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Can I get college credit for traveling?
For many of us, travel is an important part of our education, even if it isn't part of the classroom.
I never received any “continuing education” credits for flying to Waikiki during the long, dark Alaskan winter. It doesn't show up on my college transcript, but my parents gave me “extra credits” for going home for Christmas.
Aside from extra credits, there are more and more organized trips available to satisfy curious travelers about other parts of the world. Organizations like Smithsonian Journeys, National Geographic, and Road Scholars offer inquisitive travelers the opportunity to learn more while visiting new regions.
For younger generations, there are many exchange programs that allow children to spend the school year abroad. The Rotary Club here in Anchorage places children from all over the world with local families while also hosting children from overseas.
Additionally, many universities offer study abroad programs that allow students to attend school in another country.
These options are a great starting point for learning about different countries and cultures, so if you get the chance, be sure to get your passport stamped.
Even if you aren’t part of an organized program, you’ll remember what you learn while traveling.
When I visited Tanzania recently, I was blown away by the experience of seeing large animals living in their natural environment up close. You can read books, watch movies, or hear stories from friends, but seeing the animals in person is much more moving.
While photos of lions, elephants and zebras will fill your scrapbook, curious travelers will also look beyond the game reserves and national parks, where the people are a case study in resilience and adaptation.
I believe interacting with local people is an essential component of the travel experience: the inquisitive traveler will encounter people who think differently, speak differently, eat differently, worship differently, and see the world from a completely different perspective.
Tanzania was the 30th country I visited, and although many of the people we met spoke English, the same English their children learned at school, it was the most “foreign” experience I've had.
Our guide, Ima, drove off the highway between Arusha and Mount Kilimanjaro Airport onto a dirt road. Not many roads in the country are paved. Some of the main roads in the national parks are regularly graded and graveled. Most of the roads in the Ngorogoro Crater and Serengeti plains were similar to the Denali Highway and McCarthy Road. The Land Cruiser therefore had to have stronger suspension, tyres, brakes and transmission to cope with the tough conditions.
However, the road to Yima's village hadn't been improved for some time. It was full of ruts and holes from a recent rainstorm. In fact, the rain had destroyed the road to the village we had originally planned to visit. Yima's village, Kingori, was plan B.
Our four-part visit provided a glimpse into daily life in the village. First, we toured the clinic, staffed by a physician's assistant. The clinic was modest by Western standards. The largest area was devoted to caring for pregnant women, including a delivery room.
With electricity in the village, the clinic can now store and distribute vaccines and vaccination supplies, even though not all homes still have electricity.
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Ima had bought a goat prior to our visit, so a barbecue was held in the village, with all the goat meat used in a variety of dishes, including fresh vegetables from the local fields. A few men were still roasting the goat over an open fire when we arrived.
As part of an ongoing environmental initiative by our tour operator, we were asked to plant a few trees outside the village centre – deforestation is an ongoing issue as timber is still harvested as a fuel source.
After enjoying a barbecue lunch with the villagers, we headed to our final destination, Ima-san's primary school.
We re-boarded the Landcruiser we had used on our game drives in the national park, but the rugged footpath from the village to the school provided a good test for the vehicle.
Ima had to shift into first gear and crawl over the badly rutted road. It would have been better to walk the mile and a half from the village.
When I arrived and saw the school, I was shocked. There was a rainwater collection system on the roof. There was no glass in the windows or classroom doors. There was electricity only in one corner of the school, in the principal's office.
Another corner of the building was a kitchen, complete with a cooking fire, where lunch was prepared for the children each day: the ceiling and the upper half of the exterior walls were stained black with wood smoke.
We arrived during the children's summer holidays, but the school was still in use. Ima recalled getting a good education at the school; he went on to secondary school and then university. But the physical layout of the buildings and grounds was unlike any school I had seen in the Western world.
The lack of infrastructure like electricity, roads, and buildings seemed frightening to me. But for Ima and her family in Kingori, it was a normal part of life. And they are a joyful community. It is not that they are indifferent to the struggles of such a life, or to the government. Rather, they are grateful for their land, their bountiful harvest, and their families.
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Across the country there is a sense of “Hakuna Matata” – a phrase made famous by the film “The Lion King” that literally means “take it easy” or “don't worry.”
If there's a lesson for travellers here, perhaps it's to take a cue from the people who live at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro: That's not to say that roads, electricity and running water aren't important, but we shouldn't forget the important things in life: family, community and education for our children.
I was still thinking about that joyous view of “Hakuna Matata” as we came down the hill and reached the main road.
I didn't get any extra credit, but that was the lesson I learned on the 31-hour flight back to Anchorage.
