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Travel Can Change the World

The sun was blinding as I jerked open the dusty airplane window shade to reveal the Caribbean Sea hundreds of feet below. I wanted nothing more than to reach the world-renowned white sand beaches I had dreamt about for months, to dip my toes in the clear-as-glass water. I imagined it feeling like a bathtub after the water has cooled off for a while, only with ever-so-gentle waves that nudge you towards the shore. I envisioned dolphins cavorting in the near distance, bongo drums tapping merrily on the shore, and a singular palm tree bent to nearly 180 degrees and brimming with ripe coconuts. I envisioned paradise. It was the summer before my sophomore year of high school, and my first travel experience outside of this country.

I was part of a summer teen travel program with a hefty tuition, airfare not included. The description of the program was to perform community service in St. Vincent (an island in the Grenadine archipelago) by means of organizing a day-camp for local children, and, needless to say, I found the concept rather adorable, and the program downright irresistible because of its exotic, heavenly location.

I envisaged spending the duration of the program in a luxurious beach house with ocean views, entertaining high-spirited young children with bright smiles and braided hair. My preconceptions were disproved the moment our rickety little plane made its landing. The runway didn't run straight through a palm-tree lined beach; the airport did not have a thatched straw roof and a Pina Colada stand.

Rather, the asphalt runway was barren, enclosed by a rusty barbed wire fence, and the airport resembled a single family home with very few windows. I stared into the distance, fixated on the peculiar landscape: a smoggy urban spread nestled between kelly green land masses that I was unable to identify as hills or mountains, overcast with shade from sedentary gray clouds. Surely, we would be taking a ferryboat to a sunny, secluded island nearby, or crossing over this jungle-covered mountain range to find the other half of the island bathed in yellow sunlight, dotted with beach towels, and full of smiling faces.

I had always assumed everyone in the Caribbean was happy twenty four hours a day -- moving to the slow rhythm of island-life, Bob Marley's 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' constantly playing in the background like some sort of soundtrack. This summer proved to me that things are not always the way they seem. From this first impression of St. Vincent, to the last glimpse I caught as it faded into the distance on my flight home, I was forever changed by the magic of the unknown, the unexpected, and the untried. My preconceived notions about a tropical Caribbean paradise were replaced by an eye-opening awareness of a culture's struggles, and a newfound sense of self.

I scrutinized St. Vincent's bleak appearance upon arrival as a naive fifteen-year old girl with high expectations. I left as a whole new person--with strength, confidence, and a new home-away-from-home --holding the secret beauty and magic of St. Vincent like a precious gem, close to my heart.

It did not take long for the magic of this 150-square mile atoll to begin to reveal itself. I stayed in a small mountain village in the upstairs of a daycare/church/home owned by an extraordinarily generous family. There was no beach within thirty miles, and the beaches to which we did voyage were black-sand beaches, rich with the fertile remains of archaic volcanic eruptions. 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' didn't resonate down the winding dirt roads, nor did it seem to be an anthem for the locals, but the people had a certain charm and radiance that was difficult to pinpoint.

Many of the people I got to know had difficult lives, and faced hardships every day. Most all of them worked very hard to make ends meet, but they did not complain. Every single one of them showed me a new way of looking at the world, and planted some sunshine in my heart. But before I immersed myself in this magic, I had to overcome the barrier of my own mind, my own attitudes, my own perspectives.

Traveling to an unfamiliar place can be an eye-opening experience. What began for me as a rude awakening soon became the experience of a lifetime, and the most enriching and informative adventure upon which I have ever embarked. If my dreams of white sandy beaches, luxurious resorts, and bongo beats had come to fruition, I may never have discovered the reality of this region of the world. I left St. Vincent with much more than a snow globe and a suntan; I left with friendship, perspective, fulfillment, awareness, and irreplaceable memories. If everyone had the opportunity to see through the eyes of another culture, travel could change the world.

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