Global Studies

…Is a multipurpose phrase. It refers to the cocky birds that parade around the streets of New York, taking up safe human spaces, out of their comfort zone, making the concrete arteries their own. They’re true New Yorkers. And we circumvent them, or have to, because “The pigeons live here, we don’t,” insists Matea, as we dodge people and potholes in regular intervals.

“Resident pigeons,” as we call them, are also the equally cocky delegates at the conference who insist on “holing” themselves up, with single-minded devotion, in their committee rooms, skipping every meal, every break (and possibly, every breath), to work on the resolutions that are to be up for voting. That would never happen in the real world, where diplomats realize the importance of rest and relaxation. As Hillary’s committee chair reminded them, “Please take your break. I don’t want you getting sick. After all, we’re the Pan American Health Organization.”

Speaking of real diplomats,  our keynoter at the opening ceremony of the Conference at the actual United Nations General Assembly was none other than the Secretary General of the United Nations himself, Mr. Ban ki -moon. As we sat there in slack-jawed awe, Mr. Ki-moon was quick to indicate that a future Secretary-General of the United Nations needed to be “a woman.” It was a note worth taking, because in this era of Feminism and Gender Equality, a woman at the helm of the United Nations would be like a female President of the Universe, since we know of no other life-forms beside ourselves, and the United Nations is the closest thing to an unofficial universal government we have.

And as Guatemala, a small but pivotal figure in the American wing of this organization, we have an interesting part to play. As our mission briefing helped us understand, we are a transitioning nation that needs the world’s help, are also very proud of our capabilities and our potential. That sounds familiar, quite like a typical student at our college, I think. I mean, it’s not very hard to play a part when it’s ingrained in you, is it?

A samovar is a kettle. And Patrick is a saint. Therefore, a sainted kettle blessed our delegation in its own, well, boiling way.

It all began, as all things should, at 5am on Monday, March 17^th, in the Main Parking lot.  Seeing most of the delegation in the laundry room a few short hours before was very heartening, because it meant no one was sleeping.  In fact, it was bonding. Who needs new t-shirts when you’ve got to wash your old ones, anyway?

Unlike every year, our preferred mode of transport this year was the Amtrak Crescent Line, and Lynchburg was pretty much the only rural stop on it, from New Orleans to
New York. And unlike every year, all of us ladies realized that we had a weight limit on our luggage. Jessie Rowe, who went first, clocked about fifteen pounds over, and the numbers increased steadily, as did the red in the ticket clerk’s face. But we haven’t been living behind the Brick Wall for nothing. The waiting area soon looked like an assembly line, with everyone’s bags in a row, and all of us trying to stuff shoes, clothes, and more clothes into each other’s already splitting bags. It was a quick and concise session of Packing 101.

After a train journey rife with snores (others of course, never our delicate delegation) and forest fires by train tracks (yes, the firefighters were cute) we rolled into Penn Station, ready to take on the city, the colors, the noise and the people.

Like last year, we arrived here on St. Patrick’s Day, which meant that we felt it necessary to pay him tributes, because the conference didn’t start until the next day, and because
New York was begging to be discovered. That meant, of course, that we had to check in.

We arrived at the reception of the Sheraton, expecting to be free in a few minutes… Three hours later, we had been moved out of the lobby into the “Refugee Camp” on the third floor— a room stuffed full of six other delegations whose bookings had been mixed up too. We were in danger of turning from future diplomats to future hoboes.

After reiterating for the tenth time that “No, we cannot come back tomorrow,” we were ushered, finally into our rooms. Matea and my patience was rewarded because we were put in a room complete with a king-size bed, an iPod deck and a view to die for. Very different from the original plan, but also very welcome.

We did eventually disperse to worship St. Patrick, and I found myself in the quieter parts of
Manhattan, at a Russian place, where the owners were very happy to explain the qualities of a samovar, depending on how “mesmerizing” your eyes were, and how many glasses of beverages you could stand. I wonder if they realized that eyes have a tendency to get like that, especially when not in focus.

The night was finished up with all the delegation toasting the conference, and ourselves, and promising to work harder than ever for a better world. Then, we made it back to our hotel, singing of a fair one, and dreaming of making it a reality.

The student delegation representing the College at the Model United Nations, March 18-22, 2008 in New York City was…

• Mekhala Ninad Chaubal
• Matea Paulina Osti
• Hillary Pauline Peabody
• Saara Lindsay Taylor
• Oleksandra Petrova
• Sabrina Priska Ackley
• Nataliia Petrova
• Anneka Gardiner Freeman
• Aleksandra Bojarska
• Jessie Mary-Marie Rowe
• Brittany S Eubanks
• Ankeeta Shrestha
• Evgenia Ivanovna Filimyanova
• Kelly Victoria Smitham
• Ashley Thomas
• Olga Chervatyuk
• Jennifer Ashley Rosner
• Janice Kaday Williams

Faculty advisor was Jennifer Abbassi, associate professor of political science and chair of international studies.