Wanderlust.

To everyone who follows, I've started a new website! Check out Wanderlust at http://kierstenschonauer.squarespace.com/

Happy Thai New Year!

Today is the Thai New Year and all of Thailand will be celebrating the Songkran festival for the next four days. Songkran has become known as the water festival, where splashing, spraying, and dousing water upon both your loved ones and strangers has become the main event.
Originally the role of the water was to wash away bad thoughts and actions, a way to purify yourself. The symbol of the water still holds true today, only now your whole body is washed clean.

It amazes me that I am approximately 10,000 miles away from Chiang Mai and I can still feel it's joy and exuberance. I've been pretty melancholy lately, and for the first time in weeks I've felt unbelievably happy. While I cannot be there to celebrate just imagining my friends enjoying the festival brings a smile to my face. This week I'm letting the inner joy of Thailand radiate from the inside out.

Chok Dee!

Spiritual Mutt.

Tonight I was able to have some much needed mommy time.

It was a spur the moment outing and reminded me of when I was back in high school.

Shopping, eating, and talking, what my mom and I do best.

The topic of religion came up, which is something I've been avoiding since I returned from Thailand. My experience in Thailand certainly changed my understanding of what it means to be spiritual and left me questioning a lot of what I believe, or have been taught to believe. I was, in a way, afraid to tell my mom that I don't believe in our "Christian God."

I do still believe in a God and I consider he/she/it to be many God's. We could all be talking about the same God, just simply switching the rules around to structure separate religions. To my relief my mom felt the same exact way. She's questioning things too. We decided that we should go on a spiritual journey and learn about every religion we can.

My spirituality is still foggy to me. All I know is right now I believe in loving each other, caring for one another, and finding inner peace within this ever revolving world.

As we waited for the bus to come we wondered what we would call ourselves, now that we don't really feel we are strictly Christian. I told her we're Spiritual Mutts.

...A lil' ditty

Who Says Human Trafficking Doesn't Happen in the States

I've recently read an article from Texas Monthly that I think everyone should read, it's called The Lost Girls

Human Trafficking, call girls, bar girls, girls who work in massage parlors, hookers, whores, prostitution, etc. You can call it whatever you want, it's all the same, it's paid rape.

This article really fired me up...I haven't felt so passionate since Thailand. I want people to feel as passionate as I do about the subject. I want people to stand up for these women and children.

Read the article, then do something about it.

-http://www.thegardenofhope.org/

-http://www.fh.org/help/cityinitiatives

-http://www.brandedphx.com/blog/

-http://love146.org/

-http://traffickingaz.org/

-http://humantrafficking.change.org/

Cold.

Yesterday was a frigid spring day in Chicago. It was the kind of day where the wind blasts you in the face, slithers down your body, and constricts your bones of any warmth, until your left feeling as stiff and gelid as the tin man. I did not want to go to my internship at all. I was dreading standing for six hours on the cold sidewalks of Chicago, but I made my commitment to be out there and I had to be loyal to it.

It truly was painful. I never knew that my eyeballs to feel cold, until last night. Only when I would blink did they receive any relief from the atrocious and unforgiving wind. Each stop we went to cleared out 30 minutes early, leaving only the rats and abandoned grocery bags to dance under the moonlight.

I found that it wasn't so easy for me to complain about having to be outside once I was there. I would soon be alleviated of the cold as soon as I walked into my apartment building, I had some place to look forward to. My friends of the streets would not feel this same relief as I.

Towards the end of the night one of the supervisors explained why he comes out here night after night. For an hour or two we can provide a place for these people to look forward to. At the bus they can reenergize and not have to worry about being shot at, someone stealing there things, or being ignored. These stops are a refuge where they talk to other men and not have to worry about a fight; they can talk to women without being rejected.

Last night it hit me almost as hard as the wind rapping at my face, my time here is going to end in 2 months.

I don't want to have to say goodbye to more friends.

I don't want to leave.

I really enjoy my internship.

The Bus Stop Diaries.

The sun has finally revealed its rays onto the city of Chicago. It’s warming up (and when I say warming up I mean it’s 37 degrees), the birds are chirping, and people are actually smiling. I’m sporting my spring jacket, naked appendages (no hat, gloves, or socks), and moccasins.

As I head out of the elevators the meek miniature greyhound emerges from the front room. He eerily stares at me with his large black eyes, his body so frail and soft he’s ghost-like. Those huge eyes floating above his soft gray frame make him appear even more miniature than he is.

Meandering outside and into the sun, I can’t believe that a ten-degree rise in temperature can warm things up so much. I stroll on over to the #29 bus stop and plant myself on the bench. The sun has never felt better. A man, donning a ever so lovely newsboy hat joins me with a “Hi, how’s it going?” I find myself somewhat startled, I don’t remember the last time anyone has said hello to me while waiting for a bus. It’s normally a slightly awkward experience, standing in such close proximity to other human beings and not saying anything. It’s like standing in an elevator. If anyone were to say anything at all it would be a crime. Sometimes I want to scream, “Hello! How are you?......Why are you giving me that strange look for smiling at you? I’m a human, you’re a human, and we are both standing on the same sidewalk, at the same moment in time, how awesome is that?!”

His saying hello was refreshing.

It’s amazing what you’ll see when you’re awaiting the arrival of the #29 bus.

A blue Cavalier is stopped at the light. The smoke of a cigarette snakes its way outside, through the crack of his window. As the light turns green, this said Cavalier begins to rolls past the white line. Suddenly it stops. The driver steps out of his car, strolls to the back and picks up the lit cigarette, placing it back into his mouth he gets back into the car and drives away.

…..

Newsboy-cap man and I exchange glances. Did that man honestly stop in the middle of a green light to go back and pick up his smoldering cigarette that lay on the frigid pavement of State street!?

Yes, yes he did.

So begins, the bus stop diaries. It’s silly, I know, but there are just some things that happen while you’re waiting for the bus that simply need to be recorded.

Tuesday Nights With Friends.

Crossing over the threshold of the train, I left the bitter wind tunnel and entered onto the red line. Immediately the foul smell of urine permeated through my nose. A look of disgust was adhered to everyone's face as they glared at the women bustling around in the corner. This division between the train was more than the odor. To some this woman was crazy...to others, repulsive. She was homeless.

We've all seen the homeless on the train, or people who appear, in our eyes, to be homeless. They ask for change, maybe a sandwich...for someone to just listen. Well, last night I was on my way to listen, to hear their stories. Last night I embarked on my 3 month internship adventure.

1-2 nights a week I will be going on outreach with The Night Ministry, to Humboldt Park, Pilsen, and Wicker Park. In these neighborhoods we provide food, medical care, HIV testing, and most importantly, an ear. My job is to listen to those who have no home, or no medical care. Those who have lost a job, or in search of something new. Those who are chronically homeless, and those who are new to the neighborhood.

I couldn't be more ecstatic about my Tuesday nights.

It was my first time out last night, and I was slightly nervous. Not about safety, or being freezing cold, but about fitting in. Why would they want to talk to me? Would they trust me enough, even if they did want to talk to me? I felt like the new girl in school.

My nervousness quickly subsided as they approached me with hugs and hand shakes. They openly shared their lives with me. We joked around. I met people from Cuba, Ecuador, the south side of Chicago, and Denmark. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate, I learned about their families, their aches and pains, their beliefs. I even learned some more Spanish, and will now have weekly Spanish lessons. Ending in Wicker Park, it began to snow. Big fluffy flakes fell all around us. My toes were frozen together and my nose was running like a facet, but I couldn't think of any place I would rather be. We left with hasta luego, and see ya next week.

Smiling the whole way home, and into my warm bed I felt a sense of peace and comfort. While my experience with outreach and teaching children in Thailand was fulfilling, I constantly felt bad for leaving them. When they asked how long I would be around and I would reply, "1 month," a look of gloom consumed their faces. Last night, when they asked me how long I would be around and I replied, "Until June," a huge smile extended across their face.

I finally feel a little better about being back in Chicago. I feel like I have time to breathe and be myself within my work/19 credit balancing act of a semester. I get to turn off my phone, push away my homework, and extinguish all of my worries. For 6 hours a week I get to be with humanity, with people who listen to me and I listen to them. I have my niche again.

I love my internship.