Panrimo Blog

What inspired you to create Panrimo?
In college while considering my international studies options, I couldn’t find a program with which I felt comfortable. It was either a faculty-led program that was too specific, or a third party program provider that made me feel like a cattle being corralled among the many. I graduated college, worked in the corporate field, lived abroad, and during all this I thought about how I could make studying and interning abroad easier for others than it was for me. I wanted to create a more intimate, personal experience for a very important decision people make in their life. And so was born Panrimo.

What is the most important thing for companies to keep in mind when offering an internship to a foreign student?
Make it a win-win. You as the employer are taking a lot of time and financial resources to welcome and properly train the student–the Panroamer–to be helpful and efficient for your business. That’s a sacrifice I completely understand. The student is traveling thousands of miles and paying to work–likely for free–in a completely unique setting to him or her. That’s a sacrifice. With the supervisor (you) appreciates the extra help and international fair of our student, and if we prepare the student well enough to be culturally ready for many situations abroad, everyone involved wins. Just have an open mind and know the student simply didn’t hop on a plane on a whim.

Is there a set of characteristics that you look for when deciding if an applicant will be successful in their internship abroad?
A successful Panrimo student applicant is someone who has some experience in the field of work their vying for abroad. We do not provide our employer partners overseas anyone who hasn’t had hands-on experience already, or at least ample classroom knowledge, in the field their going to intern in. We also make sure the student can write well. And equally important, when we Skype interview each applicant before considering them for an interview with you, we gauge the likelihood they’ll be mature enough to live in a foreign country.

What advice would you give to a student that is interested in interning abroad but not sure if they are ready to live in another culture?
If a student, I recommend you read up, watch a ton of films and movies, listen to music, and meet natives of your country of interest while you are in your home city. Understand the culture before you go abroad. Create some preconceived notions about the culture; it will make life abroad upon landing an easier adjustment. And chat with Panrimo staff and Panroamers! We and they are a wealth of knowledge on all things abroad!

What is your favorite part of the intern abroad process?
I love the partnering process. I love meeting nonprofits and businesses abroad, both small and large, and sharing with them our success stories of Panrimo interns working overseas. Seeing if partnering with them and them with us is always a healthy debate, often had over the host country’s local plate of food. It’s as much a satisfying feeling to find a great business or nonprofit in a city abroad that just would not be a good fit with us as it is finding a stellar business or nonprofit abroad who “gets” what Panrimo does and is eager to receive quality international students as interns. When a student interns at that organization through Panrimo and returns home with a great experience on their resume and contacts abroad, I feel I did a good job.

Have you studied or interned abroad?
During my first year in college I knew I wanted to go abroad. And soon. I found a faculty-led program to Mexico assisting a professor in the Yucatan on analyzing post-consumer content. Geography wasn’t my major, but it did push me to decide Spanish would be. The next year I organized a group of 8 classmates, communicated with a university abroad, and study Spanish in Spain. That program has since been taken over by my alma mater and they send 15-25 students to Santander, Spain yearly. I finished classes a semester early and decided on Buenos Aires for my honors thesis project. A professor in political science inspired me who had been there. I had never been to South America. I met someone at a party in Michigan and he put me in touch with his Argentine cousin. From that one contact I left Buenos Aires with dozens of friends I have today. Graduating college I went to Prague, Czech Republic to visit my mom who was living there. I worked selling Argentine beef and wine and hosted wine tastings at embassies in Prague. The rest is history! I probably sleep in my own bed less than half the year. I travel a lot.

On an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning in late April, I started sweating through my shirt. For months I’d been waiting for a single warm day, the faintest hint of summer – there was hardly a spring this year – when I wouldn’t have to don my jacket, sweater, and long-sleeved shirt to shuffle against the brutally chilly winds. Of course, the perfect day coincided with the day Panrimo was relocating offices. I’d considered this a positive sign, but it’s harder to appreciate the symbolism when you’re out of breath and hardly just begun. And when you’re hauling shelves, desks, bookcases, sofas, chairs, and an assortment of odds and ends up and down a flight of stairs, you’d be surprised how quickly you can turn against great weather.

I stood in front of the ventilation system, letting the flow of air cool me for a few blissful seconds before resuming the Sisyphean task before me. Whenever we finished packing something, it seemed another item unearthed itself. Back and forth, up and down, with a few breaks in front of the vents for an artificial breeze. After a few hours, the once warm and cozy office had become cool husk. While I welcomed the temperature, the starkness was a touch unsettling.

Over the course of the day, my sentiments about the perfect weather varied. After setting the last piece in the back of the van, the sun remained a reminder of the unpacking to come. The sweltering heat that blasted from the door as I got into my car didn’t exactly help. But driving down the freeway with the sun shining and a cool breeze coming through the windows raised my spirits and lowered my body temperature. Watching the Detroit skyline drift into view, with the Renaissance Center glittering alongside the Detroit River, sparked genuine excitement.

Surveying the empty space upon arrival, we quickly mapped a new layout and got to work. Unpacking took half the time, or at least it seemed so. With each item unloaded, my enthusiasm sparked. Every few minutes, I’d spare a second to glance at the Renaissance Center towering above the city. Across the river, Windsor bustled along, another country within a stones throw. The sun still beat down, but the work felt easier. When we finished, the warmth felt like a reward instead of an opponent. It felt like a greeting, or perhaps an introduction.

May marks the beginning of an exciting time at Panrimo: new office, new programs, and new perspectives. It’s time for summer in the city, whichever city that may be. Bonjour, Detroit!

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

My name is Stacie Fraley and I am Panrimo’s Intern Abroad Coordinator. Before accepting the position this January I was a Panroamer myself. I spent the summer of 2012 working at the National Museum through Panrimo’s intern abroad program in Prague, Czech Republic.

I can honestly say I have never felt so sure and relaxed about a decision as I did about going to Prague. This terrified my mother being as I’m normally the worry about and over analyze everything type. The endless possibilities and opportunities that lay ahead of me excited and intrigued me. I was bound and determined to make the most of my short 8 week stay in Prague. I fell in love with the city of Prague, the Czech people, public transit, and the Czech culture. Never in my life have I felt as at home in a place as I did in Prague.

I learned an incredible amount from my amazing coordinator Katerina about the daily operation of the National Museum. Mostly I worked on their online collection called eSbirky. My daily tasks included scanning and uploading photographs of new items and linking them with their descriptions on the website or organizing and categorizing existing items in the system. Many people would say that sounds boring but I loved being handed a disk or flash drive and not knowing what I would find.

Katerina also arranged trips in order to expose me and her other interns to Czech culture and the work of other departments of the National Museum. One of these trips was to the city of Terezin, located an hour or so outside of Prague. The city has a dark and humbling past as it was a concentration camp during World War II. Despite the cities past the work that occurs in the restoration and photography studios at the National Museum location in Terezin is truly remarkable.

To say I had an amazing experience at the National Museum and in Prague would not do it justice. There isn’t a day that goes by that I do not miss the people at the National Museum and the city of Prague itself. The longing to go back to Prague is what drove me to apply for the position at Panrimo. I want every intern student to have an experience as wonderful if not more than I did. Hopefully one day I will return to Prague until then communication with Katerina and fellow interns will help keep the memories and the desire to return alive.

I could see the bottom of the pool, but only where the light shone through the natural ceiling. The column of sun pierced through the surface of the water, illumining massive slabs of rock piled at the bottom, twenty feet from the surface, with fish weaving through gaps in the stone. Darkness encroached on all sides, coupled with the bedrock surrounding me. I could feel my heart racing as I tried to peer through the murk into the rest of the pool. The black water remained impenetrable, teeming with imagined monstrosities. All I could muster was a grimace.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I was fortunate enough to spend a week in Mexico during December. While the experience was culturally revealing, I also had the opportunity to confront some personal fears. Of course, there’s the blank stare resulting from language barriers, but there are also more visceral fears. Staring down a sinkhole? It’ll get the blood flowing. Climbing straight down into the sinkhole? Pulse soars. Plunging into a hidden lake within the sinkhole? This is the only result I could imagine.

Oh hey, y'all!

“Cenotes,” the Maya term for the aforementioned sinkholes, are characteristic of Mexico, and particularly the Yucatan Peninsula and around the Chicxulub crater (the impact site of the meteorite that likely extinguished the dinosaurs). The sinkholes result from the collapse of limestone bedrock, exposing large pools of groundwater. The water is often impeccably clear, as these pools are simply surface connections to subterranean bodies of water that accumulate through rain water filtration. The cenotes are often connected through underground channels to other cenotes, creating extensively linked cave systems that are still being explored and mapped.

Enter my imagination and my fears.

I know it’s relatively irrational to believe in cave and river monsters. But staring into a pool of dark water connected to dozens of miles of unmapped caverns leaves a little room for doubt. Combined with an active imagination, moderately embarrassing fear of total darkness (and, naturally, caves), and fear of seeing things swimming beneath me (fish, crabs, or even seaweed being pulled by the current), my grimace turned into a shiver.

While I wrapped my arms around myself and quaked, I watched children climbing the walls of the cavern. One particularly enthusiastic boy had managed to cross several small gaps in the bedrock to reach a natural ledge. Perched a solid fifteen to twenty feet above the surface of the pool, he shouted to his friends and without hesitation cannonballed straight into the darkness. Moments later he surfaced, unscathed and without jaws attached to his legs. His friends cheered and I chided myself: twenty-three and terrified of doing half of what this impetuous kid didn’t think twice about.

I took another look into the pool, watching fish dart through the column of light, disappearing again into the murk. I felt the shiver rippling through my shoulders again. Images flashed through my mind: glinting jaws, serpentine coils, and finally only darkness. But through the darkness cut a column of light. Oh what the hell. So in I plunged.

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

It was darker in real life.

Yesterday, I was seized by serendipity. It was trivial, really, but oddly enjoyable. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been traveling through the Midwest visiting different universities. These visits are going well, and the novel experience of traveling alone for extended periods has been interesting to say the least, with blizzards and flurries to spice up the days. Of course, visiting these universities entails quite a bit of driving, and as I mentioned in a previous post, the opportunity for my mind to wander. Though yesterday, instead of wandering, it decided to overload, leaving me smiling incredulously at the open road.

Driving yesterday, I glanced at my odometer and noticed I was a couple dozen miles short of reaching the 100,000 mile marker. While this may seem an utterly unremarkable occasion, I’ve developed a sentimental attachment to my car, the places it’s taken me, and the time I’ve spend within it. 100,000 miles represented a personal journey; not simply physical, but emotional as well. It’s slightly embarrassing to admit, but I was excited; I even snapped some pictures of the odometer to preserve the moment. When the last “9″ flickered and became a “0,” and the leading “1″ popped into existence, the moment hit.

A quick note: serendipity is one of the most difficult words to translate, as the connotation of the word supplies more meaning than it’s literal definition, described as “a happy accident” or “pleasant surprise.” I’m using the term loosely here, considering I didn’t find anything inherently useful in this experience; rather, I found a moment of unsolicited joy.

Watching the odometer strike 100,000, trying to safely snap a quick picture, my ears filled with the jagged frequencies of a synthesizer smashing into the mix of my favorite driving song. With it’s muted and minimalistic introduction, “Dance Yrself Clean” by LCD Soundsystem hadn’t even registered as my soundtrack for the moment, but as the odometer switched over, the song hit the 3:08 minute mark, my favorite mark, where, as one music reviewer noted, “[the song] jack[s] up the volume… sending anyone who had turned up the volume scrambling to dial it back down again.”

But dial it down I did not. Instead, I sat there, stupefied and enveloped by the walls of sound. Serendipity flashed across my brain, and I ruminated on the happy coincidence of my favorite driving song reaching my favorite section as my odometer reached 100,000. Like I said, trivial.

But for the next few minutes, as the song played out, I radiated happiness. Dazed by the random intersection of events, I beamed my smile. In the end, this pleasant surprise won’t inherently mean anything. There’s not really anything “to be gained.” But it felt like small victory, a symbol of the journeys traveled, and many more to come. And besides, what’s the harm in celebrating randomness anyway?

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

PS:

Mexico gets a bad rep. Flick through some episodes of prime-time dramas set in the southwest and you’ll inevitably find at least one story arc involving a cartel of some sort. Violence, drug trade, human trafficking, immigration, and other sobering topics crop up as major themes, often exploited for viewership rather than addressed with nuance and genuine concern. While these associations stem from legitimate problems being faced by Mexico and the United States, it seems opportunistic to spotlight them as plot vehicles. And worse, these fictional[1] portrayals inevitably alter the connotations of ‘Mexico,’ percolating through pop culture into our collective conscious, where we inevitably draw from these associations.

I was fortunate enough to spend a week in Mexico over the holiday break, specifically in the Yucatan, the safest state in Mexico (sheltered, I know, but caution never hurts). When the opportunity was discussed with my family, it met resistance. Of course I take their counsel seriously, though when some of the more humorous dissenters mentioned expecting a finger in the post, I couldn’t help but question their logic. It implied a generalization about an entire country[2], a pretty broad stroke. This belief wasn’t relegated to just family; friends and acquaintances relayed the same idea: danger. Their arguments did little to sway my decision. Honestly, they may have strengthened my resolve.

Flying internationally on my own for the first time, coupled with the standard fear of the unknown and a heavily fortified language barrier[3], had me uneasy upon arrival, but my nerves quickly subsided as I grabbed a drink and waited for my friend to meet me with the rental car (again, sheltered, but also convenient). Within a few hours, I was sitting at a wooden picnic table eating corn tortillas and beans while a large group of the citizens of Chelem (pop. 5,200) gathered in the town square to support an initiative aimed at supplying the elderly of the town with more food and clothing. I sat in silence, oblivious to the social discourse, but overwhelmed by the implications I drew from the event.

Over the course of the week, I was thrust into situations that made me uncomfortable; it’s unnerving being aware that you look confused during 90% of a given conversation.

Perdón?

However, I managed to piece my way through: transferring tiny bits of information felt triumphant when they finally broke through the barriers. I was greeted with a wave and smile in each store I entered, each market I walked through, even while casually walking. I got hugs from strangers I’d met minutes before, even a round of drinks. Yes, I was often uncomfortable, but never endangered.

When discussing the trip upon return, I couldn’t help but reflect upon my first night in Mexico. It’s easy to be dismissive, to fixate upon the worst, taking connotation as definitive: that I would encounter a culture gripped by rampant violence, that the US is unequivocally safer, and the not-so-subtle idea that our culture is inherently better. But watching hundreds of people congregate in Chelem’s center to support their fellow citizens illuminated the irony of our cultural misconceptions. Rather than danger, I found community, a sense of civic responsibility, and genuine concern for one another; facets our own culture could most certainly stand to strengthen.

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

Nothing says serious like patches!

I’m standing in a room filled with suits and skirts. The styles range from classic professional to business casual to hipster chic with a touch of modern professional, muted tones, slim ties, and all. I idle in the doorway, watching an older gentleman jest amongst a younger man wearing a tweed jacket with clashing elbow patches and a young woman who I suspect is the ambassador for American Apparel: black pencil skirt, red blouse, red flats, and black tights. Nearby, a woman in an emerald green jacket chats with another woman wearing a grey pantsuit. Young, old, reserved, hip; each community represented in the midst. This was NAFSA’s (International Educators) regional conference. I scan another moment before sidling to the bar.

After grabbing a beer, I try to approach a group of people before silently panicking and deciding to casually breeze past them, hoping they hadn’t noticed my attempts at eye contact. After returning to the fringe, I force myself to endure a self-administered pep talk: you know how to talk to people, they’re all in the same situation, just walk up and talk, do the thing, network. Network. The verb clanged through my mind before I mustered the energy to return to the fray.

Networking gets a bad reputation. Granted, walking up to random people with the intention of making business connections and trying to impress strangers with impromptu wit lends an atmosphere of competition. Some revel in its the spontaneity, while others submerge in the sea of suits and skirts. It feels like sink or swim; you’re either one of the two people dominating the conversation among a group of peers, or you’re listening. Or so I’d assumed.

I found myself fluctuating along the spectrum, inserting small jokes here and there and engaging in momentary side conversations, but as the night continued, I found my pace. Despite the eclectic mix of tastes and styles, the prevailing attitude was the same: curiosity. The competitive atmosphere I had been dreading was revealed to be an air of genuine attention and interest.

I realized that contrary to resembling a stacked race where only the most connected won, the entire group had been set on an equal playing field. We weren’t a randomly assorted group of professionals; we were people, looking to make human connections, no matter the attire. That changed everything.

By the end of the night, I realized I’d enjoyed myself, despite my earlier apprehensions. Perhaps my “network” had expanded. Perhaps it hadn’t. In the end, that wasn’t the point.

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

A few months ago, Tony updated Panrimo’s blog with a post about “Tony time,” when he’s able to pause the hectic pace of life and appreciate some solitude. While obviously specific to his own experiences, the desire to disentangle ourselves from the intertwining threads that hold our lives together is universal. The frequency that we require these moments varies from person to person, and even then will differ during the phases of our lives. However, detaching, digesting, and assessing is inevitable; it happens whether we invite it or not. While Tony had planned (successfully) to find his center in la pampa, I began to glimpse mine in a less orthodox setting: the open road.

During the past weeks, I’ve been traveling around the midwest attending education abroad fairs, finding pleasure in the interactions with both students and university faculty alike. However, these trips entail hundreds of miles to travel, which translates into hours upon hours of driving. Typically on long drives, I find pleasure exploring music that’s piqued my interest at that moment. However, after listening to the same albums a few times on a single journey, I welcome a little silence.

You’d be surprised how quickly your mind expands when there’s nothing to distract it: you can’t browse YouTube or Facebook (safely), and there are only so many people you can call. After a few minutes of silence, the hum of the road and the fluctuating plains cut with roads and the occasional river create a soothing atmosphere (having the ability to control the interior temperature helps too). You’re aware of every moment, yet time still slides through you, and you find yourself thirty miles further than you had been in the blink of an eye. You follow the gentle curves of the road, while your thoughts follow their own course, meandering at points, while other times striking in rapid succession, with each consecutive thought building upon the last until you’ve lost yourself down the rabbit-hole. You end up considering the value of relationships, human interaction, and social theory when you had started with “I wonder how large that field of corn is.”

Each drive has transported me physically, mentally, and, occasionally, emotionally. I end up in a different place every time, sometimes where I’d expected, other times less so. Instead of worrying about how much longer I have left in the car, I’m allowed to examine my emotions, my actions, my relationships, and my life. Conclusions are sometimes reached; other times, I can only marvel at the random string of events that have lead me to where I am. Sometimes I find solace, while other times I’m disquieted, having learned nothing.

But that’s one of the reasons that I value these self-imposed periods of free-style meditation. Rather than being influenced by external sources or lulled into a false sense of comfort and complacency, I’m given time to explore my own psyche, the good, the bad, and the strange. The thoughts and concerns I tuck into the recesses of my brain reintroduce themselves, and I can entertain them at my leisure. Sometimes, they’re present the entire drive; other times only a few minutes. They can be comforting, they can be strange, they can be disconcerting, or even painful. But in the end, these thoughts are inherently mine, and it’s always good to get reacquainted with myself; I’m surprised by the things I learn.

So where do you meet your psyche?

Dalhousie Castle

I boarded the bus at 9:14am, southbound to Bonnyrigg and Dalhousie Castle, which would loom above field and forest. At least, I presumed I had boarded the southbound bus. Instead, I headed straight north, into downtown Edinburgh. You’d think that studying a local map and bus routes for an hour or two the night before would be enough to avoid such a simple mistake, but left-hand traffic sometimes adds a level of spontaneous oversight. So after ten minutes, nine stops, one pound, and forty cents, I got off the wrong bus and onto the correct one. Of course, I boarded after stopping to buy a soda and get exact change – the buses happily accepts any tips, regardless of your intent.

As I sat down, I noted the cabin was relatively empty, although I had spotted a face or two in the upper levels. The bus took me past my hotel, which I had left nearly half an hour earlier. With the intention of confirming I was on the correct bus and hoping not to embarrass myself, I walked to the driver and asked if this bus stopped in Bonnyrigg. He noted my accent (or lack thereof) and asked where I was headed. I mentioned Dalhousie and he was kind enough to give me instructions on how to reach the castle. I would have a short walk down the road from the bus stop, where the bus turned west, though I would continue south. Relieved, I sat back down and watched the houses pass. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so intimidating after all.

Although it began with a rocky start, my first journey alone through a foreign country went well. I reached Dalhousie Castle, toured the grounds and forests, and admired the castle itself, which didn’t loom, but was pleasantly nestled against a small river that carved the boundaries between the field and the forest. After the tour, I headed to the falconry area, where dozens of hawks, owls, and falcons perched, secured to their roosts by a leather tether. Some chittered noisily as I approached, others eyed me warily, and the rest ignored my presence altogether.

Nice to see you too!

After wandering for a minute, I managed to find the falconer. After speaking with her about the birds and their place in Scottish culture and capturing some footage of her handling a plump little owl, I decided to consider the day a success.

Michael Radke

Academic Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com

The first time I stepped onto an airplane, I was twenty-three years old, had been working in the international education field for eight months, and was certain that the plane would explode spontaneously during my ten-hour flight. My imagination was running wild, as was my heart rate. I could see headlines: “Fiery Irony: Untravelled travel professional perishes aboard first flight.” Foolish and morbid, I know, but the unknown can be a bit daunting, especially when it’s altitude is 30,000 feet.

Of course, the ride went smoothly, the following flights were even easier, and the experiences unforgettable. But since that first flight, a phrase has skittered around my head, born as I shuffled through the security queue in Detroit Metropolitan Airport: “What have I gotten myself into?”

I began working at Panrimo as a part-time intern, focusing primarily on social media, writing informational materials, and research that entailed each. Not having previously traveled overseas, I was uncertain if I would be exceptionally useful, but I appreciated the opportunity and resolved to broaden my interests. It didn’t take much. Within a few months, I had learned more about European history and culture than I had during school. Countries I hadn’t considered with interest unveiled their charms, and I grew enamored.

Panrimo grew in tandem. I watched a new program catalog come and go and assisted writing our Orientation Booklet, a major resource offering detailed information about a student’s host country. I learned about local customs and habits, the subtle differences that exist even within the same city, and, to my chagrin, how easy these can be to overlook. I found words repeating: “resort,” “spa,” “relax,” “leisure.” Was this traveling? Global resorts where you remain sequestered, venturing out only when led to a pre-ordained spot to witness something vaguely “cultural?”

Hand-in-hand with these ideas, I learned Panrimo’s mission: to teach students to become educated, interested, and involved travelers. To avoid becoming too comfortable, familiar, or jaded, and learn the tools that create life-long experiences. Experiences you instantly recall, not pictures hidden deep in the archives of Facebook, Flickr, or photo albums (they still exist).

It became apparent that to learn these skills, students must engage local culture and take their first furtive steps out into the world. Seizing this line of thought, Panrimo began creating new programs, emphasizing our desire for cultural immersion. We revamped our entire website, adding sections to educate students about local culture before leaving and urge travel to neighboring countries while abroad. We created unique excursions and city immersions to interest, entertain, and educate students. And we’re debuting the Panroamer Travel Club, where students can utilize our resources for free during future travel.

With these changes came apprehension. Would these help students? Would they prove successful? I remember the research, writing, editing, and re-editing. And I remember thinking to myself, “What are we getting ourselves into?”

Something huge.

Explore our website to learn more about the changes we’ve made, or feel free to contact us!

–

Michael Radke

Admissions Coordinator

michael@panrimo.com