bolivia
Overall, I'm doing better here in terms of thriving, living and experiencing than I initially imagined I would, but it is still difficult. I am nervous all the time, and shy, and awkward, especially when meeting people, pushing my way off of buses, organizing, calling up strangers to ask questions about research projects. Who am I(to do this)? The mental rift between my days and life here and my usual days and what I usually call my life in the United States doesn't cease to perplex and amaze me. The differences between what I think and worry about and feel is important. Sometimes I miss having to be less worried and having to make less effort to communicate, though I realize that the challenge is important. I go through waves of comfort and waves of anxiety when I walk into a store or restaurant or board a boat on a murky river with dolphins and crocodiles. I forget words and procrastinate. My college is on my tail about completing work for them while I am here also, and I want to tell them to chill the fuck out and stop being anal about deadlines and forms. My feet are covered in mosquito bites. Not everything is constantly in my hands. This is a huge difference. Sometimes I forget to breathe and smile. I miss really good chinese food, but there is supposedly really good sushi next door. I do nothing else in all my moments awake but give everything I can muster enough courage for a try: it is needed to decide to get up and ask a question, to turn left, to knock on doors that I have never stepped in front of before.