The Beginning: Orientation, Pre-Cuba Departure
It's started. So far, I've made it to Miami, the first step in this incredibly surreal experience of studying abroad in Cuba.
Initially, I was sick to my stomach. Of course, I had somehow convinced my mom to come with me to Miami to share my last moments before I willingly shipped myself south. I'm not afraid to admit I cried a little, but my mother always told me, "Be a Viking, don't cry." And quite frankly, being able to experience this opportunity isn't anything to cry over.
There are 27 students in our group, mostly from the Northeast of the United States based in schools like Dartmouth, Brown, Harvard, Vanderbilt, Middlebury, NYU and others. I won't be completely stripped of my newfound southern comforts, however. Two students are from Atlanta, and one just so happens to be my roommate (shoutout to you, Jamila).
Day 1 was spent awkwardly meeting each other, stiff intros describing our name, school and any pre-departure excitement. I hate, hate, hate small talk, but I recede like a turtle into my shell when I know I feel completely out of the social circle, and in this case, I am. But that'll pass soon. Four months in another country will blow those nerves to bits. After a fuego dinner at Perricone's in Miami, we retired to the hotel but spent some student-only time drinking cheap wine, playing the scholarly game of Never Have I Ever and simply becoming comfortable in each other's presence.
Day 2 has been spent so far listening to our ever-eccentric teacher try to differentiate between yucca and taro. Intriguing, I know, but there was confusion believe it or not. They're not the same. Don't ask me how I know that, I just do. Honestly, it's super overwhelming hearing all this Spanish. The program will, like you would assume, be primarily in the host language, but I've been so out of practice. Shoutout to all my Miami friends who speak Spanish who've helped with that (yes, Maggie Victoria, you and the Sofi's!).
We seem to be granted an incredible amount of independence in Havana once we'll arrive, but I think there is some deceit in that promise. We have to watch out for each other, we have to communicate and share. We must find our favorite spots to enjoy a café before class, to linger with the other Cuban students at the university, express our concerns or complaints or questions to natives and friends alike. Independence is learned not given, and that should be a new value for me. Not independence so much as learning a new form of it.
So far though, so good. I have high hopes, but the nerves come in bouts that shoot me through the roof. Can't wait to share my adventures with y'all, so that maybe you can receive the same gifts that I receive from the globe.
Until Havana,
Kiva
Initially, I was sick to my stomach. Of course, I had somehow convinced my mom to come with me to Miami to share my last moments before I willingly shipped myself south. I'm not afraid to admit I cried a little, but my mother always told me, "Be a Viking, don't cry." And quite frankly, being able to experience this opportunity isn't anything to cry over.
There are 27 students in our group, mostly from the Northeast of the United States based in schools like Dartmouth, Brown, Harvard, Vanderbilt, Middlebury, NYU and others. I won't be completely stripped of my newfound southern comforts, however. Two students are from Atlanta, and one just so happens to be my roommate (shoutout to you, Jamila).
Day 1 was spent awkwardly meeting each other, stiff intros describing our name, school and any pre-departure excitement. I hate, hate, hate small talk, but I recede like a turtle into my shell when I know I feel completely out of the social circle, and in this case, I am. But that'll pass soon. Four months in another country will blow those nerves to bits. After a fuego dinner at Perricone's in Miami, we retired to the hotel but spent some student-only time drinking cheap wine, playing the scholarly game of Never Have I Ever and simply becoming comfortable in each other's presence.
Day 2 has been spent so far listening to our ever-eccentric teacher try to differentiate between yucca and taro. Intriguing, I know, but there was confusion believe it or not. They're not the same. Don't ask me how I know that, I just do. Honestly, it's super overwhelming hearing all this Spanish. The program will, like you would assume, be primarily in the host language, but I've been so out of practice. Shoutout to all my Miami friends who speak Spanish who've helped with that (yes, Maggie Victoria, you and the Sofi's!).
We seem to be granted an incredible amount of independence in Havana once we'll arrive, but I think there is some deceit in that promise. We have to watch out for each other, we have to communicate and share. We must find our favorite spots to enjoy a café before class, to linger with the other Cuban students at the university, express our concerns or complaints or questions to natives and friends alike. Independence is learned not given, and that should be a new value for me. Not independence so much as learning a new form of it.
So far though, so good. I have high hopes, but the nerves come in bouts that shoot me through the roof. Can't wait to share my adventures with y'all, so that maybe you can receive the same gifts that I receive from the globe.
Until Havana,
Kiva
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