February 28, 2025

Jumping on Wet Rocks

During the first half of GCIL, I was kind of having a crisis. I knew some people going into the trip, but almost everyone in the group was a stranger. Over the first 4-5 weeks of the program, I tried to make an effort to talk to people, but I always felt awkward or like I had nothing to say. It didn’t help that when I first got to India I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying because of the flight and my weird ear problems, and then I had food poisoning for all of week three. I never felt interesting enough or cool enough, and it was hard to find a place to fit in. Looking back, I think at least part of these feelings of awkwardness and isolation stemmed from social anxiety, but anyways.

On our last day in Coorg, a group of us decided to hike to see the sunrise on a nearby hill. It turned out to be less of a hike and more of a concussion-inducing ride in a jeep where the ceiling was way too low, but eventually we made it to the top of the mountain. Together, we watched as the blue shadows of the morning turned into golden rays of sunlight, and the fog rolled over the hills and into the valley below. It was a truly serene moment, and I was glad I got to share it with the people around me.

About an hour later, we stopped at a waterfall on the way back. In true GCIL fashion, we got bored of the waterfall after about 10 minutes and started exploring the stream that was leading from the falls. We got to an area where you had to jump over the creek, and after some discussion of “should we do this?” we decided “why not?.” Over the past 48 hours, 3 people had already fallen in streams, but somehow this did not ring as a warning bell in my mind. After all 5 of us made the jump just fine, the jeep driver immediately told us to come back. We turned around and, much to our surprise, the jump back was much harder than the jump over. The first four people barely made it over, and suffered some wet feet in the process. Then it was my turn. I summoned my courage before I could psyche myself out, made the leap of faith and landed on my butt. Well, actually my butt landed directly on my foot, and it hurt really bad. I limped back to the car, holding onto Chanwit’s shoulder as we traversed the rough terrain. In the Jeep, Stella held my foot as we went over the huge bumps and then brought me a bag of ice from the kitchen when we got back to the hotel. As I lay in bed with my throbbing foot propped on a pillow, Kelsey brought me a cup of coffee, and Olive brought me Puri covered in jam from the dining hall. I couldn’t believe I had never thought to combine Puri and jam because it was maybe one of the best things I’d ever tasted. When we got back to the hostel in Bengaluru, Aili offered me her ankle brace, and several people offered me pain meds.

All of these small acts of kindness made a huge impression on me, and made me feel stupid for believing that I didn’t fit in with anyone in those first 5 -sh weeks. I realized the problem wasn’t that people were unwilling to talk to me, it was that I was holding myself back from putting myself out there. Everyone who helped me out in some way didn’t need to, but they chose to help a friend out. And in addition to helping me with my sprained foot, they were helping me feel that I belonged, that I was truly a part of this amazing group.

By,
Amelia