Greenie Camp

Gator hatchin'! 

It all started in Tuscany on a summer evening in a hotel room on an iPhone with my family. That's right - the portal to apply for the Tulane Explore programs opened. There are always several program tracks to choose from, and they all take place the four days prior to move-in day. I knew I wanted to do an Explore program because I had heard such great things about the whole experience from current students back when I toured in March. I quickly opened the internet site, hoping the crappy wifi wouldn't fail me again. My mom, dad, sister and myself were all crowded into this single room as my future was to be decided on my iPhone. Everyone seemed indifferent to that fact that these few days prior to the start of school could totallllllly change my life. Fine - I guess I should start practicing this thing called independence now and make this decision on my own. The few sentence descriptions of each track were not helping me narrow down my selection. I vacillated back and forth between four or five different tracks and finally decided on Greenie Camp. (Not because my favorite color is green or anything...) And at that moment, my fate had been determined. *Dramatic pause*

After traveling Italy with my family, it was finally time to get ready for Greenie Camp come mid-August. I left a teary-eyed family at the airport as I flew off to start this adventure (at 4:00 am). My mom advised me to nap when I arrived on campus after unpacking the couple boxes I was allowed to ship, but come on now - how realistic is that? I soon started meeting fellow campers and seeing friends from orientation. We all got to know each other a little better, talking about our excitement for the upcoming days and exploring campus/the surrounding area until camp officially began later that night.

And then it all started. Everyone introduced themselves and played the usual ice breaker name games to start. “Hi, I’m Shelby and I like…uh whats something cool that starts with an S?” The first night was surprisingly not awkward due to the fun get-to-know-each-other games they had arranged for us. The 60 of us made for an ideal size as we all got to know a wide range of people that would be our future classmates. The next few days were filled with activities like scavenger hunts around campus. We learned fun, quirky facts about Tulane to help us succeed in the “friendly” competition. When you think camp, you may think about a mass of planned activities that everyone half-heartedly participates in. This was not at all the case. Everyone was extremely involved and enthusiastic, in part due to the fantastic orientation coordinators (OCs) and Tulane staff members. They planned an overnight retreat for us at a beautiful secluded location about an hour away from campus. We spent the night playing games, Frisbee, trying to win Green Wave cheer competitions, and eating tons of snack food. It was a relaxed atmosphere and everyone felt comfortable trying to learn as many names and life stories as our brains could handle. Oh, and we all took advantage of the favorable showering conditions. Anything is a step up from freshman residence hall showers. But hey, it’s all part of the experience right?

Gators! 

We woke up to charter buses ready to take us to our next destination. Now this next activity was unlike anything I’d ever done before; we went to an alligator ranch. Say whatttttt? Coming from Nebraska, I knew very little about such a thing. The alligator ranchers quickly changed that. Their informative presentations and endless knowledge in the subject area were beyond impressive. They let us pet alligators and walk through a shed where hundreds of them swam around, waiting to be fed the tiny marshmallows we held in our hands. Cool right? That's what I thought... until they spilled the news that we would be able to hatch our VERY OWN ALLIGATOR!!! *Mic drop* They just brought this to a whole new level. The ranchers took us to the hatching room and placed an egg in our hands. We were instructed to gently tap and roll the egg until we could feel the baby alligator itching to break out. You can imagine the anticipation as we were holding this tiny piece of life hidden inside a fragile egg shell. My little gator was taking its sweet time - it was in no rush at to meet all of us eager Greenie campers. So I rolled it around and poked at it excessively. Come out little dude, where are you? AND BANG BANG! The shell cracked and I could instantly feel the cool slime oozing from the inside of the egg onto my hands. My OC Colin and I decided to name this little guy Garry the Gator. It was one of those things that felt so right in the moment - and for alliteration purposes of course. So Garry finally made it all the way out of the shell and began to crawl all over my hands, evenly distributing the gooey slime onto my skin. I played around with my child for a bit, introducing him to other recently born gators. He was good at making friends, probably due to his killer looks and stellar personality - good genes run in the family.

Proud mama. 

Unfortunately our time at the ranch had to come to end at some point, but the fun never stopped. We visited countless local restaurants, and being the foodie I am, I was ridiculously enthusiastic about the plethora of places we dined at. From Dat Dog to Felipe’s to Middendorf’s, they made sure we hit all the important eateries. In attempts to assimilate us all into the New Orleans culture, they planned a Cajun dance party one night, complete with a full Cajun food buffet as well. We learned basic dance moves, more advanced steps, and busted out some traditional modern moves we already new. It was the perfect mix of trying to learn, feeling like an under-qualified dancer, and then busting out (insert favorite dance move here). Personally, I tend to just bounce up and down like an uncoordinated Oompa Loompa - we all have our strengths… and weaknesses.

Mardi Gras World 

We also toured Mardi Gras World, the Katrina museum and went to Cafe Du Monde for a late night snack. There are no words to describe how blissful the beignet experience is. Every adventure was filled with laughter and the sweet joys of making new friends. We bonded over stories from home and missing our families already but particularly over the fact that we were indeed better than all the other Explore tracks - its okay, everyone knew.

On our final evening, we spiffed up in our nice clothes (quite a change from the T-shirt and Nike short look we had all been sporting) and bused over to Commader’s Palace. I had never been there, only heard rumblings about how incredibly heavenly the food is. We sat down at our tables and chatted as we waited for our appetizer. Though it was a formal and beautifully elegant atmosphere, my table had a very relaxed and enjoyable conversation. Jeff, previously mentioned in my first blog in Undergraduate Admissions, and Peter with the Alumni House sat with five of my new friends and myself. I couldn't stop thinking about how the night was so perfect. The food was beyond excellent and our random conversions about favorite concerts and Greenie Camp memories made for an unforgettable night.

It had been one of the greatest weeks of my life and I almost didn't want new people to come to campus and impose on the Greenie bond we all shared. For some odd reason, after just several days with these people, I felt that they would always be there for me if I ever needed anything. To this day on campus, we will all run onto each other and hug, exchange stories, and bring up our great memories. We always say that doing Greenie Camp was one of the absolute best decisions of our lives. I felt unbelievably ahead of the game by the time everyone else got to campus, and was I happy to know I had supportive friends already. I think back to Greenie Camp frequently and have the Greenie pendant hanging on my wall as proof that I was part of the coolest Explore track to ever exist. So to all my fellow Greenies reading this - thank you dearly for nothing short of a truly amazing experience to help with the transition into college life. Y’all are the greatest Greenies ever.

A very serious final dinner at Commander's Palace

Out at the Camp

So. Much. Food. 

Dat Dog

Just kidding, it wasn't that serious. 

Recap and Round Two

Jet Lagged Day 1

Last year August, I flew 6500 miles to a city which I had only seen in photos and videos before. Having "walked" around the campus with Google Street View almost everyday prior to my arrival, I thought I knew how it would feel like to be in Tulane, New Orleans, USA.

Well, I had no clue. At first, everything was ambigous. Although I was fluent in English, I couldn't catch up to group conversations yet. I was the kid who didn't speak very much. I would sometimes feel lost during classes.  It took me a while of adjustment to be able to fully appreciate my friends and the education I was receiving, but I got there.

As I learned to accept and appreciate the once problematic cultural differences, my view on humanity changed to a more unifying one. I realised that if we stop focusing on our minute differences, we all share the same needs, hopes, worries and fears. And although I took classes ranging from physical sciences to philosophy and music during my first year, the main idea that stuck with me is this: "We are all citizens of the world." This simple idea, which I somewhat felt towards the end of the year was solidified when my two closest friends came to visit me in Istanbul, Turkey.

Jonathan, Me and Rob. First selfie next to the Bosphorus

As I shared the city which I grew up in with Rob and Jonathan, I got to see it with different eyes. I was walking down the same streets, going to the same cafes, the same museums but it was all happening from a different, new perspective. And I loved it.

The Saturday they were in Istanbul was the first anniversary of Gezi Park Protest, a protest which had started as a peaceful sit-in over plans to demolish a park in central Istanbul but turned violent as the police intervened with tear gas and plastic bullets. My mom told me repeatedly not to take Rob and John to Istiklal Avenue, which was expected to be very chaotic. But I knew we had to go. I knew that no matter how many times they read about the protest, watched videos of it or heard me talk about it, it would not be the same as the experience. They would not have seen how out of everyone protesting first the small Kurdish group got beaten and arrested, how the police looked like they were having a fun day out, how deceiving were the undercover cops dressed like college students with backpacks.

Turkish Police

Our trip wasn't all serious though. We went to a traditional Turkish bath, where we got washed, scrubbed and massaged by Turkish tellaks. Then we traveled south to my grandparents' house in Kusadasi. One night out we met Huseyin, an ex-gardener who had been broke for a very long time. We had a heart-to-heart conversation about life, love and justice with him and promised to keep in touch as we parted. We then traveled along the Aegean coast to Kabak; a beautiful, relatively untouched valley. Although we were originally planning to camp, we had to rent a cabin as the rain flooded our tents during our first night. It was an amazing experience nonetheless.

Pre-Hamam with Rob

John likes to climb

Rob, Huseyin, John and Me

After Kabak, we returned to Istanbul, from where John and Rob flew to Amsterdam to continue their journey and I returned back to my home.

Now I'm back in New Orleans. As I settle in to my new room in Mayer and catch-up with my friends, I'm questioning whether Istanbul or New Orleans feels more like home.

Freshman Year Week One Impressions

This article is magic. And I say that not because of the content (though feel free to think it is), but because somehow, as I was curled up in a warm blanket on a Friday dozing off into a peaceful sleep after a full afternoon of four classes, my subconscious jolted me awake and reminded me I was suppose to meet with Jeff about a social media internship about… uh… 3 hours prior? Yikes. If you've ever survived week one of college, you understand where I'm coming from when I say its absolutely magical that I didn't fall asleep instantaneously.

I jumped out of bed so fast that I fell. This may not seem like an important detail, but the beds in Monroe (one of the many freshman residence halls) are lofted approximately 500 feet off the ground. Not quite - but here's a real perspective: I’m 5’9’’ and still asked my parents to buy me a stepping stool because my vertical jump just wasn't making the cut… After that catastrophe, I ran to the Office of Undergraduate Admissions through the rain, and arrived at Jeff’s office looking like a proper mess. He still thought I was worthy of a hug - wow I love Tulane. Jeff and I chatted and then I went back to my dorm to draft a blog per his request.

Really the only appropriate topic to write about at this point in time is the experience of living through the first week of college. Now being a freshman at Tulane is the greatest thing ever - but I’m sure you could hear that from just about anyone else here. So allow me to give you the lowdown on what the first week is really like, what makes it great, and clear up some preconceived notions you all may have as well.

Let's start with Tulane vernacular. You may think or even be scared of picking up that southern twang, or accidentally slipping and saying y’all. I’m from the Midwest and have begun to talk like a New Yorker since living here. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE - truly some of the nicest people though. Second, there's a little plastic card that you need absolutely EVERYWHERE you go - the splash card. Having that splash card on you is what saves you from having to go to the front desk of your residence hall in a towel after a shower or having to say no to the LBC sushi because you don’t have your precious Wave Bucks. That’s always disappointing. But then again, having the splash card on you means looking at that beautiful picture of yourself from orientation. Remember when they took that photo after touring around in some mid-summer rain and after a full two days of activities, not to mention the exhausting few rounds of group bowling at Rock N’ Bowl the night before? Yeah me too. And right before the picture was taken, they ominously tell you that this will be your splash card photo for the next…four…years. But no pressure. In the first week I have seen a fair share a rather hilarious splash card photos and have heard some fun orientation stories. But then there’s that part of college that orientation prepped us for - going to class.

My home! Monroe Hall. 

All of my professors are fantastic and yes, they do assign homework on the first day. But I’m excited to get back in the swing of a school and homework schedule - and that’s not sarcastic. There’s something comforting about a set routine when you're in a new place trying to figure out “the rest of your life.” Walking from class to class is a little bit overwhelming, especially when you're alone. Should I look at the ground, why am I not wearing sunglasses, so many random people I don’t know!  Or in my case, you would trip over an extremely uneven pavement that was clearly marked with yellow paint, fall, and think, shoot how many people saw? As overwhelming as I initially thought walking alone was, I’ve come to realize quickly that everyone is willing to give you a smile. Tulane is such a fun and friendly campus. On top of classes, the school has countless other activities going on all week including an activities/clubs expo and an introduction to campus Greek life just to name a couple of my favorite. The amount of free food that is thrown your way at these numerous events is AWESOME.

All in all, the first week is filled with so many of those decisions that your parents told you “you’ll be making on your own someday.” But they didn't have it quite right. While you may currently think you'll need to figure out how to fit everything in your room because your parents told you that seven boxes and two suitcases is excessive, you will soon realize it will indeed all fit. It’s just a matter of deciding how to make it look less messy - let me know if you have any suggestions. College is about the little things like deciding whether to wake up five minutes earlier to make coffee or figuring out where you should put the mirror so you can do your make-up in decent lighting to avoid a horrid orange foundation line along your jaw. It’s about the constant battle with command adhesive - how many hours will this board stick to the wall without falling? If I add some more strips will it finally hold? (No). It’s a time for meeting three new “best friends forever” each day and looking at your phone and wondering which of the several new Matt contacts is the one you actually want to talk to because last names are just really difficult sometimes. It’s a time to go to the activities expo and sign up for entirely too many clubs while getting that free slice of pizza you've been craving all day. It’s about wanting to remember everything that’s happening so when people ask, you can tell them about how amazing each experience is.

Which reminds me, I think I probably owe my mother a phone call to fill her in on precisely everything I just wrote about. Maybe I’ll just save some time and send her this link!

New friends 

Dad and me in my dorm room. 

Efren in Rome part 4

Can’t miss an opportunity to catch a thousand words.

We walk everywhere. But it’s nothing like walking on streets in America. At least not the American streets I’ve walked on: flattened, rationed, and stained with the odor of popular culture, they reek of the melting pot I refuse to believe in. These streets are reminiscent of El Potrero de Gallegos. Streets cobble-stoned, washed, and transparent. Streets with character. With stories. With wounds. Yet this is no I’ve-come-to-Europe-and-now-America-seems-to-be-missing-so-much manifesto, no, I’ve thought this for many years, before coming to Rome. This is no bashing on the head of a nail that simply won’t hold two pieces of wood together either. The honest truth is that this is simply a reflection of an experience abroad. I’ve come to revisit a spiritual peace, being in Rome, that I have only arrived at while visiting the rural motherland, Mexico, eight years ago.

But the experiences sit a part from each other like fresh poultry and raw vegetables. They work extremely well together, yet if stored together in the same memory, a pain in the pit of the stomach after consumption is sure to arise. Mental salmonella that will ruin any future endeavors in the same arena of cultural expansion. But fear salmonella not, for if this poultry is properly marinated and understood from the beginning (i.e. this blog) to be a mouth-watering rosemary infused thigh fillet to come, it will complement the already seasoned arroz y frijoles a la mexicana that have been prepared for years. So while we walk, I make sure to carry my rice and bean burritos with me in my backpack. Ready to eat at the first sign of hunger, I walk around soaking in the Roman marinade.

A new recipe for a conversation many college students are deprived of: Assimilation vs. Acculturation. Whilst in Los Angeles and New Orleans, the conversation revolves around white-picket-fence pursuers struggling to maintain motherland cultural roots, the Italian table presents a similar anomaly. The most obvious two cents to add to the mix is that I will only be living here for four months, yet the language, the culinary adventure, and the curious feline within me beg for adaptation. So I refer to my experience with Mexican-Americanism in America and turn to the page with the recipe that many of my family members taught me from six years old: No te olvides de los pobres. Knowing the recipe by heart, I only check to remind myself of where I came from, of the metaphorical village that it took to get me to where I am, that I need not erase where I came from in order to grow. So I continue to cook with an open mind, an open heart, and an open stomach.

Tucked inside the grotto looking out at the still, mysterious lake. 

The perks of being the Italian president’s guest include staying in this humble abode.