What you learn from AIESECers

Or rather, what I've learned from Joaquin's fight to start @ here at the ESPOL.

1) Passion is stronger than knowledge, because it is the bringer of both knowledge and charisma.
In two weeks, he has learned more about the AIESEC Way and what we stand for than I do after almost two years. And he can articulate it. It puts me to shame now when I describe @ as I have learned to -- as a leadership development and and student exchange organization -- because Joaquin has pointed out to me what I already knew: that our goal is the @experience (and by that, leadership development) -- and exchange is just one of many steps in that experience.

2) The most powerful phrase in leadership is You Can.

He told me that there would really have been no chance of AIESEC at the ESPOL without the unshaking support of current MCP Deisi Yunga, because she said he could do it -- and then gave him what he needed to move forward. In that statement, I recognized again the power of simple belief to make things happen. We have to take the risk that we'll fall and say yes to people who have not yet proven themselves -- or nothing ever happens.

3) One simple (and reachable) goal is better than five lofty ones
And that, my darling EB, we can stand to learn from!

The Audience

There’s something deeply impressive to me about events where there is a large crowd focused on one object.  Whether it is a charismatic speaker, a television screen, or a band on stage, I think cooperation and coexistance begins where a large group of people can find something they have in common (while of course, maintaining everything that makes them different).  I have very often in my life, probably more than most given the amount of concerts that I go to, been on the large crowd side of an event like this.  I’ve seen some incredible things—1200 people in a venue made for a thousand, all chanting the same line rhythmically and starting at one figure in the center of a stage.  And as cool as that was, I had no idea what it was like on the other side.

I got a glimpse into the receiving side a couple of nights ago when my band played a sold out show for about 250 people at a locally famous, though small, venue.  There were a lot of nerves coming in—first ever headlining show, and worries of whether or not we were going to bring the crowd that the venue expected us to bring, and so on.  Everything fell into place though (except that we didn’t get to sound check), and we stepped on stage. 

From there everything changes.  Playing music is a surprisingly multi-dimensional endeavor.  First and foremost, you have to play the right parts—sing in pitch, play in time, play the right notes, and from a keyboard perspective, make sure your set to the right sounds, make sure all the sounds your playing (because sometimes there are multiple at one time) are balanced and none are too loud, and so on.  Also, you have to make sure your amp levels are right, and your stage volume is controlled, while at the same time making sure you’re balanced with the guitars, bass, and drums.  Then you’re watching your bandmates play and making sure you’re communicating.  And finally, you have to play with some soul.

In the midst of all of that, it’s hard to even pay attention to what people in the crowd are doing.  This past gig though I tried a new strategy that I’ve heard works for some big players—pick someone in the crowd and just play to them.  Watch what makes them react, watch what they aren’t feeling, and act accordingly.  I always thought that was for the musician’s sake—then he or she doesn’t have to get nervous about a whole crowd, instead it’s just one person.  Now, I don’t think that’s it.  I think it’s more that the one nameless person you pick in the crowd is just like all the others—when music, or speech, or anything is that loud and that in your face, I think everyone responds pretty similarly.  Work that one person and win them over, and you’ve the crowd on your side.

When it all comes together it’s a beautiful thing, because at the end of the day you’re bringing people together.  Nobody really remembers the notes you played or a particular song or solo, in the long run.  I think it’s all about the feeling you get when you’re with a bunch of people and everyone is just feeling the same way—for me, at least, there’s a sense of security with so many similar thoughts around me.  I can only hope to be one of those who create moments like that, in return for the chances I’ve had to experience them, so far.

Chinese family birthday- my grandma turning 74

Shannon wishes to talk with my grandmother in Chinese - one day....

This huge birthday cake fed 13 family members.

From left to right: Me , my grandmather, my cousin from my mother's side.

And...Chinese are taking over this blog =D

Beijing Impressions - arriving

"Give me that one yuan". The lady selling bottle water in Beijing Railway Station was pointing at my wallet when I wanted some ice water.
"I am sorry. This is US dollar 100 note, not Chinese currency".. I answered.
She felt sorry for not even knowing US dollar.

The US dollar looks very similar to Chinese 1 yuan (which is about 15 US cents). Her conversation pretty much represents the Beijing's preparation for the coming Olympics - they all want to show the new richness and hospitality of a communist country's capital . The idea of "showing the best face of beijing" seeps into every corner and silently makes its way into the mind of every Beijing citizen. Yet in many ways people are less than well prepared.

Twenty mins into my long journey of security check in Beijing airport, I was almost desperate - after 22 hours flight and with 4 hours train and 1 hour drvie ahead, I was so much irritated by the fact that I had to go through security check again before leaving the airport. What was more, there was nobody helping passengers picking their luggage. Some college-kid looking volunteers at midnight were waring Olympic suits and idlinga round not far than 10 feets from us.However, none of them offered a hand to the desperate travellers. I would rather not having "volunteers" around.

Taxi drivers refused to serve me because the destination is too close, according to his standard. He shouted at me loudly :"JUST WALK!"
"What? didn't you see my two luggages each weighing more than 50 lbs?" I shouted back, but useless. I would love to compensate him by tips yet it is unwritten rule in this city that service providers shouldn't accpet tips. I always liked it, until it plays against me, now.

Not all the things went bad though. My friend Dan welcomed me in Beijing who goes to San Francisco for a master degree next month. Dan was very eager to know everything new about Phoenix as she was an exchange student there for one year in high school. Also, she quickly debriefed all the dirts happening to our mutual friends when I was absent. There are so many of them I have to catch up, some are sketchy! I am thrilled by that I will see most of my friends very soon in Shanghai.

With ugly weather in summer and heavy foreign invasion history hanging over, Beijing is a difficult lover. But you never forget the first big city you live in your life when you are out of your hometown, like your first love. Nor do you ever forget the road not taken. I often look back at the fork in the road at which I stood, and the choice I made, and what might have been. We were sitting in the restraunt at which we held a farewell dinner last summer for quite a long while.

This afternoon, however, I just wanna run out of the polluted air of Beijing as soon as possible.

last few days in America - my belated post

First of all, my apologies to Michele. I promised a post on her birthday and failed to realize it -_-; Today I woke up with a lot of guilt. O.o

The primary excuse I am going to use is that I have been really uneasy upon heading back to the red land. They say the whole point of traveling is not to set your feet on the foreign land but to set feet on your homeland as a foreign land. The past one year witnessed my beloved city turned into an Olympic -obsessed new one. This week my mom had to call me and tell me the new route from airport to the center area and the changed train schedule as well - obviously Beijing outgrew me (yay?)

My life is Phoenix is absolutely pleasant and sometimes thrilling - thrilling when I traveled with Shannon and her 15-year-old brother and 50-year-old mother all the way from Phoenix to North Oregon. This part of my life is worthy of several blog entries, so please stay tuned =) Essentially, as Patrick said we spent 4 days driving up and 4 days driving down, and 20 min in Oregon.

My memory card reader is not here today and I will upload pictures of Shannon, John and the rest of the family when I get it.

Right now I only have one on this computer. Me Hug Palm Tree! =D


I got several emails after I left Yale. I got an email today which says "It was so great getting to know you, and just doing stupid things like eating overpriced Korean food or sitting in your living room late at night." (yay？)

All the friends are so worth keeping no matter where I am in the future. To my surprise, George (the Scottish guy you met on 51st event) sent me new books to my Phoenix address.

A better clue hasn't come to my mind regarding how to organize my thoughts and present them sincerely and truthfully. But I will post soon=)

Movimiento Guayaquuileño

At the risk of dominating the posts...

They call it buseteando – going by bus.

You’re buseteando especially when you´re about to fall. You hang by your hands from the roof of the bus and you hope that – for a moment at least! – the bus will stop its stretch-jump-crashing for you to tumble along the aisle and through the door.

Or you sit, gringa with your long legs shoved against the hard blue plastic of the seat in front of you, tall and pale in this country of mountains and burdens and sun. Seated that way, you busetea even better upon the arrival of an old withered man and his two-string-missing guitar. As the bus invents lanes between the sidewalk and the road, dancing madly between bumpers and dirt, the old rumpled dignified beggar will sing you a song in an English you barely recognize because, of course, gringas don’t understand songs sung en español. Or perhaps he is simply showing you the serene enigmatic respect of the men here toward the women of a country where chivalry is still the peaceful law.

You busetea with children and Colombians selling candy, with wary eyes or laughing ease, with joy, with exhaustion, with a heavy backpack and impatience to arrive. You busetea with the confidence of recognition and the shame of realizing, when the Colombian with candy tells you so, that your destination was the street that you passed twenty-four blocks before.

And then, smiling, you follow your friend hand-by-hand along the animal aisle and take the thin friendly lanky hand that helps you down.

Or you push the woman in the pink suit, permiso disculpa you´re in my way, and panting lug your backpack toward the exit and the end.

Or the man in sunglasses points out the post office.
The cell phone store.
The market.
The MAAC.

And you leave the wild beautiful confused rhythm of the bus for the yellow haze of your sandals and the street.

Hugs from a land enchanted by motion,

Michele

¡Cumpleaños feliz!

Okay, I'm one year older, two languages' worth of birthday songs happier, and three cakes fatter.

Yes, that's right, three. One from the office of international relations, one from the lab, and one from the other international students. People here know how to celebrate birthdays.

Tradition #1 is to "morder la torta" ... I managed to escape it until the third cake, when the neighbor boys were like "just take a little bite... a little bite... " and then shoved my face in :).


As you can see, this was taken after this occurred... and after I had mostly cleaned my face off, because they couldn't find my camera. But there's definitely still frosting in my eyebrows.

Luckily, I managed to escape tradition #2, which is a whipping for each year of your life!

This is officially the best-fed birthday of my life. And I have to say an internet THANK YOU to everyone who made it possible, from everyone who wished me happy birthday on Facebook, to everyone who bought cakes (including the lab, who only found out about my birthday yesterday) to Jonathan for the karaoke program and sing-along with my computer, to Joaquin for stopping by even though he has class tomorrow way too early, even to Marcos for shoving my face in the cake :) and to his brothers Brian and Diego for stopping by.

Probably none of them will read this, but the world should know how awesome the people are here. Sets us an example.

Hugs to all! A few photos because I finally took some of the ESPOL...

Jonathan and his friend Marisol, near the pool, where we ate lunch today....

Marianita and me cutting cake #1 (RELEX)

From left: Patricia, Jonathan, Veronica, me, Monica, and Angelo in the lab
Cake #2
Diego, Brian, Marcos (neighbors), Martina, Doreen (Austrians), me
Cake #3.

And... random photo time...

The artificial lake of the ESPOL (Marítima's replacement for the river Guayas,
which runs past the old campus, downtown... the faculty of the sea has to make do with freshwater now)

Monument to the meeting of Simon Bolívar and San Martin in Guayaquil to decide which leader of independence movements got what territory
( I was downtown on Sunday to see a documentary on Cuban son .... I GOT THERE ON MY OWN BY BUS! Jonathan has declared me an honorary guayaquileña.)

Las Peñas de noche... view from the MAAC... the renovated
neighborhood that's the tourist icon of Guayaquil.

Cheo and Luna cooking patacones

And a sunset in the land of bananas... taken from the car-bus on
the way back from El Guabo in southern Ecuador, where we had a meeting
to explain environmental projects and findings to the general populace

:) Hugs to all

Michele