A bit of winter introspection

I've always been very introspective. I think it has something to do with my brain that never stops thinking a million miles a minute and the fact that I am very critical of myself. I've always been driven, and sought out things that would aid my personal development, and been quite aware of where I'm at, and what I'm feeling at any given moment. That and I like to write and record. These traits naturally complement 'introspection' or the examination or observation of one's own mental and emotional processes.

There are a few times of year where introspection seems to creep up a bit more overtly than others. Making its way from the back of my ever playing mental tape to the forefront. Commanding solitude and time dedicated simply to reflection, introspection and thought as the main event. September, marked for years as a fresh start, a new school year, new challenges and new beginnings. And December marked by cold and crisp icy mornings, the ability to see your breath as the street crunches beneath your feet and you gather with friends and family to welcome a new year and say goodbye to the past.

So here I am, being introspective and reflecting on the year I’ve had. The year we’ve all had. I’ve heard from friends, from family, from strangers that 2014 was a particularly rough year. An unhealthy and unsupportive work environment saw me change jobs and enter a new field in May, to be followed by a stressful and all time consuming municipal campaign to which I devoted my every waking moment and squeezed every last drop of energy into. Coming off the campaign to an unstable political environment saw me forced to assume a new position in a new part of the province that will test my skills, patience and perseverance. The sudden unexpected death of my great-uncle, my partner’s brother being diagnosed with cancer, addictions issues effecting family members added to the stress of an already heavy and stressful years full of change. Buying a house with my siblings and the help of my late grandfather who left us money to invest, moving in with my brothers and my partner, getting a dog (Mikko), and feeling torn between where I am now and where I want and need to go.

This year has been heavy, and its been hard. But in heavy moments where it feels as though I’ll be crushed by the sheer weight of it I often feel the most strength because (even though I must remind myself) I have yet to be buried alive. Time and time again, I step up with the weight on my shoulders and figure out how to take steps to reducing the weight, and I continue to take steps (sometimes tiny steps) until it feels less heavy and I can see that it’s going to be okay, and that I’ve proven myself again to be perseverant, determined, and that nothing can crush my will for too long.

My little sister, Sierra (18), is currently in France working as an au pair for a family that lives on a ski hill and runs the restaurant. She left last week but is having a tough time dealing with homesickness, missing family, and battling with thoughts that she is not strong enough to tackle the challenge she has chosen for herself. I see a lot of myself in her. She took a chance (as I often do) to thrust herself abruptly into the unknown. Got swept up in the excitement of the change, the challenge, the adventure and barrelled on ahead full speed. Now, in quiet moments, she finds herself wondering “what the hell am I doing?”

I can’t help but remember feeling the same way when I was on the last flight into Tegucigalpa for in 2010. It sunk in as to what I was about to do. Live in a foreign place where I didn’t speak the language, a place I was told was dangerous, and work with an NGO that I knew nothing about and knew no one. I would have to learn a language, find a place to live, develop relationships, make friends, conduct research, and do it completely alone. Surely I must be out of my mind, or have seriously overestimated my own abilities. I felt suspended in freefall. My breath catching in my throat and forming a lump in the bottom of my stomach. But we know how it worked out. I learned Spanish. I found a place to live with a family I grew to love. I made friends, developed relationships, completed research and helped the NGO develop a program to engage youth which I then delivered. I went out on my own and took buses, and ferries, and hoped on the back of mopeds and saw the country. I visited friends in El Salvador and tried my hand at surfing. In fact, 4 years ago today I was on a bus headed to Santa Rosa de Copan to see a new part of the country, welcomed by a new friend and her family.

Some days, it feels as though the “Delaney” who had the guts and the confidence to embark on that type of adventure is a different person. That if tasked with the same thing today I would be unable to deliver. But I know that’s untrue. I know that whatever the obstacle, the challenge, the upset, or the adventure I will approach it the same way. Figuring out what I need to do, what needs to get done, taking it apart, and making sure it happens. By playing to my strengths, by giving myself time and allowing myself to feel weak and sad, but reminding myself of my proven track record of strength, determination and courage.

I know my sister will figure out, in her own way in her own time, how to do just that because I see that in her as well, even if she doesn’t. Learning about ourselves, being honest with ourselves, and pushing ourselves to do better and be better is one of the best gifts we can give ourselves. A gift that sometimes hurts more than we’d like it to as it can only be found in moments of discomfort and isolation, but a gift that we should cherish none the less.


In reflection,
Delaney C.

Not All Men

It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

Not all men.

I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

Not all men.

Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

Not all men.

Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

Not all men.

Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

“Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
“Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

Not all men.

Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

-Don’t ever talk to strange men
-Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
-Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger
I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

Not all men.
It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

I’m a 17 year old girl.
When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.
Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.

Not.
All.
Men.

My sister, Sierra, found this on tumblr and shared it with me. The writer does an excellent job at articulating how as a women I know it's Not All Men who perpetuate sexism, violence against women,and who make public space a dangerous place for me as a women to occupy.

I recently got in an argument had a discussion with my 24 y/o brother who was frustrated with "being painted with the same brush" as men who are sexist and oppressive when he himself is not. He challenged me saying, "if people are going to assume I am sexist or oppressive simply because I'm white and male, then what's the incentive" for him to make sure that he is not. I had trouble articulating my thoughts with him aside from saying that it's the right thing to do, and that as a women I'm judged every day due to sexism, and we don't always get to decide how people see us or perceive us to be.

One of the differences being that my safety is constantly in question and top of mind, while his feelings may be the only thing to be harmed. He routinely walks home from work in the exchange and downtown to Wolesely and West Broadway at 2 am. An experience he finds calming, enjoyable, and freeing for me is experience filled with anxiety, concern for my safety leaving me hyper aware of my surroundings, going out of my way to stay on well lit streets, and switching to the opposite side of the street to avoid other groups of people. I'd like to think I'm overreacting, being more cautious then necessary, but on more then one hundreds of occasions I've been yelled at, grabbed, and made to feel uncomfortable and unsafe.

I remember one evening leaving Old Market Square after closing down the Jazz Festival and finishing my volunteer shift. I started walking towards my apartment at the corner of River and Donald feeling content with the evening, the fact that at 2:30am it was warm, people were milling about, and I was going to meet a friend and have a beer. As I approached portage avenue a man came up to me and started talking to me. I kept walking while being polite, making it clear that I was headed on my way. I wasn't scared until he grabbed my arm. He grabbed my arm forcefully saying something along the lines of "you're pretty, you're alone, and we should get to know each other."

I'm not small by any means, but I remember feeling terrified. Easily overpowered. I managed to yank my arm out of his hand, kept walking forward and he lost interest. A minuted later, shaken up, I saw a cab and jumped in not wanting to take any more chances that evening. I hoped in the back and as I was giving my address realized the male cab driver was accompanied by a male friend whom sat beside him in the front seat. Again, I immediately felt unsettled, outnumbered and that there was the potential for danger. Was I safer on the street? Or safer in a cab? The ride was short. I hopped out blocks before my apartment, figuring I would take my chances in my own neighbourhood. I remember getting home to my apartment, double locking the door, sliding down to the floor with my back against a wall...and I still didn't feel safe.

As this writer eloquently says, its Not All Men, but every man has the potential, and sometimes I'm not willing to take the chance so that someones feelings don't get hurt.

With anger and frustration,
Delaney C.

Refusing to sink

Well, well, well. Here I am just about to enter into the 6 month of the year, and I haven't made a blog post since August which goes against the little list I made in January which had me planning on writing more among other things that I had identified would assist me in being a healthier, happier version of myself. Delaney 2.0, Delaney14, Delaney new and improved.

I’m not a fan of ‘New Year’s Resolutions”, but I am a fan of direction and goals so I came up with a list of things I wanted to accomplish in the 2014 year, a list of things I wanted to do more of, and a list of things I wanted to do less.

I am a huge fan and strong believer in personal (and professional) development. In fact I am always reflecting and analyzing myself, my actions, my perspective on a specific situation and identifying weak points, areas where I could improve, and occasionally identifying strengths…some times to my own detriment. This behaviour, at least in my mind, has made me hyper aware of who I am as a person (and a professional) and kept me aware of where I want to go and the path I need to be on to get there. I constantly seek out experiences and opportunities for learning and growth whether it be hands on in a volunteer capacity, joining a committee or project at work, or observing those in leadership and managerial roles to figure out what I like and do not like about their approach and how it would complement my own. Always learning, always growing…and deeply afraid of stagnating, staying in the same place, failing to thrive.

Along with writing more (something I love to do but don’t often make the time for) I made a goal to read more which is something that doesn't always make the cut after finally getting how following a long day but something I am so happy to do.

In June 2011 I made the intentional decision to stick around Winnipeg, to stay in Canada, to pursue a relationship, to put down some roots and to see if they would grow. And grow they did. Its May 2014, and I’ve learned a lot in the last 3 years, I’ve grown a lot in the last three years, and the relationships I wanted to pursue and develop have become strong in ways that I could not have anticipated being possible…and making it more than a bit difficult to take off again.

Unable to decide on a graduate program that was a good fit, I decided that looking for a new job might be the way to go to push myself outside of my comfort zone, hone some skills I want to develop, and explore an area that I have been interested in for a long time. Which has led me to where I am now. Starting a new position, in a new line of work, daunted by what seems like a mountain of learning and firsts ahead. I’m feeling very overwhelmed and like I may have taken a big bite of something I will be unable to chew however I have been in this situation before (as I keep reminding myself) and that it will get better as I feel more comfortable because change and transitions are always hard (I’m trying to have a gentler and more kind mental tape as well).

With summer on the doorstep and new challenges ahead I am going to channel the sun who regardless of the gloomiest days rises the next.

Growing, growing, growing,
Delaney C.

Connection is the true state of being

It seems that whenever I need, as in really really need a message, a sign from something greater than I, bigger then me...well, there it is.

I spent yesterday morning wandering around downtown Winnipeg, weaving in and out of streets with no real destination. Just needing to focus on placing one foot in front of the other. One foot. Then the other. Repeat. Repeat. The crisp air made my cheeks rosy but kept my head clear. When thoughts would creep in I pushed them out "Whoosh". Focusing on one foot. Left. Then right. Left. Right. And that was exactly what I needed.

I spent the evening thinking, sleeping, and dazed. And I think that's what I needed as well. I kept coming back to, "what's the point?" Why get close to people, develop relationships with people, if this is the kind of pain you feel when they are no longer there. Why? I thought about locking up all my loved ones, my nearest and dearest, in a room so that they couldn't get hurt. So I wouldn't have to hurt. I thought about cutting ties with everyone I know and love so that I never have to go through this again, and so they don't have to go through it if I were to get hurt, or die.

This morning I went to CrossFit and got a little bit of perspective. I was humbled by how far I have come, and how much further I have to go. Gasping for air putting one foot in front of the other, huffing and puffing, not letting myself stop or give up but still struggling the entire time. Nothing like getting physically destroyed to give you a little perspective and feel relatively small and insignificant.

When I got back to my apartment I turned on the radio and heard "Connection is the true state of being." As though Jian was speaking only to me. "We might not always remember that. We may feel powerless in the face of a world of problems but really we need to give our share to humanity the awareness the attention it deserves in order to start seeing things clearly. Surely that is the least we can do." And that was exactly what I needed to hear, was exactly the sign I needed to make today a new day. To get to work and put one foot in front of the other, again and again, until today is tomorrow. And until this gets easier.

Life is hard. It's tough. In one moment you can have all the air pulled out of your lungs, scared to take another breath, feeling like the stars are falling down all around you. When people leave us it reminds us of the horribleness that exists in every day. It reminds us that life is fleeting and short, which is something we don't always like to admit. It reminds us of all the times we've said angry words out of desperation and frustration and all the days in which we haven't laughed, or loved with our full and open hearts. And that is a sobering feeling.

But life is also stunningly beautiful and marvelous. It truly is an amazing experience sharing the world, sharing your life with others whom you grow to know, connect with, and who become a part of your life. I do have many wonderful, inspiring, and amazing people in my life and as Jian reminded me "connection is the true state of being." It's why we find so much satisfaction in our lives, in our jobs, in our relationships...all that connecting. Feeling as though you are a part of something, being aware, and attentive, and giving it all we've got. Life is much more beautiful, meaningful and satisfying when its shared. And that's why I can't get rid of all the people I care for, can't ask them to live in a box so that I never have to feel loss or pain again. Because we are made to connect. To share our lives, and our love with each other.

It will be hard. I'm scared. I'm worried. For my friends and family that are also feeling this loss. But I know that it will get easier, whether we want it to or not. Our hearts will heal. We will have each other. As long as we keep moving our feet, one after another. Left, right, left right.



With an open heart,
Delaney C.

Forca Portugal!

"In 9 days I leave for Portugal with my entire immediate family. I am very excited for this trip for a plethora of reasons. Firstly, although I've never been there Portugal is a very special place to me as it's where my father, uncle, and grandparents were born and grew up."

I’m a little (okay, okay, a lot) over due on this post. In March, I travelled with my family to where my father was born and raised. Portugal. Travelling with my family made me a bit nervous, as the majority of my travelling has been done solo, which offers its own challenges, but allows you to do what you want when you want, without asking the group for their thoughts or opinions. My family also hasn’t been on a ‘trip’ since I was 13 and we stayed at an all-inclusive resort in Dominican Republic and Sierra was only 4 ½ (she’s 16 now), so it would prove to be...interesting.

This would be a much different trip. 14 days of my family of 6, in a giant rental van, driving all over Portugal to visit relatives I’d never met, beaches on the coast, ruins, historical sites, Fado clubs, and the small village my father grew up in without running water or electricity. On paper it sounds like equal parts disaster waiting to happen, and an adventure I certainly couldn’t wait to partake in.

After a layover in Ottawa and a delayed flight (which everyone took with stride) we were off! When we landed in Lisbon, Portugal I had the weirdest feeling of ‘being home’ considering I had never been there before, and never before had Portugal been on my radar of places I wanted to visit.

Throughout the entire trip I felt like things began to make sense. Pieces of the puzzle began to fit together and I started to understand myself better. Why my grandparents were the way they are, certain mannerisms that my father had passed on to me, even my fathers specific way of interacting with people. I saw people that looked like me, people that behaved like me, and everything became clearer. I didn’t realize, until I was there, how much could be answered by just being in a certain place.

One of the most emotional moments of our trip, was meeting our family still living in the village my Grandmother raised my father and uncle while my Grandfather worked in South America and Europe to provide for them. People in the community that hadn’t seen my father in 8 years (since he had been back to the village, and 30 years before that!) recognized him, they embraced each other and openly cried. Family welcomed us into their homes, sharing so much love for us that it was hard to believe it was our first reunion. Jao, and his family live in a 2 story home, made of particle board, heated by a wood stove, with no electricity and no running water. The village is slowly becoming a ghost town, as a nearby mill was shut down and the economic situation has forced many people to leave the area in order to provide for themselves and their families. Every second or third home is empty, abandoned by families who now only come to visit once a year. The village is surrounded by mountains and forests, and the fog rolled in, creeping over the hills making our joyous reunion feel somber and chilling.

We walked around the town, playing soccer in the streets with our young cousins unable to communicate verbally, they took us to the local hang out spot where we drank espresso and Super Bock, played pool, and visited the school my father attended until he left for Canada. Jao and his family cooked us the most delicious rabbit stew, and the homemade wine didn’t stop flowing until late into the night.

My Grandmother has always been ‘hard.’ I’ve found it hard to have a friendly relationship with her, and although I love her, I’ve often found myself jealous of my friends who have a personal connection with their grandparents. Seeing where she raised by Dad and Uncle, alone, apart from my Grandfather, seeing the fields she worked in the day after giving birth to my dad, because it had to get done, and being able to get a glimpse of what her life was many years ago has given me perspective to why she is the way she is. Why she had to be ‘hard’ to survive. Why she always wanted the best for us, but couldn’t necessarily articulate how much she loved us in a way that we could understand.

All in all, the trip was amazing. Portugal has been added the ever growing list of places and people that own a little bit of my heart, and I know that I will be back, to visit family, to spend more time, to explore, to (hopefully) learn the language, and to explore more of my culture as well.

While the rest of my family stayed in Portugal and travelled North, to Porto for an additional week, Brady and I started our 27 hour journey back to Canada. We had an overnight layover in Frankfurt, and decided to forgo going to sleep early and resting up for our last leg, and headed downtown to have some of the best beer Germany has to offer (why not!)

We were sitting in the most ‘German’ looking tavern, having ‘German’ sized beers, and feeling pretty good about life and about ourselves for choosing adventure over R&R, when we were approached by a local, saying that he had overheard us speaking English. He then asked us if we believed in God. What an odd way to start a conversation with two complete strangers. When we both answered that we believed in something, but weren’t quite sure what he seemed delighted. Apparently we passed the test. He congratulated us on “not being American,” and we went on to have a somewhat philosophical conversation about religion, Americans, and relationships. He then invited us on a walking pub crawl to give them an opportunity to welcome us to Frankfurt, because "we were his guests." Brady and I looked at each other, and immediately accepted the invite. What a better way to spend out 12 hours in Germany.

We had one drink at each place, and went from a smoky, laser filled electronic club where we had fermented apple juice (a German specialty I’m told, sour for the men, sweet for the women), playing ‘Crocodile Dentist” drinking games with the barkeep in a tavern and drinking cheery liquor, to a ‘beer fest’ type venue playing German metal, and lots of chest bumping. Our last stop was a club, where our 5$ cover got us entry and a beer, and the song that greeted us was “Barbie Girl” by Aqua. Brady got ‘roughed’ up by someone who recognized his Jet’s jersey and wanted to give him a hard time which ended in laughter, we danced, had some Jager, and hoped back into a cab so we could pack and rest for an hour before heading for the airport. After some minibar snacks (nowhere was selling food at the time we got downtown, so our adventure took place on an empty stomach), and some brother-sister bonding, we were woken up by our wakeup call 45 minutes later.

The rest of the trip was not my most enjoyable time spent on a plane, but well worth the fun and new found friends we made in Frankfurt.

With more pieces to the puzzle and a few good times later,
Delaney C.

“Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.” (Pablo Neruda)

Me, at “Cabo da Roca” (a cape which forms the westernmost extent of mainland Portugal and continental Europe)

Well would you look at that!

"I'm a philanthropist."

When I first heard someone say that I was confused. Surely you cant just be a philanthropist....you studied business at school, so you must be a business women, or work on marketing, or or or.....something. But you cant just be a philanthropist. That's something secondary, that comes after what you do....right?

And then, after about five minutes of internal struggle and identity crisis, it made sense...all too much sense. I studied political science but I am by no means a political scientist. I work for a non-profit organization but I'm not a social worker or a program coordinator. I'm no longer a student, in the traditional sense anyways, and what happens if I lose my job...do I become nothing? Why have I, for too long, associated what takes up most of my time (job, school, ect.) as who I am.

I'm a lot of things. And what is at the bottom of all of those things that make up me......the love of humanity. Philanthropy etymologically means "the love of humanity"—love in the sense of caring for, nourishing, developing, or enhancing; humanity in the sense of "what it is to be human," or "human potential."

Silly me, still so many things to learn. Something so simple has radically shifted my mindset, and outlook on not only my present life but how I perceive my future. No matter what career path I venture down, or choices I make, philanthropy, and my love of humanity, my desire to nourish, develop and care for what it is that makes us all human, and our greatest potentials will be right there with me.

The classical view of philanthropy—that the "love of what it is to be human" is the essential nature and purpose of humanity, culture and civilization—is intrinsically philosophical, containing both metaphysics and ethics. It asserts that our nature and purpose in life is educational—to make ourselves more fully humane through self-development, pursuing excellence (arete) of body, mind and spirit. Isn't that kind of the end goal, to seek out self-development, to pursue excellence in however you choose to define it and to continue to love humans with all of their strengths and weaknesses.

Simply put, people are amazing. I feel like a broken record but people never cease to amaze me. Their amazing qualities and not so great ones. People are such complex and interesting beings, that I love to interact with anyone and everyone. Looking for new perspectives, insights, and other people's life stories of things I'll never be able to experience because I've been given just one. Isn't that what makes us so special? That we are given only one life to live but allowed to experience snipets of someone else's if they are so generous to let us. That's what keeps me going, gets me excited and keeps me inspired.

Always in awe,
Delaney C.

Peace Corps Volunteer Challange: Honduras

My friend Eyal from the Peace Corps that I met during my time in Juticalpa, Honduras posted this a couple of weeks ago and I found it quite interesting...interesting enough that I felt it deemed a re-post. What it is is a challenge for those at home to give up specific luxuries of home in order to live more similarly to how the Peace Corps volunteers live in Honduras.

After reading it through the first time my reaction surprised me when I was left thinking, "Man, that seems hard, I'm not sure I could do it." My second thought was "Wait a minute...you did do it!" I tried to pinpoint why it was difficult to even fathom living in a way that I had lived for nearly five months and I think a large part of that is the disconnect between the way I am able to live here in Canada and the way that I was forced to live in Juticalpa ie) no running water (let alone hot water), no flush toilets (no flushing toilet paper), no microwaves, no debit/credit cards, hand washing clothing ect.

It seems much harder to imagine these tasks as part of my life in Canada when I have the choice to take a hot shower and throw my laundry in for a 20min cycle and truth be told I'm not sure that I could make some of these changes a part of my every day life in Canada but it was interesting for me to be reminded to be conscientious of the lifestyle differences and to remember that certain changes (limiting water use, recycling, composting, taking the bus instead of driving, not buying unnecessary items ect) are changes that can be adopted into daily practice and it is important to continue to do them.

One of the points that had me laughing to myself was "You cannot watch television, but may watch soap operas or soccer at a neighbours house" simply because how accurate the statement was and it made me remember how into soap operas my family was. Too funny.

Check out the link below, and if you're up for the challenge try it out and let me know how it goes!!

Good luck :)
Delaney C.

https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=explorer&chrome=true&srcid=0B2YDS7Pm6kwENmRkYTQwMzAtYjAxZi00NWUyLWE0NTQtMzA4NDUzMzRhYmI4&hl=en_US&pli=1

Bangla Bound!

I'm leaving on a jet plane (again)! At this time tomorrow I will be well on my way (along with the wonderful Bilan Artes, Kaitlan Robertson, Lauren Reeves, and Lindsay Graham)to Bangladesh where we will spend 5-weeks traveling throughout Northern Bangladesh with the non-governmental organization (NGO) RDRS, learning about the different development projects that RDRS facilitates. This program differs from my experience in El Salavador as there is no physical component, and Honduras as I am going as a student mentor/facilitator of an amazing group of girls from the University of Manitoba and will not be 'working' while I'm there. Also Bangladesh is very different than both Honduras and El Salvador and I am looking forward to the opportunity to draw some parallels and make some comparisons.

Once again I am thrilled to have the opportunity to immerse myself in a new culture, travel to a new part of the world and gain new perspectives, and learn more about development and of course myself :)


I am excited to be traveling with such a dynamic and diverse group and I am sure that each one of the girls will bring a unique perspective that I am excited to have the opportunity to have shared with me, and foresee some awesome (and challenging) conversations.

I love being part of a team, I love being around people, but I do think I will have to work (at least a little bit) to switch gears from my last time abroad when I was alone the whole time.

I'm excited to see what lays ahead.
Bring it on!

Delaney C.

PS: If you haven't voted, make sure you vote on Monday!!!!!!!