Boston

It is not a secret that in the past couple of weeks I have been thinking about Boston, and whether or not my future is there. I love Boston, the environment there, the incredible number of opportunities and most of all, a well known and safe environment. There is a Gillette facility there, where a relocation could be possible, given the fact I could get the visa, I have a group of friends still living there, and my sis will also be in New England in the near future.

I have been now 4 years in Germany, and regardless of my frustration, and how sad and disappointed I feel of the lack of achievements over these 4 years, I have spent a lot of energy in starting here, and trying to make a life.

A decision is thus not easy: Am I willing to throw away the last 4 years of my life? On one hand I feel like I have already thrown them away, work is giving me a hard time, and I have not managed to integrate in a group of people. On the other hand, I have amazing friends here, and saying that I have wasted these 4 years, disregarding those friendships would be plainly wrong. I love the friends I have made here, and, just I'd do for any of my good friends from Bogota and Boston, I'd do anything for them and their wellbeing.

Is going back to Boston, to my friends (some of them very good, others more distant but still there) the correct decision? If I went back to Boston I would be able to go back to school, get my masters, maybe a PhD, or even a degree in Psychology, all of which I would not be able to do here.

Is staying in Germany the right decision? I decided to move here, and to some degree I am not comfortable thinking that I would be giving up, and not finishing what I started (even though I don't know what it is that I started). I would be leaving behind some good friends, probably some of the best I've ever had. People that have known me under a permanen level of stress and don't hate me, people who have been on my side, and have helped me adapt to a grumpy and way to organized German environment.

I am afraid of making a step in any of the two directions, I am afraid of facing the "what if?" question again, but I guess I will have to.

Polly Pockets

Way too many years ago, when I ws still a child under 10, and in elementary school, a new toy came to the market. Some of my classmates had it, and I also received one from my parents. The toy was a Polly Pocket, a tiny heart shaped box, which upon opening revealed a garden, two puppies and a doll. Already as a child, the polly pocket fit in my hand, and it became one of my favourite toys (and one of the few girlie toys I owned).

I started a collection of Polly Pockets, and, although I never named any of the dolls or animals, I could tell which doll belonged to which pocket, and imagined adventures, stories and trips for them. They lived in a beautiful city, and everybody had friends, and a life.

At some point I outgrew my Polly Pockets, but never disposed them, and kept them safe in a box for over a decade, well wrapped in (old) newspapers, and sealed to protect them from the sunlight and all damages that come with time.

Less than a year ago, as a grown up living independently, I opened the box, and, after unwrapping all of my Polly Pockets, and allocating the dolls in their respective pockets, I packed them with my clothes and brought them back to Germany. I wonder, why I felt the need of bringing them with me to Germany: I have not played with Polly Pockets in some 14 years, nor do I ave any kids who would enjoy them. However, these pockets reveal the stories I created as a child, and the hobbies and dreams from my childhood: a home with pets, a beautiful tiny car, horses (my passion and biggest dream as a child), water slides and swimming pools (my favourite vacation back then), a toy store (still an amazing place to hang out on a lazy Saturday!), a wedding ceremony (someday...), flowers, rings and necklaces, a zoo with a monkey and an elephant, an amusement park (yeah, not over those either), a caravan to travel arond, and some others.

Many of those are related to my hobbies, and to my dreams, and some few ones are related to things I trully enjoy, but am ashamed of recognizing it, and simply and openly state I hate it (waterslides and swimming pools). These thoughts bring me the words of my uni psych professor, Professor West, back: "When you grow up, and you look in the mirror, you will only see and older version of yourself". I, internally, haven't changed much since I was a child, I might know more things, and have more experience in life, I am more shy than I used to be, and I let the people around me, and the society, determine whether it is ok for me to keep my hobbies and passions or not, but deep inside, my dreams, passions and hobbies, are the same ones I had many years ago, as a child under 10, growing up in a violent country in South America. I am an older version of that child.

August 15th

August 14th 2007 I was to board a flight from Kathmandu to Frankfurt, after my first big trip. I had spent almost 8 weeks travelling through Russia, Mongolia, China, (Tibet), and Nepal, and the time to start my real life, grown up life, had arrived.

While in Tibet I had received an email, and a request to call, from N.K., my future boss, and on August 15th I had a meeting in Schwalbach to discuss my future job, as it had been decided to change it while I was in Tibet. Real life was going to kick in straight after landing in Germany.

In Kathmandu, however, I was surprised by a horrible queue at Gulf Air counter , and a 5 hour delay of my flight from Kathmandu to Bahrain: There was no way I could catch my flight to Germany anymore, and my dad was already flying from Bogota to Frankfurt to pick me up at the airport, and help me in getting an appartment (2 weeks before I had to start working!).

It won't come as a surpirse that I flipped out, and insulted the useless lady at the counter (she spoke Nepalese and Arabic, great help), and with the few Rupees I had left, made a call to Colombia so that my mother could tell my dad I was not arriving in Germany as planned anymore, and he could call N.K. assistant, and say I would not make it to the meeting. God, how I felt, my first meeting with my future boss, and I was not going to show up, nor was I going to cancel personally!

After the flight finally left Kathmandu, I started wondering what my new life was going to bring with it. I hoped it would bring hapiness, and friends. I was not over leaving Boston (let's face it: I am not over yet), and hoped I would be able to make a life as satisfying as the life I had in Boston, and would quickly adapt to Germany, and to work.

The flight landed in Bahrain at 3am, and we were granted entry to the country, as there were no more flights that night to anywhere. The next flight to Germany was scheduled for August 16th at 00:10, so I was to stay almost 24 hours in Bahrain. Gulf Air put us in a hotel in Manama, but our luggage had to stay in the airport: When we entered the country we were granted access, but our bags were not. I was not sure how to feel or think: A person who hates heat, sitting in the middle of the desert in the middle of Summer, and with only trekking pants, trekking shoes and a BU hoodie to wear. What an irony. Looking back it was probably the first sign that leaving Boston was a bad idea, however, and thankfully, I did not notice it then.

The day in Manama proved to be exciting: I learnt the arabic numbers, walked around the hotel and went clothes shopping, and once at the airport, got to meet two of my group mates from Tibet, who had left Kathmandu a day later, and had been lucky enough to arrive in Bahrain on time to catch their flights to Europe.

Auugust 15th 4 years ago I was stuck in the Middle East, preparing mentally for my new life. Now, 4 years later, I am sitting in my living room, remembering, and wondering where all the hopes I had went wrong, and how I managed not to get over Boston. Part of my hopes, the friends part, has been fulfilled, and I do feel grateful for my friends here: R.DJ, S.D, S.C, P.L., I miss those friends I made, who have already moved on: Al.R, Ash. R., J.T, L.A, A.C, and I wonder how much more I will be able to take people leaving and moving on, while I can't decide whether I want a career, a family, or a life, whether I want to live a comfortable life, or live a happy one, and whether I want to take what life brings me, or actively run after my dreams.

Decide

Personality is one of the factors that influences the most in how every person is different. Culture, education and trust and belief in one self, even if in limited environments, also have an effect in how one is perceived by others.

Personality is a key factor in defining whether or not a woman will complete her degree in engineering, or will drop out, whether a teenager will move away from their parents for studies, or will live at home and commute to university every day, or whether he or she will approach people in their surroundings openly, or will behave shy and limit his or her environment to those who approach them, or are introduced by common friends.

Some people feel better when surrounded by strong personalities: people who make a decision and stick to it,, or who listen carefully for a few minutes and then make a strong statement keeping into account all other arguments. Others feel better surrounded by more relaxed personalities: people who see no reason to accelerate a decision, and who think every moment, only keeping into account the immediate reactions, without considering any further arguments.

It is remarkable to note that not every person behaves the same way in every environment: some are shy at work, are extrovert outside work, others are shy outside work, and extrovert at home. What the reasons behind these parallel personalities are is not an answer I know, however, I have my thoughts on the topic, and believe that self esteem is strongly correlated to how why a person is. People who have high self esteem of their knowledge tend to be stronger at work than outside, and those who are happier with themselves as persons, rather than as employees, are more extrovert outside work than inside.

I belong to those who have higher esteem of their knowledge than of herself as a person, and I find it easier to work with stronger personalities than with "relaxed" ones. I am not sure if this makes me an intolerant, or a closed minded woman. I know it makes me who I am, and that while I can learn not to explode with relaxed personalities, I need to live with myself for the rest of my life, and need to accept who I am, and live with it.

Orchids

As a college student, who not only decided to double major, but also held a part time job, and liked to go out with friends, I had very few moments when I could just sit and observe the magic of the world and the nature. The colors of the leaves in fall, the flowers on the trees at the beginning of spring, the beauty of the snow, and the ice on the Charles river. All of these I only saw from the study rooms on the top floors of shelton and StuVi, and while walking from my dorm/ appartment to class and work, and back at daylight.

There were days, during busy periods, when i wished I had some time to appreciate the world, and saw all the wonders in my dreams, and it was those dreams what led me to say that after Graduation and before starting a full time job or grad school, I wanted to go on a 2 month trip somewhere new, without a computer, a calculator, or any books. I wanted to simply look out of the window, and enjoy every moment.

I planned my trip before graduation, 2 months between Russia, Mongolia, China, Tibet and Nepal only with my backpack, and no electronics on me (not even a cell phone or ipod).

When I returned to Colombia, and before I left for my trip, my mom gave me flowers, and a picture she drew as graduation present: orchids. She said, she knew my character, and how getting in a full time job I would fall back into the same scheme of only working, and not looking around, and thus she wanted me to have a picture wherever I decided to settle down. A picture that remains me of the beauty of the world, and the magic we are all surrounded by and often forget to admire because we are too busy in our duties.

During my two month trip I learned to admire the world again, I swam in Lake Baikal, walked up a hill to watch the flat lands in Mongolia, sat for hours to watch Mount Everest at sunset, and walked through sunny fields, which were covered with beautiful flowers.

Now, when I come back home from work, I sit in the living room, and let my eyes go to the orchids my mom drew for me, the picture that is hanging over the tv, and remind myself of the world around me and the magic I should not let go by without observing and admiring it.

Pablito, the drugdealer

Last Friday, after going to a coffee place in the center if town with some people from work, I went to a library. I hadn't gone in a while, as my financial situation was not good over the last couple of months, but now that it finally has gotten right again, I could spend some time watching books, and buying some if I decided to.

I was looking for some books on German history for my German GDS test in December, and I came accross a biography on Pablo Escobar. Pablo Escobar, and the violence he caused in Colombia on the 80s marked me and my life, and I had never read anything that gave me a clearer overview on what happened in my Homecountry, and why, when I was growing up. My curiosity to see what a foreigner would write was stronger than my dismiss for Pablo and his acts, and I decided to buy the book, and read it.

I found myself reading the book all weekend, and stopping every time the memories from my childhood found an explanation, or when I read some new information to me. Information that my parents knew and did not share with a 7 and 5 year old, as it was clearly not appropiate for our age.

Pablo Escobar was a drugdealer, and made it to the Forbes' List of the wealthiest men in the world (7th). He was a Colombian guy, and honored, in some way, his culture, with the love he showed to his immediate and extended families. He, on the other hand, was convinced violence was a good way of working out his problems, and believed everything and everyone had a price. After his shor career in politics, he started alliances with other movements against the law, and had as a sole goal to terrify the Colombian population, and trigger changes in the Colombian laws to his own benefit, by saying "A grave in Colombia is better than a cell in the US".

All in all the book has brought many memories to my mind, the almost-evacuation of my school, when he said he would make the Germans pay for denying the entrance to his family to Germany (I went to a German school, owned by the German government), the bomb explosin barely 500meters away from where we lived, the impossibility of travelling around the country, at the risk of kidnappings, the pictured of dead people, and of deaths of dozens of teenagers. I also came accross memories of me and my sister hidding our toys and placing a deathstone on some corner of our rooms, where we wrote "Here lies (name of toy) murdered by the PEPES" ( The Pepes were a violent movement dedicated to kill all of Pablo Escobar's people).

I am a woman who is not impacted by vioence, and who does not believe in peace. I have convinced myself over the last 8 years that every human life is a life, and thus it is worth to report on every person's death, and have worked hard to see the wrong in pictures of victims of assaults. I am one of many kids who grew up in the armed conflict in Colombia, and one who hopes to make a difference by raising her own kids, whenever they come, in a peaceful environment, and with the clear understandind that was denied to my own generation: Violence is not the solution, and definetly not the way to go. Human lifes don't have a price.

The question is, how many of us, kids raised in that violence, will share my thoughts?

A bottle of wine later

Today was one of those days. One of those days that should just not exist, when everything goes wrong, and when I go to one of my friends and colleagues, so I can let my feelings out, and cry. It is also one of those days in which I surprise myself with the self control I have learnt in the last 7 years (Thank you B.R.!), and simultaneously feel ashamed of myself, by not being able to control it all.

I have been working in this one project at work for over a year, and dedicating every bit of energy I have to it, to get it to work, and I swear, I have done my best. However, today, once again, I realized how I depend on people, who not necessarily care about the project, or their career or anything, and for the second week in less than a month, I knocked at the doors of a major breakdown.

It had been a while since, while being at work, I fantasized and dreamt of seing the blood and the cut marks, and feeling the pain in my arms. Every time I went out to smoke, I worked on planning when I would finally get to hol the knife in my hand, while having the band aids and wound disinfectant ready, and make some cuts in my left arm.

Many people might ask themselves, how can an (apparently) healthy person want to cut herself. The reason behind is easy to understand: I don't want to suffer, feel frustrated, or cry because another person frustrates me, and if I feel I have to cry, out of anger or frustration, I rather do so when there is a good reason for it, i.e. a cut that is painful.

However, upon I arrived home, I decided the cutting story was a bad idea, and started planning on a plan B to manage or hide my frustration, while staying in one piece: I ordered dinner (hawaii pizza, and tomato-mozzarella salad), and some wine. I also made an appointment for a therapist, after 4 weeks of calling 9 numbers of therapists on me.

Having dinner, while drinking my wine and watchin the top 25 "unforgetable" Germany's next top model candidates , 2 hours went quickly by. Mty arms are still in perfect healthy conditions, and I no longer feel the need of feeling any pain.

One question remains, is this a better ir a worse path? I call it a better way, as I stay here, and continue figthing for my dreams. However, I am aware the path is no free of risks.

One bottle of wine later, in a hell-day, I pulled it up, and did not do anything I consider foolish. I just wish I had a way of coping that did not falll under foolish behaviour for anyone, and drinking is, for sure, not one.