by Eva Araujo, photography editor

I’ve never been the person to walk outside, close my eyes, and smile because the sun on my skin feels like warm kisses or laugh because the wind makes my hair dance across my forehead. No, I’m the kind of person who sits inside all day–in my bed, letting the laptop warm my stomach while I nibble on a slice of cold, leftover pizza because I’m too lazy to warm it up.

Summers for me are always the same. I wake up around 1:30 p.m., only to lie back down on my couch and watch old episodes of “House Hunters: International” because there’s nothing else on TV. Later, I text my best friend Emily, tell her I’m going over to her house, only to lie back down once again, but this time on her couch and either a) take a nap or b) continue watching “House Hunters: International” because there is still nothing else on TV.  When it starts getting dark I come home planning to start my summer homework, but somehow my laptop will always mysteriously finds its way onto my lap (isn’t that always the way?), in which case I will stay up all night watching whatever TV series Netflix has guilted me into watching that summer.

Yup. That’s the typical summer day in the life of Eva Araujo. Exciting, huh?

But this past summer has been different. Oh, has it been different.

My team and I landed in Siberia, Russia, 8:00 a.m. sharp on July 31. We were going to be working at kid’s camps in the Zbikowski region. Camping has never been my thing: in fact, before this trip, I’d never even stepped inside a tent before. And yet for some strange reason I had expectations, and at the time I didn’t think my expectations were set too high or anything. However, I very soon found out that I was completely wrong.

Our camps were located a couple hundred miles out from a nearby city that I’m not allowed to name. We arrived around 7:00 in the evening and I was extremely exhausted due to jetlag and the 18-hour flight.

I opened the car door expecting to find a beautifully laid out campsite, and a tent equipped with at least some kind of mattress, calling my name.  Instead I found.grass. Yup, just a bunch of grass.

My heart sank and I could literally feel my eyes tearing up. Where was I supposed to sleep? Where’s my beautiful mattress? Why can’t I hear it calling my na–ow. I look down at my hand and see it–a mosquito.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: a mosquito? Really Eva? Of course you will see a mosquito, you’re outside…for once in your life. But no, this wasn’t just any mosquito; it was a mutated, giant, wildebeest, King Kong of a mosquito. I quickly slapped my hand to kill the damn thing. Hah, I thought to myself–take that.

But then I looked down at my clothes. Mosquitoes covered me. I frantically started flailing my arms in the air, jumping up and down like a crazy person. I heard a few people laughing so I looked over to see what was so funny. A group of Russians were looking at me, with huge grins on their mosquito covered faces. “Psh…Amerikanski,” they said almost in tears laughing at the stupid American trying to run away from the mosquitos.

I hid underneath a towel for an hour or so shielding myself from the deathly things. Then finally I heard someone shout in Russian that the tents were ready. I peeked out from under my towel as a member of my team handed me a sleeping bag.

“No mattresses, I’m guessing?” I asked.

She sadly shook her head no.

That night I sat in in my tent, unable to sleep regardless of how tired I felt. I was cold, hungry and sad. What have I gotten myself into? I thought. But then I heard it: the gentle hum of the wind, the trickling patience of the river, the soothing synths of the insects playing their song, the gentle moans from the wood of the trees dancing with the wind. Siberia was singing to me all this time, and yet I never took the time to stop complaining and just listen. I felt stupid from all the dramatics I displayed earlier. I realized I’m not here for me, I’m here to help these kids with no home, no parents and no one to tell them everything is going to be okay.

This past summer I challenged myself; I went completely out of my comfort zone. It was hard, and at times I just really wanted to go home, but I had to stop sitting inside in the dark, literally and metaphorically, and go outside.

This year, I challenge everyone to step outside.

Put down your phones and close your laptops.

Step out of your comfort zone, and do something you could never see yourself doing.