Erinn Goes Abroad

Memories drawn & Lessons learned

When I was 14, I went to Nicaragua for the first time. It was a first of many things: the first exposure to unrelenting poverty, the first international trip alone, the first time I was expected to physically labor on behalf of others. The group was providing aid to communities that had been devastated by hurricanes. We worked to help these Nicaraguan communities become self-sustainable: we built homes, dug latrines, drilled for water… the whole nine yards.

…I hated it. I knew I wasn’t meant to. I had heard most people feel a deep sense of gratification when they give their time to the less fortunate. Instead, I could not have been more ready to take a long shower, lounge about in air conditioning, log on to AOL instant messenger, and ya know, pursue all of the highly critical tasks required of a 14 year old. 

It should be no surprise that I skipped the Nicaragua trip during my 15^th year (it was an annual adventure held during Spring Break). But time passed and during the next few seasons, my intrigue began waxing again. The “unbearable” hardships seemed ridiculous after a year or so of perspective.  I felt ready to return to Nicaragua as a 16 year old.

This year was harder than the first.  During this trip I was asked to go on a mission to collect gravel at a volcano. I still remember my eyes widening, dwarfed at the base of this puffing giant with smoke billowing up and away! I wasn’t sure if I was breathless from dumping endless buckets of rock into the work truck or by the sight of this sleeping monster. One day, the water system went out at the compound where we were staying. We discovered this only after working all day and boy, we stunk to high heavens! The group resorted to utilizing the left over drinking water from the water coolers and took what we affectionately called “splash baths”. Another night I recall a hurricane wiping out the electricity for a 2 days. All in all, it was difficult in a way that could have made 14-year-old Erinn wail.

But you know what? I loved it. I loved every minute of it. The trip was exciting and inspiring in a way that I was incapable of grasping two years earlier. A group of students elected to visit an orphanage on a mountaintop. As a part of the group, I played soccer under a brilliant blue sky and braided flowers into little girls’ hair. Another time a few of us befriended locals at a village we were servicing and so taken we all were with each other that we danced the night away to traditional music. This was around the time I first began to salsa dance and suddenly I was in the heart of it, completely electrified.

I returned home with an ache. I had Algebra II with friend who went on the trip that year also. For two months after we returned, when our eyes met in class we would lament, “I miss Nicaragua!”

The point of this story is to illustrate an important lesson I learned between the ages of 14 and 16. I discovered sometimes the first time you try something, you’re not quite ready. The feeling might be there, but it’s like eating an unripe fruit. Your curiosity for this new thing, this new experience may not overcome its shocking bitterness. In which case, you simply put it back on the shelf and allow time to pass. Then you try again. You may find it the sweetest fruit you’ve ever tasted.