Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers

Ever been stranded on the side of a deserted mountain road in Ecuador?  Alone?  Kicked off the bus by a police officer for not having the proper stamp on your passport even though the numb-nut at Border Security said U.S. Citizens only need the immigration form?  Had everyone on the bus look at you like you were some sort of terrorist as they drove off?  Started walking in the direction from which you came hoping to find some sign of civilization before the sun went down?  Had an indigenous family (no teeth) drive you 2.5 hours to the airport because no one else would? 

In case you haven’t already come to this conclusion, I had some issues getting in and out of Ecuador about 3 weeks ago.  Because I was alone there was no time for panicking, crying, even hesitating.  Somehow, I honestly don’t know how, I remained totally calm.  It felt like some sort of a biological reaction.  My body (and mind) just instinctively kicked into 4-wheel drive.  Solve the problem Annie, you have to, and now.

The closest I came to panicking was when I retold the story to a group of friends once I finally got to Quito and to my parents when I got back to Bogotá.  Understandably they weren’t thrilled. 

Stressful things happen to us every day, but I’ve really come to believe that for the most part those things are only as stressful as me make them.  I learned studying psychology that our bodies are built to be able to cope with a tragedy every once in awhile: death in the family, illness, etc.  That’s not to say these events are taken lightly, but that most people eventually learn to move on, the weight eventually alleviated.  What our bodies are not designed to do is put up with a constant grind of stress and anxiety.  It may be smaller, less notably dramatic, but it does not desist, if we don’t let it.

There’s a book by Robert M. Sapolsky called Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers.  It’s rather scientific, but the high level message is that animals (zebras in this case) use stress related hormones to help them survive and cope, whereas humans secrete these same hormones at higher quantities and for extended periods of time, which can significantly damage our health.  The best thing you can do is learn how to not stress yourself out; it’s not worth it anyways, and will probably only inhibit you from solving the problem at hand.

Save your stress for real misfortune, and then let biology kick in.  When it’s over it’s over, just a story to tell, an event to remember, or to forget.  But you have to let yourself let it end.       

Grow Up

More than anything, after a certain age, life expects us to act as grownups.  Make responsible decisions, look after ourselves and others, abide by moral standards, bla bla bla.  My brother recently had a baby and one of my dearest friends from college just got engaged.  They´re growing up!  The importance, rather, necessity of growing up is tantamount to the continued functioning of not only our individual lives, but of society as a whole.  Regardless, I still see a value in moments of immaturity, childishness, letting loose once in awhile.

Carnaval de Negros y Blancos (a carnival in Pasto, Colombia, which I recently attended) is an example of just that.  It’s a typical carnival: parades, concerts, local food and drink.  Now add thousands of aerosol cans of foam (picture shaving cream), thousands of pounds of flour, and paint of all colors.  Upon entering the streets one enters straight up battle mode.  It’s actually ridiculous.  One literally cannot walk to the corner bakery without having flour thrown in your hair, foam sprayed anywhere and everywhere, paint caked on your face, or some bizarre combination of the three.  Your only defense is a good offense (and a pancho). 

My first thought was, this is awesome.  But then I thought, would this fly in the U.S.?  At a Vandy frat party, sure, but in any old city, not so positive.  It didn’t matter your age or your social status; several senior citizens shot me directly in the face.  Everyone participated.  I was thoroughly impressed with the level of immaturity.  I like to think that I take myself and my life pretty seriously, but sometimes you’ve just gotta buy a spray can of foam and squirt it at someone you don’t even know.

To quote my favorite Disney movie, “If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up, not me!” 

You`re Welcome

I`ve had a lot to say thank you for as of late, and I`ve found that (as in English) there are many, diverse ways to respond to a simple "thank you."  Some I like more than others.  You`ve got the nonchalant sort: "no prob," "don`t worry about it," "don`t mention it"; the gleeful kind: "sure," "anytime"; and the formal sort: "my pleasure," "you`re very welcome." 

Words are just words; we attribute meaning to them, so it shouldn`t matter how you say it, but I like the latter sort the best.  This way one aknowledges the favor or service provided, accepts the recipient`s gratitude, and expresses one`s willingness to have served.  Rather than casting it aside de nada (it`s nothing/no prob), one recognizes that it was actually something while almost inviting you to feel free to do so again.  It`s rather nice.

Colombians have hospitality figured out; precisely why I end up saying thank you so much.  Upon arrival in Cali, two travel buddies and I were taken in by a friend`s family, provided a bed, breakfast and sometimes lunch, and a place we were told to call home for five whole days.  Geovanny (the friend) ushered us around by car, by bus, and on foot to all the different events of the feria.  We saw parks, markets, malls, bull fights, live concerts, salsa dancing, you name it.  A family I met in Bogotà also had me picked up one night so we could stroll the streets and enjoy a most delicious homemade pasta dinner.  They even tried to buy me some clothes considering I arrived to the hot coast of Cali with only my Chicago luggage (got locked out of my apartment due to forgetting my keys...oops), but I simply couldn`t accept.  And then today a nice family we`ve never before met held umbrellas over our heads and watched our backs for pocket thieves as we watched a parade in Pasto.  They then made a special clearing for us to cross the street and safely accompanied us to our hotel.  Allllll of this was done out of sheer goodness in their hearts.  Sounds cheesy, but really, I never once asked for help or extra service.  It was just offered.

The most hospitable people in the world however are your parents.  The vast majority of their time is spent in providing favors for their kids and the ones they love.  I happen to know of one new set of parents who I`m sure will do the same for their new son, my nephew:  Thomas William Freyman.  He already has a lot to be thankful for as they graciously welcome him into their world.  And again it`s all done in the name of love and goodness, not expecting anything in return, except, maybe, one day, a "thank you."

3 Weeks, 1 Backpack

Not even a proper backpacker’s backpack, just a standard book bag.

Chillin' with a blowfish (pez globo in Spanish)

I am now in the comfort of my own, warm, Christmas-adorned home, where I will be for the next five days, but I spent the first part of the month getting to know some different cities within Colombia. I went from jungle trekking to scuba diving to historic city meandering. All wonderful.

Traveling is an art. It can be done lavishly or on a shoestring, hastily or lackadaisically, methodically or spontaneously, or some permutation of the aforementioned. No matter how you choose to do it, it opens your eyes to a simplified way of life. Restricted either by airline weight regulations or those of your own carrying capacity, you can only bring so much shit along with you. And you still probably bring more than you need.

Me and some militaries at La Ciudad Perdida (Lost City)

I’ve got more stuff than I’ll ever know what to do with. This particular trip made me appreciate the bare necessities. Uphill hikes through the jungle make insect repellent and a decently-sized water bottle much more important than spare sets of clothing, especially when everything you have will get wet anyways. And you can forget about a brush, hairdryer, straightner, or makeup of any sort. Not at all relevant. Your alarm clock is the sun, a bothersome rooster, or your noisy neighbors, whichever comes first.

Another thing I realized on this trip is that I’ve always liked to have a plan. I still do. There are many benefits to a plan. But sometimes you have to be willing to throw the plan to the wind. Make a new plan. Don’t stick with something just because you’re already mentally, physically, or financially invested in it. In psychology we call this the sunk cost effect. Basically, the impending dissonance involved in accepting that we messed up or had another, better option keeps us stubborn, resistant to change, or blindly hopeful. The funny thing is, children under the age of 2 and monkeys do not demonstrate this principle. So apparently, you have to be pretty smart and “rational” to do something so stupid.

Ready for a night out in Taganga

My mom used to tell me that I would say, “I didn’t even know I wanted this” when I would open a present that I liked yet hadn’t specifically noted on my Santa Wish List. Same goes for life. Not everything can be planned for or predetermined because you don’t always know you want something until it’s in your lap. Don’t wrap it back up just because it’s not part of the plan. Go on, take the money and run. – Steve Miller Band

Gunther

Playing parques with Benjamin

The following post will almost undoubtedly reveal my insanity.  Here goes.

The official trailer for the new movie The Social Network says, “You don’t get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies.”   This thought struck me. 

I’ve always been of the camp that I’m a good person and I am who I am, take it or leave it.  I can’t possibly make everyone happy, and I wasn’t put on this Earth to do so. Of course I like to be liked, but I don’t need everyone to like me.  I’m still of this camp.  I think.  But to an extreme, this mentality is no more than a good excuse to be unkind, unfair, perhaps a little stuck in my ways.  So I started thinking.  Who do I know that’s truly liked by everyone?  And what is this person like?  How can I be more like him/her?     

The first “person” who came to my mind was Gunther.  I’m 23 years old and I still sleep with a teddy bear.  His name is Gunther.



Gunth & Stemp

Gunther is the best listener; he’ll listen for hours on end, to anything really.  As Gunther is a bear, he’s naturally a protector, but he also likes to snuggle.  He’s the ultimate secret-keeper; loyal to a fault.  Gunther is open-minded and accepting of all others.  His best friend is named Stempy.  Stempy has no arms, and wears a silly lace collar and a mismatched, patterned sweater.  But Gunther sees through all that to Stemp’s good heart.   He knows how to forgive.  He’s humble.  Gunther is anything but manipulative.  He likes to party, but is also good for a night in.  Gunther is constant, sound, reliable, steadfast.  He’s not perfect:  his neck is a little long and he’s a tad chubby (gets the munchies sometimes) so he’s not threatening or intimidating.  Gunther is a good sharer.  He’s easygoing, far from high maintenance.  Gunther has a lot of love to give and lets you love him back.

Everyone loves Gunther; he wears easy on you, makes you happy. 

So am I going to fret and worry if not everyone I meet thinks I’m an angel in disguise?  Nope.  But I think I can learn something from Gunther about how to love and be loved.  I don’t need any enemies, just friends.      



In Colombia & At Vandy: warming him up after someone put him in the freezer.



Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving isn’t exactly big in Colombia.  The only tradition I managed to salvage was watching football; we put the Lions Patriots game on over lunch at work.  I had a ham and cheese sandwich. 

What’s the big deal about Thanksgiving anyways?  We gather together with family, watch football, and eat too much.  Whoopie-doo.  No presents, not many decorations, and let’s face it, even though it’s technically about the pilgrims and the Native Americans, you learn about it in second grade, make a cute hand turkey, and that about marks the end of it.  But everyone loves Thanksgiving.  I love Thanksgiving.

This is my third Thanksgiving out of the country, my first away from my family.  Having “seen” the holiday from an outsider’s perspective, I finally figured out what makes Thanksgiving so great.  It’s 100% American.  The United States has an extremely unique social culture, but when it comes to food and holidays, we kinda just steal from everyone else and Americanize it: burgers, pizza, Chinese food, sandwiches, etc.  We didn’t exactly invent that.  Christmas, Hanukah, Halloween, St. Patrick’s Day… not quite.  But Thanksgiving?  That’s ours; only ours.  We watch football, a game that the U.S. enjoys far more than any other country.  We eat turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, casseroles, stuffing, apple cider, and pumpkin pie.  There’s not even a translation for those foods in Spanish because they simply do not exist.  And even though I already negated the relativity of the pilgrims and the Native Americans, can anyone else claim that as part of their history?

Every day, every minute, this world becomes more and more globalized, less and less ethnocentric.  I’m all for it; I’m a citizen of the world.  But Thanksgiving, that stays with us.  I’m thankful for that.

This year, I’m also thankful for technology.  Ew right?  I’m supposed to say family, friends, and good health.  Plus, I’m not even good with technology:  I have a Blackberry, but I don’t have it synced to my email account and I still write my daily agenda on the palm of my hand; I have a kindle, but I have yet to play with any of its multifaceted capabilities other than reading from the screen; I have an iPod… correction had an iPod, with no more than 200 songs on it.  But this year more than ever, technology, primarily GChat and Skype, has kept me close to those things I’m really thankful for.   Last Thursday I watched the Bears beat the Dolphins with my Mom and Dad through Skype.  It was like I was there in the family room.  Today I got to talk to my entire family.  I saw my sister-in-law’s pregnant belly that holds my nephew; my Dad and my brothers; and my Mom preparing dinner.  I could practically smell the turkey.  And thanks to the 21^st century’s advanced mailing system, I received a hand-written letter from my Aunt Mary wishing me a happy day.

What’s not to love about Thanksgiving?     

Trust Me

One thing that has never come easily to me is trust.  Trusting people with my personal information, trusting people to follow through.  I would rather just not give them the chance to let me down, to disappoint.  But trust has managed to weasel its way into nearly every important element of our lives.  Even the one-dollar bill says In God We Trust.  The value of money itself is based in trust.  We don’t have gold reserves anymore.  Just think about capitalism… it’s trust.  Trust in those we don’t even know, those who don’t know us.  But society wouldn’t function without it.

I arrived at this rant about trust because of a current debate I’ve been following in microfinance.  SKS, now India’s largest MFI, announced an initial public offering  just over three months ago.  Compartamos, an MFI in Mexico, has been publicly traded for years, but this is still a big step, and possibly an indication of where the microfinance industry is headed.  From what I’ve gathered it boils down to a couple main points of contention: Does commercialized microfinance imply exploitation and/or mission drift?

The benefits of being an aggressively for-profit MFI are evident: SKS reports an annual compound growth rate of 165% since 2004.  That represents millions of poor people who now have access to financial services, and women who have been empowered.  Furthermore, because SKS has reached such a large scale, they have been able to utilize their unique distribution channels to strike special deals with other for-profit companies to offer products such as cell phones, water purifiers, and sanitary pads to the poor at drastically lower prices.  Things they wouldn’t otherwise have access to; things I take for granted every day.

So what’s all the fuss about?  Microfinance is about helping the poor help themselves, giving them access to capital, formal savings products, life insurance, things ordinary banks have denied them for centuries.  Its mission is based solely around the best interest of the borrower, the client, the poor.  With commercialization, new major players are introduced: stakeholders (and not just the clients themselves as in Grameen Bank).  Profits no longer solely go back to the borrowers, but out to other stakeholders.  Is this pushing the industry towards loan sharking and profiteering?  Will short-term investor needs overshadow long-term strategy and dedication to the needs of the poor?

Thus far, I say no.  Going public has helped SKS achieve significantly greater outreach, better and more diversified products and services, and they are now under the ever-critical public eye.  Governance must be more transparent.  But once again it’s a matter of trust.  SKS is an extremely powerful institution that could easily, I mean easily, exploit the poor.  In a big way.  So do we say it’s not worth the risk?  Or do we trust them, and ourselves, to put the right people in charge and stay true to microfinance’s mission so that this life-changing industry can continue to grow? 

It’s not an easy decision.  Trust me.