A Dose of Perspective

What a whirlwind week!  We've been hard at work on learning about our organizations and revising our Scopes of Work for the next three weeks, which turned out to not only be time-consuming (we thought we would only need 20-minute introduction meetings for each department of HFFG, when we really needed about 2.5 hours per dept....), but also exhausting.  Plus the heat here really saps the energy!  Most nights we get back, maybe go out to dinner, and pass out - just don't have the brain power to do more at that point.  However, the projects seem to be chugging along, and I think we have a pretty clear idea at this point of how we need to spend the next three weeks.  Hopefully we can stick to that!

In that vein, my team is heading out to the field early tomorrow - we'll be in the Brong Ahafo region until Wednesday, meeting with the regional coordinators and field staff to discuss a few of the projects they are working on (notably, sexual reproductive health (SRH) and malaria prevention).  But before leaving, I wanted to share a few pictures from our visit to Jamestown, a fishing village within Accra located in one of the old British parts of the city.

It certainly was a healthy dose of perspective - it's not the images you see most of the time, and is a true reminder of why what we are working on with these NGOs is so important.  But it also reminds you that economic development and global citizenship is ultimately about improving the lives of individuals.

These two kids were my favorite part - the smiles, the simple joy on their faces as they posed, and then the delightful screeches when they saw the tiny picture on my camera.  How can we not want to help?  How can we not do our best to give these boys the opportunities to grow up and lead a sustainable life?

xx

Here We Go Again - Adult-ing Version!

I like to think it was only a matter of time before I re-visited this blog. I guess I probably thought it would be sooner than 4 years later.

But here we are, on the brink of a new adventure abroad - so I'm back. But this time is for pro bono work, not studying, so kind of like the adult-ing version?

So, what is this pro bono assignment I've wriggled myself into?

On February 17th, I'll be flying from New York City to Accra, Ghana (through my favorite, London Heathrow), as part of a multi-company pro bono consulting cohort.  Run by PYXERA Global in partnership with USAID and the Public Health Institute, thirteen "consultants" from PIMCO, Dow Chemical, SAP, and WE Communications will work on consulting projects with four Ghanaian health non-profits in an effort to assist them streamline and expand.  For four weeks, we will lay down our jobs and lives back home, and work with our team to develop relationships with our partner organizations, learn about the space they operate, and provide sustainable recommendations for them.

To be honest, it's both incredibly exciting and modestly frightening.

The exiting part is easier to discuss.  I've never been to Africa, and have been eager to find a way there.  And to be honest, consulting in developing markets was something I always envisioned myself doing in the long run - a combination of my love for traveling, other cultures, economic development, and helping people. Plus, how often can one find the time to live and work in another country for four weeks, let alone find a company willing to sponsor and support it?  Learning about the PIMCO Foundation's global pro bono work was one of PIMCO's selling points four years ago when I interned in Newport Beach - it's relatively unique, and a brilliant way to encourage global citizenship and cognitive diversity among employees.  To be able to be a part of it feels like a blessing.

And, as I've spent more time volunteering at Memorial Sloan Kettering, I've become increasingly interested in the health sector - perhaps too late to change career paths (finance to medicine, not the easiest transition), but this project is an opportunity to lend my skills (whatever those may be) to help individuals be safe and healthy.

But now, considering this type of consulting is what I wanted, why modestly frightening?

One, it's easy to fall into a trap of thinking we are going in to "save" someone.  These are incredibly successful individuals - the organization I'll be working with is led by a board of incredibly competent and high achieving Ghanaians.  Their organization is already quite accomplished. The truth is, we are just as much there to learn from them as we are to help them.  As Ernesto Sirolli discusses in his TED talk "Want to help someone? Shut up and listen!", listening is essential in helping someone. And listening, really listening, isn't always easy - it's a hard skill to develop, and that makes it a little frightening.   

But it's also weird to think about just putting your life down for over a month.  Having a consistent job, going to the gym, seeing friends and family - it's comforting having a routine.  And while a month will pass in a blink of an eye, it's not always easy to hit PAUSE, and leave behind comfort and embrace something unknown.

But thankfully, excitement overcomes most days 😊

I will not promise to post every day - I did learn something about my blogging experience while studying abroad.  But for those interested in keeping up with our work, I'll do my best to post updates and pictures.  For more timely updates, follow me on Instagram at liv.hipkins!

Also, for those interested in another fascinating view on foreign aid, there's a documentary called Poverty Inc. available on Netflix, Amazon and YouTube, which discusses the impacts, both positive and negative, of developed countries' aid on emerging economies.

1 week equals 7 days...

As I sit here in the Paris Beauvais airport (en route to Krakow and Warsaw – first time in Poland!), I can’t really believe how quick this year has gone.  I finished my last exam this morning and in exactly one week, I will be flying high above the Atlantic ocean on my way back to the US.  Perhaps that isn’t the strange part.  The strange part is that I’m not coming back here – when I get on the plane, that’s it, just packing up my life here and moving back to the US.  It almost seems like a joke – every time my host mom brings it up, I laugh it off, saying “Annie, t’inquietes pas, je vais revenir!” 

I think I’m in denial.  It feels like next Tuesday is no different from today, just a trip and then I’ll be back home.

And there it is, the key phrase : back home.

Earlier this semester, I wrote a post about feeling a bit lost, as if I was afloat in the sea with no real roots.  It felt like I had no home, because nothing felt permanent, not San Diego, not Middlebury and not Paris.  But somehow in the last few months, that’s changed.  Home kind of snuck up on me, and suddenly I find myself struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is, in fact, not permanent.

The truth is, I can’t actually imagine what it’s going to be like to get on that plane – checking my bags, walking through security, the voice of the desk attendant calling out the departure, sitting and watching out the window as the tarmac of the Charles de Gaulle airport fades into the clouds…

I can already imagine the moment it will truly hit me because the same thing struck me when I was in New York for a few days earlier this spring ; whether it be on the plane when the flight attendants switch from announcing in French to announcing in English, or when I step off the plane in San Francisco, it will be the fact that everyone is speaking English.  American English.

First thought?  Ugh, freaking tourists, just pipe down.

Except they won’t be tourists. 

And I’ll just be another American, getting off a plane from Par-ee, that place with the Eye-fill tower and the Ark duh Tri-umph.  Signs in English will glare at me, with big bold letters greeting me to the land of the free, the land of the brave. 

The customs agent will welcome me “home”. 

And there it is again, home.

I suppose as someone who hopes to move and travel quite frequently, this revelation, that home is such a difficult term to define, is timely.  Will the US always be home purely because I am an American citizen?  Or could a place like Paris be home?  Can one have multiple homes?  Or will that just lead to a perpetual cycle of wishing one was elsewhere?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to being back in Solana Beach with my family; but I know that I will so many things about the life that I have created here : jumping on the bus, grabbing a glass of wine at the nearest bar with a friend, Annie’s incredible cooking, and discussing French politics with Annie’s friends.

Because the truth is, Paris, you have become home, and leaving you will not be easy.

Time

"Work is hard.  Distractions are plentiful.  And time is short."

- Adam Hochschild

I feel like there just isn't enough time these days.  Not that time-management was ever a strong point for me, but the last few weeks have flown by.  Each day, I feel like I'm constantly astounded by how quickly time flys by.

Sunday night, I pulled an all-nighter working on a 10 page paper - there just wasn't enough time to sleep.  Today, I ended up writing one sentence for one of my 13 short answer questions for my history test.  Why?  Because I didn't have nearly enough time to answer each question to demonstrate what I knew.  Somehow, I found myself with only 5 questions answered after an hour had passed, with 8 to answer in 30 minutes.  The same issue arose last week with both of my Economics exams.  Who knew that I would be pressed for time after being given 3 hours to answer 4 questions on my monetary relations exam?  And luckily I had memorized all the formulas for my finance exam, since I was hard pressed to complete that exam in the allotted 2 hours.

But the time issue is also playing into other aspects of my life, besides testing.  When I go to the gym nowadays, suddenly 45 minutes have gone by.  I went to ballet class this evening, and I felt like we'd only gone through half of the exercises when the teacher was suddenly ending the class - it had already been an hour.  Even commuting seems quick these days - I jump on the metro, pull out my book and suddenly I'm rushing to get my stuff together and off the train before I miss my stop.  It's not that I'm in a rush - actually quite the opposite.  I spend most of my life rushing from location to location due to my penchant for running eternally late; its almost as if life has finally decided to match my pace.

I guess the final aspect comes down to this : I have less than one month left in Paris.  All year I've had this concept of my time here as long; surely not indefinite, since I knew that I would eventually be returning to the US, but long enough.  And now, everything is winding down - final exams, evaluations, goodbye parties... It was that moment when a friend and I had to actually plan the next and possibly last time we'll see each other here (obviously we'll be able to see each other in the States, but you know what I mean).  When I see posters of events, shows or exhibitions I want to go to, and then realize I will no longer be here.

It's that moment when my host mom says she doesn't even want to think about how soon I leave, that she's avoiding it.

The quote above rings so true at this moment for me, even though I imagine the author meant it in a somewhat different context.  But I shall make it my own, since it rings true nonetheless.  The work this year was hard.  I've definitely pulled the most all-nighters of my life, had the most nervous breakdowns in a year, and felt the worst, academically, that I've ever felt.  Luckily there were plenty of distractions provided by Paris and Europe as well as by the amazing people I've met here.  The distractions surely both helped and hurt with the work dilemma.  But in the end, time is short.  I feel like I have so much left to do and to see, and the reality is that this little adventure is almost over.

Visiting the... Circus Museum?

I've done and seen a lot of cool things this year in Paris and around Europe.  Chateaux, art museums, ancient ruins and beautiful churches are all part of the experience.  But today, I definitely visited the strangest (in a good way) place yet; it's called the Musée des Arts Forains.  It's a private museum, with tours only by reservation, in the Bercy area of Paris, housed in a series of old wine halls.  And what is it full of?  Vintage circus and carnival objects, including but not limited to moving organs, vintage carrousels, moving and singing venetian carnivale figures, and typical carnival games.

It was pretty bizarre, and our guide was quite a personality, interspersing his tour with various magic tricks.  It's not a place I'd like to be walking around alone at night, but on the other hand it would make for an excellent party setting, say a masked ball in the Venetian rooms, or a 20's party à la Midnight in Paris (it actually is the location where they filmed the scene with the carrousel!)

At 14 euros a person and tours by reservation only, it's definitely off the beaten tourist path - but I've got to say, it was one of the cooler experiences I've had in Paris.  Perhaps that's because it was so unusual and unique; I mean, where else could I have ridden a bike carrousel, propelled by those on it, from the 19th century?
I would definitely recommend it to anyone in the least bit interested; the tour was in French, the guide is wonderful, and it really is such a cool and weird place.


Musée des Arts Forains, 53 Avenue des Terroirs de France, 75012 Paris (Mètro : ligne 14, Cour Saint-Émilion)

A little piece of heaven

This post is longggg overdue.

I don't remember too much from my childhood skiing experiences - I remember the feeling of rushing down a mountain, craving more speed than my little body could possibly amount to.  I remember the damn T bars and the round disks that shot you like a rocket.  And I remember it being pretty.

Well, I got a taste of what exactly I grew up skiing, and then some, back in February when I visited a little place in the Alpes called Chamonix.

Three full days of skiing was all I got this year, but when it looks like this, those three days will keep me satisfied until next season.  Yes, we were completely soaked by rain on Friday, skiing through slush and wringing out our gloves at every possible moment.

Saturday was refreshing, with no rain and smooth runs.



















And then there was Sunday.  Grands Montants.

It was almost like an out of body experience, other than the fact that my body was dying (soo out of shape, Annie is making me soft).  The snow was heavy, shin and knee deep in places.  The runs were wide open.  The wind blew all the clouds away.  And the sun was shining.

Life literally doesn't get much better than this.

Plan B if the whole 'trying to get a job after college' thing doesn't work out? Ski bum in Chamonix - bartend by night, ski by day.

 We also ate phenomenally.  Lots of fondu, potatoes, cured meats, apple tarts, the most amazing cream and mushroom chicken I've ever had...

Annie and my host situation

A few nights ago, Annie bought strawberries for dessert.  She came back from her daily shopping excursion explaining that "they're the first strawberries of the spring".  That evening, after clearing the dinner plates, I grabbed some bowls and we each served ourselves, adding a bit of sugar to bring out the sweetness.  When Annie went to pour her sugar, she practically filled up her bowl halfway with sugar, completely covering all of the strawberries she had served herself.  We started laughing about how much sugar she had poured, as one could practically have asked "do you want some strawberries to go with that sugar?"  As I was sitting there laughing with her, I realized that I had yet to really explain my host situation here.

Simply put, I've gotten very lucky with host situations this year.  It's most people's nightmare when coming abroad - being placed with someone mean, strict, rude, racist etc.  It's a big move, especially when you'll be living with them for almost a year; and I think it turns some kids to not take advantage of the potential benefits.  Because there are horror stories.

Fortunately, mine have been far from that.  This summer, I was blessed with an incredible family in Aix-en-Provence: a family of three plus their dog, Lulu, and cat, Lili.  I would normally say that six weeks is no where near long enough to really get to know a family, but they were so kind and welcoming that I felt like I was actually part of their family after less than two months.  I spent many afternoons watching French reality television shows like Les Anges de Télérealité and Secret Story with my host sister Marion.  Dinners were usually lively talks about our days; when my host father, Simon, was back from Paris on the weekends, we even delved into subjets like politics, religion, and immigration.  I also got the chance to really get to know my host mother, Catherine, as she brought me shopping and walking, as well as offered to bring me to various places around Aix.  The first weekend I was there, she actually brought me to the beach at Cassis.  Not a bad start eh?

The situation was ideal for a number of reasons.  My french got much better, and it definitely helped my confidence speaking and listening to french all the time.  But better yet, it allowed me to see into the daily lives of French, and to also be accepted into their lives.  My life started taking on their rhythms, their diet, their mannerisms.  It also just made me more comfortable with the idea that I could live in an enriching environment through a host family situation.

Thus, I left Aix slightly better prepared to take on my Parisian homestay.

I won't say it's been a joy ride the WHOLE time.  Annie and I certainly don't see eye to eye on the tidiness of my room (which is TINY, and I have A LOT of things, thus, obvious issues).  She can sometimes be too much, especially when I'm trying to do work (BTW, French libraries should be open later than 10pm.  Naht helpful).  And she's very social - we have people over constantly.  I don't think there has been a single week where we haven't had at least one person over for drinks or dinner.  These last two aspects were a big deal last semester when I was stressed out of my mind and totally overwhelmed with work.  It even led me to look into finding an alternate situation - either getting my own place or switching host families.  Since getting my own apartment was out of the question (Thank you Middlebury rules), I went to meet a young woman who I could potentially move in with, starting in January.  She was lovely, the apartment was great, but I realized I couldn't imagine leaving Annie.

The reality is that Annie is like a grandmother to me.  Even at 81, she is energetic, passionate and hilarious.  She has taken me in, introduced me to her friends and family, and made me part of her life.  When I was starting to get my horrible stomach aches again, she took me shopping with her, in order to buy gluten free and soy products.  She is actively interested in what I'm studying, where I'm traveling and who my friends are.  She lovess to cook, and basically gets angry when I don't eat what she considers enough, or when I don't finish all the leftovers.  We joke about the crazy stories her friends and family members tell.  We talk about politics and the news.  She tells me weekly about the new films she saw in the cinema.  And I can't help but love this little lady, who is so animated about going out to shop everyday, who has known her butcher for 30 years, and who likes to casually stroll around Printemps and Galaries Lafayette (and then talk about all the Chinese, Russians and Arabs who are lining up at Chanel and Louis Vuitton).  It's an experience all in itself - one that I think has truly defined my year here.  I can't even imagine what this year would have been without her.

Yesterday, I wrote my last check to her for my monthly rent.  It was a bit depressing; the last few weekends I've spent away from Paris, I've actually been sad not to be here with her.  I know I will surely miss a lot of things about my life here once I leave; Annie will definitely be one of them.  She is the kind of person who I would gladly come back to Paris just to visit.

Plus, her food is out of this world, as anyone who has been invited over for dinner can attest.