"Baby on Board"

Random man on bike

One of the smaller topes around

Every morning, on my daily commute to class, I am taken aback over and over again by the sights I am exposed to. Some are starting to become second nature to me, while others still manage to leave me in awe every time, primarily, the use of the "bicycle." I have early classes every morning, so I am walking to the bus stop (or if I am feeling up for the challenge, embarking on the 2-ish mile hike to school) at the same time that all the kids are arriving at the elementary school around the corner from me. The mornings here are pretty cold (50 *F), since it's technically winter in these parts, so all the children are bundled up in their coats, hats, and bufandas (scarves), as they take on Jack Frost and all his friends. While I'm crossing the street, headed toward my bus stop, I quickly hop back onto the sidewalk, dodging what appears to be a bicycle. The reason why it's hard to determine what is approaching me is that fact that there are 4 people on it; the dad, wearing the child's backpack, is "driving", with a kid in between him and the handlebars, while the mom is sitting sideways on a rack attached to the seat, holding onto the dad with one hand and holding a toddler in the other. That's ridiculous. Riding your bike in Newark, Delaware (where my school is for whoever may not know), we have to worry about being pulled over by a cop for running a red light or not having the proper "light-reflector" fixtures on the front and back of the bike. Here, there are no laws (concerning bikes I mean.) MAYBE (in all capital letters to stress the un-likelihood) there is some kind of law on paper, but in reality, no one knows or cares whether these laws exist. Things down here run with the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality. From what I've seen, the topes (speed bumps) that can be found on every side street and even some main roads, do a better job monitoring traffic and regulating speeds than the police (I'll save the driving and traffic patterns for another day.) Now to get to the title....Last week, while walking around my 'hood on an adventure, I stopped and marveled at a very peculiar sight. There was, I lie to you not, a two year old being held by a guy driving a motorcycle with one hand. I watched as he quickly slowed down as he approached a tope. Had he miscalculated his speed or simply not have seen the speed bump, he and the baby, who of course were riding sin cascos (without helmets), would have been tossed around like leaves in the wind, resulting in a very short life for the baby and one sad-behind family. Simply put, life here is different. They are different people, a different culture, a different language, and have different views of life. A classmate was telling me recently that she was told by a native that people value family and friendships so much that they would easily dismiss attending a class if they could continue spending time with the people they love. I like that. I love this culture, I love these people, and I can't wait 'till I am a part of all of this, in some way or another.

Haves, have-nots and everyone in between...

I've never been one to blog or even write out my feelings and opinions for that matter, but being in a new culture with a fresh start has opened my eyes in many ways. So here it goes...

All I have to do is step outside my front door and I'm presented with a world of people of extremely differing financial backings. Conversely, stepping inside the front door to the courtyard of my house is like entering Narnia, an oasis in the middle of a dessert, a diamond in the rough. While walking to the bus stop, which I take back and forth from school everyday, I'll pass what appears to be a husband and wife digging through their neighbors' trash for anything useful they can find. Within the next block, I see a man opening the gate to his driveway to reveal a black, shiny 2010 model of whatever the newest Ford car happens to be. Walking back from my friend Katie's house, I look in through the doors of the little "tiendas" and see nothing but a chair, table, and a stack of papers in the middle of the room. I don't even know what this "business" is selling. The exterior walls of the "building" look like they haven't seen a fresh coat of paint since Mexico's independence (ok, a little exaggerated I admit). However, immediately next-door, there's a beautiful spa, with large, perfect windows and a beautiful interior, completely furnished with decorations and room to spare. The haves and have-nots exist side-by-side, and the most the "poor" people do about it is patiently waiting on a sidewalk with a small cup in their hand, smiling and politely asking with their words, or the look in their eyes, for a small "donation." Walking from my room to the front door of our residence, I pass a beautiful garden with an avocado and orange tree, (both of which my Mom uses to prepare our lovely meals) knowing that in just another minute, I would stumble into a world of want and need, with several street dogs awaiting my arrival around the next corner. So it goes, there are rich and there are poor and there always will be, but I sure hope that some of these people can learn to humble themselves and reach out to help their struggling neighbors that have just been making it by their whole lives. I sure know I need to...