Essay Contest Winners

BEIJING, CHINA

18 hours: the amount of time it took me and my friends to fly from LA-TOKYO-BEIJING.
18 hours: the daily work shift of Tom Dong.

We were feeling inconvenienced by the long travel days and early flight times. Trying to get comfortable in a tiny airplane seat in-between two 6-foot three-inch men was just one of the things that bothered me on my long flight. The WiFi didn’t work, my computer died, the food sucked, and the person in front of me reclined his chair down the entire flight.

I am sure I’m not alone in feeling annoyed by these little things. I am not alone in forgetting that it is a luxury it is to be flying in an airplane or better yet; that it is a luxury it is to have a computer; that it is a luxury to need WiFi; that it is a luxury to have a seat to sit in; that it is a luxury to choose not to eat food because it isn’t great tasting.

I am not alone in forgetting how the same 18 hours—the time I spent flying across the world—is spent in vastly different ways for millions of people. For me, Tom Dong was my reminder.

We met Tom Dong, our tour guide to The Great Wall of China, outside our AirBnB in Beijing. His excitement about our coming adventure was infectious, and his gratitude to be able to show us Chinese culture and history was tangible.

Tom told us his story on our two-hour drive through rural China to the entrance of The Great Wall. For 25 years, he worked 18 hour shifts seven days a week in construction in rural China making the equivalent of 10 cents a week.

The description of his working conditions was unimaginable, but as he detailed this part of his life, he did so without resentment. He told us how fortunate and lucky he was to have work in the first place, and that he went in each day grateful to have a place to work regardless of how long or how intense the work was.

As he told us this story, I thought back to the 18-hours of flying I had done earlier that week. That entire time was one work shift for Tom. In the same amount of time I had wasted energy getting pissed at the passenger in front of me, Tom would have completed an 18-hour work shift in inconceivable conditions with a smile on his face.

After twenty-five years working as what many would define as slave-labor, Tom was given a chance to leave construction. He met a British man who taught him how to speak English so that he could work in the man’s bar. This opportunity opened a door for Tom, allowing him, over the course of 15 years, to eventually create his own business as a Tour Guide.

As we talked, we told Tom about the rest of our travel itinerary.  He told us that although he has never left Beijing, that his job as a tour guide lets him see the world through the travelers he meets and the stories they share. Tom told us that every time he meets someone new and learns about where they are from, “it feels like the trip of a lifetime”.

I can’t imagine Tom being resentful or ungrateful on an 18-hour flight; he would look around with wonder and find stories in the experiences of the people around him. When I feel inconvenienced, impatient, or annoyed I think of Tom, and I channel his authentic gratitude and humility. I try to remember Tom and how he looked for something to appreciate in every moment.

What a beautiful way to live. I hope even a small part of Tom’s heart will always live in mine.

Kendall Polk
Melbourne, Australia
Spring 2019

It’s only been about three weeks since I left Cape Town, yet it already feels like everything in my life has changed. The experiences I had abroad already feel vague, distant—as though they were memories made by somebody else who can’t seem to shut up about them. After I landed in the United States on Sunday afternoon, I packed my things and showed up for my first day of work at 8 a.m. on Monday morning. And in the weeks since, I’ve barely had a minute to catch my breath. It feels as though someone hit the pause button on my life 5 months ago, and I’ve since resumed it without skipping a beat.

While the memories will never fade entirely, they will certainly grow more and more distant the further I bury myself in spreadsheets and slide decks and job applications. Before I’ve even realized it, I will be graduating college and pursuing my purpose without taking a moment to consider the profound impact this semester had on that very trajectory. And so, before I’ve lost all recollection of the person I was before I stepped foot on the continent 5 months ago, I would like to take a moment and reflect on what has been the most extraordinary, impactful, life-changing period of my life to date.

When I first began looking for places to study overseas, I had only one qualifier in mind: I wanted to come out of my time abroad a different person than I came into it as. I think the reason people change after their time abroad is because they finally find the room they need to grow into who they’re meant to be. Cape Town didn’t just give me the space I needed to grow—it swung me side to side and slammed me against the walls until I cooperated. Only now, as I am writing this back in Los Angeles, can I say that I am a fundamentally different person than I was before my time in South Africa. You took every last piece of me, Cape Town, and I am the better off for it.

I am better because of the people I met. I deliberately came into this program not knowing anybody, and came out of it with friends from around the world. To my roommate, Ari, thank you for putting up with hours of silence as I binge-watched the Office for the 5th time. You are brilliant, accomplished, and one of the funniest people I have ever met. You never made me feel stupid when I asked questions about policy or social movements, nor when I responded with my own expertise on the Kardashians. To my dear friend Mackenzie, thank you for always being game for another outrageous adventure. You reminded me of my all-too-often-wavering love for the nonprofit sector, and I’ve returned home reinvigorated to take on the issues
that would have paralyzed me before I met you. You are a ball of light and I’m so lucky I got a chance to bask in your glow. To my sweet angel Kourtney, you’ve redeemed horse girls and Geminis alike for me. You have a way of drawing people in and making them feel validated in your company. Thank you for letting me be one of them. To the realest, toughest baddie there ever was, Kaila, thank you for always calling out bullshit when you saw it. My own included. You make me laugh more than most people I’ve met, and I don’t find anyone funny. I know I’ll catch you still serving up looks when you’re running NASA in a few years.

I am better, too, because of the things I learned. My classes in gender studies, political studies, and famine prevention changed the way I perceived the world around me. Barring pedagogical incompetence and institutional bureaucracy, UCT offered me the chance to learn about the subjects I’ve always cared about, in a context suited for their exploration. If you’re like me, and you’ve got a passion for social impact (or a minor in it, for that matter), there’s only so much you can learn under a Western education. I have come back to the United States ready to face some of these wicked problems head-on because I got to see them firsthand. I know I’ll be back to Africa soon enough, and when I do return, I’ll have the determination and the perspective it takes to make a real, tangible impact. One which is not superimposed by my own Western notions of development, but which was imparted on me by the very people I hope to assist.

People throw around the term “life-changing” all too often, but I don’t know that there’s any better way to encapsulate my semester abroad. I owe so much to Cape Town for shaping me into who I was meant to be. A blog post will simply never do justice to the lifelong friendships and memories I made there. To the laughs and the tears and the near-death experiences all along the way. And with only a sparse camera roll to remember those little moments, they’ll forever live on in my memory alone.

But I realize now that I don’t need the photos to prove what went down over the last 5 months. The person I am today is perhaps the biggest memento I could have taken from my travels abroad. I am a different person than I was before I left for Africa. I see the world around me in a new light, and I’m more excited than ever to pursue my purpose in this life. I left what little heart I have back in Cape Town and I hope to return to collect it soon. I could not have imagined a more perfect, laughable, meaningful semester. To the people and the place that made this part of my life so unforgettable, thank you. I’m forever #grateful .

Marianna Shakhnazaryan
Cape Town, South Africa
Spring 2018

“Where?” my taxi driver asked me with a Spanish accent, after helping me load my suitcases in the back. I had just arrived at the Madrid Barajas International airport after traveling alone for more than 18 hours. I fumbled around my wallet for the index card with my host family’s address written on it, too paralyzed with fear to attempt speaking in Spanish. I handed it to him silently. A nervous laughter escaped my mouth. Fast forward to 4 months later, and I am sitting in the back of my taxi on the way back to the same airport. This time, I confidently tell him in Spanish, “Al aeropuerto terminal 2, por favor. Estoy volando con Iberia” (To the airport terminal 2, please. I am flying with Iberia). As I reflect upon my journey abroad, I am so incredibly grateful for the opportunity to have studied in Madrid. Not only did I learn in my Spanish speaking skills, but I’ve also grown to become an effective, confident communicator, and a culturally aware individual.

From a personal aspect, I became more confident, independent, and improved my interpersonal skills. This was my first time traveling to another country alone for an extended period of time, and undoubtedly, this brought a lot of fear. I was so accustomed to staying in my comfort zone in Los Angeles, with a familiar culture and language. One of the ways I was really stretched beyond my comfort zone was during my home-stay experience. My señora was a 70-year-old woman who could not speak any English. My first week in Spain, I dreaded every dinner with her. Not only did we have a language barrier, but we also had a generational barrier and a cultural barrier. I had to push myself not only to ask questions and make conversation, but also to be vulnerable. I had to accept that I would make mistakes while speaking, but I needed to make those mistakes in order to learn. Once I got over the fear of speaking to a stranger, I realized she had so much to teach me about Spanish culture. She taught me Spanish slang and Spanish traditions such as the word hombre which has a similar meaning to dude in English slang, or the tradition of eating 12 grapes during the 12-second countdown to the New Year. Additionally, I learned how to navigate my way through a foreign place. On a practical level, I became familiar with public transportation systems and how to avoid theft. As a Los Angeles suburb native, learning to use public transportation is a huge accomplishment. I also learned how to manage my budget, do research, and plan ahead in order to maximize my travel experiences.

From a cultural standpoint, I truly began to know and appreciate Spain separate from a tourist’s perspective. Rather than going to all the main tourist sites such as Gran Vía, an overcrowded, popular shopping strip, or to the Parque del Retiro where you hear more English than Spanish, I took trips to less crowded areas near Madrid. These day-long excursions included trips to Aranjuez, Ávila, and Salamanca. In these cities, I had the privilege of meeting young Madrid locals. They were able to practice their English with me, while I practiced my Spanish with them. For many years, I viewed the American education system as too rigorous because of the pressure to choose a major related to your future profession at the young age of 18. However, when I talked to the students in Spain, many of them shared how they had to choose their profession even earlier on because the university system is a direct preparation for their career. It is much less flexible than the American system. For this reason, I imagined that Spanish students would overwork themselves and be in a constant state of stress. On the contrary, I found that Spaniards truly value rest and community. Though they are extremely diligent in their studies and work, they also emphasize the importance of taking time to relax and regain energy. It is also uncommon for people to eat alone in Spain, as meals are a time to share life with others. The community of people can share in your sorrows, laughter, and provide companionship.

Lastly, my classes during my semester abroad challenged me to think critically and gain a global perspective. This was the first time I took a full course-load in the arts and humanities field, as my primary area of study is Biological Sciences. Through my Spanish Contemporary Theater and Survey of Latin film classes, I learned that movies and plays are not solely for one’s enjoyment. They are an influential medium that provoke thought and provide insight into social justice issues or historical events. One play that stands out in particular is a play called “My Little Pony,” which was based on the numerous reported events on elementary school bullying in America. Many young boys were bullied for wearing a My Little Pony backpack to school because it was too feminine for boys to bring to school. This play highlighted the danger of gender stereotyping and the social injustice that can come as a consequence of these prejudices. Although this play was based on American news stories, the theme of adhering to gender stereotypes is relevant across temporal and cultural barriers. While people may look different, speak a different language, and have different customs, humans are not quite as different at the core. Each one of us desires to be loved and accepted into our respective societies. This shifted my mindset from America-centered to globally inclusive. We are all one big, global family.

The experiences and knowledge I’ve gained during my semester abroad will be carried with me in the years to come. These skills are translational and will be useful in my interactions and future career aspirations. Professionally, I can continue to use my Spanish language proficiency to serve the Spanish-speaking community both inside and outside the United States. I will continue to think critically and be globally aware as I look for solutions to problems, both on the micro and macro levels. Personally, I will be able to approach people with an open-mind and a newfound appreciation for different cultures. I can build relationships with people from diverse racial and cultural upbringings to slowly overcome the segregation that exists in today’s world. USC Madrid has truly been one of the most rewarding experiences during my undergraduate career, and I would do it all over again if I had the opportunity to do so. Madrid will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Emmeline Jihae Kim
USC Madrid
Fall 2016

BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA

I was sitting on the USC shuttle the other day and overheard two Spanish girls talking about their first few weeks in America as exchange students. “Everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong,” one of them said.

I laughed.

I’ve been there.

Seven months ago it was me, battling through the streets of Buenos Aires, trying to figure out the crazy buses, the unfamiliar Spanish slang and the Argentines’ alarming panic over credit cards. My first week there, I conveniently forgot the security pin for all three of my credit cards, lost my camera and got locked out of my house in the middle of the night. But things got better after that.

A family emergency had me flying over a weekend back home to Guatemala, ripping away both my energy and positivity. A couple days after I got back, I broke my foot. I spent close to two months in a boot and crutches, in a city that is not even close to being handicap-friendly. Not long after, my roommate and I came back from a hostel and our cozy Airbnb apartment was invaded with bedbugs.

Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

But these are the stories. These are the things worth the ten-minute voice note you send your friends, the things you wake up your parents for at five in the morning. These are the adventures, the war stories, the “remember when’s”. Like journalist Eduardo Galeano said, “Scientists say we are made of atoms, but a little bird told me that we’re made of stories.” These are it.

And that’s the beauty of studying abroad. It’s being able to let go of the constant pressures of our daily lives, take a step back and realize how truly blessed we are just to be able to live.

And make stories.

For a whole semester, I stopped worrying about not having summer internships, learning how to network, or life after college. I didn’t care about getting straight As, gaining weight or how little money I had. Instead, I took a deep breath and just… lived. As an exchange student, anything goes. “Sorry, I’m not from here,” becomes an excuse for anything, from getting lost in the city to traveling during finals week.  And when you realize how refreshing not worrying is, and instead focus on creating stories and experiences worth telling, life just becomes a lot more fun.

Born and raised in Guatemala, studying at USC for me is already studying abroad. That makes me the international kid wherever I go. La extranjera. The one with the weird accent, the one who doesn’t get the pop culture references and the one who fills up your newsfeed with photos of home. Here I am, “too foreign for home, too foreign for here. Never enough for both” (Ijeoma Umebinyuo). In the US, I constantly worry about whether or not my English is going to run out mid sentence when I speak up in class, or whether my foreign-ness can be spotted from a mile away. Every time I go back home however, everyone – and everything – is so identical to how I left it that it feels like I’m outgrowing the beautiful place that saw me grow up. The push and pull of being both here and there, and always in between, constantly breaks my heart.

So I thought studying in Argentina was going to bring me closer to home. Closer to the warm Latin American culture, rich with the easy-going and generally happy people I miss so dearly. I thought it was going to bridge the gap between home and school. Instead, I soon found myself in a country that was so similar, yet so different than my own; I had to start my life from scratch. But it’s exactly that building and re-building of snippets of a lifestyle what ultimately brings you closer to your host country. It’s walking around without Google maps, having “the usual” at the local café, and getting to know the ice cream vendor on a first name basis what transforms you from a visitor to a resident, and your destination from a vacation to a home. Five months is a long time, and about midway through the semester, we stopped living as tourists and became the closest to being Argentines that we’re ever going to be. We drank mate, we spoke in the vos form, we said things like boludo and boliche, and some of us even picked up the beautiful singsong accent. We wore plataformas, ate dinner at 10pm, and cheered on the Argentine football team. And even though we were foreigners, as always, Argentina and it’s people received us with open arms, a table full of empanadas and a couple bottles of the best wine.

Argentina showed me the beauty in nostalgia and the strength in missing someone. How much you learn about yourself when you’re not so busy worrying about fitting in, and how little it matters what other people think. In the coddled world of college that I’ve grown accustomed to, I tend to pay attention to little things that when put in perspective, should not matter that much. Abroad, I gained fifteen pounds, a year worth of physical therapy and a lot of useless souvenirs. But I also gained life-long friends, piles and piles of the best Latin American books and a beautiful new home to miss. A year ago all I wanted was to stop longing: people, places, things. I wanted to settle and live a life where I had everything and everyone at arms reach. But I soon realized that, like all my bad luck, this is also part of my story.

In the midst of all the chaos, the homesickness and the feeling out of place; we all came back with a lifetime supply of war stories. We celebrated Christmas in July; we threw a fake bachelorette party, and drank two-dollar wine. We made friends with the owners of a café, ate insane amounts of ice cream and eventually learned how to tango. We backpacked Chile, went to an international film festival, and saw a Nobel Prize winner speak at a book fair. We commuted an hour to school every day, we ate ice cream by the kilo and we fell in love with the Argentines. We horseback rode through a vineyard; ate questionable amounts of olive oil, and went out until the early hours of the morning.

All of this, I did with no camera, barely any money…and a broken foot.

Miranda Mazariegos
Argentina
Spring 2016