Where Even Am I? – Tisch Global Jumbos

by Leonardo, Tufts 1+4 Participant

When I first arrived to Campeche beach, I was left amazed with the outstanding beauty of Florianopolis, considered the island of magic. Now, months later, when I go on a morning run, I pass the beach and I am used to seeing the ocean with its waves and the few people that have awoken early to enjoy them. It is wild that this is sometimes part of my daily routine when a couple months back I had never experiences the salty waters or the sand that never seems to leave even after leaving the beach. It seems almost normal and I feel the urge to make myself aware of everything, so it can be appreciated. I keep asking myself, “Where even am I?”

This can be a simple or tricky questions depending on how it is approached. It’s always easy to state the obvious: I am in Brazil. I am waiting for a bus. I am going to my apprenticeship. Although this is the truth, it is not the whole truth. There are so many other sides of my experience here that are so difficult to convey. They are what truly make it all unique.

I am in Campeche, Brazil, where it takes seven minutes to walk to the beach. In the mornings, the beach and its quiet cool winds and the low crunching sounds of my shoes on the sand create a safe space for me. Much of my reflection occurs with the sounds of waves crashing in the background. Even though the ocean took my favorite pair of eyeglasses, I still fell in love with it. I am unsure how I will feel when I am forced to leave this very crucial part of my bridge year experience behind.

An incredible thing about traveling and taking a bridge year is meeting people and creating those relationships and connections that can last a lifetime. Throughout my bridge year, I was astonished at how many people I‘ve met, not just Brazilians but people from all over the world. It is through these friendships and the insight they shared that one can gain a glimpse of another. My worldview has been enhanced with new perspectives otherwise never seen without this bridge year. The many stories that even complete strangers are willing to tell are something that wholly shocked me. It was very new to me; these were the first times I stepped out of my comfort zone and initiated conversation. I must be honest, “Curiosity before judgement” (sounds very GCY) is a statement that at the beginning of the year I didn’t really understand. As time went by and my quick-to-judge attitude changed into a more inquisitive approach, I found that I learned more — that I gained more from an experience.

Analise, part of GCY staff, at Carnaval. On this day, we learned about the history of Carnaval and the traditions that this small town in Sao Paulo is striving to preserve.

I have also gained an incredible number of friends through the Tufts 1+4 program as well as Global Citizen Year. Although we all have separate and unique experiences, it is these people that I can most relate to because we know that a bridge year is not always beach days and sunshine. We all know that we have each other to lean on. These fellows hold a special place in my heart.

Even with a great support system, the biggest and most important things I’ve learned through this bridge year are things about myself. To live in a whole other country, where everything around is foreign takes a little independence. I can see my independence strengthen as time progresses. There were many times during the year that I looked back to see how far I have come. Every time, I am surprised, and I feel a sense of accomplishment.

But when I ask myself this question: Where am I?

I also ask myself, “Where have I been?” and “Where did I come from?”

I think back to Tennessee – to its small-town farm life. I think back to the leaves that change colors in the fall, to fields and fields of corn and wheat and cotton. But I also think of the hardships I experienced there. Being the only person of color in my classes. Having no one understand what I felt. Having the urge every day to leave – to find a way to get out.

I think even farther, and I see Mexico. Where I was born. I see dryness. I see my culture, my people, and traditional celebrations. The food that does not seem to exist in Brazil. My family, with the countless tias y tios, primas y primos. Many of whom I do not know. El espanol that is leaving me – becoming a garbled mess with Portuguese. I feel I am becoming more and more disconnected.

I think to the future.

Where am I going? How will I get there? Who will be there? Will I like it?

I see a huge question mark. I see struggle. Knowing that I will be going to a university where the majority of students are white and wealthy, where the majority will never see what I see. Will it be Tennessee all over again?

Finally, my bus arrives, and I am off.

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