I hate this place, there's nothing to do.
I love this place, there's nothing to do.
This place...this place is called my home. The beautiful island of Guam. No, we don't live in huts, yes we have electricity, no we're not all savages... any more questions?
When I was a kid, I hated summers, Christmas breaks, Easter breaks, basically any breaks away from school, just because there was nothing to do. Nothing to do but go to the beach.
Study, study, study, party, study, sleep, eat, socialize, stress, stress, and more stress. This describes my first year of college at UCLA. Throughout that year, I found myself wanting to do so much of what I used to hate- lie around on the beach. On my last trip home for the summer, for what was probably my last trip in awhile, I spent countless days soaking up the sun. My record was spending 7 days straight at the beach! On those beach days, I made an infinite number of comparisons between California and Guam. The obvious: California- brown sand, freezing, murky ocean. Guam- white sand, warm, clear ocean. California- populated, crowded. Guam- I could be the only person on the beach. California- white people. Guam- brown people. California- highways. Guam- no highways. To the not so obvious: California- strangers never helped me out. Guam- strangers always approached me.
Case in point: In freshman year, I had to move out of my room in Courtside and into Rieber Hall. Only one of my friends was available to help me move one night, and we lugged my suitcases, boxes, and more boxes to those ominous stairs up to Rieber. I'm pretty sure we had like 80 lbs worth of stuff to carry per person, up those stairs, and not ONE person offered a hand to help us out.
This summer, my friends and I went snorkeling on a beautiful, sunny day. On a beautiful, low-tide day! We spend two hours or so snorkeling past the reef, without any gear, and night was coming. One second, we were swimming back to shore, and another second, there was no water to swim in, just coral to step over. We were on a secluded beach, no footwear to protect our feet, and far from the shore. Off in the distance, strangers saw us, gave us their shoes, and spent an hour helping us back to shore.
My mom always told me not to talk to strangers, but for some reason, strangers always became my friends. People would invite me to their fiestas, ask me to play beach volleyball, and offer to teach me to how to surf. I loved it and never got sick of it. There was something so genuine and natural about the people I met. They appreciate having a simple life, without the iPhones, BMWs, Guccis, and Rolexes of the California life I've been getting used to. When I go back to school, there's not a day goes by that I don't make comparisons between California and Guam. I can't help but want to share the beauty of simplicity I know and the kindness of the people I love. Being from an island has became a part of me.
Why do I do what I do? I do what I can to share the sunshine I've soaked.
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