The following is an old journal entry directed towards my best friend. I guess you could consider this as my explanation to her of why I felt I HAD to move away from our hometown, an idea that she most definitely did not favor. In the passage, I discuss my love of travel in relation to a trip I took to Washington, D.C..
12/29/15
This past year when I was looking down on the clouds with the Pentagon right below me, I was instantly addicted. I was addicted to being free, rich, and poor, all at the very same time. I was free to experience the world; no one knew who I was (kind of). I was just another tourist landing at the airport. I could be anyone that I wanted to be—a completely clean slate.
Other than my mom transferring a little spending money into my account, I was definitely rich with passion. I didn’t ever really know what was going to happen on what particular day, or where that day’s events would lead me. All I knew was that no matter where I ended up, I was ready to take on the day, 7 am sharp with my banana in hand scrambling to catch the bus.
The same thing that made me feel so rich also made me feel poor. I had no idea what the heck I was doing in such a huge city. The freaking capital of America. But then again, my lack of knowledge and experience also contributed to my feeling of freedom. One day, the day we were to tour the Washington Monument and browse the Smithsonians, we had four hours of complete and total freedom. No chaperones, no specific itinerary, no worries. It was just me, my girl [name], and Washington D.C. Hopping and bopping from Smithsonian to Smithsonian, we got lost a countless number of times. Thank goodness for google maps or we wouldn’t have made it back.
There’s just something about freedom and a clean slate that I can’t get enough of. I don’t have anything to hide, I just like the idea of being another face in the crowd; another passerby with their own individual and unique life story.
A beautiful mystery. At least that’s what I felt like when we were walking back from the Jefferson Memorial one night while the cherry blossoms shielded us from the outside world. That’s the thing. When you travel, you don’t feel exposed. There’s so much going on that no one cares to stop and stare at you. That kind of goes along with having no tie downs.
Like one night when we went to a program gathering (aka, a clean party—even though they didn’t want to call it that). [My friend] ran off to go dance and have a good time but that was fine by me. I got to chill and she got to have a good time. No one in D.C. knew her, or honestly cared about her provocative dance moves, so a few weeks later when I met up with her and her family for a Christmas dinner, they had no idea what she had been up to, and all was good.
She wasn’t up to anything necessarily bad, but it’s just the general idea of it all. I could’ve tried to bust a few moves on the dance floor, but dirty dancing isn’t my thing, and I was avoiding having to do the electric slide at all possible cost. Eventually I did join a huge circle of people dancing, and I had a great time. Not dirty dancing—just the cha cha slide and macerana. Those are my kind of people.
Anyways, back to the subject of the riverboat cruise, travel makes you do things that you never thought you would ever do. I remember standing in the uppermost deck of the riverboat, looking out over the Potomac. I don’t think the sun had quite set yet, but it was close. I heard the first few twinkling notes of “Best Song Ever” by One Direction, and I nearly slipped when I bolted towards the stairs to head down to where the main party was.
I busted through the french doors of the parlor, and somehow I ended up being in the middle of a giant circle of people, singing and dancing to my heart’s desire. I never thought my inner fangirl would come out in a room full of people that aren’t exactly fangirls like myself. But I guess travel will do that you to.
If none of those people know me or my story, what do I have to lose?
After my fangirl episode, I went back upstairs, and by this time it was dark outside with the only visible light coming from the boat itself, and the Potomac. That’s when I sat next to John from Arizona. I know what you’re thinking, and no, I didn’t magically fall in love with John from Arizona. I never even saw him again. Well, I take that last part back. Anyways, he was John and he was from Arizona.
He was talking to another girl, and I was kind of eavesdropping on their conversation. I’ve always had a minor infatuation with the arid state of Arizona—please don’t ask me why, I don’t know— so this was my chance. I asked him every cliche question about Arizona, and he didn’t even seem to mind. He told me about the tumbleweed season, enormous cacti, the climate, and some kind of thorny vines that devour any kind of plant you attempt to grow.
That was literally the basis of our whole encounter, but I was entranced. I admittedly don’t really believe in the forever kind of love, but I do believe in temporary love. The kind where you momentarily fall in love with strangers, but not in a sexual way. You just find someone interesting, and you love and admire them for that single moment in time. It’s just that one moment, and then you never see them again. Nothing more. I find that beautiful.
Fast-forward to the day when we got lost in the Library of Congress. I’m talking about being at the exit at the other end across from where we needed to be in five minutes, kind of lost. [My friend] ended up saving the day and getting us to where we needed to be, but on the way back, we stopped at the esteemed collections of Thomas Jefferson. TJ’s library was at the very top of this huge and elaborate stairwell, kind of like the ones you see in a cliche princess castle. Standing at the top of that staircase, I looked out over the dozens of tourist flooding the area, and I kid you not, I spotted John from Arizona.
It was like a scene from one of those awful romance movies: one of the lovers spots the other one and runs down the stairs to meet them.
Except we weren’t lovers, and I didn’t run down to meet him. I stood there. He eventually did notice me, and I thought about approaching him, but then I figured some things were just better left alone. I never saw him again. I still wonder about him from time to time. I searched for him on social media, but came up empty handed. Thinking about it now, I’m content with it being one of those temporary love things. It’s one of my favorite memories.
It’s the little things that you end up carrying with you in everyday life. I find myself remembering things about this trip through little snippets that surface to my memory. That’s the best and worst part about traveling: the memories. The evanescence of it all. The memories are so treasurable, yet they also leave this aching and nostalgic feeling inside of you. It’s an indescribable feeling. I hope it never ends for me. I want to continue to experience new things, and I have to keep moving forward in order to do that… I hope that one day you will understand.
What has made the biggest difference in my life has been the knowledge that God loves me and He has a plan. I believe (as presented by my favorite author C.S. Lewis) that life is a series of peaks and troughs, and it is a ridiculous assumption for us to believe that it would be all peaks.
Though God certainly uses the peak times to help us grow, I believe that there’s something special He does in us in these trough times that give us character and develop us into who He wants us to be. My story is a testament to this.
When I was seven, my Dad’s job transferred. As a family of six we packed up and moved across the world to Istanbul, Turkey. At the time, reassured by the fact that there would still be Barbies wherever we moved, I wasn’t too concerned. However, growing up in a country away from your birthplace has its challenges.
I began school at an International school, but when I had not picked up the Turkish language by fifth grade, my parents gave me the option of transferring to a local school. Without giving it too much thought, I took them up on it.
The first week was incredibly rough for me. I spoke little Turkish, and I was placed in a classroom with 53 other students.
I couldn’t communicate and was out of my comfort zone. I came home crying after school every day the first week. However, through this God showed me that He was my refuge, and He would take care of me regardless of my circumstances. Through this tough time also came the ability to speak Turkish, in addition to some amazing friendships that have continued through college.
Another tough transition for me was moving back to the United States. After graduating from high school I decided to attend the University of Georgia, Go Dawgs! However, my friends from high school scattered across the country and world, so apart from my aunt and uncle. I knew no one in this new place. In addition, there was once again a cultural difference, despite no language barrier.
Growing up overseas meant that although I am shaped like an American on the outside, inwardly I am shaped quite differently.
Once again, I was really hurting, and I didn’t feel like I had anyone to cling to. Everything I had known and grown up with was 5,000+ miles away, including my family. Once again, God showed me His faithfulness. He showed me that when He brings me to something, He’s also going to bring me through it. He showed me that He is with me no matter what. He showed me once again that He wants to have a relationship with me, and that all I have to do is come to Him.
Though this was a challenging time, I’m stronger because of it. Though it might have been easier for me not to move back to the US. for college, God brought me closer to Himself through this, and once again has given me some amazing relationships.
Today, God continues to show me His faithfulness and how He uses the tough times in my life to make me more like Himself. As an aspiring journalist, I interned with a news agency this summer. Confronted with the headlines of international news stories each day has been challenging. Through this too God has shown me more of who He is. When I see how truly broken the world around us is, I recognize the world’s need for a savior.
How fantastic it is to learn that God loved us enough to send His son to die for our sins and to give us hope. What an amazing realization that we have a God who understands suffering, and who promises us His presence through the peaks and the troughs.
I’m so thankful for a God that makes life delightful no matter where in the world we live, as He has promised his presence to us through it all and uses what seems like the toughest times for our good.
I clutch the armrests of my seat with clammy hands as the plane takes off. This being my first flight, I tried to revert back to childhood and pretend I was simply on a rocket ship that was headed toward the moon.
My fellow passengers glanced around to see where the dragon-like heavy breathing was coming from, and smirking with amusement when they saw a wide-eyed, young girl who clearly was not used to being this far off the ground. “Just play it cool,” I thought to myself. “People do this every day.”
Before I knew it, the airplane landed and I began my grand adventure in New York City. At first, I was completely overwhelmed by the massive buildings, crowded streets, and lack of nature. I was appalled at the filth of the city, the non-existence of Southern manners, and the rat-like pigeons that flock the streets and stare at you as if they’re preparing to attack. I felt as if I was drowning in an asphalt sea, and on the first day, I was terrified of being swept away by the currents of people that seemed to be living their lives way too fast.
“How can people live here?” was the question that echoed in my mind over and over again.
Guilt consumed me that night as I realized how deplorable my attitude was. I began the next day making a strong point to open my heart and mind as widely as I could to one of the most celebrated cities in the world. I prayed that God would open my eyes to the world-renowned beauty that I just could not see when I first became acquainted with New York.
During the second day of my trip, my friend and I were strolling through the hectic and spaghetti-scented streets of Little Italy, looking for a nice restaurant to relax, eat lunch and watch the World Cup. While I was glancing around at the different restaurants, searching for the right one, I finally found what I was looking for.
What I found was not a place to dine—Instead, what I found was a mural painted on a brick wall.
This colorful painting was the stunning face of a woman, with each piece of her fragmented visage a unique design of different colors and patterns. It was an extraordinarily striking work of art.
I realized in that moment that New York City is that woman.
Every single piece of this city—the joyful, the blue, the brown, the beautiful, and the ugly—were all necessary to create a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. By only focusing on the ugly pieces, I was missing the larger picture.
By the time my adventure in New York ended, I understood that people moved so expeditiously because they were zealously chasing the dreams that they refused to let escape them.
I learned to love all of the massive buildings, because they were a product of years of sweat, irreplaceable hard work, and inconceivable accomplishment.
Together, they create the most magical skyline in the world.
I discovered Thoreau-worthy nature in the form of Central Park, a picturesque area that contained the lushest, greenest grass I have ever napped on in my life. The waters surrounding Lady Liberty, the globally recognized symbol of freedom, sparkled and proudly beamed like the stars on our flag.
I visited the deepest and darkest scar of the city, the 9/11 Memorial, and witnessed the inexorable patriotism of those who work to preserve the memories of the fallen. I will never forget the tears that came to my eyes as I tried to rationalize the pain and horror that occurred exactly where I was standing a little over a decade ago.
New York is a city of innovation, dignity, patriotism, passion, dreamers, and most importantly, doers.
They are people that accomplish their wildest ambitions and contribute considerable amounts of productivity to the world. Because it challenged me daily to step beyond my comfort zone, I departed the city with a full dose of inspiration, thicker skin, and yearning to chase my dreams as fervently as they chase theirs.
I am so thankful to God for opening my eyes to this remarkable piece of His creation, and implore everyone to adopt the same mindset wherever they travel—discovering the beautiful pieces that make up the striking masterpieces there for us to learn from, grow from, and appreciate. Except the pigeons—I still hate those pigeons.
It has the uniquely horrible ability to inflict masses of people and blind them from seeing any potential beauty or art.
This unfortunate condition inevitably inhibits any person from acceptance of other cultures or other beliefs. Ignorance is not bliss – it is destructive.
On Friday night, I received word of an attack committed against the parents of a friend of mine. Initially in disbelief, I learned that my friend Trisha Ahmed’s father, Avijit Roy, had visited Bangladesh to attend a book fair. He was a blogger and writer of secularism who had been inspiring a plethora of freethinkers around the world for years.
Roy’s life work garnered the attention of Islamic extremists in Bangladesh who waited for he and his wife, Rafida Bonya Ahmed, after the book fair. It was then that these machete-wielding extremists murdered my friend’s dad and wounded her mother.
These people were so riddled with misunderstanding; their hatred was fueled by nothing less than pure, unadulterated ignorance.
Roy was not unaware of the response people like these extremists had to his writing, yet he was not discouraged, and his passion remained unwavering. Unaffected by their ignorance, Roy continued his work even when he received death threats, pursuing what he was passionate for. It is because of this that Avijit Roy was forced to give his life – for never concealing or abandoning his beliefs.
The radical assailants who murdered Trisha’s dad have come forward, yet have not been prosecuted. This disconnect in the justice system of Bangladesh would hardly even be fathomable in the United States and many other Western nations.
Our society recognizes injustices such as the manslaughter of Roy’s and we treat such atrocities accordingly.
However, without global recognition of the killing of Avijit Roy, it is likely that his death is never brought to trial and his murderers go unpunished, which cannot be ignored by the international community. Regrettably, the death of my friend’s dad is simply one example of countless injustices that infect our world – don’t let the disease spread.
If you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything. Share the story. Reduce the ignorance.
They come in different colors, textures, patterns, sizes, prices, and brands. The joy that I get when opening or trying on a new pair is just unexplainable. The fresh smell, the never been worn aspect and bright colors, untouched by nature, is just so enamoring.
It’s like being knighted from the queen, being told you’ve inherited fortunes from a relative you never knew you had. It’s like winning 20 Grammys in one night, showing Adele that she isn’t the only one killin’ em, ooh.
Shoes bring joy and something to talk about with a complete stranger. A culture movement or cultural clash that you can argue about. A forever changing and unstoppable evolution.
Are you happy with your job? Are you looking forward to the future? Do you love the people who you surround yourself with? Are you motivated to do your best? If the answer to any of these questions is no… then hear me out. If you are just living life through the motions, are you really living? How do you live life to the fullest?
“Your time is limited, don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living the result of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinion drown your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition, they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” – Steve Jobs
1. Stop putting your life on hold for others.
Are you putting any aspects of your life on hold for others? Your #1 priority is YOU. Uncover what you have been putting on hold and start working on it daily. Value your life and your time. Why are you letting someone else’s opinion of you control your own personal thoughts? Don’t let others opinions of you determine your own happiness.
People are entitled to think whatever they want, just as you are entitled to think what you want. What people think of you does not change who you are or what you are worth, unless you allow it to.
2. Do the things you love.
Life is too precious to spend it doing anything else. I dare you to begin doing what you really want in life. Spend your time on things that bring you fulfillment and happiness. We are not here to pay our bills and die. You are here to live life to the fullest. Start doing what you really want, not what you think other people want you to do.
Ask yourselves these questions?
What makes me feel most alive?
How do I like to spend time with the people I care about?
What sparks my passion?
3. Spend more time with people who enable you.
Hang out with people who are positive, successful, and help you grow. Let go of the relationships that do not deserve you – that means negative people, dishonest people, people who are overly critical of everything you do and relationships that prevent you from growing. Let go of the toxic people in your life that do not support you. Surround yourselves with people who will bring out the best in YOU and those closest to you.
4. Get yourself out there.
Get out there geographically. Go out, travel, and explore the world. Get on a road trip and visit as many countries as possible. Traveling helps learn who you are.
Studying abroad in London for one month helped me learn how to be more self-confident and self-reliant and also realize how small we are in this world. Meeting people from other cultures will teach you that the way you’ve been looking at the world isn’t the way everybody else does. Go explore and travel.
“The most important thing is to enjoy your life—to be happy—it’s all that matters.” ― Audrey Hepburn
In proud partnership with The Dean’s List, a digital branding and career services company that empowers young professionals and small businesses.
Culture has always been a big part of my life. As a youngster, my parents raised me to learn the importance of the Greek from which my family originated. In turn, I learned about other peoples’ cultures, too.
I wasn’t always surrounded by a sea of vibrant cultures and foreign languages, however. I lived a large portion of my early childhood in the rural suburbs of Louisville, Kentucky: the land of horses, bluegrass, and baseball bats. While it was a fine upbringing, I didn’t experience much cultural diversity other than familial Greek customs. I wouldn’t be exposed to the beauty that other cultures had to offer until I was at the ripe age of 7, when my Dad got relocated to Atlanta, Georgia for his job at UPS.
I didn’t expect much from moving to Georgia. In my head, it was just another city down south, akin to Kentucky in terms of diversity. One 6-hour car ride later, we were living in a town on the outskirts of Atlanta called Johns Creek, affectionately called “Johns Korea”. My family had moved to a massive cultural hub where there were people of all nations everywhere around me. Down the street, there was a massive Asian market (H-Mart). Russian and Persian groceries were also present, and there were plenty of middle-eastern bakeries and restaurants.
Johns Creek was where I did the largest portion of my growing up. It was a place that, while sometimes boring and extremely suburban, was still full of intrigue from all kinds of people.
After school, especially in my younger days, I would often hang out at a friend’s house for a few hours before dinner. Many of my friends were Indian, Korean, Chinese, Scandinavian, Italian, Pakistani, or Iranian, and their cultures were vastly different than what I had been previously used to. Within their homes were sometimes entire rooms devoted to religious ornaments or other cultural amenities I had never seen before. It was a wonderland. I would walk through friends’ houses looking at all the unfamiliar statues, ornaments, pictures, and furniture, while wonderful wafts and scents floated from the kitchen, which eventually turned out to be an awesome snack.
I continued living like this, saturated by massive amounts of diverse cultures surrounding me. This saturation followed me through high school, but everything changed a bit after I graduated and went to college. Don’t get me wrong, UGA has a pretty wide degree of diversity, but it wasn’t what I was used to back home.
As a freshman in college, I craved a diverse setting similar to home.
That craving followed me around until sophomore year, when I was in the market to join an organization and actually do something with myself. My friend Nisha (shout out!) almost immediately blurted out, “Hey, join AIESEC!” I had heard plenty about it from her, and it seemed like a good enough cause to be a part of, but I still wasn’t entirely sure, at least not until I met the people involved.
After I joined, I remember being at the first Local Committee Meeting, walking in and seeing all the members talking and laughing with each other. I can honestly say that I felt entirely at home at that moment. There were more cultures around me than I knew what to do with, and I couldn’t wait to soak it all in, and learn so much more. AIESEC provided a home for me, as well as some cultural respite that I desperately needed.
We all might be from entirely different backgrounds, and have our contrasts between each other, but I absolutely call these people my family.
Not only are they there for me through thick and thin, but through them, and all the other AIESECers I’ve met through them (believe me, there are a lot), they continue to give me the remainder of the cultural upbringing that I need, satisfying my hunger for knowledge about the many people of the world, and their ways of life.
I believe that there are many different types of travel in the world.
There is the travel that calms you. When I think of this specific type of travel, I think of tropical beaches far away on a remote island where the breeze is warm and the water is clear.
The next type of travel is the type that excites you. Where you’re forced to be independent during the hustle and bustle of a crazy city so that you don’t end up lost. Exciting travel is where you don’t speak the language. When you’re constantly struggling to understand directions or hold a conversation with a local all while laughing hysterically and nodding your head throughout the confusion.
But the last type of travel is the greatest of them all. The type of travel that causes a revolution in your heart.
The moments that make you realize that the only thing separating you from the woman you see in the slums is luck. The experiences that sprinkle you with little reminders of how precious life is. The children you meet that give you a new-found appreciation for vulnerability and love. This is the type of travel everyone should experience.
It was 9:10 pm in Nairobi, Kenya when I landed after being on a plane on and off for the last twenty-four hours. I was anxious yet comforted, finally back in Africa after a year of being away. There is something about Kenya that illuminates a beauty that is hard to experience anywhere else. Even now, I find myself reminiscing about daily routines that I took part in while I was in Kenya.
I imagine myself taking a motorbike from the house to Junction Mall where I’d then hop on a matatu (big taxi bus) for ten minutes as I headed towards Riruta Satellite. This was where Mary Faith Child and Rescue Center was located. No matter how many times I’ve taken this route, my heart always skips a beat when its time for me to get off at my stop. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is for two reasons. 1) I’m automatically the center of attention because I’m by myself, have red hair, and am the whitest person a local has probably ever seen- literally and 2) I have so much happiness built up inside knowing that I’ll get to spend the entire day with my favorite kids that this world has to offer.
Even thinking of a routinely task such as this, a commute that I often dreaded at first, causes great happiness in my heart. My hands get sweaty. My heart races. My mind thinks about what activities the girls and I would do that day. I am happy in this moment- and for every moment up until the time I close my eyes to go to sleep for the night. This daily activity truly became an experience that I looked forward to each day. I felt reassured in the fact that I would soon be back with the girls at Mary Faith and we could pick up where we left off the day before when it was time for me to leave.
If someone was to ask me what I learned from traveling to Africa twice I would have a million answers for them.
There is no way to easily describe the way your heart and spirit transfix when you’re put in scenarios you’ve never prepared yourself for. I learned great things, like how someone can be happy with nothing. I learned the reality of the world, the violence and the destruction. I learned that my heart has been forever cultivated by the people I have formed relationships with overseas.
The biggest thing I took away from my traveling experiences was learning to listen to understand and not to listen to respond. The best way to show someone you care about them is by listening to them. Letting them speak. Hearing their voice. Learning to listen to people more also helped me learn to appreciate relationships more. Whether it was with a taxi driver I had just met or a child at the orphanage I worked in- talking with them, building a relationship with them (even if it was short term), and letting them know how much they were loved and appreciated truly amazed me. It is so beautiful to watch peoples eye light up and their hearts flourish because of the joy they feel when they are acknowledged.
One of the most memorable experiences I had when I was in Kenya was when I met Salma for the first time. Little did I know that this 6 year old little girl would become my sponsor child. There will never be enough words for me to describe the impact she has had on my life and the passion and desires she has placed on my heart. It was Christmas Day, I remember it so clearly. She was wearing a faded green dress and gleamed with joy. She was so happy. She had this light about her. An aura that burst from the seams of her being- gracing us all with her profound spirit and playful heart. Within ten minutes of being at Mary Faith Orphanage and just interacting with her my heart felt heavy. I watched her play from a distance as I spoke with the head of the orphanage.
I knew within that moment that I needed to sponsor her.
Later that day Salma had asked me if I was coming back. I told her no since I had only intended on going to Mary Faith for just that day. This was a crucial moment during my trip, something that I vividly remember and will never forget. Her eyes changed. Those big chocolate brown eyes that held such a sparkle in them instantly became filled with sadness. She grabbed her face and ran away. I followed her as she ran into the kitchen (which wasn’t much of a kitchen) and saw her sitting on the floor crying. I went over towards her and sat down. I picked her up and placed her in my lap as we cried together. I told myself, “Nicole you cannot leave her.” After a massive amount of snot and tears (gross, I know) we had agreed that I would start coming back each day until I left for Uganda (and even then, not knowing that the distance would be unbearable, that I would end up flying back for a week).
This moment paved the way for my one way ticket back to Kenya.
My buddy Pmang told me I needed to interview this rapper. Told me he was one of the most talented lyricists he’d ever heard.
NICE (a.k.a. Nyuanru), 20-years-old, born and raised on the streets of Providence, Rhode Island.
Well, shit. I had to find this guy.
I was down but the problem was he didn’t have a computer or a phone. He’s so underground you barely see his Melkavine cap popping out of the ground. In a beaten up white Honda with creaky doors we drove around East and North Providence, checking his normal spots. My buddy hit up a few of his friends but no one could find him. Wasn’t around Providence College, nowhere near La Salle Academy, his old high school, not around the mall. So I thought it was pointless and I’d be going back to Connecticut. But Pmang had the idea of swinging around his house. I swear we graduated college.
From the first listen, NICE has this lyrical emphasis with a voice that echoes Common and Mos Def. Check out the rapid fire angst coming from his feature verse in the Afro-Americana centric track, “HEAV7N.”
But while there is a definite political punch to his lyrics and delivery, he has a Millennial vibe. Several artists these days talk about broad concepts or subject matter and just insert themselves like they’re playing Mad Libs. Like how Future harps on getting fucked up and the auto-tuned language of the short term high along with heavy machismo. Contrastly, NICE offers a deeply autobiographical tone.
He spits about the uncertainties of being a young black man trying to form a craft that might not payoff.
On one line he’ll talk about how he hustles to keep the tracks coming, getting the tapes out there, and he’ll pivot the other way proclaim he has no idea what it all means, saying “Only Lord Knows.” It’s a new type of poetic storytelling that relies on how men are opening up about their emotional struggles. NICE is on that wave. But by no means is he soft.
NICE and Travis $cott.
We pulled up to a one floor house, looked like a three-bedroom made from light brick in a neighborhood built in the 70s that hadn’t changed much. Pmang blared on the horn and NICE popped his head out. He had a big smile and came roaring out.
He wore this black leather jacket with a hood and dark blue jeans. He was a bit confused to see me. Like he sort-of recognized me. Last time we met I was at an impromptu concert at a club in North Providence. Pmang and I were the only white people in attendance. Guess we stuck out. The sky was overcast and grey and gave the whole city a grit that wanted to shake your hand.
I pulled out my voice recorder. Told him I was here for an interview. Thought I might not get another chance.
He was a little off-put with how eager I was to start, probably thinking who the hell is this guy. After I dropped how we’d met before, guy greeted me like an old friend.
NICE first dipped his toes in the game when he went with Pmang to a concert at Lupo’s, a staple of Providence music. “I didn’t really go to concerts because it’s weird for me,” NICE continued, “I’m always overanalyzing so I don’t really get to enjoy it. But, I was chilling with [Pmang] and my cousin called me right then and told me ‘yo I got two extra tickets for A$AP Ferg and YG you have to come.’ Pmang and I love Ferg so it was like Fate.” After that, he wanted to drop bars full time.
As we drove around, Nyuanru slightly rocked back and forth. He kept eye contact answering each question. Even when we passed Chad Brown Street, where you see flashing red and blue four days out of the week. Sirens blared as they sped past us but he was focused, he wanted to get his point across. But what was that internal spark?
A dedication to his city.
“What really sparked it for me was that there really hasn’t been any major artists from Providence that have made much of an impact in a long time. I mean, I just found out the guy who did George Washington’s presidential portrait was from Rhode Island. Which isn’t bad at all but I can’t name anyone off the top of my head from Providence who’s had much of a cultural impact, especially when it comes to music. I want to be that guy.”
He started hanging around the rap scene, learning from them, getting close, dabbling in freestyles with his own personal approach. That propelled him to want to put Providence on the global scene.
His influences transcend generations of hip-hop because each source of inspiration centers around one thing, “Everyone I listen to like DMX, Eminem, Tupac and a whole bunch of other guys are more than music and they know that. It’s deeper than rap.”
NICE has this shade of the belligerent braggart similar to DMX because it’s essential for every rapper. But he weaves it so well with a polarizing commentary on race relations in tracks like “Go For Broke.”
Even the shape of his city has influenced his artistic development. Providence has its own type of strange. Everything is fifteen minutes from each other. Thayer Street by Brown University is full of restaurants, bars, and indie shops. And two blocks down you run into a collection of boarded up townhouses filled with squatters and hipsters who couldn’t make rent. It’s not like Chicago or New York with designated areas for certain demographics.
Providence is so small that the experiment of America as a melting pot came true, for good and bad. You could run into an investment banker and a clan of meth heads on the same street within seconds of each other.
With all these people on top of each other and the cross wiring of culture, race, and politics it’s no wonder Providence calls itself The Creative Capital. But hip-hop is just on the come up.
“It’s going to sound so cliché but Providence is just so new with rap and hip hop.”
“And I’m feeling like the industry is looking for the next best ‘question mark.’ Where people are browsing through music and they see us they think ‘what is that?’ We have no choice but to be original because people like me don’t have connections”
Then Pmang chimed in, “Basically if you’re not authentic. You’re not fucking with us.” Nyuanru nodded his head like he just found the words he needed. He then continued talking about Providence as a city and what it has to offer. NICE wants to bring all the artistry he can into the limelight.
“I think we’re all at a point where if we want to go anywhere, we have to stand out. I mean we get boxed in with all the other scenes in New England like Boston and New York and that just sucks. It’s time we carve out our own piece.”
One of the ways NICE and those associated with Melkavine stand above the fray is the web-series Free Verse, which he hosts. A series where he meets up with local Providence rappers and spits acapella freestyle. No beat. No prompt. Just raw language.
“I think each of these guys have so much to offer from a cultural stance, they were bred from this city. We want people to be a part of Free Verse because they have a voice. Not because they’ve got buzz or making dozens of tracks. I want the originals.”
As we drove to Pmang’s buddy’s place I could see NICE doesn’t fuck around.
Not just for himself but everyone he can bring along. He wants to be that X-factor who will bring a whole new wave of artists to invade the airwaves, similar to Top Dawg and Kendrick Lamar with the renaissance of Compton rappers. We passed by a parking lot and NICE told us to turn left, some of his friends were chilling.
One of them was another local talent named Messy Tye. Wearing a green veteran’s jacket with a blue bandana and short cut dreads, Tye is a soft spoken and humble guy away from the mic. But you should see this guy spit. Glad I had space on my phone for this.
NICE and I leaned against Pmang’s white Honda as the sun went down. From the look on Messy’s face, he was reassured that he did what he loved right then and there. So I asked Nyuanru what was that one song or lyric or verse that made him decide to go all in with the hustle.
He rubbed his chin with both hands and thought hard, “It’s this track called ‘Movin’ On’. (that’s only a little taste) And honestly it wasn’t until I performed it that I knew what this track could actually do. Because, it was supposed to be a throwaway. Not really a throwaway…but a filler to prep for a larger project. Unintentionally, or at least more than I expected, I put my emotions, parts of my past, and things I’d been going through into that track.
“Seeing how people connected with it when I performed, I mean, some people were crying or put two fingers in the air beating their chests.”
NICE performed Movin’ On at the Providence Arts Festival a few months back and he was shocked to see “once the strings came in and the beat dropped there was this whole mixed crowd, mixed races, cultures, nationalities, orientations, genders, just bobbing their heads. I brought people together. That’s when I knew I had something to offer. That was the moment.”
We’d gotten to the apartment and were sitting on the couch playing Beerio Kart. A few of Messy’s friends tagged along for what was certain to be a wild night. NICE wasn’t drinking, just chilled and watched us get sloshed without a hint of judgment on his face.
Young Thug was bumping in the background. NICE nodded slowly, playing with his hands like he was on a switchboard. He was in a zone and I had one more question left. A question I already knew the answer to, kind of.
I asked what he thought separated Nyuanru from the rest of the come-ups. “Basically what I want to do with music is push culture and open minds because I think that is what everyone with a craft wants to do.”
I liked the answer but I could tell there was uncertainty in his voice.
He didn’t have a definite reason. And I think that’s really good. From what I’ve seen when being around talented musicians, the ones meant for great things don’t have a message or a specific goal as to why they’re in the game. An artist just feels compelled to create because they have something to offer and can move people through their talents. From what I gathered NICE right now is in a spot where he doesn’t know exactly where the music is going but he wants to ride it. He’ll have time to solidify what he wants to bring to the studio. Right now, it’s all about the vibes and message of the moment.
About ten minutes later he asked to borrow my phone. He called a number as we all kept drinking, Mario Kart 64 wicking and wa-wa-wawing in the background. Once Nyuanru handed back my phone he tapped one of his friends and said he had to dip out for some studio time. He shook my hand and off he went. Back to the underground.
I don’t know when I’ll see him again but hopefully it’ll be backstage mobbing out to one of his beats. Sure hope he gets a phone.
Sitting in the airport awaiting my 5’o’clock flight I was anxious, nervous, and totally unaware of the adventure about to take place. I arrived in Florence unsure.
Unsure about what I was doing, unsure about spending 4 months in a foreign country without my closest people, unsure about my relationships and myself. It took me a while to realize I had this giant opportunity at my feet and it was up to me and me alone to make it either the greatest lesson of all time or a measly, elongated vacation. I chose the first.
Stumbling through cobble-stoned streets in my worn out converse under lines of laundry and open windows, I found myself.
I found a home in a dated apartment with 7 other girls all on the same journey. At nights I planned my weekends away, filling my calendar with trips to places I had no idea would leave such an impact on me. I met the most wonderful people and experienced first-hand the most beautiful cultures. Strangers taught me more about life than my entire school curriculum ever has. (But I promise I still learned school things mom and dad.)
However, every day wasn’t picture perfect like it was portrayed via social media. I experienced some of my toughest battles while abroad, and being thousands of miles away from my support system was not ideal then. But that’s when I learned the most. Time and conflict are not compatible.
Life doesn’t throw you your toughest days when it’s convenient for you.
It was then that I learned how strong I really am. I learned that I couldn’t control other people, but I could control how I let them affect me. So I refused to let the bad ones get to me, not when I was surrounded by so much beauty and opportunity. I had the opportunity to waste my days abroad in a fumbled mess trying to put back the pieces of something so broken, but instead I chose to build something new.
I convinced myself that there was something so good to be seen in every single day, I just had to go find it. Whether it was something big like riding ATV’s along the coast of Santorini, or just eating a really awesome Panini, it was there, and it was important. My mind and my heart were stretched to new lengths. I found new wonders and treasures I will cherish forever, like my hideaway church on top of a lonely hill in Italy, or that hole in the wall restaurant where the owners know you by name. So sitting here throwing out my worn out shoes, I’m actually proud.
I’m so proud of the places they took me and the memories made in them.
It came and went faster than it should have. There were so many pictures taken and “storage too full notifications”, so many 40 euro flights I wasn’t convinced were going to ever reach the ground again, and so, so many new friends and new memories that would be showcased on social media but would never actually reveal the true depth of the moment. Many feelings came to play throughout my months, but the one I found most consistent was gratitude. Every day I thank my lucky stars that I had this opportunity to see the moon from a new side of the world, to fulfill a part of me that’s been missing for a while, I just had to go find it.
I’ll never truly be able to properly put into words how much this experience meant to me, but if I tried to sum it up I’d do it with my favorite over-used quote of the trip:
“This just doesn’t do it justice.”
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