Familial Bonding

My mother and I spent the evening talking about different kinds of violence and Colombia last night. Why, you may ask. Well... because we're both working on research projects for two very different fields and from very different perspectives on Colombia and it's history with violence. She is interested in how Colombia remembers its past through art and history and stories, I'm interested in how Colombia remembers its history through its laws, its modern political campaigns, and through its politicians (whatever they are or arent willing to say aloud).

It's been helpful to me to have this additional perspective. Not just because she is a professor (though that is a serious plus when I'm working on my research and interview methods) but also because she is deep in the books too trying to make sense of one of the most confusing and conflicting histories that exists. We'll often compare notes on various incidents and see what makes sense where. Or if it makes sense at all. Like Mexico, there are clearly chunks of the history that no one wanted to remember or touch.

Which is a bit where I come in. There wasnt a legal code strictly governing campaign finance during the 1980s. Which made it easier for dirty money to get into the political system.... for people to invest in campaigns without being noticed and recorded... and other similar events.

It's interesting though. I'm building a model to explain price changes in the Plata o Plomo approach to things. I'm working off of a few data sources that I am collecting myself... but it takes time. I'm working  on a few different ways of showing trends and seeing which ones make sense. While she doesnt work in this kind of methodology, she has been helpful in terms of seeing those trends once I come up with data sets. One number at a time.

To be continued...



This song feels like appropriate background music, for some reason: Maximo Park: Books from Boxes

What Will It Take To Get Your Attention

America.

I'm sitting here in a room enjoying the breeze on an American summer afternoon. It's delicious. Sheltered. Forgiving of my mistakes, my outbursts, my opinions. My gender, my history, my studies, my aspirations, hopes dreams wishes thoughts.

And still. We have something to disagree about. (well, maybe a few things)

I'm reading piles of histories, testimonies and accounts of Colombia from the 1980s, 90s and 2000s. The hardest part is reading about things that happened within my lifetime. And now. When I know I'll go back to school and the same rules about drug laws will be preached, but the same users will keep using. And frequently. With complete disregard to the market, where it came from, the blood on their hands between lines of cocaine.

When people preach about college they say, try new things. Explore. #YOLO right?

When did we stop thinking about the consequences of our actions? When did pop stars, politicians, journalists, TV personalities tell us to try everything once, and forget about the rest sometimes. When did the price tag attached to those actions, what it costs other people and other places much more than we can imagine... just fade away? When did drugs become so sexy that we can ignore the bloodied hands they came from? The communities they destroy along the way?

Thank you for your purchase.

You have now funded: ammunition for a guerilla army occupying southern Colombia. A hit man to take out a politician speaking out against drug violence or a journalist providing accurate coverage of the violence. You've given a paramilitary group money to fund dirty politicians who will keep corrupting the government's efforts for peace. Pick one. Do you want any of these on your hands?

I watched a grown man cry on a journalist's footage of the violence and occupation of rural towns plagued by extortionist practices of these armed groups. He will live in fear each day for the rest of his life, while he waits to see who is next.

And while the coca grows in South America... THE PROCESSING CHEMICALS COME FROM THE UNITED STATES. And Europe. The two markets bankrolling this process and ensuring that visitors to cities like Medellin need to go through 3 or more military check points and interrogations wherever they go near the city.

The irony is that the students who use will be in their quiet apartments or at a party. Safe, controlled spaces where the most they have to worry about are the police busting their event.

Imagine the alternative and what production ACTUALLY looks like. Imagine fearing for the future of your children to the point that you would willingly send them away to live with strangers. You probably cant, if you are someone I just described.

I have a personal soft spot for conservative cocaine users. Rich upperclass students with access to disposable income who believe in everything the Republican party pushes, including the war on drugs, all while keeping a steady supply of cocaine in their possession. If this isnt corruption, I'm not sure what else is. Yes, end the supply. Get rid of the sellers in South America... they say. Yet...

The day we started ignoring the reality of where are drugs come from and the consequences of our actions is the day that truly lost sight of our supposed desire for "peace" in the western hemisphere.

To those students I mentioned earlier: It's not about you. Your hour long experience of drug induced haze is not worth this. And if you had to stand before these people affected by your decision and watch what the reality of this trade looks like, you wouldnt make the decisions you are at present.

To the US: Stop hiding the truth behind your political speeches claiming everything in Colombia is cleaned up, and saying that Latin America is the source of all these problems. Without a market, there wouldnt be the same degree of production, economic growth and promise that comes with this trade.

To my readers: Keep yourselves informed, but with a grain of salt. The media in the US takes one angle, and other countries will present themselves in the best light that they can as well. Only by reading and talking to as many people as possible (carefully) will you understand the extent of the consequences we face from our decisions right now.

Medellin and Antioquia: a Check-List

Imagine a city where the history is still so present that it sits on rooftops, on the backs of motor cycles, in dark alleys, crevices in the mountains, whispers, names, the cover of DVDs on sale in the informal street market, and on the beautiful metro-cable cars that climb into the barrios in the mountains...

Welcome to Medellin.

You wont soon forget what you learn here.

A Check-List:

[done] found people speaking in a much higher volume than usual.. or at least this is true for me because I mumble frequently. They speak with a rich, loud and whole hearted voice, or at least, the stereotypical Paisa does. There is so much love for this city from so many of the people who live here. Love for this area, and it's people and it's personal strength -- which people frequently point to as the reason that this city grew and prospered after it's long period of violence.

[done] the flower festival is going on right now. A tradition attributed to former president Uribe when he served as mayor of Medellin and then governor of Antioquia. Tourists have come pouring into the city to see the free theater productions in the streets, the antique car show tomorrow, the parades, street markets, tourists... so much activity. Right from an air rich in agricultural production and growth of beautiful flowers like the hydrangeas that will soon go to the US. Some of them will even be spray painted darker blue to meet American preferences.

I feel that last statement is funny in a dark, bitter cynical humor kind of way.

[done] went through three military check points on one outing from the city. The driver assured me, it's good. it's good! It means they are keeping the city safe. It's hard not to feel a little nervous when a young solider with an AK-47 is standing outside your car drilling the driver about who you are and where you are going, asking for endless papers and proof of activities... then he leans into the car. His arm resting on the top of the door way, and he watches you with cold, calculating eyes. Who are you. Where are you going. whereareyoufromdoyouknowthismanhaveyoubeenherebeforeforhowlong... it all blends together.

The history is raw and sitting there in front of you. You realize in these moments that perhaps less has changed than we all thought.

[done] endless books, comic strips and now a TV series exist on the life of Pablo Escobar. From street corners, for formally certified national bookstores, windows and displays feature his face prominently and his name in red or black bold font. I now own a bookstore (or at least, pretty decently stocked table in the informal street market) worth of new things to read...

[done] bandeja paisa. Sort of. Being vegetarian proved to be impossible while I was here given the circumstances. So I dove in with other things, but I fear a good 1/3 of what comes with this local specialty. Mainly, the seriously intense pork rinds and the blood sausage.

[done] enjoy the breeze and amazing fruit in the nearly permanent spring time. Even the papaya tastes somewhat ok!

[done] the city allows artisans, hippies and artists to sell their work in the plaza bolivar on the first Saturday of every month. Which happened to also be today, my day off and the first day I am not doing interviews while I have been in Colombia. I saw all of the different ideas and skill sets that came to this space today in a very festival and colorful display of works, local resources, and new ideas. The other thing I love about informal markets is that you meet and talk to zillions of super different and interesting people. From the woman who was a long time artist making silver rings with flowers pressed inside of glass to the backpacking Argentine man who sold me a pair of meticulously women flower earrings to the two Antioquian women who made my first Arequipe (it's rice wafers with caramel and queso fresco inside) and the true Paisa man who sold me my Medellin gaucho bag.

And here ends my tale for now. I need to pack to go home tomorrow.

If You Find Yourself in the Mountains Of Colombia

I was just flying in through the clouds outside the mountains that surround Medellin, chatting with an Israeli tourist who was in Medellin for the festival of flowers (he referred to it as the Mardi Gras of Colombia... I didnt have the heart to tell him that he was going to be disappointed and this isnt a secret covert massive parade party session on king street...)

For those of you who dont know or dont remember, I'm in Colombia now as part of my thesis research.  I'm studying something very technically nerdy that is made interesting by the complicated histories of the cities that I am visiting here -- Bogota and Medellin.

I just finished a four day whirl wind series of interviews in Bogota. I think I've been eat, sleeping and breathing my thesis for the past 2.5 weeks. Dont get me wrong, this has been great. Now as I am sitting for over an hour not worrying about work, however, I notice how overwhelming/awesome/exciting/interesting/intense it has been. Really, I guess most of this summer has been this way.

[on the plus side, I rarely feel tired because there is coffee everywhere all the time and it's fantastic. I'm enjoying all of it so much! I suspect this drink-all-of-the-coffee campaign I seem to have going on isnt great... but whatever. I'm sure I'll go back to normal when I get back to Boston. #YOLO..? I guess...]

I've learned a lot of history, read through pages and pages of new legal codes, talked to politicians, journalists, professors, researchers, reform advocates, watch-dogs, taxi drivers, campaign managers, students, and artists about this wonderful, confusing and thought provoking country. I had some time to wander through the colonial downtown, to go out to a horse farm where the forests touch the sky, and through the business districts of a city once feared by the world. It's so full of secrets. Behind the smiles there are memories that make you shiver.

The best conversations I've had were candid. Passionate. Full of truth in the eyes of the beholder. The worst were full of silences, slanted brows and glares, exaggerated movements, standing in the window facing away from me and growling an unrelated response to my questions.

I love the role of interviewer. You get to see how many different ways people process the same questions and ideas. Who allows you to have a conversation with them, and who makes it as painful as possible. One silent space between your questions at a time. You see the people who weave stories out of thin air and bring you right into them. They make you remember. (They are the ones I wish I could drag out for the TEDxYale stage...) It's an ongoing experiment where you realize that regardless of where you are in the world, you will find some of everything.

In the best cases I felt a sliver of my heart drop to the floor. Sometimes with fear of those moments and hoping to God Mexico doesnt head so far and fall so hard... some with pain for the other person. I was humbled by stories I took down in my notebook, scribbling quickly and hoping that I could catch everything before it slipped between my fingers and into the shadows under my chair. I showed up to an interview an hour early, and waited an hour and a half for another one. I sat in hours of the legendary Bogota traffic, enjoying the view of twisting roads and numbers I still dont understand heading into the mountains.

I had arepas of all shapes and sizes, though to be blasphemous and completely honest: I only ate one that I really liked.

And now I have some of those faces etched into my mind. The love these people feel for their country, all in different ways, reminds me of my own love for Mexico. It's complicated. Hard to package, impossible to sell. So many warts and bruises amid patches of shiny and beautiful and something you want to hold close to you. Despite it's claws.

Colombia is beautiful. Even with the wrinkles and cracks, I feel at home here. Which, I've learned, is harder to find that I thought it was. I am lucky to have found a few places I love as dearly as Boston and Mexico.... and perhaps this country is heading that way.

Lessons from Bogota

I've been here for about three days now, and already I've learned a few things from trying to squeeze in a ton of work within a very short period of time. This is different than India because there is time pressure, I speak the language, and I have a master, year long project going on here...

And so, here we go:

1) The American over-scheduling every 15 minute increment of our lives thing is possible to do without. Confession: this moment of acceptance took a LONG LONG time to reach. After weeks of me essentially ripping my hair out trying to get answers, emailing for days, stressing out about the wording of emails to important people (the usual Yale student thing)... I came here with open afternoons which I just spent the morning filling. And wow... this schedule is crazy.

2) Tranquila, Tranquila is actually a life style that I could maybe one day live with. Maybe. I decided we'll try to apply it this year: no more overscheduling, way more open time to let things I wouldnt be able to do otherwise happen. I'm going to push all of my friends to do more spurr of the moment things. It's going to be great.

3) I am bizarrely honest. I hadnt realized how straight forward about most things I am. yes I always knew I was a go getter, but I really just dont beat around the bush much.

4) I'm REALLY thinking on my feet now. What with the whole, oh I have a handful of MAYBE appointments that I'm trying to set up that actually just worked out. And now I'm cranking out and adapting questionnaires to fit the setting.

My thesis is going to be AWESOME. I'm having a great time here!

Hillary Clinton's Biggest Fan

... is apparently a 91 year old Mumbaiker restaurant owner who owns the famous Bombay eatery, Britannia and Co. (As you can see from the reviews, this place is amazing)

He told us so himself. When we arrived at our table to greet us, he asked the two Indian students where we were from and his eyes lit up when they said, America. He told us, after we ordered, that we needed to pass along a message of greetings and how much he adores her, in case we happen to see her when we returned to the US.

The restaurant is an open, cement room with crumbling sea foam green walls. There are images of the Queen of England on one wall and a life size cardboard cut out of Prince William and Kate Middleton attached to the raining of the loft overlooking the room. This, in addition to the laminated letter from the Queen and the newspaper clipping of the restaurant owner receiving a letter from the queen confirms any doubts you may have had that this restaurant owner is an anglophile.

There arent too many options, but EVERYTHING is delicious. The restaurant specializes in Iranian and Parsi food -- I had the Veg. Dhansak which was spicy and delicious. Everyone else had the chicken berry pulao (there is also a goat meat option for the braver folks), which is basically meat with saffron flavored rich, some magical flavor things, and dried pomegranates.... delicious.

We had a lovely time (I feel like this is the stereotypical quaint saying, which meant I HAD to say it in this occasion, what with British themes and all. Yeah ok, I'm a dork).

In other news... One more day of class this week before we head to the Ajunta and Ellora caves this weekend. A 7 hour train ride into the countryside.... but it's going to be COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY worth it. Seriously, look at the pictures I just linked to. I cant wait to add photos here for you to see.

And then I have 3 more days of class... and I'll be home next Thursday! Pretty wild. This last part has gone really quickly. Which means I've been working on a crazy combination of Colombia work and closing up my project on informal economies and Dharavi. I'm thinking about adding my findings to my blog somehow... but that might be weird. I'll keep you posted.

Stepping Back in Time

Well, as some of you know, I'm in DC right now. Apologies for the very cryptic gchat status: I am not yet in Colombia. It only says "Colombia." because I am kinda absorbed by my research and that's what I am working on. When I'm actually there I will, hopefully, not be on gchat almost all day. 

I arrived last night, ditched the mega long taxi line with pissed off looking people, and snagged a spot on the blue line straight into the city. SO WEIRD to be back in my old haunts, though I didnt stop by the Dialogue today, as I wanted to, because tonight is their 30 Year Anniversary Gala! Very exciting for them, all of my old friends were hard at work there so I missed them. Still.... I did see Lydia and stop by baked and wired! I now have a t-shirt that is hilarious and I'll think of the strange place that is this bakery every time I wear it. Lydia's work was on the walls today (not this sign, though I was so delirious from staring at small print all day that I read the sign wrong and laughed at a joke that wasnt there... I thought it said, EAT CUPCAKES, HOT PEOPLE, which seemed weird... but it says NOT people and that actually makes sense... in a do I really want to know the reason for this sign... hm... kind of way). I did have my ultra-leftist honduran collective coffee while I was there and it's still the best iced coffee in the entire world hands down. Go Baked and Wired!

And yeah, I spent the day working through old documents and timelines, running dates and numbers through things to compare my accounts versus the ones in the archives. All very cool. Super nerdy. And very cool. I think I'm all jittery and unable to read things right now because I got up after about 3 hours of sleep and excitement to work in starbucks for the morning until Lydia came for a visit. And I think I have had about 7 cups of coffee today... I need to start keeping track better. But the archives were great, I have the most intense timeline EVER now and roughly 500 files that I was given to download on my computer to read later. Hello recently declassified history!

And thus ends the barely-more-than-24-hour-trip to DC. I'm sitting in Reagan now waiting for my flight, answering emails, and trying to draft a 1 paragraph project report to send people when they ask me, what on earth are you doing? Maybe I'll post it here so you have a clue, too.

Peace. See you in Boston. 

On the Other Side of the DC Intern Waves

It's really funny to be here right now, on the other side... sort of.

See, last year I was a DC Intern like the millions of them rolling through the Starbucks I've been parked in since 7:15 am. Many of them are walking through here with the I-am-a-professional game face on as they order their morning coffee. Yup, that was me on the walks from Georgetown to Dupont all summer last year. It was weird to be back in it yesterday -- I stayed in the GW dorms with a friend of mine from high school. We stayed up late talking in the park across the street from her dorm and watching all of the student interns come in and out of their dorms talking about how tough work was that day or the projects they were working on. Funny, it was a been there, done that kind of moment.

Dont get me wrong, I like DC. I liked it so much more than I thought I would when I first arrived here a year or so ago. By the end I was sad to leave my office and the people I worked with in the Inter-American Dialogue. We had a great time and I learned A LOT.

But I also have the travel bug. I figure, while I'm still young and crazy I should make use of all of my energy. I do better working in a very hands on setting at the moment. I liked working as an analyst, but I missed working with people. Talking to them, being there, doing projects myself instead of running support and outsourcing... I found after being an exchange student that I learn best from making myself uncomfortable and being forced to adapt. It's helped me through so many things...

Maybe that was part of what made DC fun. I was so out of my element -- I went from sitting on dirt floors in Huixcazdha and Pachuca, Mexico running development projects myself to sitting at a computer working excel sheets and serving as an analyst for remittance data. I frequently referred to my cubicle as "soulless" and added old photographs from the weekend market to make it feel... less soulless. But I found a space there too. And had a few conversations that were a long time coming and made me feel so much better in my self designed path for this summer.

Here's to a life time of exploring!

DC Bound

and in this episode of Diana's crazy East Coast Whirl Wind Tour...

I went to DRCLAS today to talk to some of the staff who are really well versed in all things Colombia. June Erlick is the Editor in Chief of ReVista, the magazine run out of Harvard's Latin American Studies program, and she lived in Bogota for 10 years. It was like taking a virtual tour of a city that I have never been to. I love hearing stories about the streets to walk down and get a feel for different neighborhoods, the different kinds of Arepas (Colombian versus Venezuelan varieties), libraries, parks, social activists then and now... it was great.

I also talked to another woman who just came back from Bogota and the cold, cloudy winter there.... to the cold cloudy weather we have right now in Boston... in Summer time... and she shared advice on where to eat and see contemporary art within the city. I'm very excited to go.

My best friend is finally back in Boston after a semester abroad, so I saw her for lunch before I ended up in the Harvard Coop looking for a particular book to give a friend that I'll see tomorrow. And here I end the entry because it's time for me to grab a cab and head to the airport.

DC and the National Security Archives, here I come!

Monopoly on Violence

It's funny to me how what I'm reading all day every day now has given me a sort of cookie cutter approach to state building in vacuums of power. It's only funny because I have a bitter sense of humor, just to warn you.

The pattern:

1. Locate area without much government control

2. Exhibit power through excessively violent and public activities

3. Establish difference between your regime and the previous or supposedly present one, insist yours is the better, more liberating one

4. raise money to fund yourself: extort the population because you are protecting them from outside forces and need to fund your troops, and develop a sort of "nationalized" industry. For the Paramilitaries and the guerillas, this means export and sell drugs.

5. Keep up the monopoly of power until you cant. You may be able to reinvent yourself along the way if you are smart.

Now... am I talking about subversive groups, or the government? Depends on the country. The time period. And the situation. But it's not clear now, is it?

Cleaning Out My Closet

I cleaned out my closet today. For people who know me well, this is a big deal. I am a pack rat. Or, actually that isn’t terribly accurate because I pack extremely lightly when I travel. My overnight bag to New York last week was my handbag with a change of clothes and my toothbrush in it, outside of the usual.

It is more accurate for me to say that I am a bit of a hoarder. I like to keep things with the reasoning I might need this later. How often does that ACTUALLY happen? Almost never.

It’s not so much the objects that I am hoarding. I don’t like the clutter, but I get used to it. I think it’s the memories that we attach to things. You remember the person you wore that horrible pink sweater with that you wore when you thought it was a good idea at age 12. The half empty tube of pink lipstick from my first skating competition (finally threw it away after deciding it smelled too much like wax and was a color I would never wear in public again). The shoes that you love and wore all the time but part of the sole has worn through and the other shoe is slightly too small and gives your blisters every time you wear them. The book you read over and over again while your mother told you to turn on the light because you were reading in the dark and going to hurt your eyes one day (she was right…).

It was nice to be so close to some of these memories again, but it was also refreshing to look back and see how far I’ve come. You realize that life really is constantly changing, and when things aren’t as expected, you haven’t actually disappointed anyone.

I saw some of my oldest friends last night. We’ve all been apart for many years now, but we decided to meet up in Boston and have drinks outside. Boston is in the perfect stage of summer right now – the evening was warm but breezy. And yes, we’ve all gone in different directions and couldn’t believe that we made it to this point (We met when we were 11 years old and were learning to tie-dye. Now we were sitting in an outdoor bar in Boston…) but some things were exactly the same.

This revisiting of old memories has helped me figure out more of my research work for Colombia. I’ve been working through sources like crazy, and each day the details of its history get more and more confusing. Some parts are so clear and familiar, and then there are others that never make sense to me. Some of my frustrations with Mexico jump out at me from the pages of David Bushnell’s The Makings of Modern Colombia. People, individuals from my past trips there stand out in my mind. Their kindness, their hope, their spirit that moves me to tears. And in the background is this extreme violence and the threatening undertones of a storm brewing beneath every word, interaction, and trip to the zocalo. How do we reconcile ourselves with the past? On paper it is easy to reject and throw things away, because pragmatically we know that forgiving, forgetting, and essentially tossing out the bad feelings will improve society. But as a person, how do you let go of this past? This fiber that ties us all together and creates a history that goes beyond what I find inside of my closet or the conversation that I had with a friend I made while I was figuring out who I was?

I’m giving it time, but I think this thesis work is going to be more than just a paper. There is a lot that I want to understand about my obsessions and illicit markets, but for many reasons Colombia made sense for me to study at this point in my life.

My heart is in Mexico. But I know that I cant be back there right now and do the things that I want to do. Colombia is the close cousin, with one arm open to take me in while I wait. She offers a rich history of a people captured in a single frame in the media and the secrets that all of the Latin Americans I know live with every day of our lives. There is a love of life that I cannot describe, the same kindness and the hauntingly beautiful and diverse landscape of a country that suffers the same multiple personality disorder of my own. This could be me letting go a little bit.

I cannot wait. 

Building our Nation's... Builders?

I am trying to decide if I should reject the title "leader." Do I want to be a "leader?"

Think about it. It has an almost dirty connotation to it. When people say, our nations leaders... and most people think about congress today they either grumble to themselves or complain about something recent in the news. The inefficiencies, the politics, the MACHINE, the dirty tricks, the never ending healthcare/taxes debates... really most of what the media decides we should hear about. If Real Clear Politics is telling me that 14.6% of the country thinks Congress is doing a good job... while 78.4% disagrees... I dont think this is the image I would like to be associated with. (The stats are from the most recent poll on RealClearPolitics.com)

So where else do we see leaders? Is a leader inherently political?
Because.. well I'll be frank. From my time at Yale, I have seen many people in the traditional "leadership" role. And... there really arent that many who do things that are really interesting. Or new. Or much beyond what is expected of them. Which, dont get me wrong, is a lot. But I want a leader who is smarter than me, a faster thinker, more creative... all of this because they should, in theory, be better at solving problems than I am or some other supporter of theirs is. Do we see this in congress? Do we see this in the head of the Yale Daily News? (No disrespect to you, MdelaB. I'm sure you're a great guy who is working really hard to keep it running and thriving). In some cases, yes. But if all who assume a position in charge of these spaces count as "leaders" I want to be something different.

So many people are afraid of what it means to be creative, or even labeled "creative." As though that it is a dirty term. I think its a compliment of the highest order.

Yes, it is hard to keep something running and keep track of all of the details to carry on as we were. But that is comfortable. Predictable. Easier to manage than wandering through the woods in the dark mapping out your own path. There is nothing wrong with wanting that.

Except, the people who are interesting are the people are building things. They see what we have and where we've been and come up with the places we CAN GO! They create. Not always because it must be done to save the rest of the group, but because they can. Because they see beyond what exists now and hold onto enough of their idealism to see what is possible beyond this.

This is what I want to be. I want to be a builder. Not a leader, a builder. I want to create things that did not exist before and offer my skillset to do so. I do not pretend that I have all of the answers (and neither should you) but I take guesses and run with it when I think there is something that I can do about it.

Maybe this all has something to do with the way that we "teach leadership." I'll leave that for another entry and get cracking on more of my Colombia research now.  

Colombian Diaries: 1

Most of the weekend was spent with my head inside of books on campaign finance theories, Colombian history, and transnational criminal organization write ups. All while sitting in the sunshine in the middle of the woods on the cape. A well spent memorial day weekend.

I am closer to writing up my interviews for August, but also realizing how much more I need to read before then. Mumbai is going to be a confusing mix of Indian history and all of the work I need to do for Colombia... before August. My contacts list is growing, but so are my questions. This whole experience is a historian's dream: unraveling the past to understand the present.

The tabs on my computer are my growing excel sheet, with notes cramped into each square on already overcrowded pages... spread sheets just dont look good when you put things besides labels and numbers in them, a few flight options, a calendar with notes scrawled into it, and my email to check facts. It's exciting. I love planning my own adventures and then seeing them through.

Last week I went down to New York to see two friends and my cousin for 2 days and one night. I was curled up on her couch thinking about how much fun it was to plan a last minute trip as I had. To leave without a serious agenda, but with a list of things I would LIKE to do. To enjoy the rain that didnt seem to stop once it started. To wander through a pub where I was one of three women and the only options were the bar's own brews (light or dark, we were told when we asked what our options for the evening were).

We spent an afternoon in the Met avoiding the rain. I finished with an exhibition before the rest of the group did and wandered through the African-Oceanic-Americas wing... because obviously we should cram all of these peoples and their art into the same space, given all that they have in common and such (???)... to look at a tapestry made by a ghanaian artist out of flattened metal from liquor bottles (check it out here). El Anatsui had several pieces at the Met and all of them had the COOLEST sense of motion to them. Like the wheels of life would keep on turning... even if you werent there to keep up with them. It felt like waves of these HUGE wall hangings could swallow you if you let them...

And I just felt it. I dont like to read descriptions in museums beyond time period, brief history etc. There is something so pure and interesting about that initial reaction that we have to things. For someone who overthinks a lot of things, its a refreshing way to consider life and information.

So my adventures have started just as I needed them to: some well planned, well documented and fun, and others sporadic, changing, impressionable.

I think I'll look back on these evenings and wish for them again. There is nothing like this calm feeling in my life, knowing that I still have another year of university and this time where all I need to do is think and figure a few things out for myself. I am grateful. 

Every day would be a holiday from real.

Points for anyone who knows which song I am referring to.

I spent a good deal of today doing my favorite thing: reading all about illicit market structures in Colombia (unfortunately, this was much later than my research. I was looking at data from late 90s, early 2000s, but it was still helpful theme-wise) and the characters that ran its infamous cartels in the 1980s.

Each day it gets a little clearer what I am looking to answer. it's hard though -- I get really really excited about different topics and themes related to illicit markets, Latin America... the usual... so it's been difficult to track down a focus. I'm sure I'll have one by the end of the week.

It's also been helpful in terms of letting my mind wander to other topics... like TEDxYale. And curating the next conference. I pitched a few ideas today for speakers, I guess we'll see where that goes.

So maybe a good place for this to end, is one something funny and on something serious.

The funny thing:
A few of my friends and I started a 100 day work-out challenge. So far, I am completely dominating everyone in terms of total completed and consistency. Mostly because I am so consistent. It has been really nice to go for a run through the neighborhood every day. I need to work on timing because I keep going around noon, but I'm sure that it will work itself out.

the Serious thing:
Yes, it gets a capital S. I was thinking a lot about my friendships today. It's always that question of, who will stick around when I move onto the next phase of life? Who will I keep in touch with after college? Am I doing this right? Is it bad that I have grown apart from some people and not others?

I gave myself a gift last year. I learned to RELAX. We cannot control everything and we cannot decide to change/reshape the past. And that is ok. Just as you werent the same person freshman year of college as you are today, your friendships will change and adapt based on what you need. The ending of different chapters doesnt make some friendships more valid than others. It doesnt make some valuable and others not. It just depends on what fits into your life at any given time. And that is perfectly fine with me.

Funny/Serious ending:
I've been on a ROLL with my fortune cookies lately. They've been kind to me. Most recently one told me that I am the only one who has the power to shape and define my life (truth.), but it reminded me, super randomly, of one that I received sometime last August. It told me that I was about to make a life long friend or two. And as I sit back responding to emails and shaping out my summer plans, I realize that it was absolutely right.

Good night, all. 

Working Through A Few Things Right Now

Hello all,

Long story short, I had a longer blog from Mexico and High School about travels etc. but I decided that one was good as it was and this was a better space for me to write about where I find myself now. Plus, this is linked to my other blog for MEChA, and I write for both of them so it made more sense for me.

Right now I am working on my trip to Colombia in August, where I will be researching Campaign Finances, the 1978 and 82 elections, and the role of Cartels operating near Medellin and Bogota during these periods. I spent a few days at the Harvard David Rockefeller Center for Latin American Studies conference last week and talked to a series of people about working in Colombia/sourcing which was PHENOMENALLY helpful. I can say this because I spent the afternoon entering data into my excel sheet of contacts, reading loads of articles and requesting specific books for the library.

It's been a thought experiment kind of day... in truth, I pretty much dropped everything in my head into an email as fast as I could and sent it off to a partner in crime, of sorts. He's kinda become my go to for discussions about ideas of this variety. It's REALLY helpful. My first piece of life advice: Go find that person. Seriously. We all need someone who just cuts through the crap and tells you when you are being an idiot or when you are on to something.

So I was thinking about illicit markets today. And really, I was also kinda shaping my ideas for the year after college. At some point this year, I stopped being afraid of what comes next. Is that good or bad? I'm not sure I'll ever have any way of measuring that. But I going to keep my eyes and ears open, and see where this project proposal leads me.

In the meantime, I'm posted a few more things I've written so you can have a better sense of what I have been up to recently... or really, where I was this year.

Till next time.

Questioning the Plan (Originally posted on the Levo League)

This is where I started at the beginning of the year:

Questioning the Plan: Re-evaluating the world our generation is coming of age within, and how to grow around the uncertainty.

Diana Enriquez tells us the story of how she grew to reject the banking and consulting track, and learned to embrace the uncertainty that allows us to open up and see opportunities everywhere.

As a child, I loved making plans. I enjoyed making lists and keeping journals, both of which I kept on my bookshelf. My prep school, where rule-abiding high-achievers were rewarded, encouraged my habits and promoted careful planning. Life was laid out for us in a 10-year plan, and I was not sure that I could follow it.

My desire to have a plan wasn’t unique: the study of overachievers in our generation, as well as our early obsession with college and the next step, has been multifarious. Alexandra Robbins, author of the highly-lauded non-fiction work, The Overachievers: The Secret Lives of Driven Kids as well as  Andrew Ferguson, writer of Crazy U: One Dad’s Crash Course in Getting His Kid into College, explore the challenges of the college admissions process. They look at the point of view of a student and a parent, respectively, with special focus on the desire to enroll in as many projects, classes, and activities as possible in order to impress admissions officers. The real-life characters in Robbins’s book (all students Maryland’s highly competitive Walt Whitman High School) have been on the college prep track since day one of freshman year. Pursuing a plan other than the Whitman-approved ones raises eyebrows in that academic environment. Unfortunately, the same can be said of high schools all over the country: that the reaction to uncertainty has been to bear down on a known path that may or may not be optimal for everyone.

Realizing my major and intended career path didn’t suit me

Like most of my peers, I worked hard in high school. And I loved the experience. But the real excitement of making it through the first step came when I assimilated to campus life. When I first set foot on the Yale University campus, I had many expectations about my major and expected to love my classes. I figured I’d go on to graduate or law school and land a job in the government, as I was always interested in politics and law. I had my plan, but I was quickly met with surprise. I entered my first economics seminar and realized that my classmates and the professor were communicating over AM frequencies, while my brain was in permanent FM mode. It’s hard to get on the same wavelength in that situation.

Besides having a different thought-process than those around me, I struggled to make sense of a subject I assumed I’d love. For the first time in my academic career, I found myself doubting the plan.

My uncharacteristic reaction— to throw out the 10-year plan— worried me. What was I going to do now? High school prepared me for higher education and college was (apparently) supposed to lead to graduate school… but maybe this wasn’t the best thing for me. I was facing questions that I had never really encountered before and desperately trying to whip up a new plan, one that would make me happy and give me the space that I needed to grow. Maybe it meant reshaping my own definitions of success.

What ultimately made me drop the plan

One day, while I was typing an essay, an old friend emailed me about a summer job in Mexico doing sustainable development work in rural communities. My “worry about The Plan” virus was eating away at me, but nevertheless I looked through the description, called a few of the coordinators and realized that this program that had fallen into my lap was exactly what my freshman self had been looking for. I was excited about the fieldwork, the adventure, and the uncertainty about what was ahead. As I booked my flights to Mexico a few weeks later, I knew that this was the beginning of a big change.

My outlook shifted. I began to see opportunities everywhere and took them, especially when it was in a department or field with which I was unfamiliar. I worked with political groups of different leanings. I researched India and signed myself up for a research trip there while my classmates attended informational sessions for Morgan Stanley. This summer, I will be doing research in Colombia on the Drug Wars and Political Campaigns for my senior thesis. None of this would have happened had I not asked myself what would make me happy. Today I walk straighter than I did than when I was all about the Plan.   

Embracing the unknown

As I chat with interviewers, their eyes often light up, and I have a feeling they react this way because they recognize I am not afraid of taking risks. I chase opportunities when they present themselves, ask people I don’t even know if I can talk to them about their work, and live the life I want for myself as best I can. I see my friends and classmates struggle with the question, what should I be doing? What does my 10 year plan look like? Is this the next step? And I smile to myself. I find strength in being uncertain and willing to go out there with my eyes open, and it’s my hope that they come to the same realization as well if plan making just isn’t working out for them.

And part of this adventure brought me to one of the ultimate sources of happiness in my year: founding and organizing TEDxYale. I made one of the best friends I will ever have through long hours of working through details, arguing about the merits of different speakers, and learning from him as an equal with a completely different view of the world. In this space, creativity was rewarded. We created a space for people who wanted to talk about their journeys through the uncharted paths in life. I went from nightly phone calls to daily planning meetings with the team to launch a full day conference with 10 alumni speakers, 7 students we trained in the art of public speaking, and a few brilliant professors. I was reminded that life is a twist of fate, and I’ll never know exactly what the next obstacle or opportunity would be. I could only move forward with my eyes open.    

I found my center in embracing a future that will be what I make of it. And I learned to love myself, in all of my crazy, quirky interests, because I could shape the person that I wanted to be. I do think I will go on to either law or graduate school, but for now I am going to explore the options I have until I am sold on my decision. I have met my expectations, and now it is time for me to carve out my own space, in this ever-changing job market.

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Diana Enriquez is a junior at Yale University majoring in Political Science and Ethnicity Race and Migration. She is an activist, artist and researcher with a particular interest in migration, the drug wars, and the Latino vote in the 2012 elections. At Yale she is the president of a social-justice oriented student group called MEChA and the founder and co-curator of TEDxYale. 

 Originally from: http://levolove.com/post/16766472879/questioning-the-plan-re-evaluating-the-world-our#/