1. Establish what the needs and interests are within the community. As Kati Mayfield pointed out, communities may have a logic in setting priorities that isn’t immediately obvious. Take some time to get to know the place before expending resources on a project that may not get earnest community backing, while also acknowledging your own interests and unique skill set.
2. Create a project that is appropriate for your timeframe. Whether it is maintenance of a garden or construction of a house, you can’t necessarily count on future volunteers to sustain a half-started project.
   

   WorldTeach program site in Colombia

3. If it is a long-term project, establish means for its sustainability. Identify a local team willing to oversee the project’s continuation. If you anticipate excess donated funds, those are best entrusted to an organization with oversight and accounting safeguards rather than to an individual. Also, what challenges may arise in the future? For instance, a photocopier may be a great addition to a school, but in the future will teachers be able to acquire and afford toner?
4. Write a proposal. Clearly outline materials and manpower necessary with precise cost estimates, and set a timeline. If you will be actively soliciting donations, the proposal shouldn’t be so limited that the funds cannot be applied elsewhere if you overfundraise or end up with too little funds to start the project. That may be deceptive to donors. At the same time, alternative plans should be germane to the project’s primary intention, be it adding to a school library or creating a safe play area for kids. If you are working within a bigger volunteer institution, make sure you understand their guidelines for donations and projects.
5. Get your community back home invested and informed. Keep a blog, write a newsletter, start a penpal exchange. Remember that in-kind donations (shipping is the biggest one) can be as valuable as cash, but understand donor expectations (can you provide a tax-deductible receipt? Do they expect one?).
6. Have fun!

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. For more resources on community development, check out Idealist.org’s Community Action Center.

To which I reply, “You didn’t have the time for the planet’s friendliest people?  For the second poorest, yet most diverse country in South America?  For the world’s largest dam, ice cold tereré, and a three day boat ride through the jungle in a rented hammock?”

Paraguay’s beauty lies in its contrasts.  Street kids sell smuggled fruit to men in BMWs and old women driving ox carts.  Bowling alleys are nestled among moto repair shops or a sushi restaurant in the abandoned German colony.  A smattering of the indigenous language of Guarani can be heard among Chinese, German, and Portuguese.

Admittedly, Paraguay is not the place to meet other travelers.  They are out there but it will feel like you have the country to yourself.  With a small population of 6 million, Paraguay is the size of California. Navigation is a breeze on the safe bus system — just keep an eye on your bag.  There are also no crowded youth hostels or hordes of backpackers at the Mennonite ruins; the locals will be thrilled you’re there and will be sure to invite you home for some chipa, a long lunch and a nap.

Chipa

The Paraguayan lifestyle is known to bite, and you may just find yourself settling in for longer than planned.  Volunteer opportunities are as simple as asking around and knocking on doors.  (Or emailing me.)  Now if I could just do something about those nasty visa rumors floating around on the Internet…I guess I can.

Americans are required to have a tourist visa to get into Paraguay, which costs US $65 and is good for 90 days and the life of your passport.  If you show up at the border without one, you may be asked for a bribe or fined.  If you get to the airport without a visa you will be sent back the way you came.  There are several consulates in the States. The lines are short, and all you need is one passport photo, your passport, cash, and a filled out form.  (You do not need to prove you have sufficient funds, a birth certificate or a round trip plane ticket.) It takes less than 24 hours.  I got my last Paraguayan visa in Buenos Aires; the whole process took less than ten minutes and I had my visa in hand the next morning.

As with anything in Paraguay, just ask someone, and you will have all the information you need and probably a life long friend.

Megan Wood is a former Peace Corps Volunteer who recently returned to Paraguay where she was stationed. Nowadays she’s helping her husband run The Complete Leaf Company, a fair trade Yerba mate business.

After attempting to bargain my way into a taxi and failing miserably — we finally settled on 15,000 colones ($20 USD) for a 45 minute ride — I jumped into the front seat of a banged up 94 Hyundai Accent with no signs of it being an official taxi. Although the taxista and his young son seemed very nice and generally amicable, the fur on the back of my neck started to stand up when the son got into the back seat. I didn’t really see any reason for him to come along for the ride unless they were planning on rolling me. I was breaking one of my own rules that I usually give other travelers: only use the red taxis in San Jose.

I was pretty nervous, so I started to make small talk with the driver. I asked him for a business card and pulled out my phone to show that if there was some ulterior motive, I could call for help if I wanted to. He didn’t seem to want to talk, which made me more nervous as I thought about the value of all my belongings in his trunk probably being worth more than the car. I had heard stories of people being robbed in Nicaragua and I was robbed last time I was in San Jose, which made me paranoid. The conversation warmed up after I asked him about the legendary soccer rivalry between La Liga and Saprissa, but I still wasn’t sure. He asked if he minded if we stopped for gas and I made a smooth joke about it being necessary if I wanted to get home.

While we waited, I slipped most of my cash into my sock. As we neared my house, the lights of his car went out which meant that it was pretty much pitch black outside — streets in San Jose don’t always have lights. I got nervous again but told myself I was just being paranoid. As it turns out, I was. When we arrived, the son put my bags into the house and his dad didn’t even ask to be paid, taking the broken light situation as an opportunity to teach his son a quick lesson in car mechanics. When I came back out to pay, the lights were on again and the taxista had a big grin on his face.

¨I love this car,¨ he said enthusiastically.

I gave him a one dollar tip. The moral of the story: I should take my own advice.

Sebastian Kindsvater recently returned to Costa Rica, where he is the Kiva Coordinator/Loan Officer for Fundación Mujer. For more on transportation in Latin America, check out “Conversations with Cab Drivers“;  “Day in the Life: Morning Commute“; “An Adventurous Routine“; “Where to Get Off the Bus?“; “Good Travel Karma“; “Traffic Circle from Hell!” and “All-Female Transport in Mexico.”

Aerial view of Montevideo

1. Pay bills and credit card(s). While you’re at it, call credit/debit card companies to let them know you’ll be traveling so they don’t suspend your card. Feeding two people on five dollars in Budapest for the day was no fun.
2. Figure out how you’ll get money wherever you’re going. I always went the ATM in-country route, wary of rapacious rates from currency exchange places and nervous of carrying too much cash. (But in Uruguay, the casas de cambio give a better rate than the banks.) I’ve also found myself in places where ATMs didn’t accept international cards and it was a bank holiday; where the lone ATM didn’t accept Mastercard (Visa advertising slogan for the win, at least on a remote Pacific island); and where drivers didn’t accept cash older than the year 2000. So bring some small dollar or euro bills as back-up.
3. Write everything down. Maybe I’ll have internet, maybe I won’t. Maybe whipping out a guidebook won’t attract unwanted attention – or maybe it will. I always carry a little notebook with hand-drawn maps, flight numbers, phone numbers, postcard addresses – anything I can anticipate needing ahead of time. It’s more portable, subtler, and a great resource for re-creating my trip come photo-labeling time.
4. Figure out power adapters ahead of time. Most small electronics work within 110-240 volts these days, but double-check! It also never hurts to bring a few extra adapters in case of unexpected detours, but if I dare say so, give up anything that requires a converter because they are heavy.  So that may mean leaving the hairdryer at home.
5. Purchase traveler’s health insurance. You never know.
6. Print out boarding passes, and keep them accessible. It’s one of those things that’s easy to write off. Until I arrived at an airport, at 3 a.m., where the security officers were conducting an X-ray scan and boarding pass check – before the check-in counters. “What would you do if the computers were down?” the guard admonished me as I scrabbled around for the print-out. If the computers went down the airline would have probably had bigger problems…but don’t argue with guards with side arms.
7. Do a last minute look. Luggage lock? Check. Travel sized toiletries refilled? Check. Laundry done? Check. Passport located at least two days prior to departure? (You laugh, but the number of frantic last minute calls I used to get from volunteers….) Check.

But in the end, once I overslept and found myself en route to the airport with a passport but no driver’s license, an iPod but no headphones, and a credit card but no cash. Granted, I was flying home and the situation was pretty minor, but a good reminder that the most important thing to remember is yourself.

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. For more on departures, read “Runway Mix: This Time Tomorrow,” “Thoughts for the Outbound Voyager,” and “When are you coming back?”

Figuring that everything generally works out for the best, we decided to stifle our uncertainty and book our hiking tip. Arequipa is a beautiful city with arguably the prettiest Plaza de Armas (center square) that I have seen. However, the beauty of the Plaza paled in comparison to the ineffable views of the canyon.

Colca Canyon

Before the hike started, we went to the Mirador de los Cóndores. At the outlook, we were able to see the Condors flying around. Comparable to a whale watch, everyone snapped an insane amount of pictures of the bird. Condors are certainly beautiful; however; similar to a whale watch, the pictures do not do them justice.

We then descended over 1000 meters over the course of six hours into the canyon and arrived at a beautiful oasis. Our hostel had massive natural pools built into even larger natural stones. By 6:30 p.m., we had a well-deserved dinner of pasta and by 7:30 p.m. we fell asleep in some huts.

We awoke at 5:00 A.M. to climb up to 3300 meters. The subida was the perfect mix of strenuous exercise and overwhelming beauty. With an incentive of arriving before the sun rose, we completed the hike up in less than two hours.

Reaching the peak was a mix of utter exhaustion and sheer happiness. I’m still feeling the hike a week later. Fortunately, we found a bus back to Cusco with functioning bathrooms and sealed windows. Like my trip to the Salt Flats in Bolivia, the hike made the uncomfortable arrival worth it ten times over. South America has some pretty awesome destinations and the Colca Canyon is definitely one of them.

Jonah Brill is currently volunteering as a Field Researcher with Arariwa in Cusco, Peru.

I’ve been struggling with saying goodbye, too. “Goodbye,” “Adiós,” “Chao,” “Nos vemos” – there’s simply no easy way to say it. But for me “goodbye“ just doesn’t exist; it has to be “take care” and “see you later.”

We’ve all heard of the reverse culture shock that usually happens to those who return to their homelands or perhaps journey on to yet another new destination, but what happens during the time drawing near – the time when you haven’t actually left yet?

As a volunteer, I don’t think you can help but put your whole heart and soul into your every experience, and yet with that comes a small burden to bear – the emotional tear of having to move on often knowing that you might not have had the time to achieve all that you’d wanted to, for no lack of will, nor fault, of anyone.

How too, bid farewell to new families and friends, to the smiles of those who greet you and the warmth of spirit so apparent where service and generosity have no sum attached to them.

My time here is one I would not change for anything, and I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world to have had this experience. However, guilt is something I do struggle a little with – guilt for all the ideas I’ve had and haven’t had long enough to implement; guilt for having to go when there’s so much yet to be done; guilt for making all too brief an appearance in the lives of my students. I didn’t want to be another who just came and is now gone.

Yet there’s an expression I once read on a sympathy card and that has stayed with me ever since: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

And that’s what I intend to do. Because at some point, this time inevitably comes and for volunteers I think it’s perhaps a necessity to regroup and recharge so that you’re ready for the next round.

I remind myself of what I did achieve; how technology (even with some limitations) makes it so easy to keep in contact; and how I may not have got through all that I’d hoped to but that perhaps the next person will pick up where I left off, or the one after, or the one after that one…. That’s not a failure on the part of any one of us – it’s progress.

And of my students, I always said that if I could inspire just one then every moment of my time here has been worth it.  As I thought of this again a few days ago and observed at least eight in a class of 30 so intently focused, I felt sure that just maybe there’s been even more than one.

Tears will be shed, of that I have no doubt but, beneath the waterfall will be a smile and heartfelt gratitude for the everlasting moments. I will feel proud of what has been achieved and be confident in my tenacity to continue in some way from afar. Lastly, I’ll neither bid “goodbye“ nor “farewell“ but a definite “hasta luego” and a “prometo” to return.

Amanda Patterson recently wrapped up a stint teaching English and public speaking as a volunteer with Corporation for the Development of Learning (CDA) in Santiago, Chile. She is currently traveling, but will be heading soon to Guatemala for her next adventure.

Transportation: MapRed and the Intendencia of Montevideo’s own map help fill in Google Maps gaps. Tres Cruces, Montevideo’s central bus station, has a website which contains timetables for routes to and from the city. Buquebus or Colonia Express will ferry you across to Buenos Aires, and Carrasco International Airport is the portal for destinations further afield.

In Montevideo, weekend plans are just a wall away.

Housing: Finding short-term housing, particularly furnished housing, can be tough, and real estate agent fees are high. BuscandoCasa and Gallito compensate for Craigslist’s Montevideo scarcity. Mercado Libre can contribute the tchotchkes.

Food: Salir a Comer helps mightily to locate that apocryphal sushi joint, or to try a new resto-pub that breaks away from the chivito-pizza-pasta mold.

Arts: Want access to 80+ film screenings a month for under USD$10? Join Cinemateca. Or check out other events on offer here or here. Or browse the vast expanses of poster-plastered walls around town.

News: Radio station and media outlet Espectador offers extensive online content. Of the newspaper dailies, El Pais trends conservative, La Republica tends to the left of the spectrum, and La Diaria falls somewhere in between.

And of course….

Volunteering: Uruguay as yet doesn’t attract the number of international volunteers that neighboring countries do, and consequently there aren’t many online mechanisms to connect potential volunteers with institutions. Organizations in the Montevideo area which accept volunteer inquiries include: Un Techo para mi País, El Abrojo, Gurises Unidos, DESEM, and the Fundación Niños con Alas.

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Avenida Grecia in Santiago, Chile

Fact: You don’t need Spanish to survive the Chilean jungle, necesitas Chilean! The concoction of unique words and phrases gives the language its flair;  the sheer speed with which it’s spoken can make it seem like another language for a beginner.

Fiction: Damage sustained by many inner Santiago buildings during the earthquake is superficial only. But if that’s really the case, then why do those who work in the buildings suggest it’s better that you use the stairs?

Fact: The smog is real. Starting from the outskirts of the city, Santiago lies obscured by a smothering blanket of gray. Everyday.

Fiction: A commune is usually associated with religious sects, co-ops and more. While true, a commune in Chile is likewise the name given to the smallest administrative regions.

Fact: Lunch is sacrosanct and the focus of the business day. Whatever you do, don’t miss it or even for a moment suggest that you might.

Fiction: Volunteers are wealthy. Most are more heart and soul than large bank accounts, scrimping and saving wherever they can just to follow, and fight, for what they believe in.

Fact: Chileans do like to dance. The social occasions I’ve made it to have been full of chatty conversation, food and more food, fabulous music, and shaking your groove thing.

Fiction: Banks are a safe bet if you need to exchange some cash. In truth, most banks seem to require a permanent residence and a personal account so the foreign currency exchange is a much better option.

Fact: Every night’s a late night when it comes to shopping – a bit different from back home in New Zealand where late night for stores means 9 p.m. twice a week.

Fiction: The bell sounding means it’s time to start class. More often than not this seems to be regarded as a suggestion to “Finish what you’re doing and when you’re ready, we’ll think about starting”

Fact: When you follow the subway signs saying combinación, you can travel the whole of Santiago swapping metro lines several times for just a single swipe of the bip! card.

Fiction: Only so many people can fit inside a metro at once. Wrong!  There’s no such thing as a full metro; you can always cram more in.

Fact: If you jump on the Ruta Rojo during peak times but your stop lies on Ruta Verde, you’ll probably wonder why your destination goes flying past you.

Fiction: Red lights mean stop. Or more realistically, “Stop only if something is coming.”

Fact: Chilean charm abounds. The idiosyncrasies give the country charisma; the oddities, a sense of humor.  And nearly everywhere you’ll find a warm and generous spirit – with just the right amount of cheek.

Amanda Patterson is currently teaching English and public speaking as a volunteer with Corporation for the Development of Learning (CDA) in Santiago, Chile.

To wit (correspondence, 2009): “We’ve found that volunteers who opt to live in an apartment from the start or early on, later do not feel as integrated into the community, and that the small bumps in the road that come with adjusting to a different family are in most cases more than offset by the window it provides into [insert country here] culture, the opportunity to practice [insert language], etc – even the exposure to ‘home-cooked’ food!”

View of Montevideo from Flickr user morrissey

That being said, getting matched to a host family can sometimes be as difficult for the organizing agency as it is nerve-wracking for the volunteer. If the program through which you are going abroad offers a homestay option, I humbly offer up the following reminders:

1. Be honest about preferences. I didn’t know I was a light sleeper until I moved into a house which partied until 4 a.m. But some things you do know about yourself and should articulate, even if they are hard to admit. Quite a few “non-smokers” do smoke; some “flexible” vegetarians, when faced with beef stock, discover that they really can’t adjust quickly, no matter how much they wanted to. That’s ok, but it helps families to know in advance!
2. Acknowledge the limited supply of host families. No town has a endless permutations of families; nor does every country have made to order volunteer sites. Perhaps no families willing to host a volunteer have small children and a puppy and a penchant for eating fruit. Perhaps you will have to become a morning person because that is the way the culture operates. Bigger towns may have more access to nightlife, but smaller towns have closer-knit community; in some places, you may be hard-pressed to find both. Learn about the general culture to know what to expect, and be prepared to make compromises.
3. Learn the family’s expectations. Learn what message closed doors might send, messy rooms might send, having over ‘friends’ of the opposite sex might send. Learn which meals to always attend and which are ok to skip. All families have their routines and idiosyncrasies, and your responsibility as a surrogate family member is to respect those routines. This can be hard; give yourself time.
4. If it’s not working out, talk it out. Ideally there will be a disinterested party to help put perspective on situation and give you advice on how to discuss it with your host family, whether you have a small aggravation or a serious concern. Every culture has specific means of problem solving. Additionally, switching housing situations treats the symptoms but many times doesn’t address the root problem, which may lie as much with volunteer expectations as with cultural tendencies.
5. But sometimes, homestays just don’t work out. Unless your safety is at stake, don’t make knee jerk reactions to move. First, communicate with whomever arranged your homestay. Oftentimes they will need to continue a working relationship with the host family after you leave, and the family may be hurt, confused, or disappointed! In most cases you can better exit the situation respectfully and equitably with the guidance of your homestay coordinator.

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. For more on whether or not a homestay is a good idea, check out “Department of Homestay Security” by Kent Green.

Flash forward to Montevideo early this May, and to a classroom management brainstorming session with some American teachers who recently started working in a Uruguayan elementary school. One of the struggling teachers leaned back and sighed. “The novelty’s worn off,” he said. “Sometimes my days are just…the same.”

When we go abroad, particularly as part of a program, we expect a strain of exoticism to buoy us along. It can, at first. Life will be different in the new place, and accompanied by resolutions as varied as avoiding getting plastered by a mototaxi and taking a photo a day. The day comes when the learning curve levels off, however, and living abroad becomes simply: living, and where’s the travel? The challenges and thrills of this new place give way to the quotidian exigencies of life lived as you would live it anywhere in the world. We always need to do laundry.

Punta del Diablo, Uruguay

Shortly afterward I at long last hunted down the rest of Horace’s epistle, which it turns out I’d slightly misinterpreted from the fragment. Horace elaborates: “It’s wisdom, it’s reason, not some place / Overlooking a breadth of water, that drives out care.” Despite evidence that travel itself increases wisdom, I’m also reminded of a favorite WorldTeach volunteer, one who never actually left for his assigned program. In the course of completing his pre-departure volunteer ESL hours, he realized that his local Texas community could benefit as much from his services as a faraway Ecuador one.

It’s important to travel, but it is also important to occasionally stop, and let your mind and heart engage as much with stillness as with motion. The moments of quiet engagement are what allow us to refocus our perception of our surroundings from the mirage of exotic to the real. Our own mindfulness, not the mere act of journeying, is what changes us. In the coming weeks, thousands of new college graduates will set off on adventures, along with thousands more traveling for the summer. I suppose I write this all just to say: go! But reflect on Horace while you pack your bags, and don’t forget the sunscreen.

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.