I'm Standing at the Crossroads, I believe I'm Sinking Down...

We stopped by Greece. Literally. Did you know it's possible to treat a country like a fast food restaurant? Cause it definitely is. We landed, got on a tour bus, drove to the Acropolis, said hi, got back on the bus, drove around, got off the bus, and hopped on another flight.

Hey, Greece.

You were pretty darn cool. Athens looks like a lot of fun. And thanks for everything, like democracy, geometry, and philosophy. We appreciate it.

Love, Westmont College Europe Semester '09

After our little Greece tour (which really was cool albeit short. I mean, we stood on Mars Hill for Gentiles' sake), we were on our way to Istanbul. Welp... goodbye Western world, hello... um... well... something else?

On the flight, I got giddy. So did Sam, Lizzy MacRae, and Megan Woods. See, we have been waiting all semester to give our city presentation, on Istanbul. Lizzy and I were in rows across from each other (Side Note: Olympic Air? Very nice. Westmont basically had a plane to ourselves. I mean, I had a whole row to myself, as did about 10 other students. They also served a meal on a one hour flight, complete with a cookie run, and two drink runs. Gotta love government subsidized airlines. Take note, America), and our eyes were glued to the windows. When Istanbul became visible through the darkness and fog, we both turned to each other. We smiled, and then simultaneously mouthed the words: "Istanbul! What the...?"

We landed in a pretty darn modern airport, and I was already taken aback. Despite reading it various times over the semester, I had somehow forgotten that Turks use a Latin alphabet. I was expecting to see Arabic calligraphy everywhere, and I wasn't. My paradigm wanted something to be there that just was not... It was weird. We took a coach to our hotel. Yes... we have hotels while we're in Turkey. As in: room-service-bringing-turn-down-service-comfortable-bed-nice-shower-in-room-TV hotel rooms. Wow... what a welcome change. I mean, don't get me wrong, the hostel thing was fun while it lasted, but Merci Dieu for hotels.

The next morning we gave our presentation. You know those dreams you have where you wake up five minutes before you have to give a big speech and you're totally unprepared? Yeah, that actually happens. I forgot that we gained an hour from Italy, and so my alarm was set to go off fifteen minutes into my presentation. Thankfully, my roommate came in 5 minutes before class and woke me up. Let's just say that I gave my parts of the speech in Kent Hotel - Istanbul slippers. Definitely bringing those things home as a souvenir.

Then, we went out to the Crossroads. See, Turkey's not quite the West... but it's definitely not the East either. It's unique. I get woken up often to the Islamic Call to Prayer (which is absolutely beautiful, by the way.), but the streets and shops here feel totally Western. It is just blatantly obvious that this is a Middle Eastern culture (as in an honor/shame paradigm, mixed with some nomadic traditions) that has fallen in love with Western culture. I have been treated SO well by the Turkish locals. Everyone wants to know where I'm from, and they will come right out and talk to you, even if English is far from natural for them. This was most evident in the Grand Bazaar.

Which has a perfect name. It's grand (it makes the Mall of America look small), and it is bizarre. The shop owners all stand outside and lure you into their shops. But they're not pushy. Italians were pushy, they'd almost guilt you into eating at their restaurant. Turks are just nice. They've got a sense of humor too. I walked by a carpet shop, and the owner looked at me and said "Let me sell you something you don't need!". I gave him a thumbs up as I walked away belly laughing. I met a really kind Macedonian who let me custom build a hookah. I'm thoroughly pleased with it. The best story comes from the jewelry shop owner though. I was hanging out with Joy in the Bazaar, partially because I didn't want her to be alone in there. It is unbelievably easy to get lost in a place that has no readable signs and where every shop looks identical. Anyway, I was just hanging with the owner ("Your name is Kurt? Like Kurt Cobain? Oh, I like Nirvana. I listen to them in high school"), while Joy shopped ("Here, sir, you sit while lady shops. It's hard when woman shops for hours. I know"). We talked for probably a half-hour about quite a bit of things, including my major ("Politics? really? Well, then maybe you can be Kurt Bush. No! Wait...Kurt Obama, that's much better."). The funniest part of the conversation went like this though:

Shop-owner (I believe his name was Ashmet, but I could be wrong, he will be referred to as "A" from now on)

A: So... how long?

Me: ... (thinking) how long? what the..? ... What do you mean?

A: How long have you been married *pointing towards Joy*?

Me: hahahaha... oh! Well, actually we're not married.

A: Oh oh, boyfriend and girlfriend?

Me: No, no... we're just friends.

A: ... Really? *looks blankly at her. Looks back at me* ... *Looks at her again. Then to me again* Just friends?

Me: Heh heh, yup just friends...

So, now the running joke is that Joy and I are married (It was really fast, I know. Heck, we can't even remember the ceremony... or the engagement, for that matter).

Anyways, back to Turkey. We have done a good amount of touring. First of all, Mosques are beautiful. Seriously beautiful. The Blue Mosque is jaw-dropping. The Haghia Sofia is a breed of it's own. It's gorgeous as a church, it's impressive as a mosque, and as both it defines the history of this place so well. The Ottoman palace was greatly impressive, but it's blatantly obvious that you have been on Europe Semester when you're in the middle of a palace and you think Eh...I've seen better. Yikes. Just yikes.

The last little anecdote begins with a pun. We were in Turkey for Thanksgiving. It was perfect cause we got a little bit of Hungary as we flew over, just got a little bit of Greece, and then had our Turkey. Thanksgiving was interesting. Our dinner was a nice attempt. We had chicken shish kabob and french fries. Almost turkey and mashed potatoes, right? The real feast was after, when 12 of us went to a hookah/tea garden. We were all around tables, just sitting, laughing, talking, and enjoying each other. I got thankful there. A little culture shock made me grateful, that's cool. If you want some more info on this event, I ended up writing an essay on it. I'm not sure it's quite what the profs want, but even if it tanks in the grade category, it's one of the best essays I've ever written.

So...

That's been Byzantium so far... er, I mean Constantinople... ummm... Istanbul. Yeah, Istanbul, that's it. That's been Istanbul so far.

Ashes from the Inferno...

Here's a bit more of the ashes left from the creative inferno.

This is a discription of a couple I saw on the Pitti Palazzo, which is my favorite part of Florence. Picture yourself in a sandstone courtyard that glows in a golden colour...
The young couple clutches. They embrace. It's hard to tell where her purple ends and his navy begins. He pulls away, setting up the timer on his digital camera. She poses, chin in hand, arm on knee. She pretends to be looking off into the distance. Her eyes may not be gazing at him, but he's all she sees. He gets up, comes over, and she pretends that he just entered her vision. He slides his hand under her chin, and pulls her face close to his. Their noses barely miss as love manifests in lips. Click...Flash. Never to be forgotten.

Young woman walks at a rapid pace. She throws one hand around; fluttering a piece of paper held tightly. She gesticulates, but the person on the phone can't see her desperate body language. She finds herself at a curb, not knowing where it came from. Her words slow, they become cold. She spins and sits simultanesouly. The words stop all together. Her head hangs, finding rest in the hand not holding the phone. Defeat eminates from the curb. She mutters three words.
Are. You. Sure?
Then she rises. The world seems to spin, but she isn't dizzy. She finds that rapid pace again. And goes back the way she came.

Here's my third attempt at poetry. Yeah, I know. It's real cheezy...

Fire-Fusing

What is searching for the spark?
Itìs not pursuing prefection.
It's not pining for peace.
It's not looking for love,
That's always in the wrong place.
It's really the mixing of music.
It's the tracking of a tempo.
The blending of beats,
It's rhyming rhythms; it's melding melodies.
It's called hunting for harmony.
It's about knoting knowledge,
Welding worries, and building beauty.
It's grafting graces,
Or fusing fires,
It's an integrated interlace.
It's about stitiching synchronicity;
It's hand-held heartbeats.
It's called hunting for harmony.

Sorry if there are various and numerous spelling and grammar errors here. I'm typing away on an Italian keyboard, so weird keys and placements, and no spell check. Course, I should mention that I'm typing in an internet café with a view of the moonlit Colloseum.

Ah... life is sweet.

Senatus Populus Que Romanus...

Rome. Wow, that’s a name with some history. Most of the places I’ve been going seem to have a history that begins around 1939. Maybe 1914. Rome began around 750. B.C.! There’s another one of those paradigm shifts I keep talking about. They tend to happen just when I think I’ve got my head around the world, you know?

I ventured on down to Rome about 2 weeks before my group, for a great reason.

Mama flew into town.

Over our 4-day break, we were able to travel basically where we wanted, and I was lucky enough to have my mom meet me out here in Italy. I hopped a flight from Praha to Roma. Took Czech Airlines. You’ve gotta love state-supported airlines, they treat you right. Traveling on my own was pretty nice. I do it enough in the States to have a good routine and some travel sense. The only drawback was having to actually think for myself instead of being a travel-sheep.

My first real encounter with Italy was the most stereotypical encounter I’ve had in Europe. I needed to grab a taxi from the train station to the hotel. I waited in line a bit, and then WHAM! Two Roman cabbies start yelling, gesticulating, turning red, and altogether being Italian. Here’s an excellent example of what I saw:

It was only after I got to the hotel that I could laugh.

It was so incredibly nice to see my mom. Not only was it a new yet familiar face (the first in 2 months), but it was my mama! I got to spend four relaxing days just seeing sites, walking at our own natural pace, and eating great food. Oh! And sleeping… I actually got to sleep a decent amount. That was a nice change of pace.

Rome was a pretty fascinating place, because really, it’s three cities.

First, it’s the modern-day capitol of Italy. I’ve spent a year hearing how far behind the Italian government is, and how muddled the bureaucracy is. Not to mention hearing about Berlusconi. American politics ain’t seen a guy like him. Couple that with the European stereotypes of Italians as lazy, loud, and rude, and I didn’t exactly have the best expectations for the Romans. Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Every single person we encountered was extremely nice. Waiters were perfectly willing to bend-over-backwards for their diners; tour guides were patient with stupid questions. I was flabbergasted. In a good way.

The second city is the medieval/renaissance city. This place is absolutely riddled with art. GOOD art. The Trevi Fountain is astounding. Strike that, all of the Bernini’s are astounding, especially Pluto and Persephone Wow… There are remnants of artistic masters on nearly every road.

Finally, Rome is the capitol of the Western world. You know that B.C. date that I threw out there? There’s a whole section of town dedicated to the remains of the Roman Empire. Now that’s history. I stood where Augustus ruled the world. Where Peter and Paul looked death in the eye. Where Nero burned Christians for light, and Constantine gave Christianity the last laugh. It’s kind of overwhelming to stand in those spots. It certainly makes one feel miniscule.

Oh!

And throw another country into that whole 3-city thing. The Vatican is impressive. I mean, really impressive. The whole city just exudes power. I was dumbstruck. A lot. The Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica, and the Museums (including the School of Athens) are all they’re cracked up to be. The carry the power they deserve. However, it’s very easy to see how that church got caught up in its own glory and forgot its role as a conduit for glory. It is trying, though. Vatican II has definitely made its mark.

Rome is quite the city. I’m real excited to go back with the group soon. It’s going to be like reading a good book for a second time, you notice totally different things.

Leaving Rome was no fun. Saying by to Mama was a rather large bummer, I tried to get her to come to Florence with me, but she had to get back to the States to see Britty. What a lame reason… J I then hopped a 1½ hour train ride to Florence. I now know why people take the train.

However, first impressions of Florence were rough. It was raining pretty hard. I bought a dysfunctional map. Got lost. Walked a half hour in said rain. Got to the residence about 5 hours before I could check-in to a room. Accidentally got a café to open their kitchen for me. Went out back into the rain. Sat in the outside courtyard of the residence for about an hour. Got mistaken for a homeless person due to using my bag as a pillow and my fingerless gloves. Yikes.

Well… it can only get better from here, eh? I mean lunch was real good.

How does that song go again? “Always look on the bright side of life… do do, do do, do do, do do, do do”

That was the Roman Empire after all, right?

When In Bruges...

Bruges.

Where?

Wait…we’re staying in Bruges, Belgium?

Alright. What the heck. Give it a whirl, eh?

See, here’s the thing (<- this has become the official Europe Semester phrase). Bruges is really cool. It’s a town. Not quite a city, but not that small either. I’m not sure that this town has recognized it’s size yet. There is a massive, and I mean massive town square in the center of town. However, it is never filled. In fact, there are always too few people there. It’s strange. It always feels a little haunted…A little empty.

The town itself is an interesting mix. I think that most of Belgian culture is this way. An odd combination of Flemish, French, and plain European vibes emanate from the people. Bruges is in the Flemish speaking section of Belgium, so my French did absolutely 0 good. But, most everyone speaks English, and recognizes me to be an American, so I get addressed in English almost always. Take, for instance, the competing fry stands under the Belfry. I got to the front of the line and the guy looks at me and says “What do ya want?”. Right after serving a German couple, and before serving some British tourists. Kind of incredible, isn’t it? So were the fries. There’s something strange about Belgium. The people seem to live on a combination of French fries, chocolate, waffles, and beer; and yet, they are surprisingly healthy. Those people know hot to live eh?

They’re pretty darn nice too. On our last day there (well, until we got back today that is. Kinda confusing, I know. We went Bruges > Paris > Normandy >Bruges), my friend Joy and I sat on a bench looking at the river because we had missed the tourist boat ride that the rest of our group got on. We were talking when the 50-something-year-old woman sitting on the bench behind us interrupted. “Excuse me? You are from America yes?” We both turned and Joy engaged her. They ended up talking for about 15 minutes before the woman asked If we would join her for a drink. She ended up buying a Belgian beer for Joy, myself, and Corey. Just because we agreed to talk to her for what turned out to be about an hour and a half. I think I like the Belgians J

I Like it in the City When the Air is Thick and Opaque...

1. Back in London.
   
   
   Yes. Please.
   
   
   Love this town. Love it's feel.
   
   
   Just dig it.
   
   
   But I've said that already. Perhaps I should tell some tales why...
   1. Locals are just great - There are quick-food-pick-up stores here, Pret A Manger. They're kinda a cool concept. Tons of pre-made, but fresh sandwiches and the like, just waiting for you to give them a home. You would like these places. There is one right by our classroom here in Holborn. One of the baristas is a really cool woman from Argentina. Her name is Barbara, very Spanish sounding. We started talking because of my accent (how's that for a paradigm shifter, eh?), and she likes Colorado a lot. We talked for probably ten minutes that day. Two weeks ago. I still get all of my coffee drinks for free there. Guess it pays off to go out on a limb and talk to a complete stranger. And with my rate of coffee consumption, it really pays off. See? Locals are just great.
   2. Excellent Theater - Brits love plays. Not musicals necessarily, but plays. Straight up British plays. We've been to three so far. Tom Stoppard's Arcadia was our first, and it skyrocketed itself to the place of my favorite play ever. A comrade likened it to a theatrical Gilmore Girls... Quick paced, lightning wit, heavy cultural referencing, but with a bit of Quantum Physics and Philosophy thrown in there. I've since seen two different versions of Shakespeare's As You Like It. It's hysterical. I have a new appreciation for the bard. Go see something at the Globe. And do it as a groundling, just stand for the whole thing. It makes you truly appreciate theater.
   3. Pubs - Really, that's enough said. I feel as though I was engineered to enjoy a pub. They have wonderful ambiance. Dark(er) lighting, with bold, solid colours and wood finishes. Then, they take this great ambiance, they open up the windows and doors, and they promote you taking their product (more on this later), outside! To enjoy in fresh air. How foreign is that? Then, they put on British music (which just. plain. rules. Go listen to: Franz Ferdinand, Adele, the Smiths, and Snow Patrol. Right now. This can wait.), BUT! they play it soft enough for you to have an engaging conversation. In fact, they promote conversation. Every person in a pub is talking. No one is looking around, scoping people out, or somewhere-else-in-their-mind. They're all right there, enjoying each other's company. It just forces you to have a good conversation. Or to make one with your local neighbor, who's bound to be just great (see above).

   Pictures of London are to come...