Emily in Samoa: A Trip…Home?

April 12, 2016
A traditional canoe by Tutuila’s main road. April 17th is Flag Day for American Samoa, and each village will have a canoe in an island-wide boat race in the main harbor

A traditional canoe by Tutuila’s main road. April 17th is Flag Day for American Samoa. Each village will have a canoe in an island-wide boat race in the main harbor.

 

We just got back from a four-day trip to the island of Tutuila in American Samoa, where we stayed with host students and their families. The students were members of the community college’s Phi Theta Kappa honors society, and were eager to get to know us, welcoming us as friends and new members of their families.

I was excited from the moment we touched down. Like many of the students in my group, I knew the least about American Samoa going into my study abroad, and was curious about what it would be like—more so than Fiji or Savai’i. We started by driving past chains like McDonald’s and Carl’s Jr…places I would not usually frequent in the US, but which sparkled with new fascination as we drove past. A lot of the world’s American stereotypes felt true here: things seemed glittery, plastic, diverse, plentiful. Or perhaps I was just in culture shock.

The situation got even better when I met my host. We had similar personalities, and as she told me about what she had planned for our stay, I couldn’t help smiling. She wanted to take us to ice cream spots, the best ocean views, and her aunt’s function center (set on top of a hill that overlooked the island). “My dad’s an artist,” she said, “but he also loves to cook…really intricate things. He’s starting to put tattoo patterns on his cakes, and he’s going to make lasagna on Thursday for you.” Oh gosh. The L word. We went back to her house, and I was enveloped in air conditioning, basking in the feeling of cool air on my skin as I delved into Arizona iced tea and potato chips. None of us had felt like life in Samoa was particularly hard, but I was not expecting this reaction to all the food choices on my arrival in American Samoa—an island only half an hour’s plane ride away, yet a world apart.

I could go on for pages with the food, but suffice it to say that I ate my fill and more. And between eating, hikes, lectures, and late-night talks with my host family, the stay was over before we knew it.

 

 One of my host family's paintings, a mural at a local retreat. More artwork can be found at https://www.facebook.com/MarkAshleyFaulknerart/

One of my host family’s paintings, a mural at a local retreat. More artwork can be found at https://www.facebook.com/MarkAshleyFaulknerart/

 

My family was the biggest highlight of my trip, as every night they sat up for hours talking about life in American Samoa, their past, and what they hoped to do in the future. Our group advisor wants us to analyze whether culture is “blended well” there, and we’ve all found that is impossible to do so. My family called themselves weird, since they were a small nuclear family with healthy portions of Portuguese, Hawaiian, Australian, Solomon, and Samoan in their family tree. They didn’t go to church or bingo, though most of the island did. My host father created artwork based on Samoan traditional tattooing, but wasn’t widely known, since those in the community “didn’t understand his art,” and felt they could make it themselves. My host brother, who was sixteen, was a product of all this “blending,” but was closest to the Tongan population on the island, since his best friend was Tongan and they would often go to church and other events together.

 

flower leis find a new twist in American Samoa, where grocery stores sell leis with candy, chips, and 5-hour energy bottles

flower leis find a new twist in American Samoa, where grocery stores sell leis with candy, chips, and 5-hour energy bottles

 

leis close-up

 

So what exactly is cultural blending, and how does one do it well? And why should we assume that American Samoans do it less well than Americans or Samoans? To me, culture just is. A group might lose traditions, but it cannot lose culture…it can only adapt it, as we have been seeing in American Samoa.

One aspect of Samoan tradition and culture that is still very much alive is the legend of the turtle and shark in the village of Vaitogi. According to one version of the story, a man and woman fell in love, and ran away from their island so that the man would not have to fight a war. They were taken in by the villagers in Vaitogi, but their leaders, angry at the man’s desertion, eventually found them out, chasing them to the cliffs. The pair refused to surrender, and jumped into the ocean, where they turned into a turtle and shark. Another version claims that the pair are a mother and daughter fleeing famine. You can watch the first version in more detail here:

 

 

The pair can still be seen today, but only if the villagers come to sing their special song. Our hosts had called the village before our visit, and a woman came out to meet us when we arrived. After five minutes of singing, they both appeared, the turtle surfacing on the right, and the shark swimming in the crest of a large wave that came crashing down on the cliff. It’s easy to be cynical of legends, but much harder when they come true right in front of you.

 

Searching for the turtle and shark at the cliffs of Vaitogi

Searching for the turtle and shark at the cliffs of Vaitogi

 

Other aspects of American Samoan culture are not as Samoan…perhaps more like what many like to call a “melting pot.” There is little food waste, as is common in independent Samoa, but when this is combined with easy access to American fast food chains and junk food, health risk and obesity rates go through the roof. Add to this the inability to access fruits and vegetables, due to the lack of home gardening and mainland ships that never seem to arrive, and you end up with a difficult situation. Similar instances of blending can be seen elsewhere in the culture: strong Samoan family values are played on by recruiters to coax students with few options (the US government has prevented universities from being established on the island) to join the army. Tuna canneries employ large numbers, and enable proprietors to label their products as “made in the USA” without paying their workers national minimum wage…since American Samoa is not officially part of the nation. And the list goes on…

It may come as a surprise to some readers that American Samoa exists and is part of the US. We certainly aren’t told much about it where I’m from. Well, it’s an “unorganized, unincorporated territory,” the last US holding in which people are not citizens, and thus cannot vote or have a voting representative in Congress. They also do not pay taxes, and maintain their land without risk of eminent domain, even receiving payments from the government to rent their land as a national park. There are pros and there are cons, as there would be any place in which different cultures are coming together and attempting to successfully coexist.

I hope that one day in the future I will be able to host members of my American Samoan family at my house in Massachusetts, so that we can continue are conversations, and that I can begin to see my world through their eyes, as they tried to see their world through mine.

 

Sunset from my host family’s hilltop retreat

Sunset from my host family’s hilltop retreat


Emily in Samoa: Worlds Without Walls

March 1, 2016

Picture your world, the one where you live out each day, where you go to work or school or coffee, where you interact with family and friends—and those people who, unfortunately, fall into an often unpleasant third category—and where, at the end of the day, you return home to peace and quiet. Now, eliminate every wall from this world. Start by taking down the physical walls, then go to the interpersonal ones, and demolish those, too.

If you do this right, you have a pretty good image of what a Samoan village homestay is like. While many people have switched to palagi (foreigner) homes, the fale (open house) mentality has stuck, and everyone’s life is out in the open to the rest of the village. We have lived in this wall-less world for ten days, and it is a definite cultural adjustment. We visitors have had to get used to a new style of living, in which the hardest part has definitely been derived from the lack of walls. And what are the implications?

Seaside fales provide the best views out and in

Seaside fales provide the best views out and in

Physically, no privacy. And I mean None. Windows are open, doors are few, and getting dressed in the morning is an adventure that often results in accidental flashing. Showers have no curtains, and are done in lavalavas (sarongs usually worn as skirts, but converted to tube dresses for the purpose). A shower is the biggest adventure in this wall-less world, and, as I found, a number of obstacles ensue once one is showering. What would you do if your host father decided to strike up conversation? Or if your shower happened to be next to a popular pig hangout? Or if your six siblings decided it would be good fun to turn on music and watch you?

My universal solution has been to dance. I am not an adept dancer by any means, but anyone who decides to be a part of the audience when this palagi showers is in for a good show…

 

My curious siblings surround my bed whenever I arrive at the house. This time, I gave them all pigtails.

My curious siblings surround my bed whenever I arrive at the house. This time, I gave them all pigtails.

 

With no privacy comes no alone time. You can approach this however you like: many students chose to be frustrated by it. “Why does my homestay family want to spend time with me?” they would mope. We discovered as we progressed that when we found times of alone-ness, “alone time” took on a new image. Instead of soaking in the peace, you sit puzzled, wondering where everyone is. And, in contrast to the US, this place with no alone time also has no room for loneliness.

A lack of being alone manifests itself in a variety of ways. Socially, everyone is always watching, gossiping, and peeping in on neighbors. If voices are raised in a house, everyone on the street will crowd the windows to see what is going on. If a group of palagi girls goes to the beach, at least ten village boys will be there within the hour.

This isn’t as oppressive as it seems, since the flipside of communal life offers benefits for all members. The most surprising example I found was when I was playing with my siblings. In the US, I rarely have found children who, come snack time, don’t snatch and devour their food. Here, however, a few children got snacks, and within seconds I and the others had piles of food in our hands. Three- and five-year-olds had evenly divided up their food for the rest of us, with no qualms whatsoever.

There are no walls around personal property, nor are there walls around individuals as they age or weaken. Samoa does not have Social Security, and care is taken on by the family and the village. Money is pooled for weddings, funerals, and hospital visits, so that everyone is taken care of by those around them.

 

Fa’alavelave is a Samoan term that refers to any major occasion in village life. We were able to attend a funeral fa’alavelave. Life is celebrated with singing, euglogies, and gift exchange. Fine mats (left) take weeks of work, and are a major gift.

Fa’alavelave is a Samoan term that refers to any major occasion in village life. We were able to attend a funeral fa’alavelave. Life is celebrated with singing, eulogies, and gift exchange. Fine mats take weeks of work, and are a major gift.

 

matais

A group of matais (chiefs, shown right) receive gifts for their deceased friend as they sit next to his grave, and others wait with the body in the house, singing and eating.

 

Most uniquely, perhaps, is that there is also no wall around death. Those who die are buried next to their front door, so that they can continue to take part in the goings on. Unlike in the US, where elders are shooed away to nursing homes and those who die are compartmentalized in far-away cemeteries, Samoans keep their family close by long after they die. Brightly-painted graves often match the houses they guard, and memories stay alive as children play on the stones and families have sunset conversations while sitting among deceased relatives. Maybe it sounds bizarre, but I think this is a good deal for the dead—why go to a cemetery when you can continue to be part of the family?

Taking down walls has made me more open, and enabled me to grow closer with those around me. It is certainly exhausting at times, but it has made me wonder about why we build all of these walls in the first place, and why we feel the need to keep building more.


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.


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: 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.

 

IMG_3143

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.


Lindsay in Thailand: T-Minus 24

August 18, 2015

Someone pinch me. T-Minus 24 hours until take-off! Wow…what an unusual feeling. After months of people inquiring about where I will study abroad, it is funny to actually be arriving in this far off place soon. I will be 10,000 miles and twelve time zones away on the other side of the world. In other words, while you all are asleep, I will be wide awake. This still doesn’t seem real.

The journal I made for my travels.

The journal I made for my travels.

Currently, I am a ball of stress, excitement, nerves and every other feeling imaginable. It feels as if I have been running around like a chicken with its head cut off the past few days, but it is a good kind of feeling. After arriving home just three short weeks ago from Chania, Greece after almost two months of work with my Bonner abroad site (ARCHELON, The Sea Turtle Protection Society of Greece), I was concerned I was not going to have everything ready in time. Although I still feel like I just adjusted to this time zone, I am looking forward to the next twelve I will cross with every passport copy printed and ‘polite’ clothing item packed.

The first turtle nest I found and relocated this summer in Greece.

The first turtle nest I found and relocated this summer in Greece.

In my last weeks, I have been struggling to cross off everything on my yearly summer bucket list, but somehow I managed! From bike rides through my favorite places, hikes through local parks, country concerts at a nearby pavilion, sunsets at the beach, and coffee at the quaint shops, I was fortunate enough to squeeze in some quality time with my family and friends. I cannot believe that tomorrow will begin my next adventure. I will be flying into Boston on Friday night, arrive in Dubai late Saturday, and finally arrive in Bangkok Sunday morning. This 10,276 mile ride will definitely be one for the books!

My nephew showing his Spider Pride at my family going away picnic.

My nephew showing his Spider Pride at my going away family picnic.

 


Dan in Argentina: And So It Begins…

August 11, 2015
Coffee

As I mentioned in my last post, porteños (as the people in Buenos Aires are known) live at cafés. There’s one on almost every corner, always filled with people relaxing and catching up with a cup o’ joe. My host mom knows my affinity (and frankly necessity) for coffee so she prepared the French press for my first day of classes and left a little note. “Happy first class in Argentina” she wrote.

 

At my host university here (Torcuato di Tella), I am taking an Argentine Literature course and a Latin American Cinema class. My last class is on the dictatorships of Chile, Argentina and Uruguay during the 60's and 70's. We got the chance to visit El Parque de la Memoria, which opened in 2001 and was completed in 2007. The park and its central monument aim to solidify a place in history for the "desaparecidos" or "disappeared ones" that were kidnapped and killed during the dictatorship  of 1976-1983. Located on the Rio Plata (where many bodies disappeared to), there are 30,000 names and counting recognized as victims of the regime.

At my host university here (Torcuato di Tella), I am taking an Argentine Literature course and a Latin American Cinema class. My last class is on the dictatorships of Chile, Argentina and Uruguay during the 60’s and 70’s. We got the chance to visit El Parque de la Memoria, which opened in 2001 and was completed in 2007. The park and its central monument aim to solidify a place in history for the “desaparecidos” or “disappeared ones” that were kidnapped and killed during the dictatorship of 1976-1983. Located on the Rio Plata (where many bodies disappeared to), there are 30,000 names and counting recognized as victims of the regime.

 

pensar

“To think is a revolutionary act.” This Marie Orensanz sculpture welcomes you into the park and suggests its ultimate purpose. The park is meant to be a place of remembrance and reconciliation. The use of steel, the two divided panels and the elipse at the end contribute to its symbolism. I would tell you more about it but it’s more fun for you to make your own judgements.. and the tour guides spoke in Spanish while a plane flew overhead, so I only got about 50%… Anyway, dope sculpture though.

 

boca

The other night, one of the most famous Argentine Soccer Clubs and the current defending champion, River Plate beat the Tigres of Mexico during the Copa Sudamericana, 3-0. After each of their three goals, an earthquake of screams erupted through the streets around my apartment and out of every surrounding window. It was, frankly, a bit scary. Fútbol is very important here. This picture was taken in the neighborhood of River Plate’s rival, Boca Juniors. These kids play pick-up soccer games here hoping to, one day, end up on the field of the giant 49,000 seat stadium two streets over.


Dan In Argentina: Obligatory First Week Sightseeing

July 22, 2015

 

grafitti

After getting off the plane at Ezeiza International, I hopped in a cab with all my stuff and headed to my host-family’s house. My first impression of the city was that it’s gigantic! My second thought? Graffiti…everywhere. Maybe Boston and Richmond are abnormally graffiti-free cities but I am nonetheless surprised by its prevalence here. I mentioned this to my host-family and they told me that many times the graffiti has political significance and some politicians even pay artists to paint graffiti favorable of them. This could be political mockery of an opponent or a statement on governmental policies of animal protection…but then again, it might just be a parrot.

 

cemetery 1

La Recoleta Cemetery is located in the neighborhood from which it gets its name. In 2013, CNN ranked this cemetery one of the 10 most beautiful in the world because of its expansive grounds with the juxtaposition of slightly deteriorating historic tombs and gorgeously maintained modern mausoleums, still utilized by families today. It was too tough to choose just one picture of this amazing cemetery, so here are three!

 

cemetery 2

Eva

Among politicians, Nobel Prize winners, and entertainers, former First Lady of Argentina, Eva Peron was laid to rest 19 years after her death. In Argentina, the Perons are extremely controversial. You either love Eva or you hate her. Obviously her grave is a bias place to see this as it is perpetually filled with flowers and flooded with teary-eyed visitors. Lauren (another Richmond student) and I searched all around the 14 acre cemetery for her very modest and relatively secluded tomb.

 

bagels

As an”extranjero,” I have found it exciting every time I get to tell someone about the US or see an imported Pringles can in “el supermercado.” Well, on Sundays, there’s one place in Buenos Aires, we Americans can find New York bagels and cream cheese made freshly by a guy named Sheikob. Sheikob is a former PhD candidate who decided to take an adventure and move back to Buenos Aires where he had studied abroad as an undergraduate. Now every Sunday he sells bagels outside a little café in Palermo. (He even has a Facebook page!!) Ben, Bergen, Lauren and I sought him out our first Sunday in the city and told him all about our new adventure, coming from Richmond to study.


Dan in Argentina: Getting Ready!

July 17, 2015

Hey everyone!  I’m Dan.  As a junior at the University of Richmond, I am majoring in International Economics and minoring in Spanish. At UR, I am on the Mock Trial team, am an RA and participate in Greek life. This semester I will be attending the Universidad Torcuato di Tella in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The school recently moved its campus to an amazing new building. It is right across the street from a major football stadium for one of the most popular teams, River Plate! The university is about 5,000 students, among which about 80% are graduate students. Their main areas of study include business and economics, political science and architecture. While I am there, I plan to take political science courses about Latin American and Argentine politics. For nearly six months, I will live in the northern neighborhood of Palermo. Palermo borders the neighborhoods of Belgrano (where my university is) and Recoleta. I have already mapped my travel plans from my homestay to my school. The porteños (people from Buenos Aires) call their subway, “el subte.” So, on “el subte,” I will take the D line for about 30 minutes!

gifts for my host family

Lipton Tea Bags, BBQ Sause and Dijon Mustard were the requests of my host family. These items are not imported by Argentina so buried under sweaters and shoes, I’m sneaking them in! Well, not exactly… the law is that foreign merchandise totaling less than $1,000 is fine. But still, I feel like Mark Wahlberg in Contraband.

Everyone keeps asking me if I am nervous to go. I can’t say “no” completely, but I almost want to. I really don’t feel worried about getting down there, assimilating and excelling. I am very adaptable and feel I will truly thrive in this new place. While I wish I were more confident with my Spanish, I think I will be okay and can only improve from here! I am so much more excited than I am nervous.

Dan's tickets

Here we go! Got my boarding passes, pesos and Passport and I’m ready for a 22 hour travel day! After flying to Miami in the afternoon, I’m on the redeye straight to Buenos Aires! I’ll arrive at 10AM their time (1 hour ahead of Richmond) and go meet my host family! I have been Facebook messaging them a lot so I can’t wait to meet them!

I cannot wait for all that I will experience while abroad, and to document it for you this semester as a photo blogger. The new foods, drinks, customs, activities, tourist attractions, travel destinations, etc. will undoubtedly be amazing.

suitcase packed and underweight

Saying goodbye is tough. Missing my dog will be ‘ruff.’ But packing! Packing is by far the hardest part of leaving. Two checked bags (under 50 lbs each) and a backpack is not nearly enough room for 6 months of necessities. That being said, I’m not trying to pay a $100 fee for a bag a pound too heavy!

I am going to travel to Iguazu Falls, northwest of Buenos Aires. Eleanor Roosevelt exclaimed “Poor Niagra” when she visited this massive group of natural waterfalls.

I want so badly to ski in Patagonia. I promise to show amazing pictures of this. The clothing brand logo does not do the Andes justice.

I will definitely be hitting up a vineyard or two in the Mendoza province. Argentina is the sixth largest exporter of wine in the world and the first largest in Latin America.

I am so excited to take a Tango lesson, go to a street Tango performance and learn everything about Tango. Tango, Tango, Tango.

While many of my friends hit the beach or complain about their summer internships, I get to go back to school! Of course, I can’t exactly be upset because my school is in a different country where filet mignon is eaten daily and the coffee is freshly imported from Brazil. Plus, with flip-flopped season in December in Buenos Aires, I will leave the 90-degree palm tree climate for a snowy mid-winter Boston making me the tannest guest at the Christmas dinner table; sure to be envied from all my relatives. Could this get any better!?

While I will be learning everyday, the way I see it, it’s more of an adventure than an academic semester. I will be learning so much more than just political theory or economic equations. My Spanish skills will grow exponentially. I am ready for a semester of learning, new experiences, difficult communication problems and excitement!


Oliver in Spain: Transitioning back to the States

January 5, 2015

I have now been back Stateside for a little under two weeks, even though it feels like I’ve been back for much longer than that. I figured I’d have a pretty easy transition back to this culture after having traveled so much throughout my life but every now and again there are certain things that remind me I’m no longer living in Spain.

I think the biggest difference I have noticed so far is the food culture. In Valencia I would sit at a café and 20 minutes later a server would ask me if I would like anything to drink or eat. In the States there is a server at your table within two minutes of sitting down. Give me a second to settle in! Similarly, in Valencia I’d finish whatever I was drinking or eating and stay seated chatting with my friends for a couple hours. In the States I feel uncomfortable staying more than 15 minutes after paying the check. It feels like I’m being quietly encouraged to get the hell out. I don’t mean to sound angry with this difference, and I’m not, it is just a very big difference between the two cultures. The US is all about efficiency and profit. The cafés here are thinking, “how many customers can I get in and out of my door in one day?” In Spain you are treated like a family member coming back for a drink. If you frequent the place, it is not unusual for the server to sit with you for a quick chat. I definitely prefer that laid back feeling.

On the other hand, the efficiency of the US was something I missed while in Spain. Sometimes you just want something done, and fast. That simply doesn’t exist in Spain. People will work on their own time and will shut down for three hours every day for a siesta. Going to a store in the early afternoon seems like such a novel idea now!

I haven’t had an overwhelming feeling of missing Valencia just yet. I’m still in the recovery stage of being back with the family. The biggest thing I miss from being abroad is the constant excitement. Living back in the Philadelphia suburbs feels so…lacking…after a semester trailblazing through Europe from one ancient city to another. That being said, it’s very nice to have access to Netflix again!

I’m half way through this break and I am already counting the days to get back to UR. I have seen a few friends here and there and will be seeing a lot more during or New Years Eve celebrations. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things at Richmond after a nice semester of memories.

Valencia will always have a place in my heart and I am looking forward to going back the next time I’m in Spain. I think I will miss my host family most, but there will be a whole lot to miss in the weeks to come. I imagine it will all hit me hard when I am back into the regular routine of school. I will never forget all of the things I have been able to do through the past four months. It almost seems like a dream but I am pleased to see all of the pictures and words I will have forever as documentation of my experiences. Europe, I’ll see you soon. US, it’s good to be home.


%d bloggers like this: