Spring 2016 | | Page 3

Emily in Samoa: a Sunday kind of Samoa

February 9, 2016

I am not a religious person, but I love church services here in Samoa. This is our second day here, and our director, a former Peace Corps worker who married a Samoan matai (chief), took us to a local Catholic church. The vast majority of Samoans are Christian, and church is a big deal here. Most people wear white on Sundays, and close their shops for family and worship that often takes most of the day. The priest is the most important male figure in town, and is the recipient of the services and contributions of the rest of the community. Because of this, the community dedicates ample time and money to the welfare of the church.

The newest Catholic Church in Samoa

We explored Apia a bit yesterday after our flight arrived, and the newest churches are impressive. The largest Catholic church was built in 2014, after much of the city was decimated by a 2012 cyclone. This church is beautiful inside now: wood slats make up the ceiling, and form geometric patterns with each other. The floors are a light pink tile, adding to the brightness to the rich wood of the ceiling and the colorful frescoes of grape bunches (of all things). My favorite part of this particular church is a rotunda at the top, which features various Catholic saints doing whatever saints like to do, and important Samoan chiefs sitting among them and conferring. I think that this painting reflects a lot of the Samoan mentality toward religion and their existence in general—while they venerate and extoll their religion, they also know the importance of their own identity.

Saints and chiefs ponder

A story that we were told in class the other day also reflects this. Missionaries who had come to Samoa, and imparted lessons from the Bible to the chiefs and villagers. One of these “lessons” was that all people could trace themselves back to Jesus Christ and the Holy Land. At this point, the Samoans interrupted. The teachings of the Bible were good, they said, but that part was wrong. Perhaps the rest of the world came from the Holy Land, but the Samoans came from Samoa.

Similar reactions have occurred when historians “teach” Samoans about human migration from Polynesia to the Pacific—it’s simply not true, they say. The pride that Samoans take in their identity is both overt and tenacious, and, although you might see it in any aspect of daily life, I found it striking today at church.

Only the choir sings the mass, and, as the priest sings a verse, he is answered in a beautiful four-part harmony. Voices raise in song and echo off the wooden ceiling of the church, in a melody that one would almost expect in a European cathedral, but which is much to bright for the darkness and solemnity a cathedral would bring.

Inside the new church

As the offertory is played, baskets are passed amongst the congregation, as one family distributes leis made of frangipani blossoms to high-ranking elders. A statue of the Virgin Mary has her own lei, and a row of older women dressed in white receive more. Our director also receives a lei, and exchanges kisses with the woman who gives it to her. The sweet smell of flowers mingles with the darkness of the incense, carried around the church by the gentle breeze of people’s fans.

This portrayal of a Samoan church service is somewhat romanticized—it is incredibly hot and humid in the church, and feeling the sweat dripping down my back does not necessarily make me feel spiritual. However, it provides a picture of an essential part of the Samoan life, and one that I hope I will experience more of in the future.

Leave a Comment » | Emily in Samoa, Spring 2016 | Tagged: Art, Culture, Religion, Samoa | Permalink
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Tony in Switzerland: Mountain Views and Olympic Dudes

February 9, 2016

Hey everyone! I’m reaching the end of my first week here in Lausanne. Between my intensive French pre-semester class and paperwork, I’ve been pretty busy all week long, but I couldn’t have imagined a better host city. Before coming to Switzerland, I received advice from different people concerning studying abroad: how to be safe, how to have fun, and what to look out for. When the advice concerned Switzerland, I started getting this idea of entering a homogenous area that doesn’t particularly cater to international visitors. I have spent about a week exploring the city now, and with each day, I find so much of an international emphasis and a city whose university attracts innumerable exchange students.

Everywhere I go, I can always see the mountains behind buildings. It’s a beautiful combination of the natural landscape and the modern cityscape.

I found this graffiti at the train stop in front of UNIL. It translates (roughly) to “Let us not be sheep.” Coincidentally, I found the message the same day I was assigned to explore an original research topic that ties in with the city of Lausanne.

The Cathedral of Lausanne is absolutely breathtaking. It may not be featured in the art history textbooks I’ve used in the past, but its interior rivals that of any parallel architecture in Europe.

In my travels throughout the city, I have encountered the Olympic Museum. Lausanne will host the winter Olympics in 2020, and in anticipation of the event, the museum displays replicas of well known statues from their Classical origins.

The museum also showcases modern representations of the Olympics and offers fun facts about Rio de Janeiro all around the grounds.

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Emily in Samoa: Exploring Oahu

February 4, 2016

Our orientation has just started, and the members of the group (only 13 students strong) are getting to know each other, as we begin to count and ask questions in Samoan. The only caveat to this is that we are not yet in Samoa–we are just outside of Honolulu, Hawaii.

Waikiki before sunrise…and people

I arrived a week ago, in order to better acquaint myself with the island. Oahu is much bigger than I thought, and larger than a map makes it look: it is at least 40 miles across, which by bus or car on small roads can take a long time to cross. Many tourists who have visited the island lump it with its capital city and class it as unpleasant and crowded. Having little tolerance for the hordes of tourists at Waikiki, Honolulu’s famous beach, I quickly learned to center each morning on escaping Honolulu as fast as possible.

The view from makapu’u

Once there are not hundreds of people on every new street corner, Oahu is beautiful. The hostel for the program is in a peaceful area near the University of Hawaii campus, and looks out to Diamond Head one way and the central mountains to another. It is hard even to see these mountains from downtown Honolulu, as highrises block every view but their own.

Epiphany #1 was that there was a whole world outside of Honolulu. Epiphany #2, and tantamount to #1, was that I did not need to take a $100 tour to see what I wanted to see. There are many gullible (and wealthy) people staying at resorts in Honolulu willing to pay any price to have a pleasant vacation. As I am not one of these people, I found a more accessible way to see the island: TheBus. Oahu’s bus system is organized and extensive, and enables anyone to circumnavigate the island at $2.50 a ticket. I took full advantage of this, embarking on any adventure I pleased with a map and timetable in my pocket.

At the top of the Diamond Head Trail

In the past week I have been around nearly all of the coast, stopping at places like Waimea Falls, the surfer’s town of Haleiwa, Makapu’u beach and its neighboring Sea Life Park, the infamously surfy Sandy Beach, and Diamond Head. In my travels I have gradually been meeting up with more members of our group, exploring the island in a slowly growing group.

Surf advisories at Sandy Beach

What makes this program even more exciting is that the adventure does not stop here. Our hour-by-hour calendars are full of hikes, swims, and trips to parks yet unknown. Today will be our first drop-off, an excursion masterminded by our director, Jackie, in which she drives the group around and drops us each off at a different location. Sometimes we will have no say in this location; she will simply pull over and tell us to get out of the car. The goal of this scheme is to make each member more self-reliant and independent, as well as to enable us to individually be able to soak in a place more, as doing so is often best when a person is alone.

I’m excited to see what is in store for today’s drop off, and where this adventure will lead…

Leave a Comment » | Emily in Samoa, Spring 2016 | Tagged: Adventure, Friends, Nature, Sightseeing, Travel | Permalink
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Tony in Switzerland: Studying Abroad…in D.C.?

February 4, 2016

Hey everybody! My name is Tony, and I am a junior at the University of Richmond, majoring in Biology and French with a minor in Studio Art. I know…I’m all over the place. Fortunately, I was able to find a program in Switzerland that caters to all of my interests. This spring, I will be studying at the Université de Lausanne (UNIL) where I will take biology, literature, and art history classes. Plot twist: they’re all going to be taught in French.

Richmond’s French department continues to encourage me, though, which is comforting when I think of how hard biology will be when it’s taught in French. One way or another, I’m excited for the challenge, especially after being home on Cape Cod for all of winter break. Most of my friends have already gone back to their universities, and my parents have left for a month’s trip to Brazil to visit family. In other words, I spent the majority of winter break at home alone or working.

That all changed on January 25—six days before my flight to Lausanne. Throughout all of break, I never received word about my visa from the embassy in D.C., which wasn’t for a lack of effort on my part. I emailed the embassy on the 5^th and the 19^th with no new information. My advisor and I became so worried that we started contacting my coordinator at UNIL for help. He pulled some strings and reached the cantonal authorities in Geneva. As it turned out, my visa had been authorized January 7, but I didn’t receive any notification about it. I started planning everything I could do to get that visa in time for my flight on the 31^st. Would it be difficult? Probably. Would it be impossible? I hoped not.

Day One of the Visa Adventures: I was optimistic and immediately called the Swiss embassy to ask if I could expedite the visa authorization process, but as you might remember, the weekend of January 22, 2016 was a busy weekend for snowplows. Winter Storm Jonas challenged emergency preparedness everywhere, especially D.C. The embassy was closed that Monday because Jonas completely buried the city.

I wouldn’t give up yet. I decided to drive down to D.C. the next day and gamble on the embassy’s opening. Unfortunately, I grossly overestimated how well the city would be cleaned.

Day Two: I drove all the way down from Cape Cod to the wreck that was D.C and found that the embassy was still closed. I ended up driving down to Richmond to pay my friends a visit before going back to the embassy the following day. Free housing for the night didn’t hurt either.

Day Three: my friends and I started the day with a classic DHall breakfast. I called the embassy from my preferred third room booth and discovered that it was open. However, the receptionist let me know that no visa questions are answered over the telephone or in person. After talking it over with the OIE, I drove back up to D.C. I parted ways with my friends and reached the embassy before closing time. When I arrived, I was immediately turned away because according to the embassy’s policies, visa questions are only answered in the morning. I shockingly didn’t catch that when the rule is masked by three links on their website. Back to Richmond I went to spend the night in my friend’s apartment once more.

Day Four: I woke up aggressively early this time around and headed up to D.C. This time, I actually got to speak to the visa officer who told me that she could not issue the visa within the same day. At best, she could expedite the process so that I would receive it the next morning. Considering how soon my flight was, I agreed.

Here’s where the story gets pathetic, as if it wasn’t already. My car is expecting an oil change once it reaches 41,000 miles, and at that point, I was getting really close.

Somehow, my friend Amalia anticipated that I’d be stuck in another conflict with the embassy. The night before, she offered to let me sleepover her house in Maryland should anything happen at the embassy. She had been planning to go home for the weekend and knew her father wouldn’t mind the company. I ended up taking her up on the offer to pick up my passport the next morning. Amalia and her father would not be home until the late evening, though, which meant that I had roughly 6 hours to spend before driving to her house. Here are some of the pictures of what ensued from the #tonytakesDC campaign.

No elephants were harmed in the making of this photo.

Living my brother’s dream of seeing the Air and Space Museum.

I only made him mildly jealous.

At the end of the day, I toured more of D.C. than I have of Cape Cod and then drove to Amalia’s house. I was able to spend some quality time with her two cats and also Amalia and her father.

Fortunately, Amalia’s cats were very photogenic. Meet Anna Maria.

And of course, the killer cat, Felix.

Day Five: I got my visa. Nothing else is important anymore. I finally got my visa. Five days, 1,568 miles, and eight trips to the gas station later, I finally got my visa.

Lausanne, here I come! One day to go!

My flight to Switzerland leaves tomorrow, and now that I have my visa, I can calmly start packing. Although, what better way to procrastinate than by starting this blog? Check it out next week when I’m finally in Switzerland!

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Maddie in Ireland: The Devil is in the Details

January 26, 2016

When I submitted my application to study abroad in Galway, one question asked of me was, “How are you going to acclimate to the new culture?” At the time, I was like, “Pfffft, piece of cake. Ireland is a first-world, English-speaking country with access to the internet, plus I have a working knowledge of rugby and know the lyrics to the song “Danny Boy”, soooo….. yeah, Im good lol.” And the thing is, I was right. Ireland is a first-world, English-speaking country with access to the internet. For the most part, there are very few differences between America and Ireland and I have had very few difficulties acclimating to my new home culture. However, they say the devil is in the details and, whoever ”they” are, they are right.

It’s the little things like not knowing which brands of bread are good or forgetting that dates are written in the day-month-year format that getcha. They’re the little things that trip you up and remind you that, oh yeah, you aren’t home; and since the internet is all about lists, I have decided to compile a list of those little things, those little differences, that I have noticed during my first two weeks in Ireland.

1. Adidas & Hollister

So you know in middle school how Hollister graphic tees were the thing? Like, grab a shirt from Hollister and presto, you’re instantly the coolest kid in class? And then a few years later Hollister was just kind of out? Well, Hollister is not out in Ireland (at least in the male population). Everywhere you look there is a boy wearing a Hollister hoodie, carefully zipped only halfway up to subtly reveal the Hollister tee underneath… unless, of course, said boy is wearing an Adidas track suit. You know the kind I’m talking about. In summary, the entire male population in Ireland either looks like your eighth-grade class or like they just came straight from soccer/football practice. Its not a bad look, it just kind of throws you off for awhile, makes you look around and think “Something is different about these boys,” until you realize that they’re wearing exactly the same thing that Yanni Thanopolous my…I mean your… crush wore in seventh grade.

2. Uppercuts

On the subject of differences between American and Irish boys, I’d say 70% of Irish guys have some version of an uppercut. Again, its not a bad look— in fact, I’d even argue its a darn good look— it’s just different.

3. Brands

The first time I entered a grocery store it took me 45 minutes to buy bread, cheese, gnocchi, and a candy bar. Why was I such an deficient shopper? Because I didn’t have a single clue about what I was buying. I didn’t recognize a single brand in the entire store (except for international brands that I only recognized because the logo was the same. For example, Lays chips are known as Heilmans chips. Go figure). Was this a good brand? Was this a yummy brand? Is this the hippie, vegan brand? Am I giving off an air of hippie, vegan-ness by buying this brand? I’m not a vegan though… I really like pork. And beef. And cheese. Aww man, I’m so out of my element here.

4. Electric Sockets

Real quick I’m going to tell you an absolutely thrilling tale about my first hour in Ireland: When I landed in Shannon two weeks ago, my phone was dead. 0%. I knew my wonderful, loving parents would be worrying out about my safety and the longer I didn’t call them the more they would stress out. I don’t like stressing my parents out. It’s just not a thing I enjoy, so I frantically ran around the airport looking for an outlet. I found one, plugged my phone in, and waited. After about fifteen minutes, I checked my phone and it had not charged a single bit. At this point I was freaking out— was the adapter not working? Had my charger burnt out from the voltage? Why was I so bad at technology? I saw a flip next to the outlet and even though I was 75% sure if I touched it I would kill the entire airport, I decided that my first world problem of a dead phone warranted me taking that chance.

Yep, turns out that electricity doesn’t automatically go to every outlet. You need to flip a switch to direct the electricity to the outlet and then do ~whatever~ you do with the electricity…. Hmmm, looking back, I now realize I didn’t need to preface that bit of info with my story, but, hey, I’m sure you’re super bored and have nothing better to do than read about my minor, insignificant, amateur observations. Right?

5. Pulp

Pulp in orange juice. We all have opinions about it. I, for instance, am a firm supporter of the “Pulp is absolutely delicious and should be included in all juice” camp… but when I first went looking for juice I could find no evidence of “pulp” vs “light pulp” vs “no pulp”. Where was the conflict? How was I supposed to get in a fight about what texture juice should be? After a hasty conversation with a grocery worker, I was informed that the Irish referred to pulp as “juicy bits”, which I find to be absolutely hilarious. “Cream cheese” is called “creamy soft cheese”. A “half pan” is a small loaf of bread. “Tap” doesn’t refer to fresh beer, which is just called beer, but instead a water faucet. “Joggers” are all sweat pants, not just those used by athletes. “Bonbons” are toffee-type candies, instead of chocolates. I could go on. Either way, each trip to any store is an adventure and experiment, because frankly I am very rarely aware of what exactly it is I’m buying.

6. Walking

In America you walk on the right side of the sidewalk. It’s etiquette. In Ireland you walk not on the left, mirroring how the roads work, but just wherever you decide to walk. This means you need to be much more aware of your surrounding and who is approaching you from each direction when you walk. No zoning out allowed. It’s etiquette.

Its also means you need to size up anyone who walks towards you and decide which of you is going to move. Every stroll is a power struggle

7. Cheese

CHEESE IS SO MUCH BETTER IN IRELAND AND SO MUCH CHEAPER AND SO MUCH MORE VARIED.

8. Ice Cream

ICE CREAM IS SO MUCH BETTER IN IRELAND. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT FROZEN YOGURT DOESN’T EXIST, BECAUSE THE ICE CREAM IS SO FACE-MELTINGLY DELICIOUS.

9. Dairy Products in General

IRISH DAIRY PRODUCTS > AMERICAN DAIRY PRODUCTS. I feel like its un-American to admit anything from a non-American country is better than something from America, but I also feel like its un-American to appreciate phenomenal butter.

10. Makeup

We’ve been over Irish boys’ appearances, but we haven’t talked about the girls yet. For the most part they dress pretty similarly to how we would have dressed in America (but in Ireland, out of our natural habitat, we tend to wear significantly more jackets than they do). Makeup though. Irish girls are masters of makeup and it doesn’t matter how little sleep they got, how few people they are going to see that day, whether they’re just going to the grocery store or mechanic’s shop, they will step out of their apartment with flawless, full-on makeup. Props to the Irish ladies, that requires some energy and effort.

11. Classrooms

When we navigate schools, classrooms are generally referred to by the building and then the room number. In contrast, at NUI Galway almost every single classroom has its own unique name. No “North Court 213”s or “Booker 156”s, only “D’Arcy Thompson Theater”s or “Cairnes Theater”s. Frankly, its awesome and each room feels so special and fancy-schmancy.

12. Baking Shops

There are a ton of baking shops around Galway. I don’t mean bakeries, I mean shops that sell cake decorating tools and cute aprons. Apparently there is a huge audience for cute cupcakes in this area and I have absolutely no problem with that being the case.

13. Phones

Just a small observation, but Irish college— or should I say university— students, use their phones significantly less than American students do <shrug>.

14. Parents

When American students go away to college, they’re gone for months at a time, only returning for holidays. Irish students— and I’m being completely serious here— return home every single weekend. Every Friday you can see all the twenty-somethings carrying their roller suitcases to the train station, returning to their mammy and her home-cooked meals. Tbh, I would do the same thing if I could.

15. Prices

You’d think something like “prices” wouldn’t fall under the umbrella of “details”, but I couldn’t leave it out. Things are so cheap here. Guess how much I just paid for a loaf of bread. Go ahead, guess. I dare you. I paid 0.70€. Thats 75¢. For an entire loaf of bread. An entire loaf of delicious bread. I don’t understand it, but I also don’t want to question it.

The only, only exception is the fruit. Coming from California it kills me to pay a lot of money for fruit, but hey, Ireland cant be too perfect, right?

Well, for the moment, th-th-that’s all, folks!

Maddie

Ice-Cream Eater, Girl Who Can Very Rarely Force Herself To Put on Makeup, Pulp-Fan, Proud Member of the Westhampton Class of ’17

P.S. I feel bad that there aren’t many pictures I can use to accompany this list, so for now enjoy some sneak-peek pics from my recent visit to The Cliffs of Moher which y’all will hear about soon.

Muggin’ it with Oscar Wilde

Muggin’ it castle style

Muggin’ it on The Cliffs of Moher

The Cliffs of Moher, a.k.a. The Cliffs of Insanity (according to The Princess Bride) or The Really, Really Scary Cliffs Dumbledore and Harry Land On (according to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Here we see O’Briens Tower, the highest point of the Cliffs of Moher, and a ruin strongly associated with ~traditional~ Irish music for some reason that nobody could seem to provide.

And here we see my friend Murphy leaning off the top of the 400ft cliffs for some reason that he couldn’t seem to provide.

Me on the Burren shores (which are not to be confused with the Jersey Shores)

Another pic of those gorgeous Burren shores.

Dangit, I just said Ireland can’t be too perfect. Stop being too perfect, Ireland.

SERIOUSLY IRELAND. Stop with your perfection right now

1 Comment | Maddie in Ireland, Spring 2016 | Tagged: Culture, Ireland, Sightseeing | Permalink
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Emily in Samoa: Beginning the Adventure

January 19, 2016

Talofa! My name is Emily, and I am an Anthropology and Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies (WGSS) major at Richmond. I’m originally from Leominster, Massachusetts, where I grew up on my family’s vegetable farm. I am excited and honored to be sharing my South Pacific adventures with you, and look forward to your feedback and questions.

My dad at the corn wagon in the summer

I leave for Hawai’i in five days, and will be staying at the Polynesian Cultural Center on ‘Oahu for two weeks of orientation (preceded by four days of solo exploration). As I shuffle around my New England home wrapped in a sweater, a robe, and two blankets, I am cheerily folding up my t shirts and shorts for warmer climes, and fawning over phrases on my information sheets like “bring your own snorkel.” As indicated by my blankets, I am a person who likes to be warm. But, as I will explain, that was not the reason I chose Samoa.

I chose this program much like I chose my majors, and much like I choose many things in my life. I started by looking at all the options and making an extensive, comprehensive, somewhat color-coded spreadsheet of what I was interested in, which turned out to be almost everything. When I decided on a major, items on the list ranged from performance classical oboe to poetry to physics. I then used criteria to narrow down my choices, which ended up expanding them. Finally, I disregarded the entire list, and went back to the things I had liked from the beginning. Simple, no?

The Study Abroad Spreadsheet- an excerpt

Thus, my majors emerged sophomore year after bouts with a range of other classes, and I cast aside my list of programs abroad in favor of Samoa…and a few other places. Due to my indecision on a specific program, I have spent my year abroad, interning in India over the summer, and doing a food studies program in Italy in the fall. I realize that this suspiciously mirrors the book Eat, Pray, Love, but that was a happy accident, and I assure you that the year has been centered mainly on eating. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason for my choosing Samoa, but two big factors were distance: it is quite far out of my comfort zone, and even further from anywhere I’ve lived or traveled.

My current situation: the farm post-snow

With my decision made, I have spent my winter break learning Samoan, hunting down gifts for my host families, and reading about the islands I will be visiting. I will be based in Apia, capital city of Western Samoa (not an American territory), going on excursions to rural villages, as well as to American Samoa and Fiji.

It is easy to be led astray reading about Samoa, as it was home to one of the biggest names in anthropology. Margaret Mead, and served as her place of study in the 1920s. It is therefore known by the stereotypes she created for its people, more than what it really is. At the beginnings of Western anthropology, Samoa was seen as a place so isolated as to show an example of culture that was small and isolated—in a Pacific fishbowl, if you will. Mead’s book Coming of Age in Samoa describes the oft promiscuous sexuality of scantily clad Samoan girls that she observed, and was a best-seller in the US after publication.

Mead’s book, featuring one of “her girls” on the cover

That book has been a source of shame and disgust for Samoans ever since, who have worked to promote native anthropology, cultural analysis from those actually participating in the culture. Rather than the Other, they emphasize the Us, and the interconnection of a sea of islands instead of islands isolated in a sea. I am interested to learn more about new and emerging Oceanic identities, as well as how the islands are adapting to a changing world, which wants to connect with them through internet, economic exchange, and tourism.

There is so much more I could say, but I will save it for next time. Thanks for reading!

Leave a Comment » | Emily in Samoa, Spring 2016 | Tagged: Adventure, Culture, Preparation, Samoa | Permalink
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Maddie in Ireland: Roots

January 13, 2016

There are many terms people use to describe me— “quasi-intelligent” “twenty years old” “emotional” “really, really emotional” “seriously how can someone cry that much” etc— however the one that most aptly describes me is, “Californian”. To my core I am a California girl, a girl who loves bright and loose clothes, someone wants nothing more to just ~chill, man~ and do her own thing, a girl who only wants to see you do the same, someone whose Instagram bio reads “I belong to the Pacific”, someone who is used to 70° winters. What I am not— even after two and a half years at Richmond— is a girl who is used to cold, rain, and non-draught ridden areas.

Taking these natural, life-long tendencies into mind, clearly the place where I decided to apply to study abroad is a country known for fog, shepherds wearing thick sweaters and wool caps, and rolling hills made green by extreme amounts of rain. I’m talking about, of course, Ireland. Éire. Erin. The Emerald Isle. The Most Ancient Land… take your pick.

She’s a beaut.

I don’t know what drew me to Ireland. Maybe it was the book of Celtic fairytales my father used to read to me. Maybe it was because it was such a polar opposite from what I knew (Gettit? Polar? Because cold? No? Sigh.). Maybe it was just the romance of it all. Either way, here I am, listening to folk-rock music, sitting in an Irish kitchen, wearing Irish slippers, watching my first Irish sunrise, while eating a traditional Irish dish, tortellini with pomodoro sauce.

Joke’s on you, its totally not Irish.

My roommates show up tomorrow morning, so I need to enjoy this solitude while I can, because once I finish this bowl of pasta and head to my room to sleep, I am completely in unfamiliar territory. I’m here entirely and 100% by myself and I have no idea what I’m in for.

I know that for the next four months I’ll always have pasta and pomodoro sauce, I know I’ll have the same sun to watch rise, and I know I’ll have the same music, but I also know that I have a lot of things in my future that are very different from anything/everything that I’m used to.

No matter how far I’ve traveled in the past, no matter how many countries I visited, I always knew that soon I would be headed home to my California. That is no longer the case. Yes, I’m a home-grown California girl in an unfamiliar environment, but I’m here for four months and I think it’s time to spread my roots. California is my identity, but maybe, maybe, maybe, it’s time to uproot myself. Uproot and relocate. Adapt and grow. Ditch my flip-flops for boots. Stop taking the 405 to the 210 and taking a left on Sunset and instead walk a mile to school. Try belonging to the Atlantic instead of the Pacific.

I’ll be seeing you in all the old (un)familiar places,

Maddie Lawrence

Brownie-Maker, Californian, Youngest of Six Children, Proud Member of the Westhampton Class of 2017

Leave a Comment » | Maddie in Ireland, Spring 2016 | Tagged: Adventure, Ireland, Reflection, Travel | Permalink
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Emily in Samoa: a Sunday kind of Samoa

Tony in Switzerland: Mountain Views and Olympic Dudes

Emily in Samoa: Exploring Oahu

Tony in Switzerland: Studying Abroad…in D.C.?