the most of my final day in Quito!

So many feelings, so little time

I feel like for my entire life I have been the little perfect girl. You know, the one who does all of her assignments, exercises regularly to keep trim, attends church, and always follows the rules.

I would never dare think of spiking my juice at lunch with caña on my 21st birthday, traveling by myself to an island where I don’t speak the language, or eating a pastry from the bakery every day. Yes, that’s right, every day. I did all of these things. I have always craved adventure, but I never really let myself go. Sure, I’d flip off a diving board 10 feet in the air, but I never reallypushed the boundaries of my abilities. Sure, I’d study for an exam, but once 12 pm hit, I would stop. "If I don’t know it by now, I never will”, is what I would say to myself. Sure, I’d go to church, sing, read, and go through the motions, but I don’t know if I have ever really allowed myself to try to connect with God on a deep level.

I’m kind of sick of being this little perfect blob that allows others to tell her what to do and when to do it. I’ve made a promise to myself for this upcoming year. I am not going to let what others think of me define how I act around them. If I love the way someone laughs, I am going to tell her. If I want to take a class that is unrelated to my major, I’m going to take it. If I am in an interview for grad/med school and someone tells me to explain why I like to help people, I am going to say that it makes me happy. I’m not going to spend hours crafting the perfect little bullshit answer that they want to or are expecting to hear. Making other people happy makes me happy and feel fulfilled, and that should be enough.

Instead of always assuming that my professors always have the right answer, I am going to look things up for myself. Yes, Dr. So-and-So, those are some great ways to fix what is going on with the public health system in this country, but how about looking at it from this perspective? I have let teachers my entire life tell me what to do, and how to do it. I’m ready to think for myself. To form my own opinions. To say what I think it best, instead of spitting back a paragraph from a textbook. I’m not saying that teachers and textbooks aren’t good resources. They are. I have learned so much from them for a good part of my life. But I think it’s time that I take the reins.

I need to learn for myself. There's a story I once heard about an American visiting an African village. She saw a young child reaching for the fire and slapped his hand away. An elder in the village scolded her, and said, “if you do that you will need to watch him carefully for your whole life”. Of course, I would prevent children from touching fire. However, there is a need for children to be able to learn. Am I actually able to learn, or have I been memorizing shit my teachers have been spewing at me for my entire life? By punishing him for letting him explore, she may have undermined his motivation to learn for his entire life.

If there’s one thing I’ll take away from my time spent here, it’s motivation and desire to make the world a happier place. I desire to do good in my tiny place in the world now so much more than I ever have before. I am a little speck. A little blob. I owe it to myself to do something remarkable with my life.

Reverse cultural adaptation

I've heard that reverse cultural adaptation can be harder than cultural adaptation. I am starting to think that myself. It hit me while I was snorkeling today that if I need a break from studying, I can't walk across the street to the beach and hang out with tons of marine life. 

I'm going back to a world where I have to shower every day, have to cram tons of cellular pathways into my brain on the reg, and am responsible for so more much more than just myself.

I think the post-abroad depression is going to be real.

Am I ready to go home?

Yes and no. If I could beam myself home for a week, I think I would be able to stay for another few months. There are responsibilities I need to attend to (GRE, MCAT, research, yay!) and I am itching to see my family and friends. Sometimes, I feel a little contained on the island, and I think a trip to the mainland would fix that.

However, there is so much I am going to miss. I shed my very first tear since coming here this weekend (it was only one, don't worry) about the fact that I don't think I am going to be able to see my host parents before I leave. They are both in Guayaquil with the baby. I didn't get to really say a proper goodbye to Pablo because he knocked on my door at 7 am on my birthday to tell me that he was going to the airport because Julissa was having a C-Section. He wished me a happy happy happy birthday (birthdays are huge here), and gave me a hug, but I wish I had really savored the moment. My host sister came home today because she starts up school again on wednesday, and I was really happy to see her. She ran right into my arms. I missed her a lot. It became an all-adult household after she left, and I am all about being a big kid and running around.

Coming here and taking classes on the environment, climate change, and volunteerism has changed my perspective a lot. I am leaving a huge carbon footprint on the Galapagos Islands. I generated so much waste, used so much energy, and took 4 flights to get where I am right now. I have had many discussions with multiple people about whether we would do it again, considering the footprint we left. While one of my friends here says vehemently no, I think I would come again. I think the islands have left a greater mark on me than I have on them. I have always left areas where I have been cleaner than when I found them and I have built relationships that I will never forget. These are insignificant compared to what the islands have taught me. Living life in Galapagos has taught me that positivity is a choice, it's okay to lose control sometimes, and that we live in a world full of beauty, charm, and adventure. It was here that I searched for better questions instead of answers. It was living here that motivated me to send in a letter to the Manhasset Press concerning Global Climate Change, to be passionate, and to go forth with my talents and make the world a better place.

I sound incredibly cliché, I know. Little white girl studies abroad and says it changes her life.

There's a popular article circulating the internet right now about a woman who quit her 95,000/yr salary job and moved to the Caribbean to start a new life. She was a writer and Yale grad living in NYC, and she was sick of living to work instead of working to live. So she bought a one way plane ticket, got a job scooping ice-cream, and says she couldn't be happier. After she gets home from work (I believe she's a bartender now), she doesn't think about it. Instead, she hangs out with her friends, goes diving, and "lives life to the fullest". While I am happy that she is happy, I don't know if I could live like that. It's great that she is relaxed, but I, ever the planner, have some questions for her. What is going to happen if you get sick and don't have savings for health care? Do you ever want a family? What is going to happen when you need to retire? Do you ever want to settle down and lead one life instead of many tiny micro lives? Do you ever feel a sense of permanence?

Being busy is a part of me. I absolutely love Galapagos, but I could never live here permanently. I am part of the generation that must be constantly entertained by something. I don't think I have said the words "I'm bored" since I was in middle school. I always have something to do. Homework, studying, exercise, dive practice, trapeze lessons, violin, catch up on Bones, read interesting articles, apply to grad schools, etc. The list goes on. I don't know if ever before I've decided to hang up a hammock on the beach and just lie in it for a few hours. Living here has made me more patient and less neurotic. Before, I would freak about not being 10 minutes early to something. Island time usually runs 30 minutes late, so I've decided that being on time is a nice compromise. I definitely know that I belong in a bustling city, but I now have another happy place to go to in my mind for some peace when things get crazy. La vida tranquila.

Here is a list of some of the things that I will miss (in no particular order)

Swimming in the clear blue water 

Having my school be located across from the beach

Snorkeling with sea turtles, fish, and sea lions every day

My host family 

Pepe honking at me whenever he drives past me in his bus

My little 3-year-old boyfriend, Amir

Going entire days without speaking english

Iguana Rock

Walking by Kicker Rock Bar and hearing the owners call out to me, "Hola Katalina"

Going to the panaderia and buying pastries every day

Philosophical conversations with my friend, Sam

Being constantly amazed by how beautiful the world is

Reading in hammock, and feeling like I have no responsibilities

Scuba diving (with all of its ups and downs)

Dancing my heart out at the discotec

Watching myself grow personally and socially

Waking up and putting a bathing suit on instead of a bra and undies

Riding on boats

Going to the bar with my professors

Being a hot sweaty mess every single second of the day and not caring

Eating bananas 24/7

Sitting on the balcony of my university doing homework and watching the waves

Drinking insane amounts of water

Empanadas from empanada lady (life changing)

Ahí

Almuerzo

Researching the public health system

Listening to spanish music

the burger place 

Meandering down the boardwalk

Watching sea lions get on benches

patacones

My host dad, Pablo, and all of his adventures

Julissa telling me that I'm only allowed to go out at night for 5 minutes and then I have to come home and go to bed

Lentils and fresh fish

Getting made fun of for not being able to roll my "r"s

...and so many more

Leaving here knowing that I may never come back is going to be so hard.

I wish there was a word for the impending sadness I am going to feel in 96 hours. I feel like I need to do so much to make the most out of my time here! There was a huge sea swell yesterday, and the waves are HUGE. The police are guarding the beaches to make sure no one goes in the water because it is so dangerous and the boardwalk is all ripped up. I hope I feel closure when I leave.

May 3rd thoughts

Some stimulating conversation on society, gender norms, and sexuality last night left me pondering some questions before I went to bed.

Why do I feel uncomfortable accepting compliments?

Why has society taught me that I should brush off compliments?

Why do I think it's a bad thing when people tell me what they have achieved?

Do I perceive that as bragging?

Why is it easier to receive a compliment on something I have, a shirt, for example, rather than what I am?

Why didn't I just write an example for something that I am?

What am I?

Why do I still feel uncomfortable writing something that I think I am?

Why, in, Spanish do you "have" things instead of being them? (years, feelings, etc.)

Because I am a native english speaker, have I grown up defining myself by qualities or characteristics that I am, instead of ones that I have?

So if you have a quality instead of being a quality, are qualities lose-able or gain-able?

What is a quality?

What is quality?

**currently having a flashback to reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance**

I think I feel another existential crisis coming on.

If I had to describe my feelings about leaving in 5 days with a picture...

This would be it

Mom, don't read this one

I can’t think of anything worse than not being able to breathe. We do it without thinking in our day-to-day lives. It’s taken for granted. But 65 feet underwater, outfitted with full scuba diving equipment, it’s all you can think about. You hear yourself breathe in, and watch the bubbles go out. The shitty scubapro regulators we rent for each dive make these tinny noises, and you have to suck in instead of letting your breathing flow naturally.

My second dive in North Seymour, Santa Cruz, I felt trapped. Contained. I had swam just a little too fast, exerted myself just a little too hard trying to see some eagle rays. All I could think about was getting out of there. Going up. Having fresh, clean air whoosh through my nasal passages and get oxygen to my brain. I started to feel really dizzy, and I signaled to the divemaster that something was wrong. That I felt nervous. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened 40 minutes earlier on our first dive.

***

We were 25 minutes into the first dive of the day. It had been a great dive up to that point. We had seen rays, sharks, eels, and tons of fish. There was a manta ray about 10 feet in front of us, and we started to swim towards it. My friend, Karli, and the divemaster were about 3 feet in front of me when I heard a giant WHOOSH. I don’t know if I can describe what a free flowing regulator sounds like. It’s loud and angry, especially when it’s yours. Air was flowing out of my octopus, my auxiliary regulator at an astonishing pace. I calmly reached out and turned it upside down, which should have stopped it. It didn’t. I made as much noise as I could, but the others did not hear me. I checked my air, and saw that it was rapidly depleting. It was almost down to zero. I was panicking. My training kicked in. DO NOT PANIC. STAY CALM. Is what my brain told me. I knew I had two options. To try to swim over to them and grab one of their auxiliary regulators, or to go up.

I chose to go up. I later realized that I would have had to ditch my weight belt and tank under the water if I had run out of air on the way over to them. I’m getting anxious writing this right now. I swam up as fast as I could, putting my remaining air in my BC on the way up so I would float when I got to the top. I didn’t have the time or air to safety stop, and I wondered if I was putting myself in danger of getting decompression sickness once I broke to the surface and inhaled. I could see one boat in sight, very far away. I looked down, and I saw that Karli and the divemaster sitting together looking around for me. “Look up, look up”, is what I willed them to do. 

I stuck my face in and made as much noise as I could, but they didn’t hear me and the current was taking me out of their sight. The water was choppy, and I hoped that someone would see me before I got bashed against the rocks. The current was on my side. I swam with the current for what I know now was about 15 minutes. My gopro had been filming the entire time. I wished for a whistle, wished for a flare, and wished that I had gills for about 10 minutes until I saw our boat. I began to shout “ayudame!”, or “help me” while waving my arms to show that I was in distress. A little boat found me, helped me in, and brought me over to the dive boat where I nearly broke down in tears.

All I could think about is the fact that I could have died. I kept it together, and became angry at Rene, the chauvinistic man who we had booked the dive through. He wasn’t on the boat with us. Thank god. That morning and the day before he would not stop telling me what a great body I had, how I have a big butt and a big chest, and how he wanted to take me dancing. I asked him to stop multiple times, but he would not. All I could think about is how I wanted to murder Rene, for giving me a non-functioning regulator and for continually hitting on me.

The divemaster and Karli made it back to the boat shortly after, and I told him what had happened.  He told me I had made the right decision, and that if I had not put air in my BC, I would have had a hard time staying up on the surface. I would have had to ditch my weight belt. They looked at my regulator, told me it was broken, and said we were going to see if we could borrow another regulator from a nearby boat. Rene did not give us an extra one like he was supposed to. The divemaster saw how nervous I was, gave me his regulator, and he took the borrowed one. “Do I go on the second dive?” was all I could think about. I knew I had to. If there is one thing I’ve learned from springboard diving, it is that you have to get back on the horse right away. So I went down once more.

***

We stopped. He made me kneel on the sand, close my eyes, and breathe. In. Out. In. Out. After 30 seconds, I felt much better. His regulator was much nicer than mine. I didn’t have to pull hard to breathe, and it did not make noise each time I took a breath. The divemaster had done the right thing, to encourage me to go on the second dive. I finished the dive. We saw at least 30 sharks, if not more, including a hammerhead. I was happy that I had gone. I have had a constant battle with mental toughness since I began springboard diving 6 years ago, and I won this round.

If anyone reading this decides to go scuba diving in Santa Cruz, Galapagos, Ecuador, please do not use the agency Galápagos People, and most definitely avoid any dive shop owner named René.