"Well, whad'dya learn?" my dad asks, "Didya answer y'all's question?" At my silence, he continues, "Then whad'dya go to the Balkans for?!" What DID I go to the Balkans for? Since our return, I've been struggling to find a way to neatly close out the trip in my mind: to tuck it away deep inside the recesses of my memory, pull out a couple "lessons learned", slap some pictures up on Facebook to satiate my curious friends, and call it a day. For whatever reason, I cannot compartmentalize this past month of experiences into a compact little mental bundle, or an encompassing blog post, as comfortably as I would like to. Maybe it is because this trip was so different from my past experiences, because this time, when I flew home, I did so without having left new trenches to lay a pipeline in a few months, without having collected baseline water quality data, or without having received grades that validated my existence for the last couple of months. Maybe it is because this trip was not, for once, about me changing a place, but about a place changing me.
From the moment we first choked out of the rental van parking lot at the Zagreb airport to the day we finally infiltrated a heavily flooded Belgrade and all the times in between, our group has been through what some would consider a lifetime of experiences in just a few short weeks. I'll never forget what it felt like to summit my first official mountain in Paklenica National Park, and to look out over the vast, unwieldy ocean as it was framed by rocky peaks. I'll never forget the most edifying taste of delectably fresh seafood after hours of heavy paddling and three days of straight Mountain Houses. I'll never forget walking through the modern-day equivalent of a ghost town in Livno, and trying to contemplate all of the events that must have made it this way. I'll never forget, especially as a civil engineer having just completed a ~145 page report on best stormwater management practices, what it was like to live out a 100-year storm event, and to see just the degree to which the full and merciless force of Mother Nature can lash out.
But most importantly, I'll never forget you. Whether "you" are the director of the program that gave me the chance of a lifetime, not just in this trip, but in this scholarship program, or the one spouting off deep, religious musings on a steep trail. Whether "you" are the professor who forced me to challenge the very nature of my thoughts, and to consider the rest of the story, the WHOLE story, or the one who cheered me up after a very long, trying, and sobering day. Whether "you" are the students who make up the rest of our community of learners, or a unique individual brimming with stories to tell and a perspective to add. Whether "you" are one of the three or so devoted readers of my blog, or someone in one of the dozens of random countries who just happened to come across it, and inspired me to keep writing. I've come to realize that having people to share your experiences with is a tremendous blessing, and I couldn't have asked for a better crew. Thank you.
There will always be good and evil forces in this world, such is the nature of the beast. I think a point to be learned from this trip is that memorials and remnants of such troubled times do not exist to drown us in our sorrows, or to create a colossal guilt-trip on the world, or even to continually shame those who have done wrong. I think they exist simply to remind us of what happened, of how easily this could happen, and of how vigilant we must remain in our tolerance and understanding of those who are different. I find myself unsettled by sentiments, muttered comments, and ignorant remarks that I might have laughed off before. I find myself less comfortable with small-town ignorance, and life within a safe, little bubble. It may not be much, but it is a start, and it is a difference I can tangibly feel.
There have been wrongdoings and atrocities against groups of people the world over. There have been massacres that we know nothing of, and may never have reason to hear about. There have been other genocides like in Srebrenica that have been overlooked, and that people are still fighting for remembrance of. Maybe we cannot do anything about these now. Maybe it is, obviously, too late for too many. But maybe also, each of these little scars changes us as a human race, and empowers us to be the difference when it matters. Hopefully, we are never faced with such a tribulation. Hopefully, we will be left to change our worlds through our everyday actions. And hopefully, should the occasion arise, we will not be the good people who just stood by. Passion is a beautiful thing, a powerful thing. What could the world be if we were each to follow our own, wholly and completely?
Each moment, we are faced with a choice: the choice to do the easy, the safe, the familiar, or the choice to scale a mountain, kayak an uncomfortable amount of miles, take an internship half a country, or even half a world, away from your nearest friends. It is by choosing these challenges that we grow. It is in choosing to embark upon a trip with unclear expectations and a fuzzy destination rather than hopping on the most popular study abroad program with the easiest classes that we truly learn. As my career here at Georgia Tech comes to a close, I can't help but think back to my first prolonged international experience of studying abroad in Spain after my freshman year, and how far I've come since. The things that used to terrify me are now the very same things that bring me such wild and unrestrained excitement. Public transportation systems that used to confuse me to no ends now awe me, and I marvel at their complexity. There is nothing quite as satisfying as navigating the cheapest/sketchiest way to get from point A to point B successfully. While I used to pretend to be asleep to avoid the potential embarrassment of having to start a conversation in a weird mash of two thick accents or even two entirely different languages, I now long to hear peoples' stories, in whatever melodic lilt they come out in. The homesickness that once incapacitated me and kept me up until all hours of the night has given way to an unquenchable thirst to see new places, and to understand how the rest of the world lives. These days, "home" means the Atlanta airport, and no longer the final destinations of houses or farms or couches that might be waiting behind it.
So what did I learn? I learned of a place called the "Balkans", from a word that means "chain of wooded mountains", formerly known as the Republic of Yugoslavia. I learned of a war fought within my lifetime, and upon my own generation. I learned that I actually enjoy backpacking, and lugging thirty or so pounds up a rugged path, for whatever reason. I learned that I am a slow-and-steady kayaker, more content with being on the water than mastering it. I learned that there are incredible people within my own university that I have yet to meet, who will shape my life in ways they may never know. Most importantly, I learned to accept that some questions have no answers, and sometimes, you can only ask.
PS - For a more detailed (aka wordier) account of our trip, the rest of my blogs are available at alliesadventuresabroad.wordpress.com
No comments:
Post a Comment