Introduction - Part IV

Camp Wanakita was nothing like our Bolton Weekend.
Four days and three nights at Winter Survival Camp. I think now would be a good time to mention how much I hate winter and snow and how I avoid going outside as much as possible when it is under 15 degrees Celsius. All Sixteen Outbounds (including me) and Eight Inbounds (exchange students from other countries who are doing their exchange in Canada) from 7080 had to meet the bus early for the long drive to Wanakita. Once we arrived and dropped our duffels off in the cabins, we were divided into two groups. One would be cross country skiing and the other would be quinzee building. This was my first time cross country skiing but to my surprise, I actually enjoyed it and though I’d still choose water skiing any day, I found I wasn’t half bad at it either. Quinzee building was something I definitely never did before, nor will I ever do again; but I have to admit it was kind of fun. A quinzee first of all, is an igloo (ice house) made out of snow instead of ice. We started by making nine foot or 3 metre tall piles of snow – and that is all we had time for our first night. Even though there was about 2 feet or 66 cm of snow on the ground and it was continuing to snow, everyone worked in their t-shirts because it was a lot of work - we had to make three quinzees (two for the girls and one for the guys) - and we felt very hot.
The next day we returned to our quinzees; over night they were able to freeze slightly and we began to hollow out the inside. We did this by digging two small holes on opposite sides of the quinzee (only big enough to pass through on your stomach) and tunnelling through to the hole on the other side. When the two tunnels met on the inside, we started digging the sides of the tunnel until finally the inside was hollow. Building the quinzee reminded me of when I was a child and actually enjoyed playing in the snow. Already I had spent more time outside at Wanakita than I did since the winter started. But that was only half the day. The other half we spent snow shoeing and orienteering with compasses through the deep and snowy woods. Though this might sound as lovely as a Frost poem, and to some people it was, I was cold, I had never used a compass before (does a GPS count?), I had blisters from my boots that weren’t broken in yet and I didn’t see why we were walking so far when everything looked the same since everything was snow covered anyway. I found out the reason the next day.

On our third day of Winter Survival Camp, someone thought it would be a good idea to have an eight hour snowshoeing/orienteering hike though the rough terrain of Wanakita’s woods. We were hot and tired, and when we stopped we were cold; however, the hike was a lot better than I thought it would be. Despite the weather, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t beautiful in the middle of the woods with cotton snow dwindling into perfect pallid patches and the baby icicles glazing every branch giving the trees an impossible luminescence. I wish I took a picture. We even walked across a frozen lake. Not only was it beautiful but it felt like an accomplishment that we were able to follow a specific compass bearing for hours and miraculously end up at the right landmark. All 7080 inbounds and outbounds are now expert orienteerers by the way (which means I never have to do that again). After a much needed dinner, everyone set out for an annual tradition of a moonlight sit. A moonlight sit is when we go into the middle of the woods (yet again) and sit with nothing but a lantern with a single candle and write. What we write is a letter to ourselves; usually how we feel about rotary exchange and what we hope to get out of it and some words of encouragement. The 7080 Rotarians will send us this letter a year later (February 2009, which will also be halfway through our exchange year) to where ever each of us are in the world and we will be able to glance at our former insight (or folly), but hopefully we will be able to recapture our initial eagerness and enthusiasm to make the very most out of this year and to make it our best year yet. This was my favourite part of Camp Wanakita, just complete tranquility (despite the fact that my candle blew out). Later we had a relaxing campfire, complete with hot chocolate, marshmallows and music. The end of the flames signalled the end of the day and half of us headed back to the cabins while the other half stayed put to take their turn sleeping in the quinzees. That night, it was my turn. Four girls could fit into the quinzee, but just barely. We were shoulder to shoulder lying down and if I stretched my legs, my head hit the opposite wall and I could not stand (only sit up) without touching the roof and I’m only 5’1 (about 1 metre and 2/3). Despite the uncomfortable proximity to each other, the sleeping bags and multiple pairs of socks, I was still freezing. That however, wasn’t the worst part. It didn’t hit me at first because the feeling was new, but after a while I started to feel like I couldn’t move or breathe; and I looked at the bags stuffed in the tunnel that allows us to pass in and out of the quinzee and all I could think for the rest of the night was “how fast could I push those out should this cave in?” I even started to hyperventilate at some point during the night, the one and only time in my life. I was claustrophobic, and I didn’t even know.
All I knew was that I couldn’t leave because if I left it would become too cold in the quinzee (which was why there were bags in the tunnel) and the other girls would have to leave also. So I stayed. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, and that just yesterday I was in a tunnel a fraction of the size to hollow the quinzee out. I convinced myself that even if it did cave in, it was only snow, we could dig our way out; and that if all the other students could do it than there was no way I was going to be the one who couldn`t. So I lay back down and the dawn did eventually come. It always does.
Even though I had to crawl, I came out of that quinzee victoriously. Not only had I gained an extraordinary experience to say the least, but I discovered and overcame my only identifiable fear; and all in one night.

On our last day at Camp Wanakita, we had a party to celebrate the beginning of a new rotary year; our new found friends, our new found skills and the fact that now we could go home to our fireplaces and high set thermostats. After the party we had a brief but pleasant departing ceremony where we each received a certificate of completion (and believe me we deserved one) and the Rotarians said something commendable about each of the inbounds and outbounds. I thought it was a perfect way to end the weekend. Before we bored the bus, we tried one last time to coax the Rotarians into sharing information regarding our host countries; but all they said was “that English isn’t the primary language where you will go” (thanks tips). Every one hugged said goodbye but our goodbyes would be short lived. In just two weeks we would all meet again in Brampton, and finally (FINALLY) discover which country we each would spend our year in. We waited.

Introduction - Part III

Later in January I attended my first rotary weekend in Bolton as an official 7080 outbound. This is where I met the rest of our fearless leaders (a.k.a The 7080 Rotarians) and the other 15 outbounds. Now everything was becoming more tangible and less illusive. The other 15 outbounds are fabulous. We learned everyone’s name, everyone’s story and everyone’s reason for wanting to go on exchange; but most importantly we learned which country everyone was hoping to be sent. Because we were staying overnight, the outbounds stayed at a Rotarians house once we were dismissed for the evening. Myself and an Outbound named Holly, Stayed with an exceedingly gracious couple named Bernie and Pat in their quaint country side home. Holly and I learned all about their lives and Bernie kept us laughing well into the night. Holly and I stayed up chatting for the remainder of the night; and the next day we were back with the rest of the outbounds sharing stories of our night before. The Rotarians then began to call us into a separate room for interviews (yes more interviews) and we wrote thank you notes to the Rotarians who hosted us while we waited. The purpose of the interviews now, since we had already been selected, was to help determine which country we would be sent to.
This year 7080 was exchanging with the following countries:
Austria,
Brazil,
Chile,
Denmark,
Ecuador,
France,
Finland,
Germany,
Japan,
Switzerland,
Thailand.
We also usually exchange with Mexico, Paraguay, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand and there has been talk about Belgium too; unfortunately however, they were not offered this year.

I think I should mention that in Canada (or at least my district) we are not able to choose our host countries. That’s kind of the deal. Yes we will sponsor you; because YOU want this. YOU came to US; And we choose you because we know that you will be a good exchange student and because you are open minded enough (or crazy enough) to go to any country we may throw you in, and adaptable enough to handle it (I can’t imagine why it’s hard to get sponsored). The other reason why Rotarians choose our countries for us, is really for our benefit. They want to send us somewhere that will best suit us. So the next rotary weekend at Camp Wanakita was mainly for the Rotarians to observe us under less than perfect circumstances, get to know us better and decide on the best fit for every outbound.

So, we exchanged e-mails and said our goodbyes and we were all looking forward to the next Rotary Weekend at Camp Wanakita in Early February.

Introduction - Part II

At the time, I never imagined how difficult the process of actually getting a club to sponsor you would be. This is how I did it.

I tried to apply for an interview that year, but I had just missed the window of opportunity, and last year’s outbounds (what we call students leaving their home country to go on Exchange) had already been selected and I had to wait until next fall.
Once fall (October) had rolled around again I went to a Rotary meeting held in my city, signed up for an interview and brought home a lengthy application to be filled out before my interview. My Parents and my Grandmother were there to confirm that this was in fact a reasonable and beneficial thing to be involved in; and all four of us were reassured again and again as rebounds (Students who left Canada on an Exchange and that have returned) shared their countless adventures and amazing experiences of being an Exchange Student.

The day of my interview I was understandably nervous. I would have two interviews; both would be in a separate room with about eight interviewers each. They would all take turns questioning me about myself and my motives and they would all grade each answer on a scale of 1-5. I didn’t know what they were looking for in the slightest, but I knew that being yourself is a universal solution. So that’s what I did for the next hour or so I was being interviewed.

I don’t know how many students applied but I’ve been told that Burlington always has the most applicants of my district (7080 is my district number and a district includes many cities within an area). This year they were only taking three students.

When I was finished, I was told to wait a week and a Rotarian would call to inform me if they decided to give me a third interview. I waited.
I waited some more.

Finally I got my answer. The first group of interviewers really liked me. The second group didn’t. I would not be getting a third interview.

Completely crushed, I felt the weight of my broken dreams crash down on me like a ton of Brazilian coconuts (and yes they are heavy). Just as I was about to abandon my dreams all together, I remembered something one of the rebounds said at the first meeting I attended. “If you are not able to be sponsored by the Burlington Club, go to another city and see if their club will sponsor you; because Burlington is very competitive and often other clubs ask Burlington Rotarians for the phone numbers of any student they have turned away. That is how I was able to go on exchange.”

So I got to work. With the help of my mom, I think I e-mailed every head Rotarian that I managed to find an e-mail address for in my District, some twice. I checked my inbox religiously and every day I sent new e-mails to people who “might know more about the situation”, replied promptly to everyone and even tried to ask Rotary Clubs that are not exchange clubs if they might consider sponsoring an exchange student. A few weeks passed and though there were a few hopeful prospects once, I could clearly see that the reality of getting sponsored this way was almost none existent. So I sent my last e-mail, attaching with it any hope I still had for my dream, to a Lady named Phyllis.

She replied, if I could make it to Mississauga the next day (Wednesday), her club, Mississauga City Centre, would like to interview me. You better believe that I made it into Mississauga a half hour early with an application all ready filled out that following day.

I had one interview (unlike last time), with four Rotarians. They interview me for a half an hour and then my Mom for a half hour. Expecting the unexpected, I prayed for good news when they said they would call me in two days. I waited.

I remember that call, it was a snowy Friday in December and I was pacing around in circles in my friends kitchen. Phyllis was on the other end. “Jessica” she began. “My club would be thrilled to sponsor you.”After I thanked her profusely, and my friend and I finished parading around his kitchen, I called my family and friends. Everyone was so incredibly happy for me. My dream was coming true.

Introduction - Part I

An introduction by definition is an explanatory section at the beginning. So naturally this particular blog will explain all the main events leading up to my final departure (a.k.a the beginning of my story).

It began like any other great escapade. Completely unexpected on a random Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon – I don’t even remember which. I was in my room talking with my mom when all of a sudden she blurted something similar to the following “Do you remember my friend Pat from work? A girl came from France to live in her home for a few months and she is going to your school! I’m wondering if you have met her already.” At this point in time I had never heard of Rotary Exchange; so after I understood why a random girl from France was living at Pat’s house and going to my school for a seemingly impulsive whim of a just few months, my initial reaction was clear. “No, I have not met her yet; but I know without a doubt, that she is completely insane.”
I wish I go back to that moment and could tell myself how wrong I was and how Rotary Youth Exchange would become the next three years of my life.
Then my Mom (with her profuse logic and insight), said “I think it would be an incredible experience.” This conversation with my mom crept up in my thoughts frequently in the following weeks and I became increasingly interested. I began asking more and more questions about Rotary Exchange and even caught myself researching it online. Mostly though, I thought about the French girl at my school and hoped I would run into her in the halls one day, (my school has about 2000 students) to meet her and ask her the questions that the internet can’t answer.
“From France? Do you speak English? Do you like it here? Do you find it cold? Do you miss your family? A year is such a long time. Why do you want to do this? Are you glad you did?”
I saw Sophie, the French girl, at school one afternoon; just as she was getting into a car to leave. She was standing tall, speaking English and giggling with friends.

I still can’t place the exact moment, but soon after that day, I knew that I wanted to do this; I wanted to become a Rotary Exchange Student.

I wanted to travel to a foreign country; I wanted to make foreign friends, wear foreign school uniforms, taste foreign cuisine, hear foreign music, speak a foreign language, see foreign architecture, and take foreign pictures (I love photography). I wanted to experience a culture completely different from my own; and I wanted to learn to appreciate it at the very least. I wanted to proudly share Canada’s own unique and become its Ambassador. And of course, I hoped to make friendships and memories that would last a lifetime. But above all, I hoped to learn. I’m not sure what exactly I hoped to learn, but I knew that an experience as incredible as this was bound to teach me a thing or two about myself and the world. How could it not? Then, I hope to use what I learn on my year abroad to become more accepting, tolerant and understanding of people. Through this blog I hope to inspire others to do the same by proving what I have always believed – That we as humans are more similar than different and at the end of the day we really are all the same.

With that I took the first step into the next three years of my life.

Explanation

As of today, it has been exactly 26 days, 4 days shy of 1 month, since I first stepped foot on Brazilian soil (which is in fact red not brown). During this short time, I have experienced more than I could have possibly imagined. But before I go too far into the wonders of Brazil, I have to clarify something.
My first blog, though truthfully written during my flight, was posted quite after the fact, as I only decided to start a blog yesterday (the 16th of August) and I arrived in Brazil on the 22nd of July.

Fortunately however, I have been keeping a daily record of my personal experiences, excursions, thoughts and feelings throughout my time here, which I will post soon and then begin posting a new blog weekly.
What I also think needs clarification, is the reason why I have decided to – as I stated in my first blog – leave everyone and everything I have ever known to spend one year alone on an entirely different continent.
For those of you who don’t know,
my name is Jessica Danielle
and I am an International Rotary Youth Exchange Student.

Prologue

Everybody has a story.
At least one story,
that could silence a room and dare walls to talk.
Tales of great adventure, triumph and love;
and tales of great trial, error and heartache.
I hope that someday soon, I too will have such a story.

A story
that will allow me to appreciate the complexities of other great stories,
and in turn the complexities of life itself,
a story
that will lift my spirits because of the feeling of immense fulfilment it brings,
which could only come from immense achievement,
and finally, a story
that has the ability to reach into the deeps of the human soul,
touch their hearts,
and inspire others to dream and live out their own great story.

At this very moment, I am flying.
In both the literal and metaphorical sense of the word.
Literately, I am traveling from my home in Canada to exotic and beautiful Brazil.
Metaphorically, I’m overjoyed and overly calm for the amazing adventure awaiting me.

As I land in Sao Paulo,
I will leave behind my home, my country, my language, my school, my work, my family, my friends, my dog and everyone and everything I have ever known,
for one entire year.
For one entire year,
I am being completely displaced in a Brazilian journey of my own.
I don’t know how it will end, or even how it will begin,
all I know is that this,
is my story.