Community Engagement ~ Silversmithing with Mario

by Abby, Jonny & Shuntavi

This past week the group got a choice between four different businesses we could take lessons with and see the behind the scenes of their work. On top of a seriously cool lesson, we also had to interview them (secretly) and learn more about their lives and the decisions that got them to their current profession and lifestyle. Our mentor was Mario. Though our initial mission was to discover more about him, our experience was much more valuable. Mario has lived in the region of Cusco all his life. Though his favorite town is Machu Picchu, because it is where his mother is from. He has nine siblings and has been a jeweler since he left high school. He slowly became entranced with the artistry by going to demonstrations by local jewelers. For thirty-five years he has now been infatuated with his work and his profession. He currently has a small shop open here in Urubamba, which is named Juanita after his wife (which is absolutely adorable if you ask me). He finds the hardest part of his job to be polishing the pieces as the machine he uses can be very dangerous. With the easiest part consisting of adhering different pieces of silver to a flattened silver band to create designs in rings.

Our Take Aways:
Abby: Learning from and working with Mario was an experience like no other. Besides a cool new lesson, he was such a sweet and caring individual. Being completely honest, I didn’t fully know what “silversmithing” entailed before signing up for it. HOWEVER, I have never been more pleasantly surprised. Mario was so patient and helpful with the three of us. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to teach your craft to people with no previous knowledge. It’s lovely seeing how others live in the community around me; it helped me feel more connected. I think my biggest take away from the experience was the broadening of my perspective of the community around me and how many wonderful people reside in it. Everyone no matter their background has something beautiful to share and teach.

Jonny: Mario is genuinely so kind and was so happy to teach us what he knows best, silver smithing. Going into the experience, I didn’t know what to expect but the process was interesting and interactive. Admittedly, I was not the best at silver smithing as my hands shook while trying to carefully place each piece of the ring and cutting each piece of silver but in the end, the ring still looked as beautiful as any other piece of jewelry in the shop (the ring even represented the river in Urubamba). I think what I enjoyed the most was how many people would come in and out of his shop and how friendly each one of them were. There was someone who needed to buy a clock, someone who needed their glasses fixed, and even his godchild that came in. It was truly a once in a lifetime experience where I learned so much about someone who lives just a few blocks away.

Shuntavi: When I found out silversmithing was an optional activity I jumped on the opportunity to participate. In high school I led a jewelry making club, but we never had the budget to do metal work. I have always admired those in handmade jewelry and the patience and creativity it takes to master an art like that. Mario was patient with us as we learned words like “unir” and as I, with only 3 months of Spanish in my belt, attempted to ask questions to learn about him. He was very confident in his work. Even as he handed me a torch to melt the silver (even though I looked terrified), he remained self-assured and certain. It was truly a gift to experience his art and get a chance to take home such a beautiful reminder of our time in Urubamba (now Abby, Jon, and I all share these “friendship” rings).

In just four weeks abroad I feel that I have learned so much about myself and made such spectacular connections with my peers–from late night movies, to bonfires, silversmithing, Paru Paru, NGOs, and talking with random people in the market. I feel grateful to share this experience with such intelligent, passionate, kind individuals and feel that they have already begun to shape the vision I have for my college years–in communities of people who keep me learning, laughing, and questioning the world around me.

Since arriving in Urubamba, we have been learning about what it means to be international travelers and the reality of traveler privilege. Within the first few weeks of arriving I had already bought multiple pieces of jewelry, having bargained them down until I reached a “reasonable” price. I am a student and don’t have a ton of money to spend while I am here, but Mario’s course got me thinking. Looking around his shop, I was stunned by the intricate, small pieces in his personal display, which appeared to be factory made. After witnessing the process of making my own ring–which involved melting the metal, molding it, cutting it, burning it, joining it, putting it in acid, joining it, cutting it, polishing it, and a million other complicated steps–I began to rethink my own purchasing. The process of making even the smallest pendants requires special equipment, machinery, technique, and time. It made me wonder if it’s worth always bargaining down the prices on items that are legit (like those at Tika or Paru Paru, where traditional weaving patterns, which sometimes take weeks to finish, are preserved). In a world full of big money-driven companies mass producing items and ripping off consumers, I have begun to appreciate those who refuse to give up their craft and continue to share it–regardless of the time and energy it costs them and price they may have to charge. Thank you, Mario!

With gratitude,

Abby, Shuntavi, and Jonny

Did You Eat Already?

by Syd

“คุณกินแล้วหรือยัง,” which translates to “Did you eat already?” and “ไปไหน,” which translates to “Where are you going?” might seem like questions my instructors, mother, or peers would ask, but you are wrong. “คุณกินแล้วหรือยัง” and “ไปไหน” are things people in the villages say to each other. To many, this might seem strange instead of simply asking, “How are you?” But to me, there is something more meaningful and intimate about getting to know the people in your community, where you can ask them their whereabouts without being seen as nosy, and even ask if they have eaten already to get ideas about what you are going to eat. Here, those questions are asked because people genuinely care, and perhaps because they are slightly curious, but mostly because they care. Villages are such tight-knit communities; places where anyone in the village can go to another’s property and grab fruit off a tree. I thought I knew what community was before, but as I have observed the villages here, I now understand what community truly is.

With nearly two weeks left before we move to Huai Lan, the clock ticks as I try to visit as many places as possible in the city. Being one-third of the way done with Civic Semester has made me think a lot about a lot. As I sat on the second floor of the hangout area in Maejo Baandin last weekend, I realized three things: one, that I am already one-third done with Civic Semester and there is so much left to experience; two, that once I go back to the U.S., no one will understand just how special Chiang Mai is, no matter how much I explain it to them; and three, I was most certainly falling asleep up there. We were only at Maejo Baandin for two days, but I could see how important it was to the community around it and how incredible P’Om and Mae were. I was amazed at what Maejo Baandin did with natural resources. We made seed bombs first, where we put different kinds of seeds in natural clay and then used slingshots the next day to launch them into the woods to help reforest the area. On the second day, we made bricks out of natural clay. Though I did not thoroughly enjoy mixing the dried cornhusk in the mud with my feet, I did gain an appreciation for what P’Om and Mae were doing.

Of course, I could not write about my adventures without mentioning elephants. Chiang Mai itself was (sort of) founded by an elephant; King Mangrai was looking for a place to establish a new city when he encountered an elephant. He decided to follow the elephant, which led him to a place with mountains and rivers, and that is how the city of Chiang Mai was founded. We visited two sanctuaries: one called Sunshine for Elephants, where we went on a hike with them and also got to feed them, and the second place, Elephant Nature Park, which had rescued 117 elephants and lots and lots of dogs. Unfortunately, the dogs with the red collars were not allowed to be petted, but I swear the dogs with the red collars were the cutest ones. The elephants themselves were genuinely the gentlest creatures I have ever met. Nevertheless, I found their resilience particularly inspiring; many of these animals endured logging, riding camps, and circuses, yet they continue to break through years of trauma. These animals are truly remarkable.

Reflecting on my time in Chiang Mai so far, I am filled with many emotions, one of which is gratitude. Each moment spent in the villages, with my cohort, in the forest, in the streets of Chiang Mai, and of course, with the elephants, reminds me of why I chose to do Civic Semester.

What Perú Means to Me

by Tyrin

Starting this blog, I want to acknowledge how extremely ignorant I was about life outside of my own. Ignorant in the denotation meaning of lacking knowledge, not in the connotation of rude, bad manners, and closed-minded. A quick background about me is that I’m from the Southern USA, specifically living my whole life between San Antonio, Texas, and Pensacola, Florida. While both of those places have many differences, the similarities include hot, sunny climates, a lot of Hispanic influence, and the traditional “Southern Charm and Hospitality” that I had yet to imagine could be outside the South. But my perspective was flawed; the South to me means cowboys, farms, and humid days. But being in Perú, I am actually in the south for the first time. One particular moment that struck me was walking through the vibrant markets of the capital of the Sacred Valley, where the smells of fresh fruits and meats filled the air. Here, the south is defined not by cowboys but by rich traditions, lively colors, and the Andean mountain culture. The warmth here doesn’t come from the climate, but from the welcoming smiles and open hospitality of the Peruvian people, reminding me of a familiar yet wonderfully different “Southern Charm.”

It has been exactly thirty-six days since I left home, and for the first time, I have been out of my “South,” and my whole perspective of life has changed. I have been blessed to leave my bubble and see other parts of the world. In those thirty-six days, I visited Toronto and Niagara Falls in Canada, Buffalo and Albany in New York, Boston in Massachusetts, Lima, Cusco, Urubamba, Ollantaytambo, Yucay, Huaran, and many other places throughout the beautiful country of Perú. One moment that will stick with me is the first week I was in Urubamba. There was a celebration happening, and the vibrant sunset on the mountains contrasted the vibrant music and dancing being performed in front of me. That was the moment when I knew I was right where I was supposed to be.

This country has accepted me, and that acceptance means everything to me. Every day, I find myself enchanted by the sight of mountains, engaging with locals in Spanish, and diving deeper into the rich culture around me. Reflecting on these experiences, I’ve come to appreciate a personal shift in values and mindset. Before arriving here, I viewed life from a predominantly regional perspective, rooted in my Southern upbringing. But now, I’ve come to embrace the beauty in diversity and the warmth of unfamiliar generosity. I realize that growth comes from moving beyond comfort zones, and I cherish these moments of learning and connection. I hope, in time, I can repay this kindness and belief shown to me, though it’s often said that foreigners aim to help locals. Here, it’s been the Peruvians who have offered me invaluable lessons. I’ll carry with me each smile, buenos días, and the sincere hugs I’ve received. With ten weeks still left in this journey, I can’t help but feel grateful for how much Perú has already enriched my life.

Muchas gracias Perú por todos,
Thank you very much, Perú, for everything.

Two Weeks Into Peru

by Kevin

The last two weeks have been undoubtedly busy for the entire cohort. Orientation activities have taught us the ropes of a new land. Learning how to manage the street dogs of Urubamba, being shown to be wary of the street food around town, and learning how to interact with the community are just a short snippet of what has been taught to us during orientation. Attending an Andean ceremony that aims to preserve a culture that has been present among the Andean mountains for generations showed us a glimpse into a battle between indigenous cultures and globalization. A hike down a breathtaking mountain with a waterfall and river splitting the land apart showcased the beauty that this land has to offer. Visits to non-governmental organizations taught us the impact and importance of service, but also what role we as foreigners have in the context of our service. Throw in a few classes and a birthday celebration for two, and in summary, that’s been the last two weeks for the cohort.

At least, that’s what I would say, but we often forget to reflect on the small moments that really contribute to a meaningful experience. Not the moments that are worth attention on social media, but the moments that contribute to the beauty and authenticity of any new experience. From exploring the local market to the local businesses where we run errands, to the meals that are not necessarily worthy of an Instagram post but that fill the soul and stomach. The many breakfasts we have shared over the past few days, rushing to make eggs or reheat dinner leftovers before we depart for a day of classes or new adventures. Or the many evening or night walks that have us avoiding cars, dogs, and obstacles, all in the hopes of making it to dinner or back home. However, a favorite of not just mine but of most of the cohort has been hanging out on the hammocks in the communal yard and garden. Anything from reading to gossip, to lively group discussions, to friendly banter, naps, listening to music, or simply swinging in motion, the hammocks often get lost in the grand scheme of things, but, in my personal opinion, have made this place feel like home, like a place where I can rest and feel safe, without worry. It’s one of the reasons I stopped referring to this place as a hotel and started referring to it as my home.

But yeah, I just felt like sharing a few big and small moments with you, dear reader, whoever you might be. Thank you for listening to what I had to say.

Passion Changes Everything

by Ana

This past week, 11 of us arrived in Peru not knowing just how much there is to explore. We all dived headfirst into the experience, eager to learn all there is about ourselves, Peru, and its rich history and culture. Each week we will visit various non-profit organizations before we begin our internships in October. The internship aspect of the Civic Semester is incredibly important when it comes to learning more about Peru and the ways we as tourists have an impact in the community.

This week we were able to visit four lovely organizations that serve the people in the surrounding area of the Sacred Valley. Monday, we visited Niños Del Arco Iris, which is a school that provides free education and health services to over 200 hundred underprivileged children in Urubamba. We also visited an organization right down the street called Valley Camp, that provides outdoor educational activities to children and families in the surrounding areas, providing children with opportunities to try new things. On Friday we visited another two organizations, Yanapasun and Casita Huarán. Yanapasun works with children and adults with various disabilities providing them with services such as speech and physical therapy. Casita Huarán is an organization that gives educational opportunities to kids in rural Andean communities. As we spent time at these organizations, we got to meet the founders and various staff that are so incredibly passionate about what they do. It is truly wonderful and inspiring to meet such passionate people, the change makers, and know that I can become one too. We are all passionate about something, and once we find it, we are able to embark on great adventures and make a big impact on the people around us.

But oftentimes we don’t realize the consequences being a tourist has on a community. As travelers we tend to arrive in a country, take a couple pictures, and fly home without engaging with the local community and reflective on what it means to be a good tourist. This past week we have reflected on each organization and their various missions and the ways we can learn from them. During these reflections we ask questions such as: “Is it the job of society to prioritize minorities?” “What is the role of education in society?” and “What do you think about the term ‘White Saviour’?”. As one can imagine, these are difficult conversations to have, but we all approach them with grace. During this time, we give space & make space for everyone to share their various opinions and personal stories without fear of facing judgement. As we learn more about ourselves, we are able to learn more about what strengths we can bring to our placements when we begin in October. It allows us to see how we fit into this new society as more than tourists and how we can help create a bigger positive impact during our time here. We are all incredibly grateful for the opportunity to spend our first semester at university abroad and are excited to see what is to come. At the end of this week, I asked everyone to share a phrase or a word that reflects how they felt after visiting these organizations and they are the following:

  • Insightful
  • Hope
  • Optimistic
  • Reflective
  • Understanding
  • Excited to Learn
  • Motivated to see More
  • Eager
  • Inspired
  • Community
  • Love
  • Passion Changes Everything

With love from Chiang Mai

by Avery & Brandy

Upon our arrival into Chiang Mai, the first word that popped into my head was familiar. Everything I laid eyes upon was alien and new, but evoked a sense of nostalgia and gave me the impression of home. Have I been here before? Was I a resident of Huai Lan in my previous life? That’s not quite the case.

See, because I have relatives in Malaysia, a mere 3 hour flight from Chiang Mai, I’ve spent a lot of time in the past snooping around the pasar malam, eating street food, and romping around the country. That’s why even though I had never been here before, stepping through those doors at the airport felt like stepping into a second skin. The hot and muggy air, the messy and chaotic traffic, the hawkers selling street food, all of it felt familiar and yet different at the same time.

Chiang Mai is not Kuala Lumpur. Even as I appreciated the similarities, such as in the way the air clings to your skin and soaks into your clothes or the sight of what feels like 100 mopeds darting through traffic, I was immediately drawn to the differences. Things like the unfamiliar script scrawled on all the traffic signs and store fronts, the food which tastes sweeter and burns with a different intensity, the trees that have grown into the buildings and are an inseparable part of their construction, not to mention the language which feels lighter and has a softer lilt, though admittedly is equally incomprehensible to me. And it is these differences which fill me with a sense of euphoria.

The reason I chose to come to Thailand isn’t because it is the same as Malaysia but because it is different. I came to Chiang Mai with the goal of devouring this city whole. I intend to walk until my boots crumble to dust, eat until I am a complete sphere, study until my eyes bleed, and (attempt to) pet every single cat I see. While the similarities to Malaysia are nice to see and help with my transition to this brand new environment, there is nothing more boring than a well worn path and it is what I don’t know that truly excites me.

We will be spending 3 months here in Thailand, half of which will be in Chiang Mai, and half will be with our foster families in Huai Lan. In this time we will have the once in the lifetime opportunity of completely immersing ourselves in a new environment at our own pace and without any urgency. I am incredibly excited to study the Thai language and culture as well as to live with my host family and take a glimpse into what it is like to live as a resident of Huai Lan.

By the end of this trip, I hope to have familiarized myself with even a fraction of the rich and storied culture of this country.

The ocean of the unfamiliar stretches far beyond the eye can see. And nothing pleases me more than the thought of diving right in.

Cheers,

Avery

It’s strange how first impressions can weave together a threshold between truth and falsehood.

Understanding isn’t like a wave that emerges you and your friend into cold, salty water before you’re ready to be cold or wet.

It isn’t like your vision settling after waking from a very, very long nap. So blurry at first, you wonder if you’ve gone blind overnight (excerpt from a true jetlag tale).

For me, it’s much more gradual. See, when I first walked out of the airport, I was met with muggy air, a travel-sized van, and a kind van driver. The bright sun didn’t remind me I was so far from home (or a humid Florida summer). My first Pad Thai didn’t taste particularly “Chiang Mai” either.

I was surrounded by a sense of familiarity in the English street cafe signs, gentle bushes, and relatively tended roads.

The sporadic movement and drumming of the motorbikes rang familiar, like the deranged, chaotic traffic of Morocco—the Chiang Mai sidewalks—a sister to the sidewalks of Mexico City. The rolling hills and mountains west are a gentle reminder of Chapulhuacan.

  • I can see resemblances between Florida, Morocco, and Mexico. True
  • I am eating Thai food. True
  • This place is like everywhere else I’ve been. False

A gradual understanding drastically shifted my perspective from Wat Lam Chiang to Wat Chiang Man to Wat Lam Chang to Wat Phra Lat (yes, they are all distinct). Slowly, each temple visit reminded me that the ancient history that defined Chiang Mai was unique to Chiang Mai alone.

At Wat Lam Chiang, the first Buddhist temple I visited, I noticed and learned how the design of Chiang Mai’s streets made it so that directions to 7-Eleven (where you can also pay your rent??) could take you through the temples. City planning highlighted the integration of Buddhism into daily life and the omnipresence of temples.

At the oldest Chiang Mai temple, Wat Chiang Man, I observed the story of the Buddha and the significant impact of gendered roles in Buddhist culture, particularly in the emphasis on monk education.

On a late-night walk, Wat Lam Chang shone brightly in the night, and the beautifully (suai) tailored man reminded me of the gravity of belief, faith, and trust.

A day on the highly elevated, revered temple of Wat Phra Lat immersed me in a meditative, peaceful state. In which I began to understand the significance of meditation in life, as well as its philosophical and spiritual aspects for others.

The deeply fascinating complexity of diverse ethnic identities and Buddhist influence is something I couldn’t taste in my first pad thai.

On my first day overlooking the warm, busy streets, I couldn’t yet fathom the complexity and uniqueness that interwove itself into the subtleties of Thai society. The wai, a clear example, is a lotus of Buddhism. The greetings which motioned my two thumbs from my eyebrow, nose, and mouth, indicating respect to monks, teachers, and parents. The word “jai”, encompassing the central value of the “mind and heart”, in the way it is used to describe feelings, characteristics, and emotions. The way “naam jai”, directly, the “water of the heart” is expressed as kindness. Or the way “suk jai” translates to “happy heart” and is meant to express deep contentment.

The dissonance and wonder of Chiang Mai extend far beyond an observance of the weather.

It can be lost in Google translation, but still can be retained by a careful eye, a careful ear, and an eager “jai”. Buddhist influence, ethnic ties, movements, and historical context are just below the surface of every facet of society I touch, every “Chaa Thai” I drink, and “Khop Khun Kha” I speak.

I understand that now.

Now, I look back at my clueless nature when I first arrived. A bright smile and an overly energetic wave, I gave to a Thai woman on the street corner.

I’ve seen her a few times since then. My smile is just as bright, but now I say “sa wat dii kha”, ever cognizant of the unspoken story the wai greeting I give tells.

I’m on my way to truly grasping the significance of being here. And I am incredibly excited for all that I have left to learn.

Smiles,

Brandy Gutierrez