Like the emotions most people encounter when they are placed in a new environment, or at least in anticipation of such a monumental change in life style, my journey to Miami began with a heavy bout of anxiety, nervousness, and the overwhelming feeling that I had no idea of what I was doing. I attribute a significant part of these sentiments to the fact that I left the majority of my packing to the night before and morning of my big move.
So as my road-trip took me past Cincinnati and through Kentucky, I strived to find the sense of composure and solitude that I was able to mentally achieve while at the Villa a few weeks prior. This moment came somewhere in Tennessee. While driving through the sun light Smokey Mountains and jamming out between raging house beats and my “god you are a closet hippy” collection of Phish — in a manner one would most definitely compare to the antics that took place in Babb’s car during our orientation based on looks alone — I was able to calm myself down. I suddenly remembered why I chose to do what I am along with my exuberant reaction in May when I found out that I would be setting of on this adventure. I do like to look at it as an adventure —of course an adventure that entails committing myself to help others — but an adventure nonetheless. Or maybe that is just all the Kerouac I have been reading as of late? I digress. Anyway, I arrived to Miami wide-eyed and excited to start my new life.
This is not to say that in the coming days I did not battle with my self-diagnosed manic-ness and the aforementioned emotions that come with moving to a completely new place. Frankly, the fact we did not have a working fridge for the first few days, well, sucked. However, all in all, our homestead is coming together nicely and I truly feel that I am starting to get settled.
One of the greatest obstacles in adapting to life in Miami, besides the internship, is just how different of a city it is compared to others in the U.S. Yes I knew this before coming, but no one can really prepare themselves for such a transition before they actually do it. For those of you that have been abroad, moving to Miami in some ways resembles the “culture shock” of starting life in another country. Adam and I reside on the north side of Miami, and the mix of people, cultures, and social classes makes it an extremely unique place to live. One can be in a poorer or middle class neighborhood in one instance and a beautiful, palm tree abundant, community the next. Here, one side of the road is established and oozes “Money, Cars, Clothes;” the other is a hard-nosed, dirty, desperate, eager, rugged, and respectable block, looking to make it in America.
Miami is a city where the summit of capitalism meets the histories of many people, excluded, neglected, and beaten down by such a system. Many of these peoples’ heritages extend beyond our country’s borders. Their homelands have, economically and politically, been pawns in a larger game of chess played by the United States and few others, especially in the last century. But now they are in America, or have been for some time, empowering there own cultures and languages in their new home. They have been dodging traffic, and continue to do so, trying to get across the street, looking for a better life. While it is an oversimplified narration to say the least, I thus work at FIAC. More to come on that next week. Cheers.
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