‘ ‘ ‘ The first thing that struck me was the sound of the place. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Late on the… ‘ ‘ ‘ The first thing that struck me was the sound of the place. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Late on the second night of my trip to Paraxaj, a tiny farming village in the mountains of Guatemala, I heard the dogs calling to one another from neighboring hills. The dogs and I were the only things awake for miles, and, aside from my breathing, the barking was the only sound audible in the cold air. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ No car horns, no stereos or televisions, no air conditioners buzzing or microwaves humming. The requisite sounds of the United States were strikingly absent. Refreshingly absent. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ I sat on a bag of concrete that I’d lugged on my shoulder from one side of Paraxaj to the other earlier that day and scribbled furiously in a journal. With the bed of noise gone, every sound I heard was sharp, an aural bullet shot from the dogs one or two hills away. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ The realization began to set in: Though the United States profoundly affects the rest of the world, it is not the rest of the world. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ And living here, in Pittsburgh, in the United States, it’s often impossible to comprehend the complex ties and staggering differences we have with the rest of the world until they’re barking in your ears. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Initially, the plan was simple ‘mdash; do anything over spring break to keep myself off my parents’ couch watching hours of OnDemand reruns. I contemplated bumming around New York City. I even began to plan a road trip down the coast of California. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ But when a service trip to Guatemala landed in my e-mail inbox, any other option quickly faded. The description was clear ‘mdash; the trip, organized by American Jewish World Service through Pitt’s own Hillel Jewish University Center, would place a group of students in an impoverished rural community in Guatemala for the purpose of cultural exchange and volunteered manual labor, working on projects that would boost the living standard in the village. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ A trip like this, though, doesn’t come together solely from the planning of Americans with big hearts ‘mdash; these things take work on both ends. And in Guatemala, our organizing group was Opcion, a non-governmental organization that stands for Organizacion para la Promocion comercial y la Investigacion. In other, English words, this means that the group works with small, often uneducated farming communities to connect them with the global market and ensure that the farmers are properly treated and paid.’ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ The farmers, who would walk three hours to the nearest town to sell their products, did not have access to the same education as the townspeople. This allowed the more business-savvy buyers to fool and manipulate the farmers in the marketplace, thereby damning them further into a cycle of poverty. And those in extreme poverty can’t just hire better teachers, making their children just another generation of Guatemalans to be kept down. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Groups like Opcion, with foreign funding, aim to pull the poor from such vicious cycles ‘mdash; in a global marketplace, the hope exists that fair business might just push them out of poverty and into the modern world. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ But only recently did Opcion begin hosting volunteer groups in the communities with which they work, and, as co-founder Oscar de Leon told us through our translator, we would be the first group ever to visit Paraxaj. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ At first, the shift in operations didn’t quite make sense. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ It’s no secret that the actual work American volunteers do on trips like this is often very little, even insignificant in the greater scheme of the poverty cycle. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ But after only a day in Paraxaj, the connection revealed itself. For while our assigned projects ‘mdash; helping village workers to build a water reservoir to bring clean water to the school and to lay a cement floor in a building that would become the school’s library ‘mdash; had us working hard, they also pitted us in a cultural exchange with the people of Guatemala. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ We spent the workdays talking, the little we could, about our homes, our families and lives. And for a nongovernmental organization like Opcion, with a goal of bringing the rural poor into a globalized world, economy and mindset, learning with us was a valuable cultural experience, just like exporting their products is valuable economically. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ But the value in learning was not one-way. As American students learn with indigenous Guatemalans, the hope is that they too will learn about the other side. Both sides return to their lives with knowledge and understanding of something they previously only read about. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Globalization, I came to understand, is not about making the world homogenized, but about bettering each other through working, through learning and talking. Globalization is not just a vocabulary word in your business class. It was changing lives, my own included, in front of my eyes.