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Back when I was seven or eight, my family got its first computer. Then we got a dial-up internet connection. Somewhere around age 10 or 11, I started to understand this newfangled internet, and used e-mail to sign up for a pen-pal program on an early precursor to chat rooms and forums. I exchanged e-mails and used an early chat program to communicate with a girl who lived just outside London.
I never thought I’d visit Montana. Ever. But the summer before junior year, I had 10 days free and a friend invited me to visit him at home. So I went. There were things that surprised me — I actually had to carry a can of bear spray when we went hiking. But most surprising of all was that I absolutely loved every second there.
Last year during finals, when I should have been preparing for an Econ exam, I was interrupted by blackouts from searing pain. I had a toothache so intense that even sitting still for extended periods was a problem. So, instead of studying for my exam, I spent my time trying to get a hold of emergency dental services. I figured I would call Student Health Service — presumably even if they couldn’t help me, they could direct me to someone who could. When I called, I was put on hold and transferred several times. After about 20 minutes, I was finally told that there were no dental services and they recommended I talked to the School of Dental Medicine.
Twenty-one years ago, I was born in India. Shortly thereafter, my family moved to Singapore. In the subsequent years, I moved five more times before coming to Penn, and at one point or another had called Indonesia, Hong Kong and Malaysia home. Yet, when I got here, people had the gall to tell me that I wasn’t Asian! This was very puzzling to me. If I — who had probably lived in more Asian countries than just about any other student on campus — wasn’t Asian, then what was I? And more importantly, who did qualify as Asian?
Indonesia is more than just the place where President Barack Obama went to elementary school.
Bangkok, Bali and Goa are key Asian destinations for any self-respecting backpacker. Unfortunately, this is news to many people. The prospect of discovering a land that was previously but an outline on a map has lost its luster, and it seems the art of stuffing all of one’s worldly possessions in a rucksack with a disposable camera, traveler’s checks and a passport is long gone — at least in Ivy League, USA. The British are still taking gap years, but at places like Penn, the “finding yourself” mantra has been replaced with “finding an investment banking job that pays 80K base.”