Somehow, I Made it to China

Going to China was a weird obsession of mine from a very young age. I don't really know why or when it started, but every time someone would ask me what my dream place to go was, I would puff up my chest and say, China.

I wasn't obsessed with China, but with the idea of going there. Looking back, I know it was only because of the concept of wanting to go to a place not a lot of people would say they wanted to go to.

I would have this feeling of superiority when saying that my dream place to visit was China, and not some random basic European country.

As annoying as it could sound to some people, I was oblivious enough not to notice, and to feel that I was special for wanting something so unique.

During my exchange program in Utah, at 16 years old, even though I was still learning English, I signed up for a Chinese class. Maybe if I learned some Chinese, I would be called at 18 to serve a Mormon mission somewhere close.

That was the only way I could imagine going.

The class was a good time at times, and very uncomfortable at others. My memories are benign, the teacher's favorite, just for treating her like a human being, while the other American students would treat her so poorly.

It was 2013, and the debates around racism and xenophobia weren't as strong, and analyzing it now, they were being racist and xenophobic toward her almost every class.

The class was very small. Me, the Brazilian kid, one Chinese American boy only taking the class because his Chinese mom made him, 2 other random kids I can barely remember, and then 2 pretty but quite standard-looking girls, who never made it clear why they were there.

We learned the basics of Chinese, and now I can only remember 2 or 3 words. But being part of that class was what I understand today to be manifesting, before I knew what manifesting was.

The dream to go there did change a bit after the class, from wanting to go to a different place, to getting to know the culture of this mysterious country, where I had a feeling it was a lot more similar to my home country than I imagined.

Just a couple years later, while in college, again in Utah, at BYU, I was walking from one class to another, and I happened to pass through the business building, where some tables were set up and students were advertising study abroad programs. I knew those were expensive and only for the rich kids, so I sped up my steps until I walked by this very talkative girl.

I don't remember what she was saying, but I remember stopping at her booth after seeing the pamphlet saying: China and South East Asia Business Trip.

I looked at the pamphlet for one second, and before walking out, the girl asked me, “Do you want to go to China?”

I looked up, actually surprised by her question. I quickly looked at her up and down, not in a judgmental way, but analyzing carefully who would be the person I was about to enter a serious conversation with.

She was tall, very pretty, Polynesian-looking, with a massive smile on her face, and her big, bold eyes looking deep right into my soul, waiting for the answer.

“Yes, I do. I just don't have the money for it, though,” I said, smiling back and slowly moving my body away.

“Where are you from?” she asked, wanting to continue that conversation I had already decided to end.

“Brazil,” I said, dismissing her once again, and making it obvious I was not the rich student she was targeting to sell study abroad advertisements to.

“That's perfect!” she said, actually making my body freeze and getting me very confused about why she had said that.

“If you really want to go, I can help you,” she said.

“And how is that going to work? You're going to give me money?” I replied in a slightly sarcastic tone, but this time with a smile on my face.

She looked at me with the same gaze and smile and said, “The only thing I will give you is the knowledge of how to get the money to fund your trip. As long as you're willing to work for it. You can get a big chunk of this study all paid for.”

I stared at her for a few seconds with the smile still on my face, thinking about the idea of actually going to China. I was quiet for a few seconds, which probably made her guess what

I was thinking.

“I went last year. I didn't have the money either. But they had scholarships. The study is about 11 thousand dollars. And I got 7 thousand from the school, and paid 4 out of my own pocket. Not bad, huh?”

I only nodded, thinking: how could I get 7 thousand from the university for a trip, and where would I get 4 thousand from? Still reading my mind, she added to her speech.

“You're international, you have the chance to get even more if you write a good essay to all the scholarship offices.”

I raised my hand to shake hers. No words needed at that moment. We shook hands and exchanged phone numbers.

Out of all the things I was at the age, a little oblivious to life, naive, too nice, and too bratty at times. But one thing I was sure I was, was dedicated to accomplishing the things I wanted, especially if it involved travelling.

Like at 13, when my friend Giovanna said she started to learn French so she could go on a month-long trip during her junior year to France.

When Giovanna told me about this idea, it was the first time someone had opened up the possibility of travelling abroad for a purpose outside of tourism. I knew my parents would never have the money or want to spend it sending me to Europe just for fun, but if I learned a new language and had a purpose for this exchange program afterward, they might consider it.

Looking back and understanding the context of me being a 13-year-old little gay boy but extremely closeted, wanting to travel not just for the fun of it, but because of the idea of getting away from my reality. If for just one month I could stop pretending to be someone else, and just relax, I could not wait to try it out.

For two years I learned French on my own, and when the time came for Giovanna to go, I was ready to go as well. The program was too expensive, though, and knowing my parents' financial situation, I went on a quick adventure around town to find a program that could send me to Lyon, France.

My parents were stunned by all the work. All they needed to do was approve and pay. And surprisingly, they did. That became my first big achievement in life.

But there I was in front of that girl, shaking hands and ready to execute this new big achievement.

After several meetings with Alyssa, dozens of letters telling my story, and many applications submitted, I got the 7 thousand dollars of scholarship. But unlike her, I did not have the 4 thousand left in my bank account. So, without anyone knowing, I went to the most diverse offices on campus, knocking on the directors' doors, telling my story and asking for money.

I barely knew what the offices were all about, but I knew they had money to give. And indeed, one gave me 1,000 dollars just because I was Brazilian and he had served his Mormon mission in Brazil.

9 thousand dollars later, I had reached a number that made the trip more realistic. I didn't have 2,000 in my bank account, but that was more doable to make later.

The trip happened: China, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Cambodia, New Zealand, and even Australia. I went to countries that weren't even in my wildest dreams. But more than going to these places, I experienced things that I could not have imagined happening in my wildest dreams.

From being almost 24/7 with the white, rich BYU students and realizing they were actually a lot more out of touch with reality than I had imagined, to seeing the personification of entitlement.

To experiencing bullying, homophobia, religious prejudice, embarrassment, loneliness, self-discovery, and the biggest outburst of what life actually can be all about, this trip changed me.

And I cannot wait to share it all.