Every night before I go to bed, I peer out my window and across the street, usually to see several girls standing outside the Admas Bar. The girls, who can’t be any older than 14 or 15, stand perched against the brick wall.
In front of them stands a tall, dark man in a tailored suit, with a boutonnière fastened on his chest.
Because of a deep language barrier and an inherent safety issue, I wasn’t able to ask the girls what they do each night outside that bar. But to me, it’s blatantly obvious.
Prostitution runs rampant in Ethiopia, especially in the capital where we are staying, Addis Ababa. The most famous area, not in the area where I am, is called “The Red Light District.”
I haven’t trekked down to the infamous district filled with brothels and sex trafficking, but some of the members of my mission group have in previous trips.
Throughout the district, the pimps set up homes for the prostitutes to live in, charging them around 60 burr (Ethiopian currency) a night to live there. Each customer a prostitute turns will typically pay around five to ten burr.
You do the math.
Did I mention that five to ten burr is equivalent to less than a dollar? Each trick averages around 35 cents.
Also staggering is the age when women, or girls, begin to sell themselves. Because of the vicious cycle of poverty and oppression, the prostitution can begin as early as nine or ten years old. Most prostitutes are teenagers, younger than me.
Some mothers have nowhere to house their children while they are working because they live in brothels. So sometimes, the children are in the same beds as their mothers while they are working.
The oldest profession in the world has a devastating effect on Ethiopia – expediting the transmission of STD’s and HIV.
But there are people who are doing all they can to do something about it.
A member of our group from York Pa. has a non-profit organization called “Fields of Hope.” This group, which raises money in the United States, sometimes by selling jewelry made here in Ethiopia, works in conjunction with YenohMerkeb.
YenohMerkeb is a local organization in Addis that reaches out to prostitutes to teach them business skills, in order to get them off the streets and back on their feet.
I have never spent so much time smiling in all my life. Ethiopia is the essence of humanity.
Today the team and I trekked to the village of Sendafa to essentially tour the area that we will spend the rest of the week working in. The team from the church, along with the Project-Adopt-a-Village team walked through the slums of Sendafa to visit with the families and see the town of 20,000.
Their homes are made of corrugated steel, eucalyptus wood, mud and "cow patties." (You don't want to know what those are.) Inside the homes are families with at least several children, their faces lighting up with joy when they see us, and even more when they interact with us.
The children are so beautiful.
One boy, Kuba, who said he is 10 years old, was filled with more energy than I have ever seen. We played soccer with him and two other young boys outside the library, while our group leader helped the high school kids with factorals.
Kuba doesn't know, but he will forever have an effect on me and live in my heart. When we had to leave the children, I couldn't help but cry. I expected to come to Ethiopia to bless people, but instead, these people are blessing me.
This little boy filled with joy had such a love for life, even though he has nothing. He has less than nothing. When I say this place is the essence of humanity, I mean just that.
Life here isn't about laptops, or internships or Starbucks. Its just about surviving and having relationships. Its absolutely incredible in so many ways.
Earlier in the day, we drove through the businesses in the area -- many of which were started through a microfinance loan program that the PAAV team subsidized. There were spice stands, meat racks and candy shops. We bought 300 dollars worth of school supplies from one man to donate to the local kids. It was enough to keep him in business for nearly a year.
The kids of the town, who knew some English, met us at every stop. Their smiles are indescrible and their hearts are so open to us. Ive never seen so many kids so happy to just talk to someone and laugh with someone.
Tomorrow the real work begins. We will likely be visiting homes to install vinyl flooring on the grounds to replace the mud, something we take for granted so easily.
But for now, I'm going to get back to soaking in this place, the crown jewel of Africa.
I’m thousands of miles in the air on a Boeing 777 plane. It’s kind of stuffy and kind of loud. But I have this cool screen on the chair in front of me, and there’s games.
What’s actually weird isn’t where I’m at -- it’s where I’m going. I have just embarked on a 13-hour plane ride that will take me to the African country of Ethiopia on a mission trip that I’ve been planning on participating in for months.
I’m headed there with a group of 18 other eager members of my home church, Living Word Community Church. We’re not headed to Africa to try to convert people to believe in Christianity, though.
We’re going to work.
Our bags are packed with bottles and bottles of vitamins to distribute to the people of Sendafa – the village my church has adopted for the last seven years. They're packed with vinyl and cloth, so we can install flooring in their mud huts. Our bags also have school supplies, so the students can afford to learn.
We’re also packed with loving hearts, so we can support what we call, “The PAAV Team.” The team, comprised of Ethiopians that have paired up with our church, works all year around. They conduct home visits, school visits and distribute HIV meds. Their biggest project: installing the country’s first chlorinated water system.
Let me repeat that. We are installing the first purified water system in the entire country.
Pretty big stuff.
What’s weird about this trip, though, is that I never saw myself coming here. I never sat around and dreamed of Africa, and I never really aspired to be a 10-day missionary. For me, it wasn’t really a choice.
I’m here with my entire family. That means I have three younger siblings here, age 14, and twins that are 11. Thank God I’m not sitting near them on a 13-hour plane ride. That would be miserable.
But despite that fact that I didn’t have a say in whether or not I came, I do have a say in what I do while I’m here, the relationships I form and the time I spend changing the lives of others. And of myself.
I’m at a point in my life where I think I need a little “life changing.” For the past two and a half months, I served as a crime reporter for the Collegian. As you can imagine, it was a busy semester.
My days, as well as the days of many others, were filled with words like “sex abuse,” “fired” and “rage.” They were filled with allegations, crimes, horrific stories and tears.
I’m so happy to be leaving. To be headed to a place where no one has ever heard of Jerry Sandusky or Tim Curley or even Joe Paterno. A place where what you see is what you get. I can learn so much from these people. I’m sitting in my seat on this plane, just itching to meet them.
If you’re reading this blog now, it means I was able to find a smidgen of Internet access in the capital where we’re staying, Addis Ababa.
Keep a lookout for additional blogs as I move forward. It should be a crazy experience.
For now though, I'll go back to playing tic-tac-toe on the touch screen in front of me. This could be a long ride.
As a journalist, my goal is to report the news, not be the news. But, while sightseeing in D.C. with other Penn Staters, I reluctantly found myself on camera, answering questions instead of asking them.
One day last week, after checking out the National Zoo, a handful of our group from the Penn State Washington Program decided to tour the monuments on the National Mall. Little did we know that on that day, a media team was producing a 9/11 commemorative documentary at the new Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial.
They were filming and interviewing people for a video to be shown at a service originally scheduled to be held at the National Cathedral, marking the 10-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks this weekend.
While my cohorts, many of whom have majors other than journalism, jumped at the chance to be interviewed, I wandered off, hoping none of my new friends would notice I was missing. My plan backfired. Reluctantly, I agreed to sit with them for the interview.
When it was my turn to answer a question, I gave short answers and avoided saying anything I thought could be remotely construed as political. After all, I’m a journalist. My goal is to stay out of the spotlight while I bring to light other people’s stories.
Fast-forward nearly a week. Instead of locking myself in my room and doing homework (as I should have done), I chose to spend part of my Labor Day visiting the National Museum of American History’s September 11: Remembrance and Reflection exhibit. The exhibit displays artifacts and photos from each site where the attacks occurred.
As I waited in line for the exhibit, (the docent estimated it would be about an hour-and-a-half wait) I heard the woman in front of me tell her young son that he was a year old when the attacks occurred. Upon entering the exhibit, the woman behind me told her husband she still couldn’t believe the events that transpired on 9/11.
For me, the exhibit was sad and gripping and helped put a human face on the attacks. The TSA agent at the portion dedicated to life after the attacks — focusing on the creation of the TSA — wiped tears from her eyes. Docents told the stories of rescuers at the Pentagon and the exhibit’s curator fielded questions at the part of the exhibit devoted to victims and rescuers at the World Trade Centers.
That being said, the most influential part for me may have been as I was leaving the exhibit. Visitors had the opportunity to write their memory of the attacks on a slip of paper to hang on a wall and be stored in a digital archive. Initially, I wanted to blow past it and get home to have dinner and do my homework. But that's when it hit me: like it or not, I — along with everyone else in my generation — am part of the 9/11 story.
The real heroes of 9/11 – the people with the stories that need to be kept alive, burned into our memories — are the victims, rescue workers and the families that those who perished left behind. But I’ve now realized that everyone who remembers that day has a responsibility to tell their own story of 9/11. That way, even those too young to remember will never forget.
During our last week in New Zealand, our group of Penn State and Virginia Tech students really got to experience the marine life, as well as the offshore and mainland island sanctuaries, which is something we have all been waiting for.
Saturday, we split into two groups and went hiking and kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park. This is New Zealand's smallest national park and is along a beautiful coastline filled with pockets of sandy beaches. After hiking the coast for a few hours my group got suited up to go kyaking. While paddling on the open water, we went around some predator-free offshore island sanctuaries. These islands help the population of endangered birds grow without the threat of invasive predators. The bird's songs were loud, but beautiful to hear. The only downside to this day trip: it rained the entire time. My group was out on the ocean kayaking for around three hours in what seemed like a monsoon.
Monday, we made the trip to Kaikoura. Along the way we stopped to take a five minute hike to a waterfall where there are baby seals, and the site was unbelievable. There were hundreds of pups splashing in the water. They were so close to us, and some of them even decided to check us out, coming within a foot of onlookers.
Once we reached Kaikoura, we walked the coastline to observe grown seals in their natural habitat. Again, we were able to come within feet of these animals to get an up close and personal experience.
The next day, we were given the chance to really understand the Maori culture. The Maori's are the native people who came to New Zealand some 800 years ago, before Europeans arrived. We learned a waiata (Maori song) and went on a walk through the woods with the Maori, who told us about each plant and how it was used in ancient Maori times. It was very interesting hearing the Maori talk about their ancestors and how they used to live compared to their lives today. It was a great experience because we finally were able to get down to the roots of New Zealand's culture.
Wednesday was the day that we had all been waiting for: our dusky dolphin encounter. When we woke up in the morning it was raining again, and a lot of us were bummed because we didn't think we would be able to swim with the dolphins. The despair increased once we arrived at Encounter Kaikoura and learned that the day before they could not locate the dolphins.
We got suited up anyway and went out to search for the dolphins on the Pacific Ocean. Our luck changed dramatically after about 20 minutes out on the boat. First, our group sited a Humpback whale, and within the next 10 minutes we saw a Sperm whale. This was all very cool, but our main focus was to keep looking for the dolphins.
Then, finally, we saw them.
Even more spectacular, they were swimming with Orca whales. It was odd, because dolphins are the main food source for Orca, and also because it is very late in the season to see Orca in Kaikoura. Our guide coundn't stress enough how unusual this was, but such a treat for all of us. We couldn't swim with the dolphins while the Orca were around, so we traveled 20 minutes south of our location. Then we were able to slide into the freezing Pacific Ocean to hang out with wild dolphins. We were told to sing to them to keep them interested in us, and surprisingly, they really responded to "Hey Jude" by The Beatles.
Today is our last day in New Zealand, and I think I can speak for Penn State and Virgina Tech when I say it is going to be a bittersweet farewell.
This country is one we explored with no boundaries; trekking through the bush and hiking to the top of mountains made us feel invincible. For the rest of our lives we are going to remember the times we spent together and the experiences we shared. We all really made a connection traveling, but our love for New Zealand will keep us bonded.
I still just can’t believe we climbed a glacier. Before we went up, our guides provided us with thick wool socks; uncomfortable, heavy steel toed boots; and cramp-on’s. Cramp-on’s are metal spikes you wrap around your boot to keep you from sliding off the glacier or into a crevasse. After hiking through a valley up to the glacier, we strapped those suckers on and started climbing. It was amazing, we were completely surrounded by walls of ice. Once we reached the top our eyes were met with the most jaw-dropping site. We were standing on the glacier, but completely surrounded by rainforest. It is amazing that New Zealand has the type of climate to offer something that is so unbelievable.
Fox Glacier is found in South Westland, New Zealand and has been recorded to advance at up to 4 meters per day, and we climbed it on Tuesday.
Just another tag to the awesomeness of New Zealand’s diverse ecosystem, the glacier is surrounded by rainforest. Huge amounts of snow and ice become trapped in the long, narrow valley where Fox Glacier is found. This adventure gave us the hands on experience of learning about global warming and sustainability. Fox Glacier has actually been advancing since the 1980s, which means it has been getting bigger.
When we went to take a Penn State group picture, our guide told us to do something crazy that no other group has done before, so naturally we did. Rob, a friend and student in our group, suggested a wheel barrel race. We partnered up and are pictured on top of Fox Glacier walking around on our hands with our feet held in the air. It was so ridiculous, I don’t think any of us could stop laughing the entire time the pictures were being taken.
On Wednesday, we made a pit stop at a dairy farm. New Zealand is the eighth largest dairy producer in the world and the country only uses about 5 percent of its own dairy, making it a major export for New Zealand. We stopped at the dairy farm to learn more about the industry and how sustainable it is for the environment. I actually got the chance to help milk a cow, which was interesting. When I say milking a cow, I don’t mean the old style of sitting down on a stool and doing it. This dairy farm had a rotating stable where about 50 cows would walk in and be hooked up to a machine that milked them. On this farm, there were 900 cows that were milked twice a day, and the milking machine it only takes three people to run.
This morning Penn State and Virginia Tech went on a hike before traveling to Motueka. One thing is for sure, I did not expect the hike we went on to be so hard or so rewarding. We started at 600 km above sea level and ended at 18,349 km. It was one of the hardest things I think I have done physically in my life but was oh-so rewarding because the hike led to the top of a mountain. All we have been talking about this entire trip was how we have all wanted to climb mountains and touch them, and today we did.
The trail was called the St. Arnaud Track and during the last mile was completely vertical. I had no idea where this trail was going to lead us. Once it started getting steeper, my legs started to ache a little bit more with each passing minute. Some people had to turn around and I definitely was tempted to go with them, but I just kept going. I knew that whatever was at the end of the trail was going to be well worth it.
By the time I reached the overlook called Parachute Rock I realized we were above the clouds. Then, I turned around and looked up. I saw a few people from VT and PSU standing at the top of the ridge, which was the last mile of the hike. My legs were already screaming at me to sit down, but the adrenaline kicked in and I was off. The entire way up my lungs were burning, and I kept talking to myself in my head saying, “just one step at a time Alyse, mind over matter.” Half way up to the top some of my friends were already on their way down but kept encouraging me to keep going which helped a lot. By the time I reached the top, two guys from the University of Georgia were cheering me on. I kept imagining myself screaming in victory once I reached the top of the mountain, but when I got there I couldn’t speak. My voice disappeared and I was breathless. I was awed by the beauty of it all. I sat down and let the freezing cold wind engulf my body that was drenched in sweat. All of my senses were surging through my body, and it felt so amazing to be alive.
Hiking and climbing have given me a feeling that no other activity has. The fact that you can push your body to the limit, and when you think you’re about to collapse something inside of you just keeps you going. On the hike down I couldn’t stop smiling and just kept thinking how wonderful I felt. I wanted to share that feeling with my family and friends, and kept imagining taking a trip back to New Zealand with my Dad. I’ve thought about him a lot on this trip because he is the reason I adore the outdoors, and I know he would love the chance to come to New Zealand. This country is magical; I mean come on, would they have filmed Lord of the Rings here if it wasn’t?
Traveling to New Zealand is a task within itself. After leaving from Newark Airport in New Jersey at 5 a.m. Monday, I finally made it to Christchurch, New Zealand with my group around 5 p.m. Wednesday. The time difference here has really taken a toll on my body, as I find myself getting a full eight hours of sleep but I am still tired within a few hours. But that is a price am I willing to pay.
Before coming to New Zealand, I looked at pictures of different areas around the south island and could not help but be awed by the beauty. Now being here, there are literally no words. A camera lens does not give justice to this gorgeous country, only the human eye.
On my first night in New Zealand, I had to stay in a hostel in Christchurch while the rest of my group went to Akaroa because of a flight mix-up. I thought I had booked a different flight, and in return I would have been arriving two hours behind everyone else. For me to take a shuttle to Akaroa separate from everyone else would have been over $200, so I booked a reservation at Kiwi Basecamp. I was really nervous having to stay a night alone without everyone and having to catch a shuttle by myself the next morning, but the outcome happened to be the best mix-up of my life.
Everyone at Kiwi Basecamp was super friendly, and I met people from all around the world. My shuttle driver was from France and had been staying in New Zealand for a few months, we shared a Twizzler on our ride to the hostel and chatted about different things. When I got to the hostel I met my roommate Andrew, a British boy who had been traveling all over Asia before coming to New Zealand. After I got settled in at the hostel, I went out to get food and ended up running into a guy named Phil from New York who was going out to get food the same time I was. We got some Chinese food, which was the cheapest we could find and ate in the lounge back at the hostel. The rest of the night we hung around while a group of Germans played Risk and chatted with the desk guy Dan who was also British and was working at the hostel on a student visa. Hearing all of their amazing stories of traveling was so interesting and after asking each other for the main reason of coming to New Zealand we all had the time answer; we wanted to go somewhere far, far away. It is not the fact that we were running away from something, but I think this country gives off the true feeling of adventure.
There was a quote painted on the desk of the Kiwi Basecamp that I feel sums up the urge to explore inside of all of us, as it did for me.
"We do not travel to escape life, but so life does not escape us."
After being in New Zealand for a few days, we took our first hike at the Hinewai Reserve on Banks Peninsula. Along with Penn State, there is a group of students from Virginia Tech who are traveling with us throughout our stay. At the reserve, we split up into two groups to go on a hike, with students from each university meshed together. The first trail we took led to an overlook, and let me tell you it was not easy. All of us were joking about how out of shape we were as we made out way up the mountain. Once we got to the top, the VT advisor asked us to close our eyes and hold hands for the last few feet as we emerged from the bush to the overlook. We all laughed, but once we opened our eyes the view was breathtaking, as it included the lush, green, rolling mountains and the bright blue Pacific Ocean in the background. There was such a great sense of self achievement inside all of us. We were red-faced and smiling with joy as the advisor took pictures of all of us standing with the overlook behind us.
I would post pictures, but when we first arrived in New Zealand I dropped my Macbook while getting off the plane and cracked my screen. Hopefully in my next post I will be able to share our gleaming faces with the internet world, as it is a moment I will cherish forever.
As I get ready to say goodbye to Rome, my home of the past four months, I can’t help but feel bittersweet. I miss my friends, family and the comforts of home but I hate that I’m leaving Italy. These past months have been the best experience of my life so far. I fell in love with this country and have learned more about myself in this short time than any other time in my life.
It didn’t really hit me until I was in a bus in Croatia with 20 other girls listening to Dolly Parton being played on the radio that I realized how far I’ve come. A few months ago, I was sitting on my bed, terrified to board a plane and travel to Italy; now, I was at the end of my last trip, wondering where the time went.
I think my time here can best be summarized by two life lessons I’d heard before but never really made sense until now.
First, always take the path less traveled. When my friends and I were hiking in Cinque Terre, the Italian Riveria, we decided to try a different path and ended up on the top of a mountain staring at the town we thought we were traveling to. But we were able to see some of the most beautiful views I have ever seen. Even wrong turns and different paths can lead you to something wonderful and an experience you will never forget. I will always remember the feeling standing on top of that random Italian mountain, sweating and out of breath but in awe of the beauty of Italy.
Second, take chances. That bus full of girls, cruising along the Croatian coast took me whitewater rafting with two of the best friends I’ve made here and to the best metaphor I have for my entire time here. After taking a break from rafting, we climbed to the top of a cliff and jumped into the icy river. I’ve never cliff jumped before and it really wasn’t even that high, but my limbs were shaking and my stomach was full of hundreds of butterflies. I looked at my friend, said it’s now or never and jumped off.
That’s what coming to Italy was like. I had never been more scared before in my life but it was amazing. I’ve done so many things I never thought I would and am happier than ever before.
So now, with just a couple of days left in Rome, I plan on soaking in every last minute. I’m going to spend one last sunset in Villa Borghese, share one (or more) bottle of vino on my terrace with my roommates and eat one last cone of Old Bridge gelato. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to my second home but I’m heading home with thirteen Facebook albums full of pictures, unforgettable stories, a few extra pounds and amazing friends.
My family came to visit me in Rome this past week and it made me realize just how much I’ve changed and experienced since moving to the Eternal City.
I came here with these lofty aspirations and hopes of a life changing experience but I thought I was being a little too Hollywood and unrealistic. Turns out, I’ve grown a lot in these past two and a half months.
I’ve mastered the Roman public transportation system and have learned enough about churches and sites to give a pretty decent tour. I’m not afraid to go out on my own and explore this city or try out a restaurant where no one speaks English.
I think nothing of hoping on a plane now and jet-setting off to another beautiful country. Before coming to Italy, I visited Canada and flew on a plane to Florida – that was the extent of my travel experience. Now, I’ve traveled to Florence, Siena, Barcelona, Paris and Dublin and have trips lined up to Munich and Prague in the next month. I’ve seen the David in the Musee D’Academia, the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museums and so much more.
Someone told me that once you get the travel bug, you never stop traveling. I’ve never had such a hunger to travel before and I see what they meant. I’ve seen so much but it’s not enough -- I want to see everything.
I’ve also rediscovered my passion for learning since being in Rome. I’m blessed with the opportunity to learn about art, food and religion in an area where these cultures began. I love touring new churches or sites and learning more and more about them. And I learned that I love sharing that knowledge and can give a pretty good tour of my favorite parts of Rome.
I also realized how spoiled I’ve become, living in the middle of all of this history. My family was amazed by every church we passed and every ruin we saw. When they first saw the Colosseum, the stopped in awe for a moment, just like I did when I first saw it. Now, I meet for class outside the Colosseum every other week and I’ve visited more churches then I can count on both hands.
It was refreshing to see it through new eyes again because I realized I’m becoming more like the Romans everyday, taking for granted sometimes the beauty of the city I live in.
So now, I think I’ll go explore the city some more and appreciate the history and beauty of Rome.
I'm sure I could get a few other American students to agree: One of the best quirks about Sevilla, Spain, is the orange trees.
I'm used to oaks, maples, Christmas-looking trees and generally fruitless trees. The oranges beautifully complement the early morning sun as I walk to class and serve as a reminder at nighttime of the beautiful day that is to come.
And then the orange trees' maintenance men come around, maybe every week or two, and knock them all down. Don't worry though -- oranges grow back quickly.
Among other Sevillano quirks are the use of the "th" sound in place of what should be an "s" sound, the useless metro system and the four conveniently located Cien Montaditos (100 Sandwiches, literally) restaurants.
Sevilla, otherwise, seems like a pretty run-of-the-mill city. We've got banks, homeless people, street performers, touristy shops and two H&Ms. My inner fashionista is pleased, but prefers to watch from afar to avoid spending too many Euros -- consider the $1.41 USD exchange rate and sympathize.
I've become rather acustomed to the city of Sevilla, Spain -- where I've spent a total of 10 weeks now -- and have begun to view the stores and sights the same as I do The Tavern, McLanahan's or Cafe 210. It's cool to feel so comfortable here, but at the same time, it's also fun to still view it with excitement and enthusiasm.
Fortunately for you and for myself, I've discovered the trick to the ultimate sightseeing lifestyle in Sevilla, Spain: Look up.
While the bottom of most buildings in Sevilla are banks, bars and barber shops, the upper floors (while used most likely as apartments or offices) are outwardly decorated with rich reds, yellows and creams. The windows are typically guarded with iron fences. Each building has windows of unique sizes and different shaped roofs. Each building, different from the rest, is beautiful and makes up for a beautiful Sevilla.
In most locations, though, if you look up you see La Giralda de Sevilla, the tower alongside the Catedral de Sevilla. This cathedral is easily one of the most recognizable features of town, not to mention the fourth biggest cathedral in the world. The ceilings are tall and gothic and each ornate design of the church-going experience is at least picture-worthy. And if you ever make it here, climb the tower. 32 "floors" is not as bad as it sounds.
This cathedral is also one of two places rumored to contain the remains of Christopher Columbus. Not too bad for the fourth largest city in Spain. The other potential grave site? Santo Domingo. The Sevillanos are sure it's here.
Among other historic gems are the Plaza de Espana -- which is situated openly towards the Americas to represent good relations, Alcazar palace and its gardens and the famous Torre del Oro, "Tower of Gold".
Behind the bars and above the everyday pastry shop is beautiful architecture and above it all is La Giralda.
I'm getting used to the oranges and to the funny little accents, but I'll never get used to the magnificence of that cathedral and its tower, let alone the entire history hidden in Sevilla.
But I must admit, now that the orange trees are growing little blossoms, the everyday scent of Sevilla brings decent competition to the table.
