The Happiness of Success

I recently read two things that intrigued me. One was an article about Denmark. Apparently they are the happiest people in the world. The second was Malcolm Gladwell's most recent book, Outliers. He outlines the sociological factors that create a successful person, such as the Beatles or Bill Gates. Both of these concepts, happiness and success have always intrigued me. In fact I even wrote a personal narrative, with the same title as this, in my high school creative writing class. It is the only writing I have kept from my junior high and high school days (this was before I had a personal computer of course). I wrote it at a time when I was not very happy nor was I on a traditional path to success. I've come a long way.

I consider myself to be a happy person. Although they may be extremely different than me, I have a strong and healthy family. My closest friends span the world, from Italy to Ecuador to the Bay Area. I also have been given and created multiple opportunities, all of which allow me to follow my personal dreams on a daily basis. In terms of success, I'd say I've had some of that as well. I've spent the years post high school educating myself; obtaining two bachelors and a masters. I've worked for a national nonprofit where I was the youngest person to receive an award in management. More recently I was honored with a Congressional recognition for my teaching. In short, I've made my loved ones proud.

But this is not about me nor is it about the type of happiness and success that the developed world clings so tightly too. Rather, I want to discuss these ideas from my understanding (biased as it may be) of the developing world, and specifically Ecuador. I plan to take the discussion across a couple of posts (if my computer, who is dying a slow death, can handle it) and interject personal examples from the people I have had the privilege of knowing here. This will serve to conclude my time here, reflect my opinions on my experiences, good and bad, and thank those that have supported me from near and far. I hope to intrigue you even more than the Denmark article and Gladwell's book,coupled with my experiences in Ecuador, have intrigued me.

The past and future of Ecuador.

Making it Count

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

	-excerpted from Frost

Sometimes I worry about my experiences here. I wonder if I am pushing myself enough, speaking enough Spanish, and putting myself in situations that are, at first uncomfortable, yet later allow me to learn more about the culture and language of Ecuador. I worry that my experiences in urban Quito are not authentic enough and I dream of being out in the campo and being forced to speak Spanish because there is no other option. These thoughts have been exacerbated lately by the fact that I will be returning to the US in less than two months and I still have a football field size list of things I want to do, experience and accomplish. That being said I would not trade the past nine months of my life for anything else in the world; I had a dream and I have milked every last ounce out of living it.

However my thought process begs me to ask the question, what is an authentic experience? Some may say that an authentic experience means being hours away from the nearest phone, speaking Spanish only to find that the local Kichwan dialect is more prevalent, that your literacy program for women falls flat on its face because the men of the town believe the women belong at home, that you are taken in and made a permanent member of a large local family, that you need to play futbol everyday to fit in, and that you teach English to people who actually need it. These are all experiences that fellow volunteers have had and some wear as badges of honor and all ones that I have not as well as ones I expected to have. I can call people via Skype from my bedroom, I speak English more than I do Spanish and of course more than Kichwan (although I do know a few key phrases), I've not started any programs to only see them fail, my family consists of more Americanos than it does Ecuatorianos, I can count the number of times I've played soccer on my right hand, and I teach English to people that are interested in learning it not ones that necessarily need it. Does this mean I have not had an authentic experience? Of course not. In the past week alone I was invited to and attended a high school prom in the extreme south of Quito where I danced with not only young drunk students but one drunk headmaster as well. I've been taken suddenly, along with my 3 compañeros, to the most famous street food vendors in all of Quito by a former student who drives one extremely cool 1970's refurbished van and then traded off  singing English and Spanish songs at karaoke for the rest of the night. And my eight dedicated morning students performed a play of epic proportions (there was a duel with machete's and ketchup) in front of some fifty plus people; I've never been prouder. Authentic, yes, as I never could have dreamed any one of them. To say no discounts too many peoples lives.

Señora Romo. A very authentic woman and one that I learned much from.

The know everyone and their grandmother pueblo versus the isolating big city. A life of excess versus a life of minimal possessions. A commitment to serve others over a commitment to serve yourself. An education at Oxford or an education in the fields. A life of companionship over understanding every part of your individual self. Being a restless traveler over a proud one-city dweller. All choices and authentic experiences. To compare, to be envious, to desire is to take an obvious path. I, after many long years, have parted ways with my favorite Frost poem and will, in my last couple of weeks in Ecuador and upon returning to the US, continue to pave my own path and will not worry about any of it.