| Taylor-Lynn Capaldo
Class of 2007
La Salle University
Being
at home in Connecticut on my last Winter Break of my college career
has given me a lot of time to think. Mostly, I have been reflecting
on my past four years as an undergraduate college student and the
experiences that I have had within that span of time. Some that
are good, others bad, but many, were life-changing and heart warming.
One of my greatest experiences throughout my time here at LaSalle,
was my opportunity to be a part of the organization Los Niños,
a team of twenty-some odd students on campus who spent a year organizing
and planning out a trip to Tijuana, Mexico. Although I was apprehensive
about traveling to a country that I was unfamiliar with the language
and culture, especially with a group of people I barely knew, I
was determined to go into this trip like a sponge, and to absorb
as much information, knowledge, emotion, and experience as I possibly
could; I did just that.
I
knew from the moment that I crossed the U.S./Mexico border that
I was meant to be where I was. From the minute I got into the van
that would take us to our place of residence, in a small neighborhood
known as Los Alamos, I couldn’t stop asking questions. In
fact, it became quite a habit over my ten-day stay in Tijuana.
I wanted to know about everything, from the traffic patterns, to
a street sign, the clothing of the Mexican women, how my food was
prepared, what the kids my age did for fun. I wanted to experience
Tijuana not like a tourist, or a traveler, but as a resident, someone
who lived there and experienced the culture her whole life.
Asking
so many questions and getting so many answers did have its downfalls,
occasionally it would turn into information overload. I became
extremely overwhelmed. It was at these moments, when I needed to
sit back and focus on the real reason why I was there: to provide
assistance and relief to the people of Tijuana; specifically the
families of school children in the small school communities. Our
main purpose in traveling to Tijuana was to work with sand, gravel,
water, and cement, to make pavement play grounds for the children
in low-income schools. Each day we worked with a different community-
mixing and churning, shoveling and wheelbarrow-ing the cement to
the targeted area. This work was tough, but incredibly rewarding.
The ache that I felt in my muscles, and the cement that was caked
on to my jeans and my work boots at the end of each day, only reminded
me of what a difference I was making, even in the smallest way.
There
were times, too, when even the work became stressful. It was times
like this when sing-a-longs, or group dance sessions were organized.
Believe me, there is very little that equals the feeling you get
when traveling on a beat up bus, through the hills of Tijuana,
screaming song lyrics at the top of your lungs, while waving your
hands in the air. Sometimes, just a walk through the Los Alamos
neighborhood for some fresh Mexican ice cream was just what was
needed. But what really took away from the grinding of the cement,
was the relationships that I was able to establish with the people
of the community. Whether it was while we mixed cement or broke
bread together, I still savor every hand I shook, conversation
I had, and hug I gave with the men, women, and children of Tijuana.
When
I returned home at the end of my voyage, my “sponge” was
sopping wet. Tired and heavy from all that I had absorbed, I was
left with only memories. Never in my life had I taken in
so much knowledge, culture, and experiences all at once. Never
had I felt so many emotions at the same time. And never had I wanted
so badly, to be able to experience it all over again, as many times
as I could. What I absorbed that week is now stored in a place
deep inside me, and every now and then I’m able to squeeze
a little bit out, and I feel privileged to be able to share my
experiences with others still to this day. |
