Food For Thought

October 24, 2011

So, I am in Italy, quite possibly the birthplace of amazing food. Amazing, expensive food. If you have 15-30 euros to spend on dinner every night (roughly $25-45), you will eat like a king. You will think that America has been tricking you for your entire life and that only now have you discovered what food is truly supposed to taste like– like Columbus or Marco Polo conquering a new world with the greatest food imaginable.  However, the criteria for me being able to indulge you with my stories is that I need to be a college student, and generally, a basic characteristic of any college student is being broke. So needless to say, I can’t eat like a king every night, but on the rare occasions that I have, my taste buds were taken to a place far surpassing any previous level of enjoyment and satisfaction– a place they still long for when I bite into my cold pizza left over from the night before.

I have needed to find new ways to feed myself while saving money and still enjoying eating some delicious food. So early on in my trip, I took a trip down to the supermarket and walked around indecisively, looking for food that I could cook with my extremely limited cooking skills. We’re talking microwave pizza limited… actually, we’re talking a stove or an oven might as well be alien technology limited… but anyway, I decided I had to learn, or I would be broke and starving on the street come December.  I had been longing for red meat since my pizza and pasta Italian diet left me with a big hole in my usual diet, so I got 2 packaged steaks and put them in my basket. I decided then that I would be a little adventurous and try to add some flavor to the steak, which turned out to be best served by a small bottle of soy sauce located in the corner of the grocery store. So I walked back, proud of myself, and excited to begin my experimental cooking. I met my friend in one of the communal kitchens in our dormitory and we both tried to decipher the stovetop. It was an electric induction stove (much safer for dorm rooms, no gas or fire) and it took us 10 minutes to figure out how to turn it on.  We had to ask an Italian girl across the way that after a strange look walked in, pressed one button, and walked away with heat emitting from the stove. “Grazie mille,” (“Thank you very much,”) we said as she left, probably adapting the old adage, “How many dumb Americans does it take to turn on a stove?”

Our excitement was short-lived when we discovered the pan we put on the stove was not getting hot. That led to another 20 minutes of confusion and stress, my stomach growling, and us stupidly pressing every button to make it work. The Italian girl was gone, so with no more help from her, we found a manual for the stove… written in Russian, and we had no experience with something like this before. Frustrated and hungry, on the verge of giving up, we were about to be saved. My friend’s Italian roommate and his girlfriend came in to cook and saw us struggling. He was confused at first too, but after diagnosing the problem, he told us in broken English that induction stoves need induction pots and pans to work (duh). He happened to have some in his room he would let us borrow, and the four of us cooked and enjoyed our meal, them teaching us some Italian, and us teaching them some English. My soy sauce steak was actually quite delicious.

Since that run-in, I have had some more cooking struggles, with every time being a learning episode, but I am slowly becoming a world-class chef (self-proclaimed). I am getting more daring with my recipes, trying new foods, and I know that stovetop like the back of my hand.  When cooking gets boring, or if I haven’t made a supermarket trip in a while, I enjoy getting a kebab from one of the many places around the city (basically gyro meat in a sandwich or wrap that is insanely good), a salamella con tutto (a sausage sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, ketchup and mayonnaise, which I am basically obsessed with at this point) for lunch from the sandwich cart in the middle of campus, or I will spring for a 3 dollar pizza from my favorite hole-in-the-wall place around the corner where they always greet me with a friendly “Ciao caro” (“Hello, dear”).

I have come to greatly enjoy the food here, made either by myself or by others. And when I have some money saved up, I can always treat myself to a delicious four- or  five-course meal in downtown Milan. Adapting to my situation wasn’t quite smooth, but very effective, so it is always important to stay open minded and versatile… so I guess that, right there, is a little food for thought.

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Community, Globalization, and Tons of Trash

October 24, 2011

So many villages, so little space to write about them…  so I’ll keep up with the highlights principle.  The highlight of the Land unit was definitely Baw Kaew community.  It is a protest village where the people were kicked off of their land, and two years ago they returned and have built a community.  There were people from all different villages, and through the shared struggle and passion, they have created something unbelievable.  The grandmothers share their stories of being kicked off their land with the children, who will continue to fight based on the devotion.  This unit showed me that an outside force or a powerful figure is not needed for a successful grassroots movement.  Anyone and everyone has agency, and it just takes motivation and passion to create change.  It was a really moving exchange and experience.

My Paw from this unit, other than the two one-nighters, was incredibly educated.  I was sitting watching Meh cook one night when Paw came into the cooking area.  He sat down next to me, pen in hand, and started to lecture.  All in Thai, of course, but the essence of the conversation was, “Julie, do you see this papaya—we grow them in Thailand.  You don’t grow them in America, yet you are able to eat them in America.  That is just one reason why globalization is so amazing.”  The lectures continued and got more and more complex over the course of the three days. There was a lot of guessing based on what was said or drawn (one day he got out his grandson’s coloring book and drew for us—an upgrade to the hand), but it was all an amazing lesson on both communication and globalization.

After the unit ended, there was an optional trip to the landfill near our campus.  Just 17km away, 200 tons of trash is brought in each day.  There is a community of 60 families that live there, started by just one man who went to make a living off of the trash.  Not only does it bring to light the realization of scavengers (those who work 20 hours a day picking through garbage to find plastic bottles to recycle), but it brings to light the realities of consumerism.  I literally climbed a trash mountain.  Not to mention the irony of the laundry detergent package I saw in the mud that read, “Hygiene”.

I was so blown away by the Paw that we exchanged with there.  He no longer works in the landfill, nor does his wife and children, but he lives there because he owns his land and he wants to make the community a better place.  Unlike in America, where people strive to get out of the slums, Paw was trying to improve the village.  He chooses to live in a dump — literally.

The problems with each village we visit are hard to stomach.  With each unit and each exchange, I continue to recognize the realities of a developing country.  It is natural to make comparisons to the United States, and we have many of these issues.  We have medical problems associated with damming and mining (the coming two units).  We have poverty that is solved by cash cropping.  There are so many problems in our world.  This country is so amazing, and my time here is invaluable, but it is hard meeting amazing people and learning about their suffering, unable to fix it.

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Good Craic.

October 17, 2011

When visiting Ireland, it is essential to know the meaning of this expression. No, it’s not what you’re thinking, and I didn’t misspell anything. The noun craic basically means “fun” or “what’s going on”. Expressions such as “It will be good craic” or “What’s the craic for tonight?” are used often. And let me tell you, Derry is good craic.

Up until now in my blog, I have discussed my issues with traveling, as well as information I have learned about my new place of residence. Now it is time for me to let my hair down and talk about all the fun and excitement there is to be had – I mean, it is college for heaven’s sake. I am currently in the UK and, as many of you may know, the legal drinking age here is 18. This is by no means a reason to study here or even study abroad in general. It is just a fact that changes aspects about the college lifestyle. And by that, I mean it brings pubs into the picture.

Here in Ireland, pubs are a huge part of the culture. When walking in the city, you pass pub after pub after pub. There are hundreds of them and they are all packed almost every night of the week. I can only imagine the great economic impact these establishments have on the local economy. (They sure have an impact on the weight of my wallet.) Pubs are not places to drink too much beer and get wasted every night. They are places to gather socially — to catch up with friends and to listen to music together (and a lot of the time, it’s traditional Irish music). When explaining to some American students, an Irish woman actually made a comparison between Irish pubs and American coffee houses. They provide that type of atmosphere. So, it is no surprise that Irish students go to pubs, bars, and clubs 4 to 5 nights out of the week. Not to mention, there’s a uni bar with events every Monday and Thursday. This may seem impossible to an American student with class every day of the week and piles of homework. Here, the style of teaching is much different. Each module (or class) only meets once a week for a few hours and most students only take 3 modules. This allows for loads of free time in which students are expected to do the majority of work independently. It also allows time for us to get dressed up and go out during the week.

During my first weekend here, I had the great fortune of meeting an Irish guy, Tomas, who goes to school with me at Magee (that’s the name of my campus). I became friends with two American girls, Megan from Idaho and Lauren from North Carolina, during our week of orientation. On our first Friday night, we went to a pub where we ran into Tomas… see, a social atmosphere. Since then, he has introduced us to many of his Irish friends who we have been having great fun with. One thing I will always say about Derry after my trip is that the people here are ridiculously nice — so helpful and generous. It feels really nice to be accepted into a group of friends who have known each other since primary school (elementary to us). I definitely have met one of my goals: making friends with Irish students. Here’s a picture of Megan, Me, and Tomas at a club one night:

Through the process of having fun and creating a lifestyle here, sometimes I forget where I am. I have to sit and think a minute: wow, I am in Ireland; I am on a completely different piece of land than the one where I grew up and have lived my whole life. I can’t drive 20 minutes and go see my Ma and Da (Mom and Dad to Irish kids). I suppose this phenomenon is a positive thing; it means I am comfortable here and that it is becoming home. But sometimes the realization that I am not in America anymore slaps me across the face or literally rumbles the ground under my feet. One night this week, I was out shooting pool with some friends, having a normal night, when there was a loud bang and the ground shook. It was a bomb. Yeah, not in Virginia anymore.

The police had found a bomb in the City of Culture office and set it off as a controlled explosion. They barricaded the area so no one was injured. Here is a picture from outside the bar I was in when the explosion went off:

From what I have heard, a car was blown to pieces and the building was pretty damaged. What surprised me was the reaction of my Irish friends. They were so nonchalant about it. The explosion was literally a block away. They just looked out the window of the bar and continued on with our game of pool. Startled, my friend Lauren said, “Why the heck was there a bomb?!” Our Irish friend Brian simply replied, “It’s Derry.”  It makes me realize that, although it may not seem very different here, there are struggles going on that I will probably never face at home.

Fun Fact #5: In Ireland, the solid balls in pool are called “plains”.

Fun Fact #6: Exit signs are little green running men. You see them EVERYWHERE. Here’s a picture:

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In The Jungle, The Mighty Jungle

October 17, 2011

Well, this time, it’s “the students sleep tonight”.  Part one of our second unit, Land, takes place in villages that have had recent struggles with their land.  Whether it is a protest village, a community that has recently returned to their land, or exchanging with the governmental agency that protects the forest, we are seeing all sides of land rights in Issan.  The journey started with a six hour van ride to a village just north of Cambodia.

Our van slowed to a stop at a group of houses, but we were told this was not our village.  We all loaded onto the back of a truck and headed into the jungle.  The Suan Ba, or forest, was through deep woods and the land had flooded recently- our vans would not make it.  Little did I understand flooding.  After community members finished nailing wooden boards as two longs rows of seats, we loaded up.  Thus began the most exciting hour long ride of my life.  Somewhere between rollercoaster and safari, we found ourselves on a real life version of a Disney World ride.

The village only got better.  It started with bananas hanging by a pole for us to eat at our leisure, then there was some wading through a river, an exchange, and then a slumber party of the whole group sleeping in the community “room”.  There was a light bulb, but no other electricity.  The exchangee was willing to answer all questions, so after our allotted time, questions were asked about Cambodia, the Vietnam War, and ended by talking about elephants. (We saw one while driving through the city, of all places, on the way home– just a baby walking on a leash led by a man down a busy street.)

We returned for the evening to meet the U.S. Ambassador, have finger food and mingle.  So it’s a nice relaxing evening, and then off to the next village! It has become a trend that at all villages, our host parents like to feed us a lot, and so I am a bit nervous for Yom Kippur tomorrow.  The Ajaans (teachers) know I am fasting, so they will explain it—hopefully it is understood as religious and not as an insult to their food, because village food is so delicious.

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Downtown Duomo

October 5, 2011

Downtown Milan is home to the Duomo (Church/Cathedral) di Milano, which is the 3rd largest Catholic church in the world. This place is stunning! The entire building is made of hand-carved marble, and the detail of it, combined with Italian inefficiency, took them almost 600 years to complete. Every inch of the building is carved with intricate details; sculptures of Saints, religious symbols… A true enthusiast could be entertained for days just admiring the masterpiece that is this building.

But you didn’t think I would actually write an entire blog about a church, did you?

Although short of the Vatican, this thing is the crème de la crème.

The main focus of this post is to describe the atmosphere in the Piazza (Square) in front of the Duomo. Milan is a cool city, and there is a lot going on all the time, but there isn’t much to see from a tourist’s standpoint. Which means that anyone traveling through the city on vacation, staying in the city for a business trip, visiting a son or daughter that’s studying abroad (my family), or even just people living in Milan who are bored all go to this one place– downtown Milan at the Duomo.

The downtown area as a whole has a great atmosphere. The streets are lined with shops and restaurants in the city center that make for great shopping (real shopping for most people, and window shopping for broke college kids). Some other attractions include the Castello, built in the 14th century (very old and cool to look at); La Scala, the famous opera house, which is filled with culture in the form of ballets and opera; and the beautiful Parco Sempione, which has everything from babbling brooks and nice footpaths, to basketball courts, to a library, and even a miniature go kart track for kids (only for kids, though… believe me, I tried).  In addition, the world renowned Galleria– an indoor/outdoor mall with some incredibly high end stores with prices that approach CEO housewife status– is a must see, even just if you buy a McFlurry (yes, they have a McDonald’s tucked in between Armani and Louis Vuitton) and walk through it admiring the architecture, along with the clothes and shoes that most of us normal people cannot afford.

However, the best thing to see is the Duomo itself, and as it turns out, my favorite thing to see has been the Piazza in front of the Duomo. This place is a people-watcher’s dream come true. Whether it is the street vendors selling useless stuff that you “need” to have (I have already made some solid purchases from these guys), the “Marochinni” looking to tie a “free good luck bracelet” to your arm as you walk by (which they will later pester you for money for), or the mass flood of tourists doing obvious cliché tourist activities (taking pictures, holding maps, etc… you know what I’m talking about), there is plenty to keep you entertained and busy. However, the most noticeable thing in the Piazza might be the pigeons. These crazy birds will swoop at your head from nowhere, so you need to watch out. I have seen locals with an unhealthy lack of fear walk up to these pigeons and pick them up without a flinch. They are everywhere! Some of the more brave, and in my mind, deranged tourists actually pay 50 cents to hold rice in their open hands and allow the flock of pigeons to eat straight from their hands…. It’s even more disgusting in person, trust me.

With the occasional event or concert in the Piazza, it is truly a local hangout because of its proximity to the most beautiful sites in all of Milan. Most recently in the Piazza, I attended a city-wide party located in the Duomo for the start of Milan’s “Fashion Week.” If you were in Milan, you were there, as shops everywhere offered free food and drink to all customers, with the city center decorated lavishly to promote the crown jewel of events for this fashion-driven city. In addition, the Piazza was home to the NBA (yes, the National Basketball Association) who sponsored a 3-on – 3 tournament for locals in the Piazza, as a way of promoting American basketball abroad.

At the end of the day, sitting and staring at the Duomo is awe-striking enough that at times, you can feel alone in the middle of this crazy atmosphere. Day or night (especially at night, because the stained glass windows light up and it is beautiful) the Duomo is spectacular. So, loyal readers, if you happen to be in Milan for a day, or week, or 4 months, make sure you take a trip downtown– all of the trams go to the Duomo, more or less. Walk around the downtown area, and conclude it with a trip to the top of the Duomo, which will allow you to see the city for miles straight from its center and enjoy the beauty of Milan from a whole new perspective.

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Football vs. Soccer vs. King Leonidas

October 5, 2011

Take the most intense scene you can imagine. Okay, we’ll go with the movie “300”, because as I’m sure you are aware, Spartan soldiers are forever epically intense, hence why they are still making movies about them and their glory. Now, take away any protective equipment they might have (and yes, I’m aware they preferred to block weapons and attacks with their abdominal muscles over shields, but again, just for argument’s sake). Then divide them into groups of 22 (with 14 spectators), take two of those groups, and put their top 18 on an oval-shaped field that’s 1.5 times longer and three times wider than an American football field. Finally, give one of them a leather ball and tell him his team has a limited amount of time to kick it through some goal posts as many times as they can and anything goes. It will be brutal, painful, and war-like in all aspects. That, my friends, is Australian Rules Football.

Remember when I said the other 14 warriors could be spectators? That wasn’t just coincidence or the results of a poorly planned math equation. This is a sport where the fans might as well be playing on the field for all of their intensity and moxie. Take the mandated endurance of a soccer game, add in the full impact of an American football game, subtract the shoulder pads, and add the dribbling of basketball and you have a sport of most epic proportions (if you’re a die hard baseball fan and you feel that this sport is incomplete, they tend to fall on the ground and slide a lot, in addition to jumping to catch balls, so if you must, you can add baseball in the list of sports it encompasses and dominates) And that’s not even the most praiseworthy or glorious part. Positions stand, for the most part, as markers for where you start off. Everyone runs the same, kicks just as hard, and is required to dribble a triangle-shaped ball at one point or another.

So now that you understand just how much of a warrior you must actually be to play this game, I’ll further sever your ties to reality and continue to make you doubt what “humanly possible” actually means. Essentially, you have to kick the ball through two gigantic metal goalposts for six points, or between one large one and one smaller on the sides for one point. You run for your life carrying the ball, but after 15 meters (about 50 feet) you’re forced to bounce it on the ground and catch it in order to continue running. And in case you were wondering, no, the other team does not stop their assault and wait for you to figure out how to bounce that triangle shaped ball without having it go sideways. You have to dribble while running full speed. Or, as an alternative, you can pass it to a teammate. But, you can’t pass it like an American football. You have to punch it upwards into the hands of your teammate. So picture serving a volleyball underhand at top-speed, but you use an uppercut instead of your wrist, and try to get that to your teammate.  Or, (yes, there’s another alternative) you can just punt the ball with the strength of a Spartan warrior down the field and hope your teammate catches it. If they do catch such a pass, they are then rewarded by the defenders backing off and staring in awe at their great display of athleticism as they wait for the catcher to resume play by either kicking or running the ball. Also, to catch, it is not only permitted, but also encouraged that you leap into the air and use the opposing team as a springboard to launch yourself up and catch the ball. I’ve placed a link at the end to show just what I mean.

A bunch of international students, including myself, got to go visit a team and learn the rules first-hand. We met some of the players, watched an incredibly inspiring movie, and learned just how incapable and unimpressive our athleticism was in comparison. That’s why my favorite team is now the North Melbourne Kangaroos.

Here’s that link. (Hall of fame catch and I was lucky enough to see it live!… It doesn’t matter that I was rooting for the other team.)

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So Much to Do, So Much to See.

October 3, 2011

Induction for international students at the University of Ulster (a.k.a. UU) is not unlike freshman orientation at UR. We had a very detailed itinerary with several meetings and speakers. Some parts were — how shall I say this? — less exciting than others. It definitely included information that I needed to hear, but my favorite day, by far, came on Friday– the day of registration and the city tour.

I had my enrollment form filled out and all ready to go by early Friday morning. I’m pretty sure my school here is fairly new to the whole online registration thing. I had a paper form filled out by hand, but then they led students into a computer lab where we basically input the contents of our form into the computer system. It was good for me, though… I was out of there in no time.

Some American friends and I decided to walk to the city center early to look around before the tour started. It is so liberating to attend a school that is embedded in a city. It takes about 20 or 30 minutes for me to walk to the middle of the Derry. Sure, UR is on the edge of Richmond, but it is pretty isolated. It is a great experience to go to a different type of uni (as the Irish students abbreviate). It is also a very different type of city. Derry doesn’t really have the glassy and steel office buildings and skyscrapers that litter Richmond’s downtown. Most buildings are made from stone or brick. Especially in the city center, buildings are hundreds of years old.

One similarity the two cities share is a winding river running through. However, for us, the James acts as a fun place to hang out with friends during the summer. The Foyle River here in Derry acts much more like a dividing line, but the people here are trying hard to change this aspect of the city. Before I can explain the geographic significance of this river I need to give a brief history of the country:

Northern Ireland has a sad history which is probably all that many Americans know about the place. Locals refer to these times as “the troubles”. They were a time of unrest and disparagement between Catholics and Protestants about the status of Northern Ireland as part of the UK or the Republic of Ireland. The Good Friday Peace Agreement of 1998 started to put an end to the bad times and the country has been recovering ever since. Derry has actually been chosen as the first UK City of Culture for the year 2013 (which makes the inhabitants extremely proud). I may have to make the journey back then to take part in the festivities.

So, back to the Foyle. The city center is located on the western banks of the river. This part of the city is called the “city-side”. The opposite side is referred to as the “water-side”. Traditionally, Catholics live on the city-side and Protestants live on the water-side. There is however a tiny bubble of protestants who live on the city-side. They show their pride here with murals and by painting the curbs red, white, and blue. Here are some pictures of that community:

Let’s return to the tour, where I actually learned all of this information. So, my friends and I were exploring the city before we were to meet up with our international group. We decided to enter The Guildhall, which is basically the city hall where the council meets. This building was amazingly beautiful. As an art person, I could really appreciate it. The floors, ceilings, walls, and even windows were beautifully made. The windows were stained glass dating back to the 1910s. When we met up with our school group here, we actually were able to sit in the same room the council meets and hear the Mayor of Derry speak. Here are some photos of this building and the mayor:


Our tour guide, Garvin, showed us around the old city walls and energetically told us the stories of the city. The walls surrounded the original city of Derry for protection. They are quite wide and tall and the public is allowed to walk on top of them around the city.

Some cafes and churches are actually located on the walls. They are about 1 mile in circumference. The views from the walls are spectacular. Derry is located in somewhat of a valley, so you can see surrounding churches, neighborhoods, mountains, and the Foyle River. I can actually see the Foyle River from campus. The views here are unlike anything I have seen. Although the tour was optional, I am so happy that I came along. I know so much more about this beautiful city. Here are some pictures from my adventure around the walls:

My main advice to anyone wishing to or planning to study abroad is to take advantage of any opportunity that is offered you. If the school planned a city tour, take it. If there is a seemingly boring residence meeting followed by dinner, go. Attend as many events as possible. Meet as many new people as possible. Immerse yourself in the culture. Become part of the culture.

Fun Fact #3: Derry, Northern Ireland is home to the oldest department store in the world, called Austin’s. Yes, it is older than Macy’s in New York and Harrod’s in London. It recently celebrated its 180th birthday.

Fun Fact #4: To be called a “Professor” in Ireland is much, much more impressive than to be labeled a “Doctor”. It’s a little tough keeping this cultural difference straight.

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Mai Chai Bouey Kem Me: Don’t Use Chemical Fertilizer

September 28, 2011

The food/agriculture unit homestay has come to an end.  These last six days were filled with excitement and unbelievable experiences.  I cannot share everything from this past week, but I’ll go over the highlights.

First stop, Roi Et province.  We stayed in a village that was in transition from non-organic to organic farming, so almost every family had pigs to make their organic fertilizer.  We got a tour of some farms, and they really tried to make it interactive.  So, I got to plant a banana tree!

Before heading to Yasothon province, the location of our last homestay of the unit, we stopped in Masaharaka to observe our future families protesting the use of chemicals in farming.  The speakers brought some to tears as they spoke of the horrors that have come as adverse effects, and the passion of these people to protect their livelihood was an unbelievable thing to watch.  Wearing green, just as the organic market they participate in is the Green Market, the street was flooded with signs and images of pesticides.  This peaceful demonstration showed more than just what chemicals can do—it showed the importance of community.  These individuals came together for a cause, and their community was shown through both the market and the signs floating down the street.

I loved my family at this homestay.  Paw and I were surprisingly able to communicate a lot,  so I got to learn about both his and Meh’s farming practices and lives.  Both have lived in the village their entire lives, and have been farming organically for 12 years now.  We took the tractor out to the farm and came back with a bounty of delicious treats.  A green papaya for Som Tom, a local dish, long beans, peanuts, sugar cane, okra, and my favorite—passion fruit.  I got to learn about the different type of rice that he grows, and then that day we stayed up late and helped prepare for the market.  Weighing peppers, sorting veggies, carrying coconuts, and watching as Meh prepared the banana snacks—coconut and rice wrapped in banana leaf.  We woke early (4:00) to meet our parents at the market, and helped sell their rice and treats. (My time at local farmer’s markets paid off, because I would not allow for bargaining).

Our week came to an end after our last exchange with a local government official who was very passionate about hating TNCs.  This past week was a great first unit trip—personal connections were formed and we got a real insight into the issues.  These next 10 days in Khon Kaen will be rough, because I can’t wait to get back into the villages.

(Oh! I almost forgot… if you put a green mango into a box for a few days, it ripens perfectly!  It’s a very useful skill when mangos are not in season.)

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A Rough Start.

September 26, 2011

Traveling to Derry was quite an adventure, to say the least. Physically getting myself from within the United States past the borders of the UK and finally to my flat in Derry took much longer than was originally expected. The trip from my driveway to the doorway of my apartment took a “wee bit” under 24 hours. I won’t bore you with the extraneous details, but here’s a short recap of my trip:

I arrived at Richmond International Airport with plenty of time to make my first flight out to Newark. See my photo below of New York from the air!  There, it took about 45 minutes to find an open gate before we were allowed to exit the plane. So, once I was finally able to get off the plane, I basically sprinted to my next gate, only to find that the flight had been delayed and passengers were not yet boarding.

And then I arrived in London. Here is where all the fun begins. See, Heathrow Airport is separated into different “terminals” which are essentially mini-airports connected only by a 10 minute bus ride. I had 2 hours to get from one terminal to another to catch my final flight to Belfast. Little did I know, transferring terminals requires you to go through customs and security. I made it through and to the ticket counter (to receive my last boarding “card”) with 30 minutes to get to the gate. However, according the the airline rep, my bags hadn’t made it to the airplane yet. I was on time, but my bags were not. Apparently, if your luggage hasn’t made it to the plane, you can’t be checked in. So, I needed to catch the next flight out. Which, conveniently, happened to be 4 hours later.  Here’s a picture of London from the air – also pretty impressive!

I finally made it to Belfast (the capital city of Northern Ireland). But, guess what… my 2 bags weren’t with me. How, I must ask, was I checked into the next flight if my bags weren’t on it? This whole story is very contradictory. The baggage claim lady at the Belfast Airport finally told me that because I switched airlines at London (from Continental to Aer Lingus), I should have grabbed my bags at Continental’s luggage carousel and then transport them to the next airline. Who knew?!

Finally, I met a University of Ulster representative at the airport who arranged for some other international students and myself to catch the 2 hour bus ride to Derry. Although exhausted, slightly homesick, and minus 2 bags, I was definitely excited to step into my new room.

Okay, that explanation of my travels was not very brief, but such a lengthy journey deserves a full paragraph or two. I arrived on Monday night. It is now Wednesday afternoon and my bags have been delivered. Other than my baggage debacle, transitioning into this new culture has been quite smooth. I haven’t been to the center of town yet, but I’ve gone to some shops and have taken a few taxis. So far, the Irish people have been extremely nice and helpful. My first week here is all about orientation and getting prepared to register for classes (which will not be as difficult as I originally thought!). Next week all of the Irish students will return to campus, and classes start. There are definitely more adventures to come and I am ready.

Fun Fact #2: Irish people refer to ATM machines as “cash points” or “holes in the wall”. They also call plastic page protectors “poly pockets”.

Leave a Comment » | Fall 2011, Julia in Northern Ireland | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Quite Well

Laying The Bricks for Photography

September 19, 2011

Nic Dunlop, a photographer, came and taught a photography workshop—so I thought it only fitting that I show what I came up with.  Our instructions were to take an establishment shot, a profile shot, a detail shot, an action shot, and then a fifth of any of those.  We had to tell a story, and no children and no monks were allowed.

So I headed off through the streets and decided, despite the heat and blaring sun, to venture down a street I had not been down yet.  I first found myself in a neighborhood, then at a resort, and finally I came upon a bustling street with lots of excitement and potential subjects.  All the pictures were to be of the same subject, so I wanted something new (and boy, did I find it).

I came upon this brick building in construction and thought, “why not?”  There was a young guy working the brick pulley, and seeing as I had never seen this orange contraption before, it fit.  He spoke a little English, and I speak a little (very little) Thai, so we were kind of able to communicate.  He had decided I was going to come back later when he got off  and hang out with him and his friend…I knew I had to come back to get more pictures in the afternoon, so I did as the Thais do, and smiled.

I took a few good shots, and got my establishing shot, but needed more for sure. Only problem was, I wandered to get there—needless to say I got lost coming back.  I was uncertain if I could find it again.  I did though, and it was worth the walk.

My friend from earlier in the day was gone, so I wandered around the construction site.  I then saw this woman on the stairs, asked if I could take her picture, and afterward, she directed me upstairs.  I scaled the edge of the building (for like 2 feet) and spoke with three women, in broken Thai and English.  One may have told me she wants an American boyfriend…but I am pretty sure she had kids… I don’t know.  Language barriers.

It was an amazing experience, and although conversation may not have been perfect, I think I was able to capture my experience through the photos.

Leave a Comment » | Fall 2011, Julie in Thailand | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by julieinthailand

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