Hi, I'm Julia and I have spent the last few weeks working in the Finance department of TROSA, an organization dedicated to rehabilitating substance abusers through long term care, education, and tangible work experience. The program is inspirational in what it does for each resident on its campus, but it is also an incredible example of the economic growth that has spread through Durham, NC. Beginning with $18000 and an idea, founder Kevin McDonald planted the roots to an organization that now houses, cares for, and teaches hundreds of residents through work in a wide range of fields including automotive maintenance or repair, moving, sales, and lawn care. This progression of development acts as a nice reflection of Durham itself, which has in recent years become a center for entrepreneurship. Perhaps the most visible evidence of this is the sudden increase in small businesses and restaurants downtown that make Durham “America’s Foodiest Small-Town” according to Bon Appétit and Fortune Small Business’s #12 place to “Launch your own Business”.
Obviously, having access to such a well endowed location has been a wonderful experience, but this vibrant center has admittedly also limited my exposure to the rest of Durham. As chance would have it, a broken down van and last minute attempt to tackle public transportation for the first time brought Courtney and I on a very real tour of the unexplored. It all began last night after learning of the situation with a panicked realization that neither Courtney nor I had go passes, which reduce the cost of riding local buses. At the graciousness of our peer program members, we obtained borrowed passes and began a series of searches through possible routes to follow the next morning. Little did we know, this research proved rather unhelpful as we embarked on our trip to work today. The first hiccup was the ambivalence of Google Maps, which seemed to change its mind every few minutes regarding its preferred stop for our journey. Failing to locate this constantly moving target, we wandered down some familiar roads to our first bus. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the bus itself, as prior conversations on campus about Triangle Area Transit had led me to expect the worst. Instead, I saw commuters on their way to work quite like myself and thankful to be out of the sun’s reach. There was a mother with two small children that took to repeating catchphrases while climbing over each other to test her patience. There was a man who welcomed every passenger as they entered the vehicle only to motion for a cigarette that he placed in a box of miscellaneous brands when successful (it seemed to be a one in four success rate). I was intrigued, but more than that I was excited to be making my way through Durham with all of these people that escaped my notice on my day to day encounters while on campus.
Everything was going smoothly until we realized the bus had skipped an entire loop that included our destination. Immediately hopping off, we found ourselves in front of a shut down Laundromat on the side of a highway. Needless to say, we were lost. Forty minutes later after two sprints across highways in the blazing heat wave sun and the death of an unsuspecting critter, we ran in front of our last bus of the morning and finally walked onto our campus site drenched in sweat from the Durham summer sun. The receptionist made a humored face as we walked through the door, but it seemed knowing, as if getting lost on the bus system were a right of passage toward becoming a true Durham resident. Obviously apologetic about our disheveled appearances, I was also inwardly proud that we made it.
Obviously, having access to such a well endowed location has been a wonderful experience, but this vibrant center has admittedly also limited my exposure to the rest of Durham. As chance would have it, a broken down van and last minute attempt to tackle public transportation for the first time brought Courtney and I on a very real tour of the unexplored. It all began last night after learning of the situation with a panicked realization that neither Courtney nor I had go passes, which reduce the cost of riding local buses. At the graciousness of our peer program members, we obtained borrowed passes and began a series of searches through possible routes to follow the next morning. Little did we know, this research proved rather unhelpful as we embarked on our trip to work today. The first hiccup was the ambivalence of Google Maps, which seemed to change its mind every few minutes regarding its preferred stop for our journey. Failing to locate this constantly moving target, we wandered down some familiar roads to our first bus. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the bus itself, as prior conversations on campus about Triangle Area Transit had led me to expect the worst. Instead, I saw commuters on their way to work quite like myself and thankful to be out of the sun’s reach. There was a mother with two small children that took to repeating catchphrases while climbing over each other to test her patience. There was a man who welcomed every passenger as they entered the vehicle only to motion for a cigarette that he placed in a box of miscellaneous brands when successful (it seemed to be a one in four success rate). I was intrigued, but more than that I was excited to be making my way through Durham with all of these people that escaped my notice on my day to day encounters while on campus.
Everything was going smoothly until we realized the bus had skipped an entire loop that included our destination. Immediately hopping off, we found ourselves in front of a shut down Laundromat on the side of a highway. Needless to say, we were lost. Forty minutes later after two sprints across highways in the blazing heat wave sun and the death of an unsuspecting critter, we ran in front of our last bus of the morning and finally walked onto our campus site drenched in sweat from the Durham summer sun. The receptionist made a humored face as we walked through the door, but it seemed knowing, as if getting lost on the bus system were a right of passage toward becoming a true Durham resident. Obviously apologetic about our disheveled appearances, I was also inwardly proud that we made it.