First Impressions

Hello, Minnesota crop circles!

Flight 627 from LAX bumped down the runway causing a bolt of nervous energy to rush into my muscles. I was shaking in my Rainbow sandals. I thought I might pee my pants for the first time in my adult life! Maybe it was the caffeine, or the lack of sleep, or the fact that I was 2,000 miles from home, didn't have a car, and knew no one. Of one thing I was confident: I was petrified in this strange land and wanted to hop right on the next plane to California and bury myself in the comforting embrace of my parents.

"Lord, I'm gonna trust you. You are faithful and entirely good. There is no doubt in my mind that this opportunity came directly from you, but if things start off bad, I don't know if I can bear living here for ten weeks. I know you brought me here for a reason, but I'm scared. After this past year, I can't take any more pain and suffering. Please, help me trust you long enough to buckle myself into that shuttle waiting for me outside the terminal. You are my God, the God who goes before His people. I trust that you go before me."

[deep breath]

I grabbed my luggage and headed out the door to wait for my shuttle from MSP to Rochester. The automatic doors slid open and a hot, humid wall of air assaulted me. Friends from back home (namely, Kayla and Anne) warned me about this (and the mosquitoes that assaulted me later that night when I called my mom for the second time that day). Of course, I was already making comparisons. Analyzing and over-analyzing is a well-honed talent of mine and the differences were blaring.

You already know that I grew up in the suburbs of San Francisco and then transplanted to the suburbs of Los Angeles--two highly diverse, metropolitan areas. Well, I landed in the "Twin Cities," a place that I endearingly call the land of blonde-haired, blue-eyed giants. They must eat something special out here because I look around myself and my 5-foot-3 frame is dwarfed by everyone in the 6-foot-plus club...Somehow, my dad's 6-4- tall genes didn't make it into my phenotype. In all honesty, I've NEVER seen so many white people in my life, nor have I gone so long hearing people speak only English! I realize the irony of this observation--I'm about as fair-skinned as they come and have my dad's steely blue eyes and the milkman's honey-blonde hair. Back to comparisons...here, there are a lot of black people driving cabs. Back home, there are a lot of Arabs and Indians who drive cabs.

It was Sunday and I was exhausted at the thought of having to unpack and get up early for a full day of orientation in the morning. Thankfully, the shuttle driver obliged me by answering my occasional questions and didn't feel the need to fill all of the silence during the two-hour drive, in which I was his sole passenger. (Sorry for the run-on.) I spent most of the drive staring out the window taking it all in, which seems to be a theme on this adventure.

Minnesota is gorgeous with green covering every knoll and rolling cornfield. The trees are thick between properties providing a more serene privacy than the fences of California. And the houses are spread out at least a half mile along the highways. The driver made a remark about how laughable the St. Paul skyline must be in comparison to the skylines I'm used to. I guess it is a little when you consider that where I'm from, when you look out a window, all you see is building on top of building as far as the eye can see. I learned a few other shocking things: It's illegal to buy alcohol from the store on Sundays. Motorcycle riders are crazy out here. They don't wear helmets because it's not the law like it is in California! (Granted there's more traffic in CA but still, there ain't no way you make it out of a highway motorcycle crash alive if you aren't wearing a helmet!)