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My 1+4 Story: Audrey

by Audrey, Tufts 1+4 Participant

“Keep a journal, everyone always wishes that they had.”
This advice was given to me by practically everyone that I met before I left. Teachers, Tufts faculty, Amigos, my family. Journaling was always something that I hated, and reluctantly brought one with my without expecting to use it. However, in processing my new environment, my journal has become my most valuable possession here. Held together by stickers and duct-tape, I have carried it with me everywhere. The pages are filled with countless ups and downs, doodles, receipts, lists, thoughts, flowers, laughter, and tears. I have found a way to contain my experience in hardcover, and I am so glad that I finally took the advice.
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A Trip back to Spain

By Evan, Tufts 1+4 Participant

Six months can feel like a long time. Since I last saw my host family, I had made an entirely new group of friends at Tufts, joined the sailing team, and switched my major at least four times. But as soon as I saw my host sister and parents in the airport in Madrid, I knew that despite our time apart, we would have no trouble jumping right back into our relationship. For over a week, I played, laughed, and chatted with my host siblings, parents, and grandfather, sharing stories from our time apart and reminiscing on our year together. I visited the school where I had been placed last year, having only told a handful of people that I would be coming. Just like with my host family, I knew from my short conversations with the teachers and students that I would always have a home both at the school and in Madrid whenever I wanted to visit. When I had to return to the US at the end of my trip, it was hard to leave my family and friends again after having only been there for nine days, but I stand reassured that no matter how long we go until we see each other next, we’ll always be able to reconnect and enjoy each other’s company.

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Bus rides: Reflection, Spurts of Wisdom, and Slight Nausea

by Erica, Tufts 1+4 Participant
It has been roughly eight months since we left our 1+4 host sites, and I’m currently on a bus from Hartford to Cambridge after a relaxing winter break. During my bridge year, I spent so many hours on buses, that if I didn’t look up every once in a while, I might forget that I’m actually in Connecticut.
Yes, time has passed. But I don’t find myself forgetting. Not the important stuff anyways. There is no way the terrazas and golden streets of Madrid at dusk, the constant buzzing of el Retiro, the shrieks and cackles of my host sisters, or the salty, wholesome taste of tortilla could ever slip from my memory. And if I do happen to do a little forgetting, I always have the “a year ago today” Google Photos notifications to remind me of the gorgeous cities I was galavanting exactly 365 days ago (as I sit in the library).
I’ve done my fair share of missing, but now I find comfort in my future. Madrid was an inexplicably beautiful experience, but college has begun! I can now study and live and laugh with my closest friends (who are also gifts from 1+4). Some people struggle freshman year to find their people, but I’m lucky to have already located mine.
My first semester back to school went rather swimmingly, but it wasn’t perfect. Something that bothered me and served as a source of stress was my low number of clubs and activities. In September, I was focused on my studies and getting back into the swing of academics, and I was afraid to stretch myself too thin my first semester. Therefore, I didn’t join as many clubs as everyone else had.
Over winter break, I decided to address my dissatisfaction. I scoured the 2020 and 2021 Facebook pages to join e-lists and apply for e-board positions in organizations that looked fascinating to me. I liked pages, researched websites, emailed professors and community service organizations, and became very close with Student Information Services. I can’t wait to get back to campus, get involved, and take charge of this semester.
The moral of the story is that everyone goes at their own pace. Stay present, stay golden, and don’t freak out!
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Rocking Chairs

by Sophie, Tufts 1+4 Participant

Like many homes in Nicaragua, my host house is littered with rocking chairs. Made from dark wood and wicker backs, some have permanent spots while others appear to multiply as my host mother arranges and rearranges them. On my first night I decide to trust in some orientation advice and take my book out of my room where I fold my legs into an oversized rocking chair. When my host sister joins me and asks something in Spanish, I twist my eyebrows and give her an awkward I have no clue what you said smile. On top of the Spanish, my mind was still trying to digest the fact that this 13 year old girl – irrefutably the scariest demographic – seemed to be being . . . friendly?

She laughs and repeats the question more slowly. In this way we pick our way through simple conversation for nearly 2 hours; rephrasing and miming and rocking and laughing out no entiendo after no entiendo. When she pieces together my thought, she spits it back in the correct grammar. I try to fit the words back into my own mouth, though they feel like square pegs in round holes, and she laughs and slows down.

She tells me about how she hates English class and about her volleyball team and listens to me talk about New England winters. We laugh at how she can’t pronounce Connecticut and at how I can’t pronounce almost anything. We talk about our families and our friends and our schools and where we want to travel and what we want to do when we’re mas grande. The whole time I speak in broken present tense, waving my arms in front of my to show when I’m talking about the future and pointing behind me when telling about the past, but this doesn’t seem to bother her.

It’s not raining but I watch thunderless lightning fill the whole ceiling, because in Nicaragua you’re never really inside, least of all when you’re in the center of your house. At the end of the night I smile because we’re 4 years, 2,000 miles, and a language apart but we both still agree that school is usually boring and that we really hope to see Paris some day. I think every house needs a few rocking chairs.

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I’m Not in Texas Anymore

by Stephanie, Tufts 1+4 Participant

I have had more adventures in the last few weeks in Ecuador than in the last few years of my life. I have been to the mountains, the beach, and the rain forest. I have driven across water, over mountains, and on highways with nothing between me and the horizon. Waterfalls as tall as skyscrapers rain down on trails that I have hiked. And cities bigger than my hometown have spanned in front of me. Sometimes the sky is bright blue, other times it is gray and storming. At dusk, the sun paints rainbows in the sky using every color imaginable. During the night, millions of stars light up the black nothingness. But, without a doubt, the most amazing sight I have seen is the Andes mountain range.

I spent my entire childhood in Texas, a state known for its flatness. Starting in Austin, I can drive about six hours in every direction without reaching a single hill or mountain. Flat is a norm for me. But here in Ecuador, I am constantly surrounded by the most amazing mountain range on Earth, the Andes. Every time I see these huge, jagged pieces of rock, I cannot stop a smile from creeping on my face. It is a smile of pure wonder and amazement. These majestic pieces of Earth are so contradictory to the sights of my hometown. I feel lucky to witness these magnificent views every day. And the best place to look at these mountains uninterrupted by cities and towns is in Cajas National Park, about a 45 minute drive outside of Cuenca. I have driven through this park about 6 times, and each time has been more incredible than the last.

My last trip through Cajas this past Friday, on the way home from our trip to get student visas in Manta, was by far the best view yet. It had been a long day. I was running on four hours of sleep and we were five hours into the seven hour car ride home. I wanted nothing more than to put my head down, turn on my music, and imagine how great it would feel to lay down in my bed. Then we drove through the layer of clouds that had been blocking the mountain tops and my jaw physically dropped. An explosion of light and vivid views woke my mind from its slumber. The sun was slowly descending behind the angular mountain tops, leaving an array of colors in its wake. Each time the road would bend, the trees would disappear leaving only the layer of clouds we had just escaped from, stretching as far as my eye could see. The Andes beauty and strength in this moment was unparalleled.

I have always dreamed of a grand adventure, and my idea of this adventure has changed drastically over the years. But none of those dreams can compare to the reality of Cajas National Park, especially during a sunset. I feel invincible whenever I drive this road, like I can really make my dreams a reality. Then I realize, this feeling is true because I am living my grand dream of adventure here in Ecuador.

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Roots


by Brenna, Tufts 1+4 Participant

Today, I bought a plant.

Every day on my walk to work I am surrounded by organized chaos. Here in León, Nicaragua, I pass by camionetas overflowing with people, groups of little boys playing “quitball” ( a version of baseball using arms instead of bats), and little old ladies who sell fresh tortillas on street corners. There is a small pulperia that sells various plants in anything that could be used for a container. Coffee cans, milk jugs, and plastic water bottles house the assortment of plants that change daily. Seeing the greenery amid the craziness when I walk past Pulperia Marielos, I can’t help but admire how these plants thrive. As far I can tell, these odd containers of old milk jugs, buckets, and bottles make excellent homes for plants.

On this walk I think to myself, I want to buy one of these plants and be able to see it grow during my time here. In León, there is constant sun and it rains often enough that I would not have to worry about watering it. Despite the cannon that goes off at 7 am every morning, the random fireworks, and constant noisy parades, a plant would just grow. Seeing it outside my room every morning would be a reminder that something from this land belongs to me and will grow alongside me.

Even with the nonstop traffic, and the afternoon heat, I carried my new plant home smiling. It has small round leaves and lives in a recycled soda bottle. This plant is perfect.

This purchase cost only 10 cordobas ($0.33) but it’s worth goes beyond that. I am going to be living here in León for 9 months and this plant is the first personal touch I’ve added to my room. By putting this plant outside my door I have transformed the space into my own, made this home feel like my home. It is also one of the first choices I have made about the life I want to create here. Day by day I am creating that life, going to yoga, going to the beach and reading the books I finally have time for. My new plant is the small green home base that I can build around.

On its own the choice to buy a plant doesn’t hold some great significance, however, I am learning to relish in the little things. It marks one of the many choices I can make in deciding what life I want to create for myself. During my time here I want to travel and see as much of this country as possible, and I can. On every available weekend, I have taken trips to sleep on active volcanoes, swim under waterfalls, and see beautiful sunrises. I am beginning to see myself thrive here in Nicaragua, the oddest container I could have imagined.