That first night in the airport went by abysmally slow.  We decided to set up camp in one of the few open spaces left on the floor of the airport, located right in the middle of one of the terminals. Some people slept, but  I don’t know how… I was too wound up and worried to manage more than a few minutes here and there, my arms draped protectively over my luggage and the gifts I’d bought for my family while waiting on my flight earlier. After a few hours, the staff finally got around to our section, handing out foil blankets and water bottles. Though they didn’t look impressive, and kept me awake with the loud crinkling noises  that they made whenever you moved even the tiniest bit, the blankets were great insulators in the chilly terminal.

Finally, around 4am, my friends and I decided to move towards the ticket counter for our airline in the hopes of gaining a decent spot in line for when the booth opened at 6am. We’d hoped that our sudden movement to a new location would go unnoticed, but instead we set off a mass exodus of people, all wanting information and help rescheduling from the airline. In mere minutes, the counter went from being surrounded by a few dozens sleeping people to a few hundred anxious for airline staff to arrive. We were so squashed that I could barely move, and only occasionally did I find enough space to be able to sit down.

Someone got the crowd hyped up, shouting that the desk would be open at 6am, but from what those who paid the steep fee for internet connections could find, 6am appeared to be the definite opening time. Thus, we weren’t too disappointed when 5am passed without a single red coated employee in sight, but began to grow more and more anxious as 6am neared and then passed, all without anything happening but the people around us growing more restless. It wasn’t until 7am that an employee finally arrived at the counter, only to tell us that they couldn’t help us unless it was for one of the Sunday flights; they weren’t able to help us with anything connected to the cancellations of the previous night.

Frustrated, I went off in search of my luggage with the other Ifsa-Butler students, and we found the line for retrieving luggage rather quickly. At this point, I decided to return to Queen Mary; the university, since it has its own housing, allows students to stay on campus all the way into January, or even year round for full year students. Others, unable to return to their flats, chose to stay at the Ifsa-Butler housing in Pembridge Gardens.

I was glad to have a few friends still hanging around my otherwise dead campus, and having my own room and bathroom made my extra few days in London rather cozy, especially compared to what so many others went through. The agency that I’d traveled through saw to it that all of the Ifsa-Butler students were booked onto new flights that week, but unfortunately my second flight was canceled as well, due to the airport still having issues with icy runways. On the 22nd,  four days after my original flight date, I received an email telling me to head to the airport to try and reserve myself a standby spot on a flight heading out not even 3 hours later. Being an hour and a half away from the airport, I pretty much sprinted from the library to my room, and was checked out and heading to the tube station with my friend Tris in tow in under than 15 minutes.

Several Ifsa-Butler students also ran there for the flight, but they only allowed one of us on in the end. The rest of us decided that it would be best to spend the night once more in the airport, and attempt to catch a standby spot on another flight the next day. Our stay was far more comfortable this time; although there were still people sleeping in the terminal, their numbers were much smaller this time, and we found ourselves a relatively secluded corner. Mats and real blankets, made of cotton or fleece, were being handed out by the staff this time, as well as water bottles. Prepared, we stocked up on food, and even split the cost of a game in order to help pass time. My friend Tris stayed with us late again, playing games and helping us set up camp. By midnight, I’d fallen comfortably asleep.

The early flight to Newark the next day was canceled, but we managed to get on standby for a noon flight to New York. The wait to see if we’d actually get seats on the plane was torture; we were running between two locations for information, and preparing to get in line for the next standby if all else failed. Around 40 minutes prior to the flight’s departure,  they finally began to call names, with those of several members of my group among them. When, just 20 minutes before departure, my name was called, I felt like Bob Barker had just called me down on ‘The Price is Right’. To be fair, I think we all felt that way; everyone was hugging and screaming excitedly, before running off to the line for security. I barely made it to the plane on time, but when I was in my seat, with a free upgrade to premium, I couldn’t contain my happiness.

In  the end, I made it home on the 23rd of December, just in time to celebrate Christmas with my family.

Classes at UADY ended last week, and everyone’s final exams, projects, and papers seem to be winding down too.  After returning from IFSA’s group excursions during “anthropology week,” to Yaxunah and to San Cristobal, the semester seems to have just flown by.  Aside from classes, the second half of my semester here seems to have been split several ways, between volunteering with UNASSE (an organization that works to support reproductive rights and gender equality and works against domestic violence,) playing trombone with a local band that a classmate of mine invited me to play with, and acting in a short film for a friend’s communication class.

By now most of the IFSA Butler group is back in the US, or will be headed back to the states soon.  I will be spending the next week or so traveling to Belize where I will meet my parents and sister, spend a couple of days traveling, and then return to Merida to show my family around, and say a last few goodbyes.

I’m ready in some ways to be back home – I miss my friends and family very much, of course.  But it also feels as though a semester here is barely enough.  Aside from how difficult those looming goodbyes are likely to be, leaving’s going to be tough because I’ve just recently come to the point where I can get on a a bus (depending on the bus, of course) in Merida and have some level of certainty about where I’ll end up.  This happened just around the same time when it started to become relatively certain that I’d run into a familiar face on any given weekend night in el centro – and that I’ve managed to blend in enough so that the street vendors in town have stopped, for the most part,  trying to sell me hammocks every time I pass.  Naturally, I stop blending in the instant I open my mouth, but accents aside, Merida’s starting to feel like home in a way that I didn’t know any place could after only four months.

But Thursday evening I’m off to Chetumal on route to Belize! There are still a few places to explore before that time comes!

I am going to Ireland.
It is still a few weeks away, and I can hardly contain my excitement. I feel sorry for anyone who has to hang around me in the few days before I leave, I am going to be off the charts excited. I am starting to get a little overwhelmed with all the preparations in the next few weeks. I keep worrying that I am going to forget something. At least I have 25 more days to remember things not on my list…

I have been corresponding with the coach and captain of the Rowing team at the University of Limerick. Hopefully I will be able to row there! It will be so much fun to be a part of an Irish team, and go to regattas in Ireland!

I am so eager to plan trips to other european cities, but I can’t, because I do not know what weekends I will be able to go during. I don’t even know what classes I am taking! I guess for now all I can do is figure out where I want to go. That will probably take me the 25 days left… Better get started!

I have been back in the United States for a week now, and time is absolutely flying. I would love to say that I have had no issues readjusting to life back here, but that would be a lie. My IFSA-Bulter coordinator had wardned us about “reverse culture shock” which is basically having culture shock while readjusting to your former life. I didn’t really believe her that it was that bad, or that it would happen to me, but I was wrong.

I guess the main issue I have had since being back is that people have had so many experiences while I was in Peru for five months, and I missed all of them. Also, I am finding out that I really don’t know how to describe my experiences to anyone else… and most people don’t really care either. Some of my friends have seemed distant from me, and that has been one of the hardest parts.

I know that I have changed a ton, and in my opinion I have changed for the better. I am hoping that it will just take time for me to adjust to the business of my life in the United States, and that after catching up with all of my friends everything will go back to “normal,” although I am not quite sure what normal is anymore.

It has been great to be home with my family and friends for the Christmas season. I have been traveling non-stop since I got home, from my parents house to my university, and then to my fiance´s house. We will be traveling back up to my parents house tomorrow, which I am hoping will be the last trip for at least a little while… new years. I feel like I have been constantly living out of my suitcase, and I guess in a way I basically have been living out of a suitcase for the past three months at least. I went on so many trips my last two months in Peru that I would come home, do laundry, and then pack again for the next trip.

I wouldn’t change my experience in Peru for anything. I am so glad that I decided to study abroad, and I know that it has made me a much stronger and a much better person. Coming home has been much harder than going to Peru was, but I know in the end everything is going to work out just great.

Well, this is going to be my last post here for IFSA-Butler. If you are considering studying abroad, do it. Take every opportunity you have to travel and get to know the world before your life passes you by. You’ll never know what you’ll learn and how much you will grow.

Thanks, and happy traveling!

Crysta

I was supposed to be back home Saturday evening, but things have taken a turn for the crazy. I wish I could upload the videos and images I took, but my computer is sadly not working and I’m stuck using a library computer. I will try to upload seperately should I find any way to do so.

On my day of departure, I decided to leave for the airport several hours early, with a friend helping me to carry my luggage; even if I ended up bored sitting around, I felt that it would be better to be safe rather than sorry. My luggage was so heavy, really difficult to carry from campus to the tube station. However, the tube is the best deal for transport to the airport and my station’s entrance isn’t very far from the campus gates; it didn’t feel worth it to pay for the shuttle to the airport, since i’d still need to carry my luggage halfway to the station to get to the shuttle anyway. Once I was at the station, kind strangers helped me out, carrying my luggage down any stairs for me and helping me when I switched lines at one point. Such appears to be the British way.

Part way to the airport, it started to snow heavily. When I reached the portion of the journey that is aboveground, I found snow covering the landscape. Beautiful, but apparently not normal for this time of year; Tris and many others told me that I wouldn’t see snow before I left England and that normally they only recieve a tiny bit, usually in January. I’d joked about them jinxing themselves the first time it had snowed, but that had only been a small amount. This was several inches, this time.

When I got to the airport, I tried to check in with Virgin Airlines, but they weren’t letting anyone check in because of the weather; they were afraid of delays and cancelations. Tris was awesome and treated me to a nice dinner of lamb, chorizo and chickpea pie with mash, plus Krispy Kreme donuts while we were waiting but the delays kept piling up. The entire airport had officially closed, and no one, not even the staff, seemed to know what was going on; first I was told to wait for news at 2pm, then 3pm, then 4pm and so on. This was still going on at 7pm, despite the fact that my flight had been for 4:00pm.

Finally, around 7pm or so, Tris was wandering downstairs looking for news when he saw a sign stating that the flight to Newark was checking passengers in! If not for him, I never would have known, as there were no announcements on it as far as I know. After waiting in line, if you can call the mad scamble of people fighting to get to the desk first a line, I found myself handing over my luggage and receiving my ticket. Bidding farewell to Tris and thanking him for helping me out all day, I went in search of my next destination, security!

Finding a line this time was difficult; there were masses of people sitting on the floor waiting for news on their flights, and numerous others standing. I eventually found one of what was apparently two lines, neither moving and neither more official than the other. There, I spent a good hour or more; I read a book I had on me, talked to the American students who were in line next to me, and sent texts to my mother and a friend back home, informing them that my flight was delayed. The security gate, however was not letting anyone go through, and people were receiving conflicting information. The airline workers downstairs were telling us that the flight would be delayed, but that we’d be allowed through security once the runways had been cleared, while the Heathrow workers upstairs were telling us everything was canceled and that we should head home. By 9pm, the official announcement was made that all flights were canceled. Papers were handed out giving us information, but little of it made sense, and the airline was refusing to give me my luggage back, telling me that I needed to wait until the next day to retrieve it from them.

I didn’t know what to do, and was very low on minutes for my phone. Here, they only charge you for outgoing calls, not calls you receive, so I called my friend and hung up before I could be charged, and then had him call Ifsa-Butler’s London office to tell them to call me. The staff member helped me find other Ifsa-Butler students who were wandering the airport, not knowing what to do or what to expect. I was surprised to find Ashley, one of my flatmates, still in the airport; her flight was supposed to have left early in the morning, but apparently had been delayed by the plane being late, then was caught in the snow as they were preparing to leave. She’d been stuck on the plane for over seven hours before they’d decided to cancel.

None of us were willing to leave without our luggage, so after updating Ifsa-Butler’s London branch, we prepared to stay the night, fighting for information and new flights out.

To be continued when library opens again tomorrow.

Well, everyone, it’s been a week and a half now since my plane touched down in icy Chicago for the winter holidays.  Going from 85 degree weather and walking into biting winds and snow told me quickly that I had indeed arrived home.

My last two weeks in Argentina kept me quite busy.  For four days, two friends and I headed far down South to El Calafate to see the glaciers (and even trek over them!), and later that same week, Mario, our IFSA director in Buenos Aires, took us to his house in Colonia, Uruguay for an astounding, fantastic Thanksgiving dinner that we did not expect! Despite the hot Uruguayan sun, it was I guess as close to Thanksgiving as we could have come.  My last week in Buenos Aires consisted of writing long research papers and seeing the remaining sites that I had not visited.

But, by the time my last 2 weeks were over, I think I was truly ready to come home.  It was a semester in which I got to know a truly unique culture, meet some amazing people, see some beautiful places, and have some of the best times of my life, without a doubt.  I love the winter holiday season so that, combined with my family, was calling my name as I eagerly hopped on to the plane embarking from Ezeiza International Airport.

I have now (quite easily) transitioned back into the daily routine of life in the United States.  There are definitely times every day when I think about Buenos Aires and how much I miss it, but I am very thankful to be back with close family and friends and thankful for the experience I had down South.

Such a great experience would not have been possible without IFSA-Butler.  Their staff was so kind, proactive and helpful, and were there with us every step of the way.  They always alerted us to cool activities and events going on, and even took us on some great trips.  They provided us with insurance and even doctors in case of emergencies.  Enough can’t be said about their role in my experience.

It’s hard to describe what I learned in terms of scholastic achievements while down here in Buenos Aires.  Sure, school was definitely a part of everything, but they always say that study abroad is not about what you learn in books, but what you gain in life experience.  This could not be more true.  I had never really experienced any other cultures in full before arriving in Buenos Aires, and I am so thankful that I have been able to broaden my horizons.  In doing so, I have been able to find things that I love about Argentine culture, and at the same time find things that make me appreciate the USA more.  I made a great list of things I learned on my personal blog, http://jfrake.wordpress.com/

All in all, it was a fantastic semester, and it’s kind of sad to be done for IFSA, but that’s all folks! I hope you enjoyed reading, and make the decision to STUDY ABROAD!

How is it possible that I leave tomorrow morning?  It feels like these last four months have flown by and I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave yet.  Lima just started to really feel like home, plus spring is here and I have to go back to blizzard conditions in Chicago… but I’ll be happy to get home to my friends and family for the holidays.

I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to take a adequate video of a combi ride, something that would capture what it’s like to travel on Lima’s makeshift public transportation system.  I have to say, there is nothing like a combi ride.  The combis developed out of necessity.  In the last few decades, Lima’s population has grown exponentially with many people from the sierra migrating to the coast and the outskirts of Lima.  These people needed a way to get from their homes to the more established areas of Lima and the government didn’t step in.  So, private enterprises took on the challenge.

The streets of Lima are covered in combis of 3 sizes: bus, micro and combi (these are the size of a full-size van).  There are 2 important people on a combi, the cobrador and the driver.  The cobrador takes your pasaje or fare.  He also yells out the door to let you know the combi’s route and lets the driver know when people want to get on and off.  There is no website where you can find the different routes of the combis, so the only way to find out is to ask a Peruvian.  The drivers tend to be pretty crazy, as it is in their best interest to pick up all the passengers before any of the other drivers can.  This leads to many terrifying combi races.  It also leads to absolutely packed combis.  For example, I ride a to La Católica on a route called the “S” which is comprised of the smallest combis.  Around 6pm, there are probably upwards of 20 people squished into those tiny things half of whom are standing, bent over.

Perhaps the best way to describe a combi ride is to got through the steps.  Plus, if you’re ever in Lima you can use these helpful tips.

1) Find a stop or paradero or just stick out your hand on any busy street and 10 will stop for you.

2) Either read the side of the combi or ask the cobrador to make sure that it goes where you’re going.  Usually if it doesn’t, the cobrador will tell you which one does.

3) Hop on before the driver speeds off.  The cobrador will encourage you and let the driver know to wait by saying “¡Sube sube sube!“  Hold on to something because when they do start moving you will go flying into someone’s lap if you’re not holding on.

4) Sit and enjoy the lovely 80s jams or salsa music that the driver has on full blast, the smell of gasoline and the sob stories of all the vendors who climb on board to sell you hard candies.  Hold on tight to your belongings and be careful not to bang your head on the seat in front of you when the driver stops.  If your standing, you have to keep your balance.  The cobrador will also probably yell “Avanza por favor, al fondo hay sitio.” which means that there is room at the back.  There is never room at the back.

5) The cobrador will come down the aisle clinking his change and asking for pasajes.  You pay him, usually 1 sol and he gives you a ticket that lets him know you paid and gets you your money back in case the combi crashes.

6) When you want to get off, you let the cobrador know by saying “¡(Insert your stop here) baja!”  For example, “¡Paradero baja!” or “¡Esquina baja!“  The cobrador repeats this to the driver and you must squish through the people to get to the door in time for your stop.  The cobrador will let the driver know to stay put by shouting “¡Baja baja baja!” but you should hop off quickly because they will start moving…

It’s a crazy way to get around but it’s cheap and convenient.  In some ways, I will miss my crazy combi rides.  I remember being scared to get on them in August, but now I find them easy and feel comfortable getting around by combi.

My bags are packed and goodbyes are said and I’m feeling so many different things at once.  I hope one day I can come back to Lima and to my wonderful host family.  It has truly been a once in a lifetime experience.

Find more videos like this on Institute for Study Abroad – Butler University

On December 8th, the day after Mall, Claire, and I got back from Lake Titicaca, we had arranged a tour to go see an ancient cemetery, which is about 30 kilometers from Puno.

We were picked up in a 15 passenger van.. just for the 3 of us, and went off to find out who our guide was. We ended up having the same guide as we had for the tour on Lake Titicaca, so we were pretty excited about that.

After winding around dreadfully awful roads for about and hour we arrived at a farm. We had chosen to do a horseback tour because it took you “off the beaten track” according to the tour agency, and it would give us a better opportunity to see scenery that you couldn’t see from the road.

Like I said yesterday I think, they rainy season is just starting in Puno, which means that everything is dead and dry still. The horses were SO skinny. After being convinced by the man that we weren’t going to squish them if we mounted them, we were off.

They gave me the “mommy” horse, which Mallory and Claire thought was fitting..ha ha. It had a gringo baby, completely white with blue eyes, that the owner said looked just like me- how thoughtful.

The path was really pretty, and we went around a lake most of the time. After about an hour of walking, my horse decided that she didn’t want to go any farther. I guess she was tired. It took the owner getting on her and riding her around for a minute for her to move again. With the altitude I must say that I wouldn’t have wanted to have someone on my back either.

We arrived at Sillustani after just over two hours on horseback. I was worried that we weren’t going to beat the storms in, but thankfully we did! My knee reminded me quite sharply that holding my foot in a stirrup for over two hours is not a good idea, but it was definitely worth it.

We headed up to Sillustani, as the thunderclouds started to roll in. Sillulstani is an ancient cemetery of Incan and pre-Incan tombs. The higher up on the hill the tomb is the higher the person was in society. Each tomb was created for an entire family, not just one person, and was constructed of solid rock.

The guide told us that the nicest tombs would take up to 15 years to build. They used water to cut through the massive stones. They would place water where they wanted to cut the stone, and then when the water would freeze it would expand and cut the stone. It seems pretty awesome to me, and I do want to try that sometime.

Each tomb had two layers, an inner layer, and then a more decorative outer layer. Some of the Incan tombs hadn’t ever been finished, so we could see the constructing in process. Some of the tombs are over 12 meters in height. (I promise that I am not european, but I only learn these facts in the metric system!)

As we were on top a hail and sleet storm came through. We took refuge behind a tomb, and ten minutes later the storm had passed. The weather in Puno is that unpredictable, it changes about every ten minutes. Since we could see the next storm coming in, we finished seeing the last of the tombs and headed back to the van just in time for the next storm to come through.

On the way back to Puno, the driver asked us if we wanted to stop in Paucarcolla, which is about halfway between Puno and Sillustani to see the festival that was going on. The 8th was the feast of the Immaculate Conception, and Paucarcolla throws an amazing festival. Literally the town tripled in size that day.

Everyone from the country came in to celebrate. They had a procession of the Virgin, and there was a parade of bands and dancers. The clothing was something that they prepare all year just for this day. They were in the brightest colors, with tons of detail and decoration. They only wear the clothes once, and then they change for the next year.

We stayed for a while, seeing the parade, being offered millions of different types of food, it was a lot of fun. There was one man dressed up in a mask and full costume, and he had a black crow on his shoulder. He came up to me and put the crow up towards my head, where it proceeded to peck at my head and eat part of my hair! It really hurt! I still have no idea why he did that, but Mallory and Claire definitely got a kick out of it.

After about thirty minutes we headed back to Puno, where we went shopping for Christmas presents, looked for tamales (they are really good!), and just enjoyed the sunshine.

The next morning, the 9th, we had to get ready to head back to Arequipa. We walked out of our hotel to go to a museum and could see that there was a massive commotion in the plaza. It was a celebration of the Battle of Ayacucho, a massive victory for Peru. The navy, army, and coast guard were all there, and there was a huge military parade.

After a few hours we headed back to the plaza and there was another massive group of people. This time however, we could see that it definitely was not the military. The police had set up blockades around the plaza, which obviously made us nervous. One of the public universities had gone on strike. I guess one of the directors is corrupt and has stolen a ton of money from the students, which is what they were protesting. They all had signs and banners, and there was a cardboard coffin that they had created, and set it on fire.

Needless to say, we stayed out of that area as much as possible. After Claire and Mallory finishing all of their Christmas shopping, we found food for the bus ride back to Arequipa, and headed back.

In Arequipa, on the 10th, we just had enough time to see the party for Mario Vargas Llosa, who is the first Peruvian to win the Nobel Peace Prize (Literature). He is from Arequipa, and was awarded the prize on the 10th. There was a dance tribute to him in their plaza de armas and the news stations were all there. They even set up a massive television so the people could see Vargas Llosa receive the award.

After walking around a bit, visiting a museum, and eating lunch, we headed back to the airport and caught our plane to Lima. I can’t believe that tonight I will be leaving Lima and heading home. It is just incredible to me that over four and a half months have past. From what I have been told it is absolutely freezing in Minnesota right now. I think I might go into shock, as it has been in the upper 70’s here, and in Arequipa it was in the 80’s.

Our program director for IFSA-Butler  is taking us out to breakfast this morning, and then I think I am going to spend the rest of the day with my family. I am going to miss them so much! I really think that my family is what made my experience here so great. Other students haven’t enjoyed their families as much, and also haven’t had the greatest experiences here in Perú. It has really made me think about wanting to host students in the future. I think it would be a good opportunity to help out other students, and give them a great study abroad experience as well. In my opinion, staying with a family is one of the best parts of my IFSA-Butler study abroad program. I don’t know what I would do without all the help from my family, and also it is an amazing way to learn more of the language.

One of the things I’m truly going to miss about my school here in England is the text book system.

In the US, I spend approximately $500 on textbooks a semester; note this is rather cheap, since all of my books that can be bought used are, and I always sell them back myself online rather than selling them to my school store for a mere pittance of the original value. However, there are always those books that can’t be sold back, like the ones that come with a temporary code for some online ‘resources’ or program. Usually, these texts cost me inordinate amounts, and I’m stuck with a book I often don’t have any use for afterwards; most of the time, these books belong to subject I’m required to take only because I’m in a liberal arts program, and they have nothing whatsoever to do with my majors.

Fortunately, in my entire time here in London, I’ve only bought one book, for a mere £25, and I plan on selling it back to my school store or online for a good deal of the money back. As for the rest of my books, I’ve borrowed them from the school library.

The library here is huge, and fortunately, contains multiple copies of just about every single text that I need for my classes. Since I only have each class once a week, making sure that I get to the books I need to read that week is generally not problem; all of the copies have different amounts of time that they can be borrowed for, so no one gets to hog a copy to themselves for very long. Sometimes I don’t even check out the books, but rather take them off the shelves, take notes in a nice quiet reading section of the library, and then return them to where they originally came from.

Sure, life would be easier if I simply bought the books and didn’t need to worry about due dates or finding them every week, but I’d also have spent a great deal of money. All of my classes require multiple books, but no one really expects you to buy them all. The professors only expect you to buy the primary text, if anything, and borrow the supplemental readings you need for your papers from the library. The list of supplemental readings is another thing I’m going to miss; it’s nice to know what books are good sources of information for your essays, rather than having to slog through dozens of texts in the hopes of finding something relevant to the question at hand.

I wish my library back home was like this; of the eight books I had to buy for one of my history classes last year, not a single one could be found in the library; rather, it mostly contains articles and texts that are useful as sources for projects and essays occasionally. I don’t even want to imagine how many of the books in that library have gone untouched for years; I think I’ve only checked out four texts max from them, since I also have access to online sources through programs like JSTOR. Considering how much we pay for tuition, you would think US schools would be more interested in helping us save money through other methods. However, sometimes it feels like they’re more interested in helping the textbook companies; I don’t get my textbook list from my school or the professors running the classes, but rather from the company that runs the on campus book store! Since they expect us to buy from them, the list often doesn’t contain anything important like author, edition, or even the full name; I normally have to message my professors individually for that so that I can buy my books used through Amazon.