Category: Advice

The Dichotomy of New Experiences: Pre-Departure Thoughts of a First-Gen Student

Published on by Hannah AdamsLeave a comment

T–Minus 50 Days Until Take Off 

I keep waiting to wake up. For someone to tell me that this was only a dream, and that I am not actually leaving for Japan in 50 days. If I was a character in a children’s television show, I would yell out to the world, “Somebody pinch me!” and hope that, by some miraculous force, someone’s hand would pinch mine. 

And yet, here I am: not a children’s television character, but a human, wide awake and experiencing this in real time.

I exist in a constant state of disbelief that this is even happening to me. Last week, my friends and I officially booked our flights to Japan. This morning, I officially accepted my Gilman Scholarship Award and am in the process of finalizing everything. It finally set in that this is actually real.

I am actually going to Japan! My first ever international trip! I’m giddy just at the thought that these words are my reality, that I am doing so in this lifetime, and it isn’t just my imagination.

I still have so much to do in preparation for my departure, but I am so excited to have this new experience with my friends. We have already started planning different places we want to see and visit and have even started looking at the coffee shops and cafés near our campus. I started a wish list for things I need, along with a list of everyone I want to buy souvenirs for and what to buy them. I am planning solo-travel days and downloading different travel itineraries from travel influencers and locals on what things to do when in Japan. 

I created a widget on my phone that counts down how many days I have left until we leave and I constantly find myself checking in on it, hoping the days continuously get lower and lower until it’s eventually the day of take off and I am stepping on that plane platform. But alas, the days stay 24 hours, and the weeks stay 7 days. 

As a first-generation student, this is something that I never expected to have ever been able to do, especially for no cost. Simply being the first one in my family for many generations to receive a higher education is an utmost blessing in and of itself but having the opportunity to study abroad is the opportunity of a lifetime. I carry the dreams of my ancestors along with me in my shadow, and I bring everything they taught me throughout my actions in my life. It is because of them that I am even in college getting the ability to even have this opportunity. 

It is for these reasons, though, despite my excitement, that I am also incredibly anxious anticipating what awaits me. 

The unknown is both welcoming and extremely terrifying. 

Trying to know what to expect and how to plan accordingly as a first-generation student has been a challenge I knew would come, but was unexpectedly underprepared for. How does one apply for a visa? Or navigate customs? How do I know what forms I need and how to get them if my mom also has no idea? 

Going this far away from home for the first time is also going to be a major adjustment that I am nervous for. I moved away from home for college, but there is a difference between moving from the green peaks of the Appalachians to the snowy peaks of the Rockies, and moving across oceans to be in the home place of the beautiful Mount Fuji, yet almost 7,000 miles away from the home I know. 

From mountain peak to mountain peak, navigating the cultural differences is one thing, but I am scared that my naivety will be to my detriment while abroad. This feeling of uncertainty is definitely a strong one, and the imposter syndrome that follows along with it has been becoming increasingly difficult to manage. Everyone else seems to have it all figured out, and yet here I am, unsure and ignorant to the realities and struggles. 

What if I can’t make it abroad? What if everything I planned for ends up falling short because I was underprepared? 

Yet, as I sit and listen to the stories of those around me, I have learned that no one ever has it truly figured out. Sure, it may take me a bit longer to figure out how things work, but, in the end, this will be a new experience for almost everyone. The fear and the excitement are mutually exclusive, and they work in tandem. I have learned that anxiety is normal, and it is okay to feel it! 

First-generation students like myself deserve the opportunity to excel and enter gates that were previously closed to us before. As I savor my final 50 days in Denver, I will use my time to appreciate the privilege of experience and change without denying myself the permission to feel the very real worry that I am feeling. They are not antitheses of one another, but rather welcomed companions on my journey. 

Luxury and natural disaster

Published on by Juliet ELeave a comment

This weekend I traveled to Mendoza, Argentina. Situated just east of the Andes, it is the capital city of the arid Mendoza Province. It’s world-renowned as the heart of Argentina’s wine country, where much of the nation’s prized Malbec is produced. Flying into Mendoza, the hot sun over the whitecaps reminded me of Colorado, and I was glad to find some respite from my usual city views.

We spent the first morning strolling through town and napping off our fatigue. That afternoon we found ourselves at an overpriced rooftop cafe looking out over the beautiful city and the mountains in the distance. We meandered through the main town plaza, watching the canoers on the lake and stopping to smell the flowers in the perfectly manicured rose garden. We finished the evening with a delicious meal; I ate rabbit ravioli and drank local wine which felt very luxurious. 

The next morning we were up bright and early to hike Cerro Arco, one of the mountain peaks closer to town. Even at 9 am, it was hot, and all of us were puffing as we ascended, pausing to take in the landscape and also to avoid keeling over. On our way down, we began chatting with another hiker. After exchanging pleasantries, she warned us of the Zonda, a local phenomenon in which the wind comes down the Andes hot, dry, and very fast. She said winds could reach 80 km that weekend and advised us to stay inside if possible. We thanked her but shrugged it off; even at the top of our mountain, there was hardly a breeze. 

But throughout the rest of the day, we continued to hear warnings of the Zonda. We dressed up and drove out to the countryside for a wine tasting. We toured the vineyard and the cellars before sitting down to several different wine and cheese pairings. Truth be told, I used to think the whole sommelier thing was hocus pocus (notes of oak and tobacco? Please), but this experience changed my mind. Our guide taught us how to identify what we were tasting such that by the third wine variety I was basically an expert in tannins and mouthfeel. 

At this point, the winds had indeed begun to pick up. As our tour came to a close, all that dry steppe dust was beginning to swirl into the air and fill our lungs and eyes. We went directly home and canceled our plans that night. The streets outside our downtown Airbnb were deserted. On our trek to dinner, we covered our mouths as we were whipped by wind and debris like some kind of sick Western movie. Mid-meal, the lights flickered and a loud crash outside turned out to be an entire tree collapsing into the street.

Needless to say, we stayed in the next day. I was disappointed that we had been forced to abandon our plans, but we made the most of it. We slept in and spent the afternoon reading, watching music videos, and playing cards. Our power went out that evening while we were out grabbing dinner and didn’t come back on until the middle of the night.

It certainly was not the weekend we were expecting, but we left with a bit of a tan and a few essential lessons: 1) Remain flexible. 2) Do not trust the Weather app. It will lie to you. 3) If multiple local residents tell you that the Argentine version of the Dust Bowl is coming, you should probably heed their warnings. In the end, we had a great time and I would definitely recommend visiting Mendoza… weather permitting.