Tony in Switzerland: Boats and Woes

March 3, 2016

Welcome back to another post of postcards from Switzerland! I, at least, consider any photo I take with a mountain in the background to be a postcard.

This past weekend, one of my closest friends from home visited from Paris. She came to Lausanne with one of her friends from their program at Université Paris Diderot. What kind of tour guide would I be without showing them the most scenic views Lausanne has to offer?

In addition to showing off the cathedral, the mountains, and the cityscape, I decided to take my friends to Ouchy, which is the harbor district in Lausanne.

 

Take a look at the commercial street overlooking the harbor. Ouchy used to be completely separate from Lausanne until rail lines connected the two in the 1800s.

Take a look at the commercial street overlooking the harbor. Ouchy used to be completely separate from Lausanne until rail lines connected the two in the 1800s.

 

Ouchy offers ideal viewpoints to look at Lake Léman and the Swiss Alps. Tourists and locals alike swarm to this area regardless of the weather, but, of course, the harbor district is celebrated more during the summer.

Can you blame anyone for wanting to visit? The mountains take on a new identity around Ouchy. They rise from nothing and cut into the sky.

Can you blame anyone for wanting to visit? The mountains take on a new identity around Ouchy. They rise from nothing and cut into the sky.

 

The harbor district is also dotted with different sculptures and an English garden. I took a picture of this statue Vierge du Lac ("Virgin of the Lake"), which faces the mountains and sits away from the more commercial end of the harbor.

The harbor district is also dotted with different sculptures and an English garden. I took a picture of this statue Vierge du Lac (“Virgin of the Lake”), which faces the mountains and sits away from the more commercial end of the harbor.

There's definitely something mystifying about Ouchy. A few roses floated in the water, but the lake is so calm that the flowers looked like they were floating in space.

There’s definitely something mystifying about Ouchy. A few roses floated in the water, but the lake is so calm that the flowers looked like they were floating in space.

 

After a weekend with a reminder of home, I definitely started to feel homesick. Rest assured, my international travels are coming up soon as I finish picking out my classes. Until next time!


Emily in Samoa: Home from the Sea

February 18, 2016

One day, around six months ago, I was struck by a craving for Book. I was somewhere in transition—a train station, an airport, a car, a couch in a busy room—and decided that it was time to supplement life with a story. As many may in such a situation, I picked Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, having never read the book, and figuring it was time I did.

Never did I imagine that my book choice would come full circle for me here in Samoa. Stevenson spent the last five years of his life in Vailima, a town in the inner hills of the island of ʻUpolu, where he would meander through the rainforest behind his house for hours on end, climbing to the top of Mount Vaea to look down into the valleys and out to the bay in Apia. Arriving at the age of 40, Stevenson and his family were welcomed by Samoans and befriended many locals, even giving support and advice to native independence movements. He wrote a number of books in his Samoa years, inspired by his Pacific travels, and gained the Samoan name Tusi Tala, or “teller of stories.”

 

View from Stevenson’s veranda

View from Stevenson’s veranda

 

However, Stevenson had come to the island to die. He had never been in good health, and had traveled to the Pacific in hopes that the climate would have a positive effect on it. He died in 1894, and asked to be buried at the top of Mount Vaea, overlooking the ocean. His Samoan friends forged a path through the forest as they carried his casket, mounting steep slopes in often scorching heat. He was buried, at his request, looking out over the island and wearing the boots he had worn throughout his stay in Samoa. His requiem, written on his grave, says the following:

Under the wide and starry sky,

Dig the grave and let me die.

Glad did I live and gladly die,

   And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:

Here he lies where he longed to be;

Home is the sailor, home from the sea,

    And the hunter home from the hill.

The Samoans have set the verse to music, and now sing it (in English and Samoan) as a song of grief. Our museum guide sang the English version, telling us that she would cry if she sang it in Samoan. We climbed with the melody on our minds, and when we reached the top of the mountain, it was both tranquil and…chilling. The verse Stevenson wrote becomes more than a poem when you see the view it accompanies. The home he talks about is no longer Samoa, though the island welcomed him and he gladly became a part of its society. The home, from the top of the mountain, is the world he created for himself in his writing.

 

Hidden pirates

Hidden pirates

 

It’s possible that I idealize the place, but for me, the end of the climb was reverent. I could imagine Stevenson, a man whose health would prevent him from fighting pirates or going on the grueling adventures that fill his books, sitting atop Mount Vaea and looking out at the jagged mountains and sparkling sea. Devising, letter by letter, a world in which anything was possible; painting on the canvas that the view provided him.

I like to think, after this experience, that everyone will one day find their mountain. Wherever we are, we are looking to create a home for ourselves, be it physical, social, or literary. A place or a state of mind from which we may look out and survey what we have lived and shaped. And I am indebted to this experience for showing me that.

 

The group at the end of our climb

The group at the end of our climb


Maddie in Ireland: One Month In (Part 1)

February 18, 2016

Hey kids!

I’d like to start off by apologizing to you. I just know you’ve been refreshing this page anxiously for two weeks straight, waiting for my next installment about my adventures in Ireland and I am sorry for leaving you hanging. I am a horrible person and I apologize for an increases in blood pressure that may have occurred as a result of your prolonged wait.

“Where have you been Maddie? Why haven’t you kept in touch with me?” I’m sure you’re frantically asking. “Well,” I calmly reply to you, “I’ve been alllll over. Horribly busy actually. But I’m here now, children, and I have ~so~ much to tell you!”

Where should I start? Should I tell you about the people I know? Perhaps my visit to the Cliffs of Moher as promised? How about my Valentines Day spent with my girls? Or should I tell you about my visit to the Aran Islands? Maybe I’ll talk about going to Oxford to visit fellow Spiders studying abroad? Or the few days I spent exploring London by myself? What about the time I visited Stonehenge? Maybe my classes?

But then I think, porque no los dos? Or rather, porque no los siete?… Is, is that how you say it? Because, honestly, I have no clue. I took Italian, sooo I’m way out of my depth here. Well, however you say it, how do you feel about me telling you about all of it? (Spoiler alert: regardless of how you feel, I’m gonna tell you all about it).

Since I’d rather not skimp on the details, but I also don’t want to force you to read an entire novel, tonight I will write about the first tres activity-thingies listed and will continue the next few tomorrow. Good? Good.

The People

You know how in the beginning of any new program— high school, college, summer camp, a Super Bowl party at your weird friend Jeremy’s house— everyone tends to clump together? Like, everyone finds someone, sticks with them, gradually sticking onto new people, until there’s a group of about fifteen (secretly scared) people who are trying to navigate their new world without leaving each others side? Studying abroad works like that, too. You find a group right off the bat during Orientation and you do things constantly together before even finding out if you have things in common or even if you really like each other. Lucky for me, it has now been six weeks and I am very sure that the group I happened to cling onto, the first few people I met, were the right group to cling onto. They are all wonderful people with whom I actually have things in common and 100% like. We go on trips together (knowing that we like each other), we go to Trivia Night at the pub, we go cheese-tasting, we go on searches for a place that sells milkshakes at 2 a.m., we try and dissect Irish culture, we fight over who actually ate the last piece of pie, we help each other study, we battle the rain together, we have fun together, we experience Ireland, we explore new things, and we do it all together. The world is beautiful and awesome and strange and terrifying, but the people you’re with— whether you met them at Orientation, or because you saw them performing magic tricks one night, or because you’re both part of the Mountaineering Society— are the ones who can help you most see that.

 

Ain't we cute?

Ain’t we cute?

 

In conclusion, my friends— who, as you may have guessed, I have met through Orientation, seeing them perform magic tricks, and being part of the Mountaineering Society, among various other social interactions— are the best. Irish, Americans, Thai… we’re all awesome and are all helping each other through this beautiful, awesome, strange, terrifying world.

How precious.

 

The Cliffs of Moher

Lol, I told y’all I’d talk about this awhile back, so lets get down to bidness. After the first week of school, we— meaning my core group of friends who had found each other during Orientation— decided we had had enough of dumb Galway and its rich history, quaint streets, and charming people. We needed to leave this town.

So, we booked a tour, hopped on a quick bus, drove for two hours on the incredibly windy “Make-ye-sick” road (as our bus driver delicately put it), and just randomly pulled up to an ancient castle. No biggie. Just a centuries old building built in the middle of a lake. After spending half an hour or so at Caisleain Dhun Guaire, or Dunguaire Castle, we then headed off to Ailwee cave*. There was a tour of the cave, but I chose to stay behind and wander around the mountain. Technically there was a path I was supposed to follow if I wanted to explore— and I am in no way condoning going off designated paths—, but I totally went off the designated path (What can I say? I was raised in the mountains. If I see a cool tree in the distance, I’m gonna go look at that tree). I was rewarded by:

1) Finding some random statues of humanoid figures among the trees far away from the path. If I’m being honest, they were pretty frightening at first, but when you got closer turned out to be very beautiful and almost comforting.

 

Statue

 

2) Climbing to the top of the mountain and feeling the pure ecstasy you can only feel when standing at the top of a mountain. I will openly admit to raising my arms above my head, jumping, and yelling, a la Rocky finally climbing the Philadelphia Stairs.

3) Finally, finally, finally understanding why there the Landscape is such a large part of the Irish identity. The Land is haunting and halfway here, halfway there, half real, half a dream, faded, vivid, and so absolutely alive. The forest and the hills and the sun… it all just fills you. You don’t just see the land, you feel it. It sticks with you, even when you return to the city with all of its concrete and plastic and swarms of people.

 

Land

 

After the cave we hopped on the bus again and were taken to the legendary ~Cliffs of Moher~. The Cliffs were incredible. No poet, no painter, no photographer— and certainly not me— could ever convey the beauty and mystery of the cliffs. If Sir Patrick Stewart could be a geographic feature, that geographic feature would be only be half as awesome and wise as those cliffs.

After a few hours at The Cliffs of Moher, the bus returned to pick us up, we stopped by a seashore to take a few obligatory Instagram sunset pictures, and returned home.

I was exhausted, freezing, grouchy, covered in mud, had cut my hand pretty badly on a sharp rock, and it was all worth it.

*Fun fact, Ailwee actually served as the inspiration for Gollum’s cave in JR Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.

 

Valentines Day Wif Ma Femayls

Hey you guys, guess what! I just celebrated my twentieth time being single on Valentines Day! Isn’t that just the greatest? There is no way I’m cynical and bitter! I must love seeing all the couples happy in their loving relationships! Yay!

…Did you read those sentences with a sarcastic voice? You shouldn’t have. I actually do love Valentine’s Day. I’m neither cynical nor bitter, cute couples make me happy, and I don’t mind being single, because I have some rad friends that I get to celebrate with. This year we celebrated the power of female friendship with Galentine’s Day and then later the power of friendship of both genders with Palentine’s Day.

The original plan was to go to a local restaurant and treat ourselves to a wine and cheese tasting, but then it started to rain, yada, yada, yada… long story short, we were really not up to walking the 20 minutes to the restaurant. Lucky for us— meaning myself and two female friends— there is actually a restaurant in our apartment complex. We headed straight to Scotty’s Steakhouse, sat down next to a family with three adorable children who played peek-a-boo with us and frequently blew kisses, and proceeded to eat our massive hamburgers until we were uncomfortably full. One friend passed around presents she had gotten us (I started to cry, because of course I did… it was really sweet) and thus, with that wonderful gesture, concluded Galentine’s Day. This conclusion was immediately followed by the beginning of Palentine’s Day as a male friend joined us for dessert.

After dessert we, still uncomfortably full, headed back to all of our apartments. I immediately went to bed where I, no joke, dreamt of chocolate. How Valentine’s-Day-ish is that?

 

Well, thats it for tonight, dear readers. Check in for the other cinco activities soon.

Isn’t it a wonderful world?

Maddie


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

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

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

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

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…


Dan in Argentina: Signing Off

January 10, 2016

above BsAs

 

Six months ago, when I got off the plane in Argentina, I had no idea what to expect, not to mention no idea where to go. My first observation of this country was that they don’t have signs… anywhere! I follow the other passengers on my plane to the long migrations line. It isn’t until ten minutes in that I realize the smallest sign in the distance which reads (in both Spanish and English) “International Visitors.” Cool, I’m in the wrong line.

I “perdón” my way out of the line for Argentine citizens and over to the much longer correct line. The whole time, I worry about speaking with the migrations officer and hoping all my luggage got through the two flight, 15-hour travel day. “Passaporte?” Ahh ok, I’ve got this. I hand the guy my passport. “¿Dónde vas a quedarte?” “Ummm…” ¿¡Dónde vas a quedarte, vos!?” Ahhh…vos?…what? “Where you stay in Buenos Aires?” From this moment, I knew my time here would challenge me. Truly, every day in South America posed a struggle of varying size. Whether waiting 45 minutes for the bus, being ripped off by a cab driver or getting a mild bout of heatstroke, every day was an adventure, an adventure that I loved in its entirety. Argentina and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot but I can’t help but remember this experience as anything less than amazing.

 

The friends I made during this trip will be some of my best friends for the rest of my life.

The friends I made during this trip will be some of my best friends for the rest of my life.

 

I will always flock to whatever part of the U.S. my host family visits and I can’t wait to visit them back in Argentina someday!

I will always flock to whatever part of the U.S. my host family visits and I can’t wait to visit them back in Argentina someday!

 

The places I traveled to in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay are bucket list items for many people.

The places I traveled to in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay are bucket list items for many people.

 

goodnight

 

Coming home is the ultimate bittersweet feeling. I have learned to love Buenos Aires. I am finally comfortable traveling around the city, speaking the language, and being far from home. The summertime weather is in full force and I love it. All that being said, I am excited to go home. I missed the beauty of falling leaves and am excited to catch up on some cold nights with coffee by the fire. I can’t wait to see my family and all of my friends. For almost six months, Buenos Aires has been my home, my host family has been my family and my friends have been (please excuse this eye-roll-worthy moment) my everything. Now that I’m going home, I hate to think that all will change.

But in reality, I will return to Buenos Aires one day and feel at home as if nothing changed. I will stay in touch with my host family and see them again someday. And of course, I will see my friends back in Richmond come January. Coming home changes things a little but the way I look at it, I will always have these memories to hold on to this experience.

I couldn’t have asked for a better time. I truly got to know my city, traveled around a little, made amazing friends and learned a lot about the culture, language and daily life in Argentina. I will always cherish this semester.

To the city that had me tapping out many days but excitedly back in the ring the next, I bid you “adios.” To my beloved Buenos Aires, goodnight. Te amo.


Jiaqi in Italy: Old-fashioned Market in Viale Papiniano

November 5, 2015
Typical vendor

Typical vendor

 

I have always had a passion for markets. Fresh produce straight coming from the farmers, cheeses, condiments, clothes, shoes, accessories, shoes, but also home objects. Strictly fresh, honest, low-price, and practical.

My journey in Milan began with a treasure hunt across different farmers’ markets in the city, in search of kitchen essentials, unique clothes, and an authentic view of the local Milanese people. Among all these markets in Milan, there is probably no more vibrant place like the one in Viale Papiniano. Upon entering the characteristically mundane plaza, I was immediately catapulted into the old-fashioned market atmosphere. Through a close look at the intense color and the natural human interactions, I want to present the veracity of the local life in Milan, a part of Milan that is less represented in mass media.

 

Cheese paradise

Cheese paradise

 

Cheese stand

Cheese stand

 

Cheese vendor

Cheese vendor

 

Passion for cheese has already become an important part of Italian identity. Milanese are no exception, and they for sure know what is good taste. Cheeses, “formaggi” in Italian, come in amazingly diverse variety and quantity in Papiniano market. Each cheese stand has its own specialty and character. My favorite, however, is the organic cheese stand that sells truffled-flavor cheese exclusively. With one little bite, the indescribable flavor of minerals from that far-away mountain has already convinced me.

 

Italian in-season produce

Italian in-season produce

 

Fruit vendor Muhammad

Fruit vendor Muhammad

 

Four Euros please

Four Euros please

 

It’s a great opportunity to see what fruit and vegetables are in season, and Italy has a fantastic range of diverse produce year-round. As what you would expect at a market, there is also the usual yelling and bargaining conversations, which makes it much more lively than a normal supermarket. The stand of Muhammad, a young immigrant from Pakistan, is my go-to place because he always greets me with a warm smile and often discounts.


Dan In Argentina: A True Porteño

November 5, 2015
The word "porteño" is what you call someone from Buenos Aires. As the weeks and months pass, I am feeling more and more like a true porteño. Recently, a bunch of my friends and I took a cooking class on traditional Argentine foods. We made empanadas, beef stew and a dulce de leche desert. It was one of the best meals I've had here! And it tasted even better knowing I had kneaded the dough and stirred the stew. This, among others, was a cultural experience for which UR reimbursed the cost.

The word “porteño” is what you call someone from Buenos Aires. As the weeks and months pass, I am feeling more and more like a true porteño. Recently, a bunch of my friends and I took a cooking class on traditional Argentine foods. We made empanadas, beef stew and a dulce de leche desert. It was one of the best meals I’ve had here! And it tasted even better knowing I had kneaded the dough and stirred the stew. This, among others, was a cultural experience for which UR reimbursed the cost.

 

Also like a true porteño, I recently took a day trip to Delta del Tigre, a small residential town north of the city, in the province of Buenos Aires. This area is made up of a bunch of islands separated by narrow canals, streams and rivers. You can take boat taxis to different islands, have a picnic and just relax. Here's a picture of me being awkward on a small bridge connecting two close islands.

Also like a true porteño, I recently took a day trip to Delta del Tigre, a small residential town north of the city, in the province of Buenos Aires. This area is made up of a bunch of islands separated by narrow canals, streams and rivers. You can take boat taxis to different islands, have a picnic and just relax. Here’s a picture of me being awkward on a small bridge connecting two close islands.

 

I, being my true porteño self, also experienced the beauty of an Argentine asado recently. An asado is the equivalent of the American cookout. My host family invited me to their first asado of the summer. As meat cooked on the huge grill, a fragrant smoke filled the room! Along with regular steaks and chorizo sausages, I tried (and subsequently did not enjoy) cow intestines and blood pudding... but of course, as a porteño, I had to try.

I, being my true porteño self, also experienced the beauty of an Argentine asado recently. An asado is the equivalent of the American cookout. My host family invited me to their first asado of the summer. As meat cooked on the huge grill, a fragrant smoke filled the room! Along with regular steaks and chorizo sausages, I tried (and subsequently did not enjoy) cow intestines and blood pudding… but of course, as a porteño, I had to try.

 


Lindsay in Thailand: ‘T’ is for Thailand & Bye Teow (Travels)

November 4, 2015

Since being in Khon Kaen, the occasional cabin fever feeling has fueled many of my last minute travels. My first trip was actually outside of Thailand. On a Wednesday I booked a ticket for Singapore and on Friday I arrived, much to the shock of both Colleen and I. Colleen, a fellow UR blogger, was one of the first friends I made at Richmond. She was my freshman hall neighbor in Laura Robins and we lived through the always awkward and transitional first year together. She is one of those people that can make me question how I went eighteen years of my life not knowing her, so when I found out we would still be living in the same hemisphere this semester, I could not have been happier.

 

I can’t believe there’s a boat in the sky!

I can’t believe there’s a boat in the sky!

 

My reunion travel began late Thursday night with an over-night bus adventure to Bangkok, taxi drive to the airport, and plane ride. At two in the afternoon Friday, I finally arrived on the island city-state. Standing in the Singapore airport that prides itself on being “an experience in itself” with a broken phone, I questioned if I would ever find Colleen. By pure luck, I bumped into her twenty minutes after landing and our adventurous weekend began.

After the exchanges of “oh my goodness I’ve missed you” hugs, “how is life” responses, and “look what happened” pictures, we ate dinner in one of the well-known ‘hawker centres’ filled with superb street fare (and Indian food I had been craving so much). We wandered about the city streets, perched on an apartment rooftop, and eventually made our way to the CÉ LA VI bar and observation deck atop the Marina Bay Sands Resort The dancing lasting until four in the morning and the amazing view of the modern city made for a pretty surreal night.

 

The ever so majestic Gardens by the Bay

The ever so majestic Gardens by the Bay

 

The next day, we walked…a lot. We were able to pack in an extensive tour of the city and even found time for yoga and a catnap atop a magical rooftop garden. We spent the rest of the night strolling through the Gardens by the Bay and laying in the grass marveling at the twinkling lights and harmonious music. This was when a “oh my goodness I can’t believe I’m here” moment kicked in and I left the gardens with such a love for this city. Of course, we could not have finished the night more perfectly than with the ice cream and chick flick we mindlessly consumed. This weekend getaway ended too soon as weekends always do, but it was so nice to spend time in such a wonderful city with an even more wonderful friend!

Continuing the last minute planning trend, my next trip to Chiang Mai, Thailand was very unexpected. Two girls on my program, Leah and Julia, and I mentioned doing a weekend trip on Monday. It was not until Friday that the subject came about again and one hour later, we were in a taxi on our way to the Khon Kaen bus station. A ten-hour bus ride to Chiang Mai was the only thing we knew we had booked for our weekend trip. We did not have hostel reservations, day tours, or tickets back to Khon Kaen, but we were not concerned.

 

Even with our last minute decision, we made it to the bus station just in the nick of time.

Even with our last-minute decision, we made it to the bus station just in the nick of time.

 

I still stand by the idea that a lack of formal plans or expectations makes for the best adventures. Somehow for me, everything always seems to work out, even if I least expect it to. The three of us managed to check into a hostel at 8:25 a.m., and by 8:35 we were running to catch a songtow (a ‘taxi’ like mode of transportation that is essentially two-rows of seats in the back of a truckbed) with our half-cooked pancakes in hand for a day trip trek. What makes Chiang Mai one of the most popular destinations in Thailand is because of its combination of lively night markets, ancient wall ruins, and magnificent mountains, all of which we were able to take advantage of.

 

Elephant hand hug

Elephant hand hug

 

We began our day visiting an elephant recovery center. We fed the elephants bananas and bamboo, and even bathed them in the river. The elephant I was giving a bath, Di Jai, however, decided she did not want to take a bath anymore and walked out of the river. Meanwhile, I was still on her back left wondering how in the world I was going to get down.

 

IMG_3789

 

After we visited with the elephants, we trekked our way up to a waterfall near where the Hill Tribes reside. We swam and splashed in the water until it was time to go rafting. Julia, Leah, and I were assigned to a canoe with another couple and our rafting instructor. He led his unexperienced team through some pretty incredible rapids and showed us the best views of vast mountains and lush rice fields. We ended the day with the largest night market in Chiang Mai filled with silks, Thai pants, and even live animals, and eventually made our way home to Khon Kaen the following day. Chiang Mai is an incredible city that is too big to see in a day and a half, so I hope to return there someday soon.

My next travel destination, Nong Khai, is a small treasure nestled beside the Mekong River just two hours from Khon Kaen. The capital of Laos, Vientiane, is situated just on the other side of the Friendship Bridge, an Australian infrastructure connecting the country with Thailand and aiding Laos development. From my guesthouse situated beside the calm running water, I felt like I could almost touch Laos.

The city of Nong Khai is quite tranquil and charming. Upon arrival, the locals welcomed me and four other ‘farang’ friends as if were family, offering their best English ‘hello, how are you’-s and calling us beautiful (“suwai”) as we passed the open shops. We stumbled upon the small downtown area early on our trip that was bustling with both indoor and outdoor markets. These stores had some of the most magnificent Thai silks and woodcarvings, along with some of the most unusual kanomes (snacks) I had ever seen, including buffalo hide and dried bat.

Nong Khai reminded me just how affordable Thailand is. For just 50 baht ($1.40), my friends and I were able to rent bikes for the full day which really enabled us to see the city’s nooks and crannies (and feel like young kids again). By simply looking at the skyline, we saw the top of an intriguing statue. We followed the figure like it was the North Star. After several close encounters with angry dogs and potholes the size of black holes, we were left amazed. We found the Sala Kaew Ku Park. This sculpture garden, constructed over a 20-year span, contains Luang Pu Boun Leua Sourirat’s Hindu-Buddhist inspired visions with some even towering at over 82 feet tall. I cannot describe how I felt at that time, standing so small beneath what I still think is the closest thing I’ve come to a Wonder of the World.

 

IMG_4141

 

Following this portion of our day’s exploration was a race to get back to our guesthouse. At 5:30, a ‘sunset boat’ would leave the small port for an hour ride on the river if enough people were interested. Upon arrival, we were the only ones waiting in line for the ride. This actually worked well, because for just $30, the five of us together rented our own personal houseboat restaurant that sailed the Mekong for an hour under the cotton candy sunset sky. Laos was even closer now, and so were the Laotian dragon boat racers we once saw from a distance on the Thai riverfront. The night commenced with a margarita at the only cocktail bar in town and a wonderful four-hour night/early morning bike ride to the Friendship Bridge and through the market square. Nong Khai remains one of my favorite destinations in all of Thailand.

 

 

From left: Annie, Billy, myself, Jamie, and Elyssa enjoying our ride down the Mekong River.

From left: Annie, Billy, myself, Jamie, and Elyssa enjoying our ride down the Mekong River.

 


Lindsay in Thailand: The Thai Funnies

October 19, 2015

 

I had an iced latte. Now I'm just missing the pumpkin spice.

I had an iced latte. Now I’m just missing the pumpkin spice.

 

Today, I reminisced a bit about home. I found myself missing Fall leaves and the stereotypical pumpkin spice latte. I decided to somehow satisfy my seasonal coffee craving as I put on my scarf (in the 80 degree heat) and headed to a quaint café nearby. Even with my personal attempt of a mock pumpkin spice latte, I craved something unusual- what my Gram might call the Sunday newspaper “funnies.” Using this as inspiration, I thought I would make my own written comics, compiling a few funny occurrences and random thoughts from my Thai adventure so far. Enjoy!

  1. Apparent Differences in Distance
  2. Language Barriers or Avenues of Understanding
  3. Finger Foods
  4. Facebook (and Selfie) Official

Apparent Differences in Distance

My first morning in Khon Kaen, my lovely roommate and her friend wanted to take me and another exchange student out for breakfast. They informed us about a great cafe nearby, Have a Break. We walked 25 seconds down the street from our apartment, hidden from the sun under our umbrellas, to find that Have a Break was closed. Disheartened, our Thai roommates turned around and began to head back to our rooms. I then suggested going to another cafe two buildings down. With this proposal, they stared at the further café’s sign for a couple of minutes and insisted it was too far away. I replied that I did not mind the extra exercise, and in another ten seconds, we arrived at Cafe Me 2 less than 100 yards from our original departure point.

 

My first, and definitely not last, honey toast

My first, and definitely not last, honey toast

 

A closer look a the infamous Thai dessert!

A closer look a the infamous Thai dessert!

 

Before leaving for Thailand, I envisioned the people to be extremely active, contrasting them to the stereotypical “lazy Americans” who use drive-thrus so they do not have to get out of their cars to pick up food and who even drive in circles to get the closest parking spot at the gym (I know… I’m guilty of this too). I was shocked to find the existing aversion to walking not only in the city of Khon Kaen, but also in many rural villages. Thais love their motocis. I have been told that “walking four miles is dangerous” and have also been driven to village houses 100 yards down the dirt road. If you see a Thai individual, especially students in Khon Kaen, it is likely that their motoci is just a step and a hop away.

 

My Thai roommate, Yui, on her motorci

My Thai roommate, Yui, on her motoci

 

P.S. In addition to seeing up to four people on one motorbike, do not be surprised to also see cages of rabbits, full-grown Poodles, and babies like I was!

Language Barriers or Avenues of Understanding

At my first community homestay, I accidentally caused a ruckus. I stayed in a rural village a half of an hour outside of Khon Kaen with a Thai family for three days. My family consisted of my ‘Mehh,’ ‘Paw’ and another exchange student, Billy. Each morning, Meh made a ginormous breakfast that in actuality could constitute both lunch and dinner, as well. One morning, I approached my Meh in the kitchen with the little Thai I knew. As she fried chicken, I made a chopping gesture to indicate I wanted to help prepare the vegetables. She stopped what she was doing and simply stared at me. I repeated the motion as her head tilted in confusion. I then stated ‘sa poem pack.’ Now, I know this phrase does not come close to what I wanted to say, but at the time I thought “hair wash vegetables” might suggest rinsing veggies. With no luck, I tried ‘ab nahm pack.’

 

Keo Kruyah Kone chan (my family): One of our lovely neighbors, myself, Meh, Billy, and Paw

Keo Kruyah Kone chan (my family): One of our lovely neighbors, myself, Meh, Billy, and Paw

 

Ab nahm, meaning to take a shower, is a word Thais know very well. It is not uncommon for Thais to shower up to three times per day, so Thai families often offer their shower to guests even before offering a cold beverage.

 

My family and neighbors packing all the leftover food Billy and I could finish for breakfast for our lunches...Yum!!

My family and neighbors packing all the leftover food Billy and I could finish for breakfast for our lunches…Yum!!

 

In actuality, I did not want to shower with vegetables, but my Meh thought I did. She handed me an assortment of greens as she escorted me upstairs to the bathroom. I refused, and in desperation, Meh handed me forks, knives, spoons, and fruit as I was sat down at the table. Meh’s cries for help as she leaned over the fence could barely be heard over Billy’s laughter. Soon enough, I found myself swarmed by ten villagers attempting to understand that I simply wanted to help Meh make breakfast, not wash vegetable hair or shower vegetables.

 

Students gathered together as our Thai families gave blessings in a traditional ceremony before our departure back to Khon Kaen.

Students gathered together as our Thai families gave blessings in a traditional ceremony before our departure back to Khon Kaen.

 

Although that was an experience in itself, I did not find the next one as humorous. Because I was leaving for Singapore to visit my friend Colleen right after class, I wanted to make a copy of my passport photo on my lunch break. I arrived at the photo shop soaked after an unexpected monsoon and handed the worker my soggy photo. I requested one ‘4×6’ photo, and what did I leave with an hour later? Not only four 6x6s photos, six 4×4 photos, 150 baht additional payment, near tears, and a single 4×6 passport photocopy, but also a new understanding and appreciation.

While I intentionally attempted to remain calm and refrain my frustration, the photo shop worker did it with ease. He did everything he could to help me, from bringing out an electronic translator to offering his own money to pay for the photos I did not intend to purchase. For such a simple gesture, it made me question myself: How helpful am I to those who don’t speak English in America? How accommodating are we as a country to non-native English speakers?

I cannot count the amount of times I have heard the phrase “If you want to live in America, speak English.” I have heard of many people hanging up the telephone or raising their tone of voice with telephone assistants who are difficult to understand. I myself have giggled when I heard foreigners mispronounce an English word.

Since becoming more aware of our nation’s language deficit, I found I do not have much room to laugh. A mere 18% of Americans are fluent in another language while 53% of our European counterparts are fluent in at least one other language.

I myself have traveled throughout Europe and I cannot say anything more than ‘hello,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘goodbye’ in any of the six countries I visited. Many citizens in these European countries; however, could hold conversations with me in English. They did not know if I was a tourist, new community member, or established citizen, yet they catered to my little comprehension.   Yet, I can still recall several moments of frustration when they did not understand my questions and requests—all in English.

Until now, I have expected others to accommodate to my sole English speaking capabilities. I had never honestly and intentionally tried to master a language. I had never been in a place for an extended amount of time where I could not find a single soul who could speak English. Have you?

I swear that if the Thai people had not expressed so much kindness and patience with me (and my language incapability) as they have so far, my experience would be very different. Studying abroad in any location is a difficult transition, even if you do speak the same language. I could not imagine permanently moving to the U.S. as a foreigner or refugee, searching for a new adventure or new life, and not being given the same assistance the Thai people have willingly offered. Before evaluating someone else’s communication abilities in the U.S., I hope to recall the difficult language barrier I faced, and the beautiful friendships I formed through eventual and somewhat unconventional communication methods.

Finger Foods

I have always been a fan of eating with my hands and playing with my food, and I am happy to say Thailand is too. In my first week of orientation, I took a class called “Thai Etiquette.” Along with learning how to properly wai, situate my legs while sitting on dinner mats, and point my feet in a temple, I learned how to eat with my hands.

 

A Thai etiquette class

Thai etiquette class

 

Although I was thrilled to eat with my hands, I was not initially as keen on all the food sharing. For any fans of the television show, Friends, you might say I was Joey who “doesn’t share food” as easily. That has sure changed for the better! In Thailand, communal eating is very popular. In Isaan villages, the families roll out mats onto bamboo tables. The family will then gather cross-legged on the mat, surrounding the bowls of traditional Northeastern Isann food.

 

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A traditional Isaan meal

 

At any homestay, I can be sure to find Som Tom (spicy papaya salad), blah toad (fried fish), ky toad (fried egg), guy yong (grilled chicken), and moo bing (minced pork) at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Proper technique includes making a small ball of cow neow (sticky rice) and using that as a ‘spoon’ to scoop up small bits of each of the dishes. No one has a personal plate and communal eating utensils are also used (which means less dish washing).

This communal finger food setting is one that I love! Not only does it avoid loading your personal plate with more than you can handle, it also ensures you will not feel bad about wasting food left on your plate or stuffing yourself (too much, although it is inevitable most of the time). You do not have to worry about finishing your meal too early or being the last to finish because you simply eat until you are satisfied-no rush needed.

You can also extend the ‘communal’ eating aspect to ‘community’ eating. At each of the five village homestays I have been to, it is not uncommon to have seven or more additional friends and relatives gathered around the family’s table. Eating is considered an art form, and one that everyone should enjoy. Meh and Paw do not hesitate to yell “gin cow” to random passer-bys on bicycles, tractors, and motorcycles. ‘Gin cow’ literally means ‘eat rice,’ but also ‘eat food’ because most every dish involves some form of rice- white, black, purple, red, sticky, sweet, fried etc.,. The list goes on and on.

Facebook (and Selfie) Official

Farang; a word I might even consider a nickname now. Farang in Thai means “a person of white race.” I hear this term quite often followed by shutter clicks and camera flashes. Once, while on an overnight seven-hour bus ride to Bangkok (without my fellow ‘farang’ friends), I was sleeping with my night mask near the aisle. I woke up quite quickly when a bright light crept under my cover. A girl two rows ahead of me was taking a selfie with my ‘farang’ self and forgot to turn off her flash. She was initially shocked when I became quite aware of it but was not too embarrassed as the picture taking continued without hesitation.

 

My first Thai selfie, complete with peace signs and all

My first Thai selfie, complete with peace signs and all.

 

This experience was unique, but not too dissimilar to others. In Thai culture, it is much more acceptable to take pictures of people you do not know. I have had hiking tour guides, children, restaurant owners, gym instructors, and even Thai government officials sneak pictures of farang.

Keep in mind; however, that even if you don’t ever meet those people again, those stealthy photos may resurface. Many times, you can even view them as a shared link or as a post on your facebook wall. When I was studying Thai with a friend at a local café, two Khon Kaen university students were seated next to us. We didn’t speak to each other during the four hours we were there, and I only occasionally heard giggles after I attempted to formulate Thai questions and responses. (Then again, if I heard what I actually sounded like, I would laugh at me too).

 

American feast with Farang!

American feast with Farang!

 

It was not until I packed up my belongings to leave when the two girls stopped me and asked if I could be friends with them. “Of course,” I responded. I wanted to hang out with more Thai peers. Rather than exchanging phone numbers, they immediately handed me a pad of paper to write down my name, asking if I ‘facebooked’ often. They then requested a ‘selfie’ with me. Before even walking down the stairs of the small café, I had two friend requests and was tagged in a photo. Before coming to Thailand, prepare yourself. Be aware that Thais are #selfiegame strong.


Jiaqi in Italy: A Weekend In Budapest vs A Weekend In Milan

October 15, 2015

Like Milan, Budapest has been reputed as a city of endless charm. During the summer, I randomly met an Hungarian girl called Gabriella in a museum workshop and we instantly became best friends. Now that she is back in Budapest, I decided to spend a weekend with her and take the chance to visit this long-dreamed-about city. After four days of devouring delicious homemade Hungarian food and marveling at the Central European architectural wonder, I did notice some differences between the Budapest-style weekend and the Milanese weekend. Here are some insights from me, a casual tourist who observes seriously:

  • Breakfast. Hungarian weekend breakfast is long, sumptuous, and conversation-friendly. The Milanese breakfast, instead, is …? Wait what? Does that even exist? It did baffle me many times that a country obsessive with food does not have an extensive breakfast menu. Breakfast in Milan and northern Italy usually consists of only a few biscuits and a cup of cappuccino. At the most, you add a brioche and some orange juice. The breakfast I had in Budapest, however, is probably the type of big meal you will eat in your grandma’s country kitchen when you go back once a year. Locally-produced ham, hummus, whole wheat bread, fresh butter, cheese platters, pastries, milk and coffee…etc. “A great weekend always starts with a satisfying long breakfast,” said my Hungarian friend.
  • Cafe Culture. There is no need to re-emphasize how a cafe functions as a semi-religious institution in Italy. Yes, there is a certain ritual and drinking pattern that you are forced to respect and follow. In Hungary, everything about coffee is much more casual. An even more casual and relaxing atmosphere dominates the cafes in Budapest. The former Jewish quarter, now turning into a hip, “ruined” pub district, hides a collection of gem-like cafe bars.
  • People and Style. The Milanese fashion style is hard to miss even when you are visiting the city for just one day. Take a look of this street fashion blog  which generates a sense of how the Milanese dress themselves. “La bella figura” (the beautiful figure), said by Italians, defines their attitude toward everyday elegance. Fashionistas in Budapest, are relatively more reserved. It’s hard to spot flashy color and revealing jewelry in the fanciest neighborhood of Budapest, while even the shop cashier in Milan wears a pair of Valentino-labeled shoes. In the subway, most people prefer to wear darker colors and their coats are more conservatively designed. For me, this is rather a difference of personality than a difference of taste.

 

Turkish bath cafe

 

The Budapest Market Hall

 

Local Farmer's market

 

Impressve Parliament Building

 

Hungarian style ham

 

Budapest Chain Bridge

 

Beautiful Budapest riverside