In the blink of an eye, this too shall pass

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 6/3/10

This article will be read in what seems like a blink of an eye.

I have two rings that I wear on occasion; one of them is titanium and I use it to pry open non twist-off caps from beer bottles.

The other ring has a different reason for being around my finger. Inscribed on it is an idea I have thought about constantly over the past six years since I first heard it. The background story of this saying is memorable and provides a bit of humor.

It is told that thousands of years ago, Israel’s King David sent his most trusted servant on an impossible mission: to find the ring that would be able to make a poor man happy and a rich man sad.

After months of searching in the wrong places, and within hours of his final deadline, the servant asked a poor jeweler if he had heard of this ring.

The jeweler nodded with a slight smile and made him the ring immediately. The servant brought it to King David, who laughed when he was handed the ring.

The king then began to cry when he read it. The ring said, “This too shall pass.”

In my glass-half-full perspective, this saying has only provided me with happiness. In the difficult times, when a situation is too taxing to handle, or if it causes a heavy heart, I remember that this too shall pass, and before I know it, I will be in a comfortable spot with those I care about.

Before I know it, I will not be on a 15-hour plane ride while sitting next to a behemoth woman who hides the armrest with her layers of forearm.

I will not be sitting on an Indian bus that smells like rotting meat, and watching an elderly woman a few rows in front of me vomit out of the window.

I will not be hitchhiking in a van in Jordan, hiding my Jewish identity, and frightened when the police pull us over.

I will not have food poisoning and be throwing up in the middle of a busy Nepali street as 20 people circle around me to watch.

I will not be mentally exhausted from studying for many hours straight for my finals; if anything, this thought will push me the extra distance to study longer and harder.

After all of the difficult events have indeed passed, I am here right now, writing this article for the newspaper, happy those tough times are behind me.

The same can said about the other side of the coin. In those moments where you are the happiest, you must remind yourself that this too shall pass, and you should take advantage of those fantastic times.

Those moments you spend with your friends and family. Those times when things are going your way. Being in college and studying a subject you enjoy. Having the diverse benefits of being on a college campus. Being able-bodied enough to run a marathon, participate in a triathlon or test your physical endurance.

I understand this could initially seem to be a pessimistic outlook on the transient nature of time, but it is just the opposite.

Our youth is short-lived; we must understand this and take advantage of it. As we get older, our motivations and opportunities will change. Take a look at the things you are currently passionate about and make sure you dedicate yourself to these passions.

Can you remember your first day at OSU? I bet you can recall, in vivid detail, your first interaction with your freshman roommate.

Time has passed, and it will continue to tick away. How will you spend your fleeting time?

The difficult moments in life will pass, as will the wonderful moments. It may have taken you a few minutes to read this article, but that time folds together to seem as fast as a blink of an eye.

Study hard, play hard, live every second of every day and make sure you take advantage of your current opportunities, and remember that this too shall pass.

It has been a pleasure sharing my thoughts with you all; I hope they have been of interest to you. Feel free to contact me with any travel questions over the summer (www.abroadmarketeer.com).

Cheers.
© Copyright 2010 The Daily Barometer

The international language of soccer

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 5/28/10

There are said to be over 5,000 spoken languages on the planet in this day and age. In India alone, there are over 400 languages; it is said that every few miles, in some regions of the country, the language is completely different.

I have been to more than 40 countries, and most of them have a national language other than English. The one common language that every country communicates in, however, is soccer.

A ball can be used for so many different games and activities, yet, the entire world utilizes it for soccer more than any other purpose. In some countries, a round ball will be used for baseball, cricket, tennis, basketball, dodge ball, butts-up and many more sports, but without question, more people around the world play soccer than any other sport.

Regardless of what language you speak, you can go to almost any country and play soccer with the people living there. While heading north in Vietnam during a brief bus stop, I noticed a few kids kicking the ball through some old poles behind a bathroom.

I approached them with a smile, and we kicked it around for a few minutes, had a few laughs and high fives and waved goodbye, and I got back on the bus. It was a simple and fun interaction without words.

While in the military-dominated, Buddhist-driven country of Burma, my brother and I had an experience neither of us will ever forget.

After taking an old steamboat on an early morning seven-hour trip north from the once-capital of Rangoon to the ancient region of Bagan, we were filled with excitement from what we would soon see.

After checking into our rickety hostel, we hired a guide to take us through the area. Aaron and I sat on a flat wooden carriage behind our guide, who whipped his horse to take us through the dirt pathways. Comfort was not an issue when we realized the magnificent views we would soon witness.

A thousand years ago Burma had a strong economy. The king at that time decided to build 4,000 temples and pagodas scattered around the desolate desert of brown sand, green trees and brush.

Some of these temples are extravagant structures that you can only imagine in a dream or see in an “Indiana Jones” movie, but other temples are only 10 feet tall. However, all of them have a statue of Buddha inside that is sometimes gold-plated and up to 40 feet tall.

Only a handful of tourists were in the area, giving us an intimate and peaceful experience of the buildings in Bagan. We were even lucky enough to experience the tranquility of the temples that were comparable in size to the White House.

While sitting at the top of a tall brick temple, we were given an impressive view of the historical temples scattered from horizon to horizon, with the most outstanding structures catching our eyes like the silver speckles on the slopes of wet sand.

While standing next to my brother, both of us in awe, I noticed a small area between a few temples where some kids were playing soccer.

Aaron and I exchanged a single glance, and we knew we had to join them. We walked to the area while sporting our customary “longies” wrapped around our waists.

We watched them kick around the rubber ball on the bumpy dirt ground for a few brief moments and applauded when one of the Burmese kids scored a goal through the rusty metal poles.

It was an uncommon sight for the teenagers: a couple of white people wearing longies, watching their daily game. A few of them walked over to us and began speaking to us in their unfamiliar dialect.

Aaron and I responded in kind with our own odd English language. The two of us, and a few Burmese teens, laughed at our inability to communicate. But with a few smiles, raised eyebrows and gestures, we all understood it was game time.

Even though our words were unfamiliar, we found a way to understand each other. We passed the ball to each other, superseding cultural differences. We yelled out plays while pointing at open ground, mutually understanding our strategy without comprehending the actual meaning of the words.

When we scored a goal, we would run to one another and celebrate with hugs and cheers while not having a clue about each other’s history or how different we were.

The truth was, it didn’t matter; we were playing soccer together – a game that all of us knew how to play and love.

The sun was setting upon the barren brown fields of unimaginable beauty. The temples had a soft golden glow as the sun’s rays bounced off of the purple clouds and onto the brick façades surrounding us.

The fourteen of us had our arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing about the game and embracing our ephemeral, yet true friendships we had established through the international language of soccer. Aaron and I extended our stay in Bagan for an extra day to take in the exquisite splendor of the land, and of course to play another game of soccer with our new friends.

A few short weeks from now, the world’s best soccer players will face each other in a bout to see which country will be crowned the champion.

The World Cup has a global impact. It is about more than just kicking a ball into a net; it is about sharing a love for the game with people from all over the world.

Soccer is an international language that is played with the same rules all over the world, even if the teams have very different strategies and styles.

When the World Cup starts on June 11, observe how the players play the game against each other, how they yell at each other or exchange taunting looks, help each other off the ground and even argue with the foreign referees.

After the match is complete, watch as the players trade jerseys with their opposing team and give each other complimentary hugs. Soccer brings together people from countries that may not be at peace with each other, yet share the unifying language of soccer.

The game and its etiquette are not written down in 5,000 languages; it is not written at all, yet it is played by the entire world and understood by everybody.

As far as understanding goes, there is no question in my mind that everyone within a three-block radius of my location, regardless of what spoken language they understand, will know who I am cheering for when they hear three letters being yelled out loud and they see a USA jersey upon my back. Go USA!

Tipping the scale: Traveler’s karma is gonna get you

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 5/18/10

While traveling, there are few concepts that I believe with more justified reasoning than the idea of “traveler’s karma.”

Exploring foreign lands with all of your possessions on your back and all of your money in your pocket has the potential to wreak havoc upon your mind and can open the ugly door of paranoia.

One way I walk into the unknown with more confidence is by having the belief that, if I make small efforts to help people and not take advantage of anyone I encounter, then my positive actions will come back to me when I may need it most.

Karma is a noble person’s way of displaying selfishness – and selfish priority number one while traveling abroad is to stay safe.

Of course, this method is not foolproof and may sound absurd to a logical person. But I ask that fact-based person if they have ever listened to their gut feeling or made decisions based on love? Where is the logic in that?

There are a few instances of traveler’s karma when I have made an effort to pay back what I owe, or even taken a step ahead in the game. The most recent example happened a few months ago in the polluted and congested Indian city of Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal.

From the school I was working at, a German friend and I took the 100-mile trip to Agra. This five-hour trip cost our taxi five tires, and as I was a new entrant in India, a lot of lip from me.

At the time, I did not understand how common flat tires were, and we made the best of the situation by talking to locals in each small town we stopped in. When the car was getting serviced, my friend and I waited outside in the blistering sun.

Before we knew it, 18 people surrounded us just to get a closer look and maybe practice their few words of English on real Westerners.

We eventually made it to our guesthouse in Agra, the Shanti Lounge. For the expensive price of 11 dollars a night, we were given a small room with a perfect window view (with jail cell-style bars) of the Taj Mahal, which was only a few hundred yards away.

This room had a rickety, circa 1960s fan that raced to “high” for 30 seconds in between every power outage – not a comfortable scenario for a hot and humid Indian summer night. There was no chance of sleeping during those sweltering hours.

It was warm enough outside that I, like all of the locals in the city, decided to sleep on the flat cement rooftop.

Before dealing with the comfort of an unrelenting bed, I knew it would be best to grab a mosquito coil to reduce the chance of itchy bites and possible malaria.

I did not have my money on me, but I told the wandering shop owner that I would pay the 50 rupees (1 dollar) for the coil the following day. I gave him my word that I would pay him back, but with a visit to the Taj in the following morning’s plans, I simply forgot.

I did not recall the midnight promise for a couple of weeks, and knew that I had to reconcile the weight I had placed upon the wrong side of the karma scale.

Months later, when my mom visited me in India, we stayed in a place that accommodated Western needs (like any Holiday Inn, but with bell boys boasting cheek-spanning moustaches) instead of the Shanti Lounge.

I did, however, make a special trip to the shop owner of the Shanti Lounge and reminded him of my debt. I paid him the 50 rupees and an extra 50 to tip the karma scale in the positive direction.

I understand that most Westerners will not subscribe to the idea of karma; it is not common in our culture. Most of us in the Western world have absolute freedom of religion, and, in the majority of these religions, the concept is absent or different.

You don’t have to believe in it, but I find that when I do good deeds, I experience better outcomes in my life. Perhaps those fortunate outcomes have other sources, perhaps it is just luck, or something bigger, but there is nothing that will convince me that acting with karma in mind is a bad idea.

When you find yourself abroad, talk to other travelers, and you will hear this exact concept from many of the people who span the globe. I believe that when you purposely tip the karma scale in the positive direction, life feels better.

When you board the plane in America and exit the same plane in a foreign land, be sure to leave that place in a better condition than it was in when you arrived.

When you enter a land and have no concept of what is right or wrong, safe or stupid, normal or offensive and you do not know anybody for a thousand miles, you walk along a thin layer of ice that can crack at any step.

Even the sole feeling of doing a good deed or covering your tracks will enhance your confidence and lighten your step while walking the unknown voyage of discovery.

Culture shock: One Haka to rule them all

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 5/11/10

This past week at school we saw the small and proud Native American community come together and share their culture by sharing their food, dance and music.

We were gifted with a display of colorful culture that most of us who live in America unfortunately have never experienced and have very little knowledge of.

I myself cannot claim to be very knowledgeable about the people who lived here prior to our murderous arrival on this continent.

I was sad to see people casually walking by this beautiful display and not even pausing to watch for a few brief moments as Native American men danced to the melodies vocalized by their nearby brethren.

The performers were decorated in colorful paint, large headdresses and adorning bushels of pine branches that were flapping upon their backs as the metallic bells around their waste jingled with every rhythmic lunge they took.

Our native culture is different and beautiful, and yet we don’t seem to be interested in it unless it is paraphrased with large blue people and composed in a technological 3-D format.

America is not the only country that has ushered our natives into the category of black sheep – there are others. There are also some countries that have embraced their native people and shared the land with them while absorbing their culture and blending it with their own.

While studying abroad in Australia I was keenly aware of the Aboriginal people who were dressed in their original attire near the Sydney Opera House: They were playing the didgeridoo and asking for money.

It was bothersome and it reminded me of America. Very few of the original land dwellers have merged into the Australian society. In fact, it is a big deal when a footy (rugby) team has an Aboriginal player on their squad.

Their way of living has been made into a tourist destination, and the pieces of their culture have been made into cheap touristy knick-knacks that can be purchased at the airport.

A group of friends and I visited Uluru (Ayers Rock) in the center of the Aussie outback. It is known as the largest monolith in the world and will undoubtedly be on the cover of any “Visit Australia” pamphlet found in a travel store.

The giant red rock is a sacred destination for the Aboriginal tribe who have lived in that area for thousands of years, yet the government has taken it over and – against the will of the Aboriginal people – allows people to climb it. This is rather similar to the disrespect our country has shown our original inhabitants.

Just across the Tasman Sea you will find New Zealand, a country boasting a rich mix of Maori and European cultures. The country, known for its beautiful scenery (displayed in “Lord of the Rings”) is clearly dominated by its 100 million sheep, a fact that the neighboring Aussies will hilariously point out at any chance they get to poke fun of the Kiwis.

The most interesting part of New Zealand is how the Maori culture has impacted the country. In several countries – many in the South Pacific and Americas – explorers arrived at the shores of the “undiscovered” land and immediately began to dominate the local people.

Having more warfare technology than the scantily clad natives, it was not a difficult fight to win. It has been said that when some explorers arrived on the shores of New Zealand and attempted to take over the local inhabitants, the Maori people performed their Haka and demolished their opposition – and were even said to have eaten them after they won the battle.

The Haka is a war dance, done in unison, involving many aggressive shouts, angry facial expressions and violent slaps (again, in unison) to one’s own body. It is fascinating to watch, and frightening to oppose.

Have you watched New Zealand’s national rugby team, The All Blacks, play rugby before? Most of the players are massive, having a much larger natural frame than most Europeans, especially those who have been stuck on a boat for several months prior to their arrival.

I spent three weeks in New Zealand, driving around the South Island in a camper van with five of my closest friends. The Kiwis were some of the oddest people I have met in all of my travels, but they have a lot of respect for the Maori traditions and people who live upon their shared island.

The national sport is undoubtedly rugby union. There are several teams scattered around their small country, each team having several Maori players. Some of these Maori athletes are very popular with everybody in the country and their posters certainly grace the walls of countless hopeful teenagers.

The beautiful Maori culture and traditions have many similarities to the Native Americans who originally inhabited the land that we call our own. They value and respect the land and ocean and all of the living beings that live upon the earth.

They are emotionally in touch with whales and often tell stories of their ancestors’ relationships with the giant creatures. In my eyes, the familial Maori greeting of touching foreheads while holding each other’s heads is one of the most intimate and meaningful ways to embrace a loved one.

The people from the European culture and native Maori culture have had their feuds in the past and will likely continue to in the future, but that is representative of any two distinctly different cultures that live near each other.

The way they have learned to accept one another and live amongst one another – although it has proven to be challenging at times – is still an important example to the countries that have virtually shunned the native cultures and replaced them with their own.

What would our country look like if we had learned to live with the native people who originally inhabited this land? I bet it would have spiced up our salad bowl of cultures!

The expression “proud to be an American” would have an entirely new meaning and value.

It felt good to see the way the Maori people adapted to society while still maintaining their own culture and even influencing the overall culture around them.

Perhaps the Native American story would have been different if they had naturally been bigger and better able to defend themselves. The fact still remains: It is in the past and there is nothing we can do to correct that.

Yet, it must also be said, the Native American culture is still alive and extremely interesting. But first, you have to stop blindly walking by; open your eyes and observe it.

Finding satisfaction in life is in your hands

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 5/6/10

“Time is money.” We hear it all the time here in America.

According to organizational sociologist Geert Hofstede, this linear assignment of time is a part of our low context culture, where the most common – and often considered best – way to a certain point is a straight line.

Most of us who were raised in the States will often believe that we must utilize our time to make money, and if we do not, then we are wasting our time. In no way am I knocking capitalism or claiming that it is demonic.

I am simply downplaying the “accomplishments” of the people who live to work and are motivated only by money.

When a person of this belief is on his deathbed and thinks about the life he has lived, he may reconsider what he should have done in his younger days.

This is the same realization that people who survive cancer will often arrive at, and when many of them regain their health, they have a new tenacity toward life. Why do we have to wait until we are standing on thin ice to come to this rationale?

If it is true that we may realize what some of our final thoughts will be, why don’t we just make these decisions now?

There are some memorable people I have met in my travels. While canyoning the waterfalls in Interlaken, Switzerland, I met a guy who follows the sun.

He works in Switzerland during the Northern Hemisphere’s summer, and in South Africa for the remainder of the year, again for the summer.

He makes enough money to stay afloat and possibly saves a little bit of money for when he is ready to find his next passion to follow. Or, he may find love one day and choose to settle down. Either way, it is a good decision in his eyes.

Who knows what his next step will be, but you can’t argue that he didn’t love his life and was willing to create this outcome.

Perhaps the most inspirational couple I have ever met abroad was a Canadian husband and wife in their mid 30s.

They quit their jobs in Canada, sold all of their belongings, and moved to Hong Kong to teach for a few years. Chris and Leslie were on their way back to Canada when I met them after a long day of trekking the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal.

Seven of us exhausted trekkers sat around a table in a guesthouse at 11,000 feet, discussing our treks, when I asked about their story.

Chris and Leslie calmly laughed and explained how they no longer enjoyed working in their jobs and believed they would get more satisfaction out of life by leaving Canada and starting from scratch in a foreign country.

They were collectively the happiest couple I had ever met, and perhaps the most in love. They had misplaced their wedding rings while in transition, and gifted each other with beautiful rings embedded with semi-precious gems from Nepal at a combined cost of $60 – perhaps having more value than the previous ones that cost a significantly greater amount of money.

They have since moved back to Canada, and have jobs they are satisfied with and goals to establish a school in Tibet.

Their apartment is not as large as the house they may have owned had they decided to stay in their dissatisfying jobs in Canada, but they have life experiences and memories they can share until the end of their days.

I would gladly take that instead of some extra space in the kitchen or an extra room that collects dust.

Motivation is an internal desire that we do not wrap our minds around as often as we should. What motivates you, and why does it motivate you?

These are questions that we should all ask ourselves before it’s too late. Don’t let money be your only motivation, let it allow you to attain specific aspirations.

We only have a short amount of time on this earth. One day, sooner than we think, we will be 10, 20, or 30 years older than we are now.

It will seem like yesterday that you were in college. Then you look in the mirror and realize that it was much longer than a day ago – just ask your parents how true this is.

Time is yours to mold. Your life is yours to shape. What will you be proud of when you breathe your final breath? How will you spend your time to accomplish this goal?

It is in your hands.

Travelers: Keep your brain turned on

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 5/3/10

“Aaron?” I asked my brother. “Traveling is dangerous. Unexpected things can occur at any given moment. All of my possessions will be in my backpack at all times; how can I be certain of my safety?”

Before a big trip, nerves get the best of any traveler and may even mitigate the unbridled excitement. You can’t help but wonder: What if something horrible does happen?

We have all heard stories or seen movies where a terrible event occurs in a foreign country, and the traveler must rely on logically sound reasoning to make the best of the potentially dismal situation.

“You can’t be certain,” Aaron replied, and with an adamant undertone in his voice he explained an idea he heard in his previous travels that has enhanced his responsibility while traveling from country to country.

“K.Y.B.T.O., Brad: To reduce the risk, you must Keep Your Brain Turned ON at all times!”
I had lived in Australia for a few months with a couple of wonderful South African families when I met up with my brother in Burma, and together we crossed into Thailand from Ranong, the southernmost border crossing in Burma.

Burma was no easy place to travel, so we were both relieved to be in Thailand and eager to explore the famous beaches upon the tropical islands alongside the southern Malay Peninsula.

After hours of buses and an overnight boat ride where we were packed like sardines on the top deck, sandwiched between 100 other travelers with each of us wary of the person next to us, we finally made it to the largest island on the east coast, Ko Samui.

From Ko Samui we took a 35-minute speed boat to the island of Koh Phangan for the notoriously illustrious “Full Moon party.”

Any traveler who goes to Thailand, or even Southeast Asia, has probably heard about this massive lunar event occurring on the night of the full moon, and people travel from great distances to attend it.

Imagine a half-mile-long crescent-shaped beach. On the beach are upward of 25,000 people from all over the world. Throw in clubs blaring their music at full volume, black lights every few feet, people wearing glow-in-the-dark paint and glow sticks, candle lanterns ascending into the sky, fire jugglers, eaters, dancers and blowers, with half of the people drunk on cheap alcohol and the other half hedonistically engaging themselves while on Ecstasy, and perhaps you will get a general impression of what this infamous party appears to be: a dream for some, a nightmare for others.

The line for the speedboat from Ko Samui was well over a two hour wait, but we bribed the front guard and two hours was quickly reduced to two minutes. The speedboat that took us to Koh Pangan and stopped short of the shoreline by about 200 feet, allowing everybody off the boat and into five feet of water.

Nobody cared about getting wet, as the water was comfortably warm. Aaron and I had each been abroad for a few months, and we already had a keen handle on keeping our brains “turned on,” but given the partygoers’ altered state of consciousness and the disgusting stories we heard about the party, this was no place to bring anything important, and we had to be sure we didn’t lose sight of each other.

The first 30 minutes of the party were epic! Slowly, however, epic turned to fun, which was abruptly replaced by an exhausting and sticky mosh pit of stench and carelessness. After a few hours of pseudo-enjoyment, we were finished.

Aaron and I started heading back to the boat, which was docked further from the shore than we recalled because of the incoming tides. There were 15 boats to choose from, and it was a problem for the hundreds of people who wanted to go back to Ko Samui.

Shorter people were struggling to progress into the dark depths of the ocean, and everybody had a hard time finding their specific boat. Many of the other rigs seemed to be too crowded. We finally found ours and boarded.

Because of the depth of the water and the nonfunctional state many were in, people struggled to get on board, so Aaron and I put our hands out to assist them.

After we helped a few people on board, I noticed one of the Thai boat drivers harassing my brother, who tenaciously retorted that he was helping others get on the boat. Before I knew it, the Thai man had pushed my brother off the boat and into the water.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for my brother to accidentally mouth off to somebody who treats him poorly, so I was not too startled by this and continued helping people on board.

When Aaron climbed back on the boat, the mild disagreement became a problem. The Thai captain began shoving my brother in an attempt to keep him off the boat. Given my brother’s comparatively Goliath-sized Western frame, pushing was not going to work.

The Thai boat operator then grabbed a 4-foot stick – one that could hit a baseball out of the infield. He reached back and was about to strike my brother, who was crouching defensively, when I jumped in and halted his swinging hands.

I forcibly removed the stick from his grip and backed my brother in his quarrel. The people we had just helped on board stepped into the disagreement to calm the situation down before it turned into a Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing) battle. We eventually were able to stay on board and make it back to our neighboring island.

Keeping your brain turned on is about not falling into complacency – staying constantly aware of your surroundings. It sounds like a paranoid approach at first, but after a little bit of time it becomes second nature: Putting your foot in your backpack straps when you are napping in a public place, paying attention to familiar faces that may be near, not giving away too much information, not pulling out all of your money at once. Small things can make a massive difference.

I have met travelers who have become complacent and have had their computer stolen while on a train, or people who fell for scams and had the local mafia personally escort them to the nearest ATMs to withdraw and sacrifice thousands of dollars so they could safely escape.

Traveling is not an easy vacation; it can get dangerous if you become complacent. K.Y.B.T.O.: Keep your brain turned on, stay aware, and try not to get into fights with local boat operators after a Full Moon party.

Don’t let Playboy define our idea of beauty

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 4/28/10

As recent hubbub has gone around campus about Playboy defining what beauty is, I thought it would be a good idea to explain a couple elements about beauty from around the world.

In our species, I think it is quite obvious to us all that females are the more elegant and beautiful gender. In many species, the male has a mating dance where he shows off his colorful feathers and convinces the female to mate with him instead of his less attractive competitor.

Guys trying to show off their large muscles or attempting to become the alpha male among his friends may seem familiar to most of us, but it is not always the final indicator in mating decisions.

Regardless of the woman’s perception of the man’s game or mating dance, physical beauty is known to be more radiantly present upon the woman’s face and body as opposed to the man’s, and dancing to “Soulja Boy” doesn’t help improve one’s image.

I find that you can learn a significant amount about a country from your first observations. You can learn a lot, from the clothing people wear to the way they interact with each other.

As a business student, I learn a significant amount about a culture’s modesty and priorities from the marketing presented in public places.

In many Asian countries, a very popular beauty product is skin whitening cream. They believe the lighter the skin, the more appealing the woman is. Is that the same philosophy of beauty that we hold in America?

Nope, we go to a tanning bed to darken our skin, as that is what we consider beautiful to be. Also, in the States, when a woman dresses to be informally beautiful or to attract her mate of choice, she will often show more skin than usual, perhaps allowing her top to rest a little lower than normal or giving her legs more sunlight than they normally see.

We here in the States and in much of Western Europe find that revealing what is hidden is attractive.

I understand that many people may disagree with this opinion, and you are absolutely right to do so, but the celebrity who wears significantly more clothing than her colleagues does not get the same amount of attention.

Let’s go to the more modestly dressed country of India for a moment and talk about what beauty means to the men and women of this culture.

A woman’s saree – the traditional attire of India – is composed of a tight-fitting top that goes from the shoulders to the bottom of the ribs, covered with a thin and soft scarf, often with very bright and strong colors.

This scarf wraps around one’s shoulder and around the waist and legs, leaving almost no view of the woman’s shoes. This level of modesty is apparent in their culture and published advertising.

Kissing is extremely uncommon in any Bollywood film, and exposed nudity is taboo. In fact, in some villages it is not uncommon for the husband to never see his wife’s naked body.

At first glance, the saree covers up the woman’s body, especially the areas an American woman may accentuate. At second glance, and at some angles, the woman’s entire stomach is exposed the majority of the time. (In part because of the high carbohydrate and delicious food they eat, and also because exercise is less important in India, the woman’s stomach may be round or have rolls.)

This modest form of dress hides everything but her stomach, and it is beautiful, regardless of how her stomach compares to her magazine counterparts.

Think about what beauty means to some countries in the Middle East. Most of us may think about a woman in a burqa and consider her as being restrained by her culture and husband.

Perhaps you are right, but this is not my argument. A burqa only allows a woman’s eyes to be visible, and her hands are covered with silk gloves up to the elbow – the same type we may have seen in the black and white movies of our past.

While hitchhiking in Jordan, I sat next to a woman who even covered her eyes with a see-through (for her) mesh fabric.

You may be wondering why I discuss the most shielding form of clothing a person can wear in my discussion of beauty. It is because of what is under the burqa that I discuss it.

Often times, these women who are hiding their faces and obscuring the form of their bodies from society are wearing expensive and sexy clothes (sometimes even lingerie) under their concealing outerwear.

They make a point of feeling beautiful inside, as opposed to outwardly showing their apparent beauty off. In fact, in some of these countries, our skin-friendly culture is looked down upon so intensely that our (in)famous short-skirted Barbie doll was considered a tramp and did not succeed in the market.

Needless to say, the disapproving country’s version of homeland security shipped her back home.

I have learned a woman is beautiful if she feels beautiful. Some women, whom may be insecure with their physical appearance, must be told that they are attractive to have confidence.

For most women however, they must feel beautiful and believe that they are beautiful for their faces to glow with an effervescent allure that guys will see from a distance.

Over the years, Playboy has had an impact on our culture by defining what is sexy and who has the most beautiful body. A woman’s face and body is a work of art, and just because it was portrayed in a certain way by an American publication does not mean it is the most desirable piece of art.

Men: Expand your definition of beauty, and you will not be as limited. Women: Feel beautiful, and you are beautiful.

Grab your shoes, some beer and let the chase begin

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 4/20/10

Who would have guessed the quote that would change my life was to be discovered in a bathroom stall in the middle of Singapore?

Yet, that is exactly where my mother came across the following life-altering wisdom from St. Augustine:

“The world is a book, those who don’t travel read only one page.”

Could you read only a page of a textbook from your most difficult class and expect to have a greater understanding of the subject matter? Could you expect that even from your easiest class? Absolutely not. I listened to this idea and tried my best to understand it from my short list of life experiences, but could not fathom the concept that there was more to life than my important daily routine and future responsibilities.

However, by listening to the wisdom of those who have traveled and seeing the positive radiance of their faces upon returning from other countries, I altered my concept of what is important.

At that point, I dedicated the vast majority of my resources to seeing the world and understanding the myriad of cultures that we see here in the states, and those we do not.

Now, I am a 26-year-old MBA student who has been to more than 40 countries, immersed myself so deeply in some cultures that I did not see another Westerner for two months, familiarized myself with and led traditional events, fallen in love all over the world and had reverse culture shock so tormenting that upon returning home I struggled to keep up a conversation with some of my best friends.

But is adventure worth these exhausting effects? Hell yes, it is worth it!

Perhaps one of the most adventurous – and ill-conceived – events I have partaken in was running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain.

Once a year in July, the small town of Pamplona has a nine-day festival that has developed into an international event where a few thousand people crowd the streets and run away from charging bulls.

It is said to be a 600-year-old Spanish tradition that has developed into this blood pumping festival for Saint Fermin.

The day before the event I was with my brother and a few friends we had met along the way 250 miles southeast in Barcelona.

Knowing that the running would start at 7:30 in the morning, we decided to take the overnight train to Pamplona that arrived an hour before the run began.

Six of us from three different countries used each other’s warmth to keep the heat in our nervous bodies as we pretended to sleep that night.

Once 5 a.m. rolled around and we were about an hour away, we promptly sat up and started downing some beers.

There is no way any fully sober person could go into a narrow street with giant bulls running after them. Of course, once we arrived at the famous street that would forever remain in our memories, we were as alert and sober as could be.

As we walked up the narrow street grounded by wet cobblestone, an excitement built that conjured up the image of marbles rattling around in a glass jar – I was going out of my mind.

The road was 30 feet across at its widest and was a half-mile sprint with a sharp 90-degree turn in the middle. This corner is where the bulls will usually slip, their momentum sliding them into the wooden walls as onlookers jump back in fright. The bulls will then gather their footing and charge the idiots foolishly running around them.

My brother told me he would stand at this turn and would warn me when the bulls were approaching. I stood across the street waiting anxiously for his call.

Once the two start rockets launched, informing the runners the gates had opened and the bulls were loose, everybody around me started jumping up and down excitedly in their white pants, white shirt, red sash and bandana.

This is when I asked myself, “What the hell am I doing?” White noise started escalating throughout the streets and grew louder with every second.

I stood waiting for my brother’s notification. I didn’t need to hear him; instead, his face appeared as if a baseball bat was being swung at him, which was the only signal I needed. (Although, he did yell some expletive followed by an urgent, “GO … GO,” causing everyone to bolt.)

I ran as fast as I could, but I was surrounded by a frenzied mass of people. Everyone was fending for their lives, pushing each other and jumping over the people who had fallen down (or using them for added leaping leverage).

I don’t recall too much from the running – except for the scene and my unusually primitive thoughts.

My brain went into flight mode, as the only things rolling in my mind were “Run … run … jump” – and after being pushed to the ground twice – “Get up … run … run.”

I saw the bulls pass me just feet away from where I ran. It was too close for comfort! Those massive animals were scared and angry, and their sharp horns were hungry for flesh.

The beasts passed me in a matter of seconds. I jogged my way towards the bull-fighting arena, where I was supposed to meet my brother.

Just as I came within a hundred feet of the entrance, a bull stopped, turned around, and put its head down as an intimidating warning.

Fifty of us circled around as it started running toward my direction. I charged for the wall and was about to leap over the fence into the cheering crowd beyond the wooden beams, but it changed direction for somebody else, who presumably – and luckily for me – had irritated it just a little bit more than me. “Phew!”

I ran as fast as I could into the arena, where I immediately found my brother, and we gave each other the biggest hug I can remember.

For hours after the event finished, my brother and I looked at each other, proclaiming we will “never do that again!” The reality of the situation only set in years later in those honest moments with my brother – I had turned a page and discovered I, too, can surprise myself and do things that I had never expected.

The book I want to look back upon later in life was in my hands, and this page was filled with risk and adventure.

Truth is – and we both saw it in each other’s eyes – if we were ever near Pamplona in July again, we would get our running shoes ready, a couple of beers and once again ask ourselves, “What the hell are we doing here?!”

Here is a picture of the running of the bulls. The day after the run, this photo was found on MSNBC. Still, to this day, we are unsure if that is me in the picture.

Library solicitors are not the best gateway to giving back

By: Brad Hurvitz

Posted: 4/9/10

How could we ever know how lucky we are without seeing those who are less lucky? How can we understand what is good without encountering the bad? How can we decidedly believe that our glass is half full without any comparison?

These are necessary questions to ask yourself when making important decisions.
I recently returned from five months of volunteering in an Indian boarding school, where I was involved in several different forms of teaching the students.

When I saw their faces during my final public goodbye to the school, I knew that it was one of the best decisions I could have made in my life.

I planted a seed within each student to achieve their goals, and they in turn planted one within me to always have a desire to give back.

Adjusting back to the American culture was a beautiful yet tragic awakening. Besides the initial observation of overindulgence we Americans seem to “require,” I also realized we have more opportunity for expression and availability to accomplish any dream than any other country in the world, and it is invigorating to see.

Yet, sometimes we Americans try to achieve these goals in negative ways. I will give an example of an experience I recently had in front of the library, an example that must be familiar to many other students on campus.

While leaving the library, I had a person with a binder approach me with an extended hand. “Yes, of course,” I thought to myself, “She is trying to shake my hand in hopes that I would not be rude by avoiding the social mores she threw at me. All right, let’s see what this person has to say.”
Within the first minute of conversation, the female volunteer called me “brother” four times and implored me to sponsor a child in poverty.

Of course I inquired about her experience with poverty, and she explained that she already had sponsored three children, none of whom she had ever met, but she quickly asked me if I had ever seen Bengali handwriting before – the kind I used to see from some of my students – because it is “so beautiful.”

I asked if the child was from Kolkata and she stared at me blankly when I explained that it was the capital of the state of West Bengal, [long pause], “in India,” I disappointedly retorted.

She was clearly using sales approaches in order to separate me from my money.

“Brother,” she explained, “you have seen the poverty and you know the condition that some children live in, in this world, you of all people should sponsor a child! I understand your tuition might be costly, but look how little they have.”

I agreed with this notion – with visual memories of children in more need than we can imagine – and tried to refute her by telling her that donating is something I will continually do, but not to her organization, and not at this time.

She raised her voice in frustration at a potentially easy sale gone awry, and went to the far corner of the quad to smoke a much-needed cigarette, a habit that, if she quit, would enable her to sponsor one more child.

I am sure I was not the only person recently accosted by the volunteer’s rabid approach to pull at the heartstrings and instill guilt to force one’s generosity.

Donating your hard-earned money – or for those of us receiving a loan, slightly extending our future debt – because you felt bad for the children in this program, will not, and should not, satisfy your own inherent desire to care for others.

Adam Smith, known to be the father of capitalism, stated, “How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortunes of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it.”

Relenting to the person who presses you for donations is not the best method of satisfying your desire to give. There are other ways of helping people in need!
I will give a few easy examples fitting for students, of how to donate without spending too much time and without breaking the bank.
First is through www.goodsearch.com. You simply find a specific non-profit organization that you may be interested in providing money to – for instance, “Concern Foundation,” a Southern California nonprofit that donates money to cancer research.

Once the organization is set, you simply search as if you were using Google for anything on your mind, and with every inquiry, Goodsearch donates a few cents to the organization of your choice. Simple, quick and efficient.

Secondly, and my personal favorite, is Vittana.org. We as students know how challenging it may be to pay our tuition, especially when fees go up.

In many developing nations, such as the countries on the previously mentioned sales volunteer’s list, students may not be able to afford their tuition, which sometimes may be less than a small fee at OSU, and will not be able to get a loan because a student loan is a foreign concept in their country.
Vitanna.org connects with the local NGOs and provides a solution to their lack of funding through micro lending.

Take Trj, a Vietnamese business student who needed $813 U.S. to enter into a local business school, where, upon completion, his annual salary would significantly rise.

After several other Vittana users loaned him some money, I completed his loan with a small donation. He can now go to school and will soon begin repaying the people who loaned him money.

Just last week I received an interim payment from Trj, and at some point in the near future, I might have the entire loan paid back in full.

Now that is a concept we as students can comfortably embrace and extend our hands to.
Not everybody has the chance to go abroad and physically change people’s lives, but we all have a chance to help others from a distance.

We are lucky, and I mean LUCKY, to be living in this amazing country full of excess and opportunity. If you look at your glass as half empty, then you must talk with those around you who have seen what an empty glass looks like.

There are people who need help around the world and within our own country. Donating your time or money to a certain cause should not elicit the negative feelings of anger, frustration and guilt that were present when I was talking to the sales volunteer.

We can help fill the glass of those who are thirsty, and we do not need to individually pour in a lot of water into this glass of opportunity; a simple drop will do.

If we can all subscribe to this idea then our generosity can be measured by actual results instead of monetary value.

Take a look at your savings account; you can probably afford 25 dollars for a student in need of it, and before you know it, those 25 dollars are back exactly where you left them…

To spend on the frivolous filet mignon dinner you may have once believed to be necessary to existence
Don’t be afraid of giving; it is inherently pleasing.

Just find the best location for your good deeds and make sure you are giving for the right reasons.