Look up, Duke

As I wait for the bus in Salvador, Brazil, for the final time before going back to the United States, I take my last deep inhale of acaraje (little bean patties fried in Dende oil, typical street food), feel the rays of sun mixing with the salty breeze soaking into my skin and hear the sounds of samba music blasting from a car as it whizzes by. These have become familiar to my senses since arriving in Salvador for my study abroad program this past fall semester. I check my watch one more time. Twenty-five minutes since I got to the bus stop. Probably another 25 minutes to go. I let out a sigh of exasperation.

Within the first few days of being in Salvador for the fall semester, I was taken back by the concept of time (or lack thereof). Based on my experience and my own Cuban background, in Brazil, and the rest of Latin America in general, time is not money, as it is often crassly referred to in the United States. In Brazil, if someone says they will meet you for coffee at 9 a.m. that could really mean 9:45 or 10 a.m. If a dinner starts at 8 p.m., people will start to wander in at 9 or 9:30 p.m. If class starts at 8:30 a.m., it would always start closer to 9 a.m. You get the idea. A schedule is merely a rough sketch of your day and waiting is done without regret or frustration. I vividly remember the droplets of sweat that formed on my forehead in frustration as I waited, hours on end, and the anxiety I felt about being late to meet someone when my class ran over. Whether it was for buses, friends or professors, waiting became my full time job.

Wasting time is one of my biggest fears, which I can safely say is not unique among Duke students. So what could be more of a waste of time than spending several hours a week waiting? Back home, I would likely occupy any waiting time with my phone, which connects me to other places, people and events not present or occurring at the moment. However, in Salvador, without a working phone to engage with or familiar friends by my side to talk with, there was nothing I could do in those moments but breathe, observe and wait. There were no new emails or texts I could check and respond to and no way to tell when I would get to where I was going. Looking forward to what is next was simply not an option.

At Duke, I find myself looking only forward; running from one class or meeting to the next, scheduling short coffee breaks with friends, planning work and down time; I leave no wiggle room for waiting and uncertainty. My time abroad taught me that, contrary to my initial belief, time is valued in Salvador, but it is valued in a different sense of the word.

As the semester went on, I began to appreciate those times of simply waiting. They became moments of heightened awareness when all of my senses were turned on and I took in my surroundings. I grappled with how a society filled with such rich culture and joy could simultaneously be broken in so many ways. I observed how those around me interacted with each other and with me, an evidently white woman from the United States in a sea of black men and women. I witnessed racial and gender tensions in action and reflected on how eerily similar they were to those pervasive at Duke. As I reflect on those moments, I realize that these were the greatest experiences of learning abroad.

As I start a new semester at Duke, I am thinking about how I will approach my time here with a lens that has been colored with experiences from abroad. Though I am no longer forced to confront the difficulties of adjusting to a different concept of the value of time, learning to do so has challenged me to think critically about the changes I can make daily to enrich my life and the lives of those close to me.

I may never be able to fully let go of the constraints of time, but I can redefine what it means to spend time valuably. Reading for pleasure for a half an hour a day will not be a waste of time. Chatting with a new friend at Joe van Gough instead of studying an extra two hours for my exam will not be a waste of time. Standing at the bus stop taking in my surroundings and appreciating my campus instead of looking down to answer the next email will not be a waste of time. I want to treat every moment as though it is valuable—whatever, wherever and whomever I am with. This semester, I will see the value of living in the moment always and will ensure that no moments are perceived as wasted moments but rather as moments for learning, reflecting and appreciating.

I will stop looking forward, and I will look up. It may not happen immediately, but as I was reminded by one of my professors this week, anything worth learning takes time. Who’s with me?