Posted by By Joshua Quinn, Staff Writer
“Você fala inglês?”
The woman seated behind the counter stared at me, paused, and responded “Yes,” politely. These were the first words I spoke in Portugal as I arrived alone in a country in which no one knew my name for at least three thousand miles.
However, the story really begins in May, as I sat in my room attempting to find the most efficient way to procrastinate doing my laundry. Of course, I began researching the cheapest ways to travel, and as luck would have it, I found a blog alleging that it contained the ‘top 10’ best ways to travel as a young adult. This is how I found IVHQ, a site that boasts numerous volunteer locations around the world.
I asked every single one of my friends if they wanted to go to a foreign country, and naturally, most of them said no. But luckily, two of my close friends, Shelby and Holland, agreed. We argued for quite a bit about where to go, until finally we landed on Portugal and chose to volunteer at a ‘ReFood’ center. This was a non-profit based in Lisbon, intending to reduce food insecurity. So that’s how Shelby, Holland, and I arrived in the colorful town of Cascais on August 19, just outside of Portugal’s capital, Lisbon.
Unfortunately, we took different flights, and I arrived 12 hours before either of them, leaving me with a very awkward two hours. So when I landed, I had two missions: obtain Euros, and find Kelly, the manager of the local volunteering hostel where I was going to stay for the next 14 days.
Ironically, I succeeded at neither. Who knew you had to inform your bank that you were traveling? I sure didn’t. Accepting that I wouldn’t have money I turned towards my search for Kelly, and using my limited knowledge of airports and Portuguese, I began my intrepid adventure. For some reason that’s beyond me, the Humberto Delgado Airport has two Starbucks locations, a detail which greatly confused me as I attempted to meet Kelly at the ‘Starbucks in the airport.’ Eventually, after calling her twice and a lot of Google searches I finally met up with her, albeit an hour later than anticipated.
The first few hours in the hostel were some of the worst of my life. When I arrived, I felt completely lost and absolutely alone. It was a peculiar feeling at first, arriving in a mostly empty hostel and being told that the orientation was going to be held the next day. Suddenly, I was left alone, and the fear I had bottled up during the flight was coming out. I was scared that I wouldn’t meet anyone, terrified that everyone was watching me, and all of a sudden it dawned on me that there was no going back. I sat looking out at the pastel houses and the clear blue sky, and I felt more anxious than I ever had in my life.
But as the day progressed, more people trickled into the hostel. Soon, I found myself surrounded by friendly faces. By the time Shelby and Holland arrived, I felt a certain kind of freedom I had never felt before.
There is something quite spectacular about being so far away from everyone, and everything you have ever known. It’s peculiar, and frustrating, and gives you a different perspective of who you are. I’m certain I’m not even close to the first person to note this, and I’m sure most college students would agree. That concoction of emotion and experience is something that doesn’t fit right on paper and doesn’t quite fit right in memory.
The morning after we arrived, we began our volunteering, which occurred in 3-hour shifts, at Re-food de Santa Maria Maior. After being given a short tour of the city, and metro cards to travel, we arrived for our first shift. We walked around Lisbon and went to as many bakeries as possible, collecting almost expired baked goods. It was a lot of walking, but there was gratification in seeing people use food that would have been thrown out. Of course, it wasn’t always perfect, it sometimes felt mismanaged, with food being improperly handled, or unlabeled at times.
It was in those moments I understood the criticisms levied against the ‘voluntourism’ industry. Voluntourism was a term first coined in 1998 by Nevada’s governor to help increase tourism revenue, however, the term has since evolved. Today, it refers to tourist companies that profit from tourists who want to volunteer. The dangers to this are numerous, however, the main risk is that because the people are volunteering for vacation lengths such as 1-2 weeks, they cannot significantly help because of the learning curve. This for-profit industry can hurt local economies while convincing tourists that they are helping the world. Certainly, there were times when I saw this happen in real-time, as there was no steady management at the Re-Food I was involved with, leading to an unsanitary environment.
As days became weeks, I found myself in the midst of the kind of life I had always imagined as a kid. Every day felt like an adventure, whether I was learning to surf, playing soccer with strangers on the beach, or simply wandering the streets of Lisbon. There was a richness in this spontaneous lifestyle. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, I would get very lost, or sometimes miss a train. But I was alive, and sometimes, that is more precious than anything else.
I found those two weeks went by in a blur, as if the details ran away from me. I struggle to find words for what it was like, and I often find myself thinking that my words pale in comparison to what it really felt like. I tried to journal when I was there, I really did, but I never had the time. All I could do was take a walk on my last day. I looked around and soaked in every moment I had left, I tasted warm wind and salty air, begging myself to hold it in me for as long as I could. I wanted to experience this adventure for a final time. I looked at the architecture, the ancient towers and castles, and the trees that twisted and reached towards the sky. I sketched with my eyes – battlements that had held for centuries before I arrived, and would likely hold for centuries more.
It gave me a new perspective, and sometimes that’s more important than anything else.
Josh Quinn, Junior at New Paltz High School
There’s always been one memory that has stuck with me – it wasn’t important to my experience whatsoever, and yet, nothing has ever been more relevant. It was 6:20 AM, and I sat freezing on the beach as I watched the sunrise with three girls from Turkey and a fellow 16 year-old-boy from Oregon. As the sun rose and hit the beach, we saw the city come to life, as the beach slowly filled with early-morning joggers and dog-walkers. And as the sun rose, we all dove into the water. I don’t know who jumped first, and I don’t know why anyone followed, but they did. I remember thinking how graceful they were, as they swam like dolphins breaching icy water. And when we finally got out, we were drenched and shaking, but we were smiling. I can never forget how genuine they looked, as our gazes bounced from one another, and as our wet hair stuck to our clothes.
I won’t lie or be conceited; I won’t exaggerate and say it felt as though I changed the world, or that suddenly I knew who I was. I’m certain it changed my life, but I don’t think it would change everyone’s. But it gave me a new perspective, and sometimes that’s more important than anything else.
The Maroon 