Creative Regurgitation AKA the art of taking finals exams

Yes, I did say final exams. You may not have expected such a phrase arising so early in my grad school "career" but it's true. I have officially survived my first (of many) grad school finals. After three weeks of nonstop Public Budgeting including daily class from 9-12 and 1-4, group work assignments, daily readings of at least 50 pages a day, the creation of a full-blown yearly budget for a hypothetical Day Care, and then a day and a half devoted to studying for the final, I went in this morning and completed the course with an exam worth a whopping 50% of my overall grade! For those that do not know me, just surviving the transition from the Paraguayan paradigm into American life has kept me on my toes--not to mention the transition to a new Syracuse way of life--but this whole studying Public Budgeting right off the bat really did a number on me. I don't have a background in budgeting and with so much financial management thrown at me and the whole time struggling to catch up with concepts that all the econ majors were flying through, I sincerely feel accomplished for having survived this course. Well, I guess that conclusion is yet to come since I don't have a clue what my grade is going to be. But, in general, I'm amazed at the actual learning capacity of the human mind and that, in a few short but intense weeks, I have been able to cram so much completely unfamiliar information into my reeling brain. I have no idea how long it'll be in there, but at least I got a lot in.

When the 3 1/2 hour test finished (it was supposed to only last 3 hours but seeing that not one person had finished with 1/2 an hour to go, they gave us an extension...I had literally started the last section with that 1/2 hour to go and was freaking out and still didn't finish the whole test with the extra time), all my anxiety swelled up from deep down and I was literally shaking for a good 20 minutes, my hand had gone numb from all the writing stressing an already stressed nerve, and I couldn't get my heart to stop racing. I found a good outlet for it though--ribs. As a celebration, a big group of Maxwellis headed down to the famous Dinosaur Barbecue in downtown Syracuse. An established biker joint, it's also a fabulous diner catering to college and tourist crowds alike. I had gone there with my friend Megan just before she and her husband shipped out of Syracuse and headed for Idaho. And, I was excited to be back--especially for THIS celebration! My friends laughed at how involved I was with my half-rack of beautifully-smoked ribs smothered in Dino BBQ sauce, but I enjoyed every bite! That, alongisde root beer on tap made me almost forget the stress of the past three weeks...almost.

We then joined up with some other MPA students to see a Friday afternoon showing of the new Batman Dark Knight movie. It was INCREDIBLE! I was a little skeptical through the first part because it was becoming painfully predictable, but then everything turned around and I had no idea what to expect and was (as one of my guy friends so lovingly pointed out) "squirming" in my seat for most of the show. Twisted, sometimes really dark and disturbing, thought-provoking, and generally mesmerizing, I LOVED this show! I don't know if I could see it again any time soon, but generally amazing. It's a tragedy that Heath Ledger was so affected by his role that it would take his life, but to his credit, his performance was truly riveting. I don't want to reveal too much of the plot, but I will comment on the discussions it raises on human nature and the battle between good and evil. Basically, he is a psychotic villain mastermind "with no rules" that acts completely unpredictably, turning things around and defying any sort of logic or moral reasoning. Past any self-interest, the Joker is simply insane. But, in facing his twisted tactics, there were various responses from the "good" and "bad" guys and you learn that the line isn't always as clear as we would like to think. When you can justify self-interest, you make yourself the good guy. But, when that self-interest becomes a vendetta for revenge, you make yourself a new kind of bad guy. Anyway, it really makes some interesting commentaries...the bigger and better they are, the harder they fall; sometimes people deserve more than "the truth; heroism and villainy are often only a decision away; inspiring good will also provide fodder for evil; sometimes you have to endure injustice as a result of your moral decisions; and so many more! Yes, these stories are based on comic books and written with a lot of those POW! BAM! action scenes that glorifies violence and raises mortals to invincible hero stature, but they can also be pretty inspiring, honest commentary on some of the most difficult questions in life. So, while the guys are getting their fix of blood and guts, they may also get some subliminal ethical training on the side.

Finally, I've been house/dog-sitting for the past week and have found that having a loving animal in my life has been probably the most enjoyable and sincere stress-reliever around. The chair of the International Relations department went on a trip with his wife to see family on the West Coast and asked if I wouldn't mind dog-sitting. His beautiful terrier Sophie has been a gem of a companion and I'm blessed to make a new friend that doesn't mind how much I might grumble about budgeting. She's always happy to see me, sleeps alongside me every night (and the occasional nap), and is even patient when I don't let her go as far on a walk as she might like because I don't have enough time to keep her out. I'll post some pics soon. It makes me really want to have my own puppy...but my roommate is allergic so it'll have to wait. As for now, I am thrilled to renew this love I've always had for animals and it couldn't have come at a better time (at least scholastically).

Anyway, just wanted to give an update. No, I guess these activities aren't as "exotic" or book-worthy as my romp in Paraguay, but this is, after all, just a day in the life of Kristine. And, these days, this has been my life. I'm back to the grindstone on Monday with another 3 week, 3 credit course, this time on Public Administration and Democracy. So, look forward to another analysis of my next creative regurgitation on that final...wishful thinking that I make it that long? I hope not.

Takin a break

Going to the Hill Cumorah Pageant. I had just gotten finished with a Federal Budget Simulation where I took the role of Mrs. Claire McCaskill from Missouri. Everybody in the class was given either a Senator's name, was assigned to be in the Press Corps and keep us on our toes, or on the Executive Committee alongside a self-elected President and Vice-President to try and work the room to lobby their position. We had sub-committee meetings on plans touching everything from Medicare to National Security with a mission to balance the budget. We then met the next day in the full Senate and voted one-by-one on the proposals. While being a Democrat for a day wasn't business-as-usual for me, it was a fantastic experience and I loved seeing the debate and hear everyone get into their parts. I presented the Democrat's position for the Medicare bill, but froze up with stage-fright and struggled to really argue effectively. In the end, our bill was tied and the Vice-president had to make the deciding vote--a decided Republican, he voted to pass a bill that would privatize Medicare within 10 years. Anyway, that was last Friday. I then headed out with this fine group of single adults to Palmyra, New York to see my very first Hill Cumorah Pageant. I loved seeing the groups of Mormons milling about the grounds--set up to support more than 9000 people seated plus standing room for many more. Not too chilly, not too many bugs, and not too long to make me fall asleep. Well done. We commented on how great it was to be in a large gathering of people and not feel like your purse was going to get stolen, not being enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and actually seeing happy people all around. Even drivers were courteous and the night was a breath of fresh air compared to the tense crowds of the bar scene. We then waited for the crowds to clear out while laughing at the remaining protesters on bullhorns pleading to the public to "repent of your phony repentance" and leave your "Mormon Gods". It was almost inspiring...all that babble over a bullhorn simply must be the signal I've been waiting for my whole life to put me in the right direction! Ah, but seriously, how sad to see people waste so much time and energy in destruction-seeking and trying to take other people down. I would never dream of the Missionaries picking up bullhorns and degrading Hindu, Bhuddist, or even Catholic gatherings. It's completley contradictory to any message of love or peace that Christ offers us. But, they have their free speech as much as anybody else. After all, it did provide some post-show entertainment. We then headed over to a dance at the Palmyra Stake. I felt a little awkward with my wrist-brace on, but had a great night.

Moving forward to this weekend, the 18th was my first official Karaoke party in the States. Amidst constant heavy metal and angry screaming, there were some good 80's pop rock and even some ballads belted out from the Singers' stage. They had an impressive collection of Karaoke favorites, compiled into massive volumes of spiral-bound goodness floating about the room seeking requests. Here we see the whole group, pre-show, and then Dave and Jason, two friends from the MPA cohort, belting out I Am the Warrior, complete with BANG BANG emphasis. My submission never made it to the lineup before it hit midnight and we were all ready to leave, so we'll have to plan subsequent karaoke nights. It was a lot of fun and a great interruption tothe grindstone of public budgeting. I'm learning a TON and moving quicker through financial material than I had ever dreamed possible, but it's nice to get out and see what the Syracuse night life has to offer (including the first of many Shirley Temples). I have quickly received the reputation of coming from the "jungle" and having "crazy survival skills" living in "extreme" conditions. Haha. Very true in many senses, but still not Tarzan-worthy. That, mixed with the intermittent discussions of whether the Polygamist colonies are considered Mormons or not, how to classify Mormon religion, and why it is that I want to spend so much time with Church-folk really keeps me on my toes. So, doing great! I probably have a pinched ulner nerve in my right arm and discovered that I have no medical coverage other than partial emergency room reimbursement and urgent care coverage at a clinic 100 miles from here. But, it could be worse. Thanks to a great physical therapist-brother (HAPPY BIRTHDAY btw!) I'm working on self-treatment. Oh, and Happy Birthday to Suzanne and her new little bundle of joy Isabel! Even though they stole my Spanish name from childhood, I'm glad to welcome her into the family fold.

"Beaches," babies, and the Bishop's Storehouse

Me at the Palmyra temple







The gang after the Bishop's storehouse enjoying a walk around the temple.


The Sacred Grove...a beautiful natural wonderland of Western NY forest.


Standing on the line in-between Wayne and Manchester counties...I'm supposed to look confused if you can't tell.

Inside the visitor's center at the Hill Cumorah, admiring a collection of Book of Mormons--now in print in 107 languages throughout the world. I couldn't find K'iche' or Guarani among the mix, but there was Kaqchikel (in the old orthography), Chiapan Mayan, and Tzotzil.



The momument atop the Hill Cumorah. Soon to be overlooking the famous Hill Cumorah Pageant.


Playing disc golf...that's right it's actually a sport including regulated holes, tee-off points, and "discs" not to be confused with Frisbees.



Yes, the official Jamesville Beach State Park Speed Limit is a whopping 17 mph...as a future public administrator I guess I should know why that is, but at this point in time, I thought it was just worth a picture.




Luis and Jason njoying the 4th of July barbecue...mmm mmm mmmm!


Despite the official start of graduate school last week, the four-day colloquium was a real get-to-know your classmates and didn't involve any real class work. It was a great introduction to the people in the MPA department, my new classmates, and the general layout of Syracuse University. But, all that cake-walking is coming to an end as I head into Public Budgeting (affectionately called Boot Camp) on Monday.

Celebrating my last weekend of freedom before entering the gauntlet of graduate school classes, I discovered disc golf with a few other classmates at nearby Jamesville Beach State Park. The "beach" was really pretty and well-maintained but the real splendor lied in the 18-hole disc golf course on the grounds. We rented a set of discs and I soon learned just how much skill was involved in chucking a small round piece of plastic towards an iron basket 400 feet away. There were 3 discs in the set--one for long-range, one for mid-range, and one for putting/approaching. And, as we learned, each had it's own technique and purpose. I had no idea such a sport would be so technical! Plus, you can't throw it like an ultimate frisbee--the only way I really know how to throw--but more like a discus. After the first nine holes, we were all pretty exhausted, so we hunkered down to some picnic food and chatted about international politics.

In the middle of the joys of beach bumming, I got a phone call from Suzanne confirming that she had, indeed, given birth to a bright-eyed baby girl on July 2. I had been desparately trying to call anyone in the family to get the latest news but had to wait 2 days before getting anything official. So, welcome new niece!!

Later on, a front porch barbecue ensued, followed by some chillin on the side deck with a group of MPAs. We decided to drive over to the fireworks being launched at the State Fair Grounds only to find ourselves in an hour-long traffic jam to get off the freeway and get parking. My leg was throbbing from holding the clutch in for so long and I couldn't help but complain about the aggressive drivers that felt entitled to zoom to the front of the line and then barge in...at one point a lady in an Expedition rolled down here window and signaled that she wanted me to let her in, but I shook my head and promptly received a barrage of colorful language and hand gestures as they drove off looking for another entrance. Again, welcome to New York driving.

We didn't get far after parking the car before the fireworks started, so we just plopped down at the nearest patch of grass. I can't honestly say if it was worth the drive and frustration, but being my first 4th of July in the United States since 2004, I enjoyed at least the chance to be part of the tradition of barbecues, fireworks, and good company. Interestingly enough, all 4 of us in my car heading for the fireworks turned out to be non-drinkers. We commented on how it was hard to find people that don't drink because, well, you don't exactly congregate to not drink while those of the alcohol find themselves together a lot easier. So, the Lord definitely has His way of letting me know that things are OK and that I'm not alone even if I'm in the minority.

Early Saturday morning, I headed down to a small town outside of Palmyra NY to do some service at the Bishop's Storehouse. One of 4 from the singles group, I had a great time filling bags with dairy and meat along an assembly line of volunteers. There was an older lady in charge of the fresh produce that completely stressed me out as she rushed everybody into making mistakes are really defeating the fun we would otherwise have had. But, in the end, we found little ways to enjoy the tasks and ended up filling 40 orders for families throughout Central New York, filling 2 trucks with basic foodstuffs as produced by the Church's welfare department. The best part of the trip, though, was the following couple of hours as we visited the sites around Palmyra.

First, we hit the Hill Cumorah, complete with the preparations for the Hill Cumorah Pageant that will start next week. Groups of youth practiced their fight scenes while others mastered the choreography of the trumpet-blowers. We headed into the visitor's center and I immediately saw that the Sister Missionaries that greeted us had their nametags in Spanish. I began to converse with one, finding out she had come here from Puebla, Mexico and, with only 4 months of experience, understood my pain of trying to transition into another language and culture.

The Spirit was overpowering as we toured the Smith farm--from the log home where the family first lived and where Joseph had first seen the angel Moroni to the fields he had tilled and worked to the sacred grove and the sight of the First Vision. Incredible. I received my own testimony of the Church a long time ago but more as an extension of my witnesses of the Book of Mormon itself and the doctrine of the Restoration. But, I had always struggled with the reality of a boy prophet and the conduit of that restoration coming through a typical 14-year-old. I had accepted it but always struggled to really say that I knew Joseph was a prophet. That may sound odd, but it's true. But, as I walked the fields and stepped into the replica of the log home, somehow it just came alive and I knew that he had, indeed, been called of God. The Spirit was just so strong that nothing else fit in my head, neither the constant intonation from the tour guide nor the intermittent distractions of the surrounding countryside and the subtle sounds of the other tourists in the visiting centers...nothing could dissuade the strength of the calming reassurance that the place was sacred.

We finished touring around and headed into Palmyra where we grabbed a pizza at one of the 2 restaurants in the entire sleepy town. We then scuttled over to the one LDS bookstore in the area, surprisingly complete, sporting everything from scripture totes and Spanish scriptures to youth T-shirts and Relief Society lesson ideas. I was really tempted to grab some CDs or even replace the scriptures that are reportedly in the mail since I accidentally left them at home...but decided to wait it out until at least pageant-time.

So, anyway, things are going at lightning speed, like normal. Hope all is going well with everyone in their respective homes. Until the next post...

it's all in the orientation materials....

So, yep, officially started graduate school yesterday. Admittedly one of the most overwhelming days of my life. Between the orientation packet I have yet to finish reading from May to the mounds of contact information, office hours, and acronyms thrown at me in the past 2 days, I'm still amazed that I can successfully walk from my house to campus and back without getting lost in a maze of newness. I did ride the bus successfully from campus to my house, have navigated at least 3 separate routes through the park that stands between my house and campus, and have actually gone into 3 different buildings and come out while still knowing which direction to walk to go home. I can't remember my first few days at BYU to be honest, but I definitely don't remember feeling COMPLETELY lost while on campus. And, should anything happen, I could always look up and find the mountains to give me a cardinal direction and a way home....quite handy in fact, though quite absent in the rolling hills of Syracuse.

Today was great though. We had a guest lecture by a Mr. Arthur C Brooks, author of various books and current visiting professor in both the Maxwell School and Whitman School at Syracuse. He was honestly one of the most articulate and engaging speakers I've seen in a long time. While explaining his current research interests of proving whether money can or can not buy happiness, he cited studies from social psychology as well as principles from economics, and even threw in some cross-cultural comparisons from large research firms. I loved the interdisciplinary approach and, even when asked some very obscure questions, while not completely answering the question per se, he always had something to say and was impressively able to channel any comment or question into more evidence from his research that sounded enough on topic to keep the person from asking another question. Amazing public speaker. I'd love to read his books and find out more about the actual details of his research. Oh, and mom, very conservative--he's an economist for heaven's sake!--and argues that in order for people to be happier, the government should actually do less, step out of the way, and facilitate more philanthropy and charitable giving rather than actively pursuing programs to redistribute wealth and 'fix' the money problems in our society.

In getting to know the new surroundings, I had a great time on Saturday when we explored a local farmer's market--the largest one I've ever been to with 4 long buildings filled with booths, tents, and walled-off restaurants with everything from seasonal flowers and produce to cheeses, chocolates, and yes, even a booth dedicated to free trade Guatemalan textiles. I went crazy when I saw them and started talking with the vendor with tentative plans for an exhibition/presentation in the near future.

Then, last night, I attempted to attend a free Syracuse Symphony concert, but was sad to see it rained out. And, when it rains in Syracuse, it POURS! I was reminded of Guatemala rains, which few places honestly live up to that caliber of downpour. So, this could get interesting. But, today, in coming back from class, the weather couldn't have been more ideal. Bright blue skies overhead with just a smallest smattering of fluffy white clouds while a gentle breeze rustled the forests of trees in the giant park. In addition to the emotional roller coaster of the whole graduate school and meeting everyone in my program thing, the weather's capriciousness is giving me a headache!!

So, just wanted to give an update. I am going to Institute as well, getting to know a VERY small singles branch, and adjusting to the constant drinking that is integrated into what would otherwise be a very professional and academic setting. Hope everyone's great. More updates sure to follow.

ROAD TRIP 2008!

That's right, now I get a chance to chronicle my cross-country trek that took my from the Western deserts of Utah to the Eastern forests of Central New York. After returning from my whirlwind visit to D.C., I packed up my possessions and loaded down my beloved 91 Honda Accord named Lucy to take a venture into the wilds of interstate travel. Accompanied by a lifelong friend Adrienne, I barely had elbow room around my sleeping back wedged between the seats, all of 3 inches of space visible from the rear-view mirror, and all that after leaving behind lots of precious possessions like my printer, my bedrest, and even my bed pillows.

We stopped the night in Cheyenne after accompanying the freight trucks in the slow lane as we plodded up the mountain passes, watched the gigantic windmill gathering wind energy, and braved the lonely 1-80 interstate across the Wyoming desert. We got in late into Cheyenne but found a decent hotel right off the freeway and crashed for the night.

With one leg of the journey down, we turned south on a slight detour that would take us straight for Wichita, Kansas and the second night to be spent alongside Kenneth and Bryn where they have been stationed for the past couple of years as Kenneth finishes up his residency. It was interesting to see the changing scenery as the mountain peaks of the Rockies receded away into the distance with open flatlands filled with the copper-brown tint of wheat and the rising red and silver outlines of barns were all the eye could see. I'd never been through the Great Plains though Kenneth and Bryn have told me about its charm. They will soon be heading for Iowa and a permament position as Kenneth works as an anaesthesiologist (I have NO idea how to spell that, but you get the idea.) Congrats bro!!

Unfortunately, despite the good weather and the quote-unquote picturesque landscape of pancake countryside, the second day was dampened by a friendly police-man forking over a speeding ticket. There's just no mercy these days! I could have understood it in congested freeways but in the nothingness of Nowheresville, Kansas, I couldn't believe that I could get a ticket as the ONLY car on the road! Such is life I guess. We did a good visit in with Kenneth, Bryn, and the three little munchkins running around the house. Little Evan was only 4 months old the last time I saw him, now at almost 2 years, he's spry as ever and quickly building his vocabulary (including a mighty valient effort to say Aunt Kristine that came out more of a (RRiiitty). Autumn, now 6, is witty and spunky, full of questions, including "why do you and my mom look so much alike?" We have talked a lot about how I look a lot more like my sister-in-law than my brother--no explanation that I know of. Little Isaac was a lot of fun too and while I had a hard time understanding all that he said, he was just as playful and genuine as ever. I miss seeing the little guys and I wish we had had more time to visit....We chatted over some Southern Barbecue the next day before heading out for our next stop: St. Louis.

We visited Adrienne's brother in St. Louis as he has been installing security systems in the area for a summer job, though was packing up and heading out for Michigan the next day. We headed down to the Gateway Arch, fighting the congested streets of the riverside bars and night life of a St. Louis Saturday night.

Playing around at the park built at the arch, Adrienne skipped across the giant spotlights and I got eaten by the mosquitos...good times. We grabbed dinner at a Steak n Shake diner before heading back to the apartment, chatting with her brother's roommates and Mapquesting the closest chapel to go to church in the morning. I didn't hit the sack until past 3 that night and I don't know how much later Adrienne stayed up, but we were both beat in the morning.

We went to a local ward, small and generally uninviting as not one soul came to greet us, but that's OK. We jumped back on the freeway and headed out to Columbus OH. That was definitely the most taxing day and the long hours behind the wheel started to take their toll. Passing through Indianapolis onward towards Columbus, the vegetation started to turn into more dense oak and aspen forests, and the sharp rolling hills of Missouri turned into bigger but more gradually sloping rises. The skies looked threatening and the winds were strong, but we made it all the way to Columbus without a drop of rain. Once inside the Econolodge and waiting for a pizza delivery, the rain started to pour. It was such a blessing that no storms had hit us thus far and even Bryn had said that the night before we arrived in Wichita they had had a tornado warning.

Our last day on the road, we stuck around Columbus for a little while to check out some land Adrienne's dad had bought and then stopped over to see the Columbus OH temple--a small temple but beautiful and accompanied by a simple and elegant stream running between the temple and the stake center.

We marched onward through the tip of Pennsylvania in to our final destination state--New York. And, as if to welcome me into my new home, the second we crossed over into New York State, I had a guy tailgating me. Shocked that he would be on my tail as I went 75 down a road marked with a 55 mph sign, I moved over only to have 3 more do the same thing to me in the right hand lane! At one point, I was sandwiched behind a sedan with a semi truck on the right and a tailgater motioning in the rear-view for me to get over though I had no idea at what point he imagined I would have the capacity to do so. Once I had a break and was ready to let him go by, I didn't have a chance to because he speeded around me, waving out the drivers' side with a sardonic grin on his face as he went by. And, after all the drama, he ended up slowing down, content to cruise at 70 right in front of me, but I'm sure feeling accomplished at having beaten me on the road. Incredible. I have yet to understand the NY road mentality, and I'll update you if I get anywhere with that.

So, after a long and tiring journey through the heart of the USA, we pulled into Syracuse NY just after 7 o'clock local Eastern Standard Time. I made a mistake of staying in the right hand lane which became an obligatory exit and so was forced to head into downtown rather than take the exit I needed to get to my new apartment...a mistake that took me through some rather questionable neighborhoods and gave me my first glimpse at the run-down urban center of Syracuse. I had no idea where I was, couldn't find any of the main roads that my limited map had to show me, but was determined not to stop and ask for directions short of finding a better neighborhood in which to do so. By a few small miracles, I actually found my way back onto the freeway and by another miracle, hadn't passed the exit I needed and so was able to make it to my new apartment and the waiting entrance key in the hand of a very helpful former tenant.

I didn't have much to offer, but we grabbed some grub at a nearby "Mexican" restaurant. I had to question the authenticity as a guy that looked Irish took our orders which he delivered to 3 African-Americans working in the kitchen. I'm finding that the Latin population is sparse at best in these parts and I don't know how long it will be before I can get any real Latin American food... We settled down on the hardwood floor atop some make-shift beds with the blankets I had brought, forced to accept just a few hours of sleep before taking Adrienne to the airport and sending her back to Utah to face her final and another hot summer in Logan.

Believe it or not, all of this plus a gigantic suitcase and other boxes plus my clothes that were on hangers already in the closet ALL fit into the backseat and trunk of my Lucy. NOT BAD uh??

Here are some crazy views from the road, including:

livestock, a shiny oil tanker that we could see ourselves in, a house, and some cool cars.

In the end, after all the stress and worries and stress and stress of moving and getting adjusted back to the States, I think the move was an incredible success. THANK YOU Adrienne for being a patient, kind, and dedicated friend and a great copilot in making this trip possible!! Also to mom and dad for helping me get things packed in...even in helping filter after what I THOUGHT would fit didn't end up fitting. I'm now meeting new people, getting acquainted with the Syracuse area and am sure to have plenty to comment on in future blogs about this new reality of mine. All in all everything points to great things ahead.

From capital to capital

Shortly after getting back to the U S of A, I had a pressing interview in our nation's capital, the famious Washington, District of Columbia. So, after leaving the red-roofed houses and cobble-stoned houses of sleepy Asuncion, Paraguay, I headed to the bustling metropolis of neo-colonial, modern, post-modern, and neo-classical splendor of Washington D.C. It was only the second time in my long life that I've been in the area, the first being attached to the same organization, but as a graduating high school senior. Only this time I didn't have a welcoming party, the mingling of other scholarship recipients, or the glamour of being escorted around the city. I was being invited to an interview and things were straight down to business. I was to fly in on Sunday and leave on Monday, leaving an all-important decision about a possible graduate school scholarship left for the deciding.

I stayed in an amazingly beautiful (and I can imagine expensive) hotel room that they had reserved for me in the Fairmount Hotel. The luxury burned my eyes as I could hardly believe that I was sleeping on down pillows atop a king size bed in an attractively coordinated business-style suite.

I made sure to make the best of the hotel stay, using the robe hung in the bathroom after a long and luxurious bubble bath and then sitting down to watch HBO and TBS while finishing my interview question preparations.

Monday morning, I headed down to the conference rooms to face the INTERVIEW. I couldn't help but think about the timeline that that particular day was originally planned to have. In a small corner of the world called Itaugua, Paraguay, preparations were being finished for my book launching...the decorations were to be put on the walls of a small municipal salon seating the 200-250 invited guests as they brought in a stereo system for the antiquated microphone set atop a long foldingn table adorned with a nanduti tablecloth. But, I would see none of it, choosing instead to move forward and reach upward in my life towards graduate school and more formal education to prove to the world that I had skills worth a living wage to keep myself fed, clothed, and adequately 'cultured' with some technology, gadgets, and hobbies to occupy my time.

My fears of not being to articulate myself in English were definitely confirmed though my occasional reverse-translation moments were not as difficult as my circumlocutory ramblings to get around them. But, the 'comittee' that was to interview ended up being just 2 people with big smiles and lots of happy side comments attempting to make me actually feel more comfortable as we were to 'chat' and not 'interview.' I had a good time thinking about each question and passed through the more than 1 hour interview without honestly feeling the time. I had a chance to talk with some of the other interviewees and they were all 2004 graduates, making me one year older, a 2003 grad. I walked out not really knowing how to gauge my success or failure but content to know that at least I could show that I had been dedicated to the interview and, in sacrificing my attendance at the book launching, was certain about where I really wanted to go in life--back to the old grindstone and the reconstruction of long-forgotten realities.

I went around D.C. on a fabulous tram system called the Tourmobile. While I half-expected a cheesy, barbie-faced tour guide prodding me not to stick my arms or legs out of the moving vehicle, I honestly really enjoyed the tour. All the trolley-like buses were void of windows for prime no-reflection snapshots of all the federal buildings, memorials, and I even snapped a few of the crazy street signs and traffic signals. I started after taking my first 'metro' from the hotel to downtown by the Smithsonian complex and boarded the tourmobile alongside a mix of tourists from all over the world. As we passed the National Gallery of Art and other museums, I was sad that I didn't have more time to stick around and acutally go through the buildings, but that'll be for another trip. I stopped at Union Station to see the half-station half-commercial center that reminded me a lot of Philadelphia. I stopped to try Godiva chocolates for the first time, snapped my picture in front of life-size cardboard cutouts of Barack Obama and John McCain in a maze of political satire products from playing cards to bobble heads (where all Hillary merchandise was 50% off!), snatched up some pizza, and then got back on the tourmobile.

It was amazing to see sights that cited the grandeur of my mother country's history and development after so much time studying another's. Everything from honoring the servicemen and women buried in Arlington National Cemetery to the iconic homage to presidents Lincoln and Washington. Tourists were respectful and courteous, no shoving or pushing or even competition to get pictures. They actually waited on the side of road for people to come off the bus until they boarded...something I don't think I'd ever see in Paraguay. The buses came frequently punctually and I literally rode the entire tour around the city. We saw the white house only from a LONG distance, Capitol Hill as well, though I did stop and walk around the Lincoln Memorial, providing a picturesque view of the Washington monument were it not for the construction crews in the foreground.

I finished the tour and returned to the Smithsonian metro station to return to the hotel and get moving to the airport. Braving another run on the metro, I opted not to take a taxi and arrived with 15 minutes to spare at the Reagan National Airport. Not bad for a day and a half in the nation's capital?

An unmistakable landmark, the Lincoln Memorial.

Silence and Respect mark the tomb of John F. Kennedy, accompanied by his widow Jacky, his brother Robert, and an eternal flame lighted shortly after his assassination.

Saluting all unidentifiable soldiers killed in the line of duty, a constant vigil is kept at the Tomb of the Unknown Soliders, Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia. Here there are 3 Marines, conducting a changing of the guards ceremony.

Getting back to...

So, I feel like I'm living at least 2, maybe 3 or 4 different realities right now, so keeping a streamlined, technologically-friendly blog of a day in the 'life of Kristine' is a little more complicated at this point in time and space than previously expected.

If that doesn't adequately describe the basic symptoms of re-entry culture shock piled on top of moving anxiety, social anxiety, and economic foreboding as I stare down two years fraught with student loans I'm bound to be paying for the rest of my life, feel free to give me a phone call and we could probably thrash it out into some more expanded terms. But, for the sake of brevity in catching people up on the past month or so that I haven't uploaded anything to my blog, I'll save the details.

And, for the sake of archiving, I'm actually going to break up this post into a few posts--I know, unheard for me!

So, here goes!

Ending reality 1--here I am at the Asuncion airport, definitely anxious to leave the climatically capricious tropics of Paraguay though sincerely distraught knowing that that transition would be filled with quirky language trip-ups, returning to awkward re-relationship-building, not to mention the preparation for an all-important scholarship interview, moving cross-country, and starting grad school. But, more on that in the upcoming posts. Back to reality 1. Sinthia and Lourdes were so generous in offering to take me to the airport and see me off. I had stayed the night with the wonderful Rodriguez family because they had lent me a bed and, in returning it to them, I was left without anything but a suitcase to keep me off the floor. As I woke up and had my last wisdom-filled conversation with Cati while we shared the steaming cup of yerba mate, I watched out the door at the contradiction of the bright green palm trees outlined by dark rain clouds moving over the valley. David took me back to my apartment and to run a few errands before making our last goodbyes as it poured outside. I made my last rounds around Itaugua that stormy Thursday, trying to stop at key houses and give my good wishes to the weavers, the friends, the town officials, and even the landlord that supported my stay in Itaugua. I was noticeably emotional but with the more than a week of goodbyes that I had been making as well as the process of selling my furniture, distributing the published books, and signing the donated books for the local schools, I was a little more put-together than I might have expected. The weather calmed just long enough to get me about 8 blocks from my house on various visits before it started pouring again. I was so anxious and afraid that I would miss my ride that I braved running through the rain and made it back to my apartment SOAKING wet and miserably cold. I couldn't put my wet clothes into the suitcase and opted to pull out a portable blow dryer that I used to somewhat warm me up and dry me off. Cati had come down so that I wouldn't have to carry my stuff on my own and it was a huge comfort to have her by my side.

Which takes us to the airport. I had a surprise visit by the Aldama family including Karen who donned her Havanna uniform to sneak into the waiting room with me until I got on the plane. It was hard to give my goodbye hugs and try to act like my normal self, but I did it. Once inside the waiting room, I thought it would be quick, but the flight ended up getting delayed and I started worrying about my connecting flight. I finally made it on and said goodbye to Karen and headed out, alone.

After short of running across the Buenos Aires airport to make it for the last boarding call for the red-eye to Houston, I finally started to feel dry though my clothes were disgustingly wrinkled and I was desparate for a shower. Approximately 11 hours later, I touched down on American soil and was welcomed back into my country of origin. A few more hours later, I made it to Salt Lake City, travel-worn, tired, shocked at the visual blur of highways, mountains, SUVs, traffic lights, and billboards lining the track back to Bountiful and the luxurious homes of the comfortable American middle class. I was "home" from another "adventure" as many would call it or an "experience" as others would cite. Whatever you call that chunk of life spent out of your comfort zone building new comfort zones, testing your horizons, breaking your spirit and teaching you to make yourself a new one...it had "ended" and now I was supposed to "go back to real life."

As I contemplate on those first few hours back in the States, all I can envision is the literal closing of one reality as it attempted to blend into another, an older, a more distant one that somehow could never really exist again because, with that attempt to blend, actually stops, shifts, and actually transforms in a permament bend in order to accommodate the new person returning the old reality. Then, as time goes on, that transformation acts more like a fault line under a volcano chain. It's always there though you don't always see it. But, every so often, things spark a forgotten memory, a friend left behind under the construction and uplift of the new mountains shaping the countryside...typically not one of those huge composite eruptions that blows its top, but the slow, somewhat constant flow of lava spurting up from the hidden abyss of the past and carving a small trail across the outer crust of the present. Sometimes there big eruptions spurting large flows that cover the entire construction...but those too die down and cool in the surrounding atmosphere and just become another layer in the constantly changing terrain.

OK, I don't know if that analogy really means anything to anyone but me, but it's my attempt to communicate what culture shock and its accompanying cultural growth mean to me. So, here's to you--realities 1 and 2 (but really, both were made of the millions of previous realities so the numbers don't really make sense either...), may you rest in peace under the upcoming lava flows.