It suddenly dawned on me today that I'm going to miss living in Italy more than I expected. Now that I've grown accustomed to its ways, the chaos, the infamous "Italy factor", I feel comfortable, natural here, going about daily routines. It's cool to see how far I've come in adapting. I have a month left here and I want to enjoy it all--the food, the people, the language, the culture. Adjusting back to life in the States will be strange I'm sure--especially since I only have 12 days at home in California before heading back up to Whitworth. My entire abroad experiecnce will feel like some kind of semester long whirlwind, and I expect it will be difficult to transition back and having to explain my experiences, but no one but me will truly understand what I've experienced. It's been a personal journey for me, one of growth and resilience. And not to mention that I'm going to miss being able to hop on a chaep flight every weekend and travel somewhere new in a matter of minutes, hours. The States is way too big for my liking.
Ciao, mi amici!
p.s. One of my Italian literature profs has no idea who Dr. Seuss is (someone mentioned him in class) and that is just a pity.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Bratislava...Budapest...Vienna. 3 countries. 3 days.
Ciao! I survived a weekend of complete chaos but it was filled with unforgettable moments and experiences. First of all, I can now say that I have slept on a bench for 4 hours in Slovakia, see the biggest Synagogue in all of Europe in Budapest, and slept in a hostel that was annexed to an apartment where a man named Hitler lived in for a year in Vienna, Austria. Europe is weird like that.
After flying in to Bratislava late on Friday, we hopped onto a random shuttle without knowing where it was going, but lucky guess, it took us to the train station where we needed to go. It's amazing how vastly different Eastern Europe is from Western Europe--it's another world. Slovakian seems so so foreign of a language so signs were of no help to us. We waited in a long line to purchase tickets and noticed that we were in the sketchiest of sketch train stations we've seen in all of Europe (which is saying something in comparison to Milan's Stazione Centrale). This place looked like it had just been bombed and the whole place wreaked of urine, cigarettes, and other foulness. The next train to Budapest was at 4:00 am so our only choice was to camp out. The boys and Tara walked about the city of Bratislava for a bit (they said it was equally as sketch with tons of drunk people wandering about) leaving Nancy and I in this random covered area with benches that looked like death. And yes, we slept on the benches. Only a handful of people were around, including some homeless men who were kicked out of the area by two Slovakian guards. The guards tried communicating with us, but the language barrier was too difficult--however, we could deduce that what they were trying to tell is was not to sleep on the benches because it was too dangerous (especially being two young women). When the guards left, this man sitting on the bench next to us told us in broken English in which he threw in broken French, Italian, and Hungarian, that it was okay, that we could sleep and he would keep an eye out for us. He seemed trust worthy enough so we slept though miserably under the circumstances. Then finally, the we got of the train for Budapest.
We arrived in Budapest after three hours of travel, checked our bags at the station, then explored the city for the day. My impressions of Budapest were affected by the fact that I have already visited Prague, Czech Republic, and Belgrade, Serbia. Bascially Budapest, felt like standard Eastern Europe, though not as run down as Belgrade, and not as pretty and scenic as Prague. The Danube river (which also runs through Belgrade, Prague, and German cities) runs through Budapest, separating "Buda" from "Pest". On the Buda side, we explored Buda Castle, views from the Halaszbastya, Szt. Anna templom, Matyas templom, Baths created from natural hot springs and other monuments. On the Pest side, we saw the impressive Parliament building with monuments dedicated to the resistance of Hungarians towards the Soviets, Zsinagoga (the largest synagogue in all of Europe, some museums, and Szt. Istvan Bazilika (St. Steven's Basilica) which was beautiful. That evening we ate some traditional Hungarian gulash! Then it came time to return to the train station and take yet another late night train ride to Vienna, Austria.
Only Tara, Nancy, and I went to Vienna, and we wished we had had more time there because Wien (Vienna) is actually an enormous city with so much culture and so much to do it could keep you busy for weeks! It's the birthplace of so much classical music, (Beethoven, Bach, Strauss to name a few) and was a location for so many important events in European history. To begin our Austrian adventure, we checked in to our hostel where the nicest Austrian man ever was our host. The hostel was several buildings large and we inquired as to what the history of the area was. With that said, the man led us to the backside of the building and pointed up to an apartment and a brick building next to it. He said that the brick building was an old abandoned factory and that the apartment was occupied for a year by "a man named Hitler" is how he put it. In shock we said, "you mean...THE Hitler!?!" And yes, indeed, the hostel we stayed in was annexed to an apartment Hitler lived in for a year during a time which he ironically was dating a Jewish girl that worked in the factory right next to it. So that was some interesting WWII history.
The next day we got an early start and visited Schonbrunn Palace, the most important monument in Austria, where generations of important historical rulers, the Empress of Austria, even Neopolian lived. We took a tour and even stood in the room where the 6-year old Mozart gave his first concert and public appearance. The Palace is enormous but the gardens behind the Palace are really really enormous. We walked all around and even sampled some Austrian coffee at the cafe on top of the hill overlooking the Palace, the Palace gardens, and a sweeping view of the city of Vienna (Austria too, is famous for its coffee and coffee houses, NOT to be confused with Amsterdam's coffeehouses!) After doing the Palace and gardens, we took the absolutely lovely and clean, easy-to-use Vienna public transit system to the City Center. We were lucky because only the day before we arrived the Christmas Market had opened! So we got in the Holiday mood, sipping our cider as we walked about the tents filled with Austrian Christmas trinkets and goodies. There were also TONS of crazy cute Austrian kids that we people watched while sitting on a bench near a playground. We saw a little boy holding the cutest puppy we have ever seen so of course we made friends so that we could pet it.
The evening we had to then return to Bratislava by bus, so that we could catch our flight back to Milan. By the time we got back we were completely, and utterly exhausted in every sense of the word. I have never crashed so hard to bed, ever. We felt to accomplished after pulling off such a stunt of a weekend. In a course of 36 hours, we were actually in 4 countries (including Italy) and we actually got to see sights and explore a decent amount).
Our next trips should be no where near as chaotic since we will be staying in one city for each. We are SO stoked for next weekend in beautiful Copenhagen, Denmark (and we plan on poping over to a Swedish village as well), Barcelona, Spain, and our finale, 3 days in Paris, France. C'est la vie!
Ciao, friends, I will be home before you know it!
After flying in to Bratislava late on Friday, we hopped onto a random shuttle without knowing where it was going, but lucky guess, it took us to the train station where we needed to go. It's amazing how vastly different Eastern Europe is from Western Europe--it's another world. Slovakian seems so so foreign of a language so signs were of no help to us. We waited in a long line to purchase tickets and noticed that we were in the sketchiest of sketch train stations we've seen in all of Europe (which is saying something in comparison to Milan's Stazione Centrale). This place looked like it had just been bombed and the whole place wreaked of urine, cigarettes, and other foulness. The next train to Budapest was at 4:00 am so our only choice was to camp out. The boys and Tara walked about the city of Bratislava for a bit (they said it was equally as sketch with tons of drunk people wandering about) leaving Nancy and I in this random covered area with benches that looked like death. And yes, we slept on the benches. Only a handful of people were around, including some homeless men who were kicked out of the area by two Slovakian guards. The guards tried communicating with us, but the language barrier was too difficult--however, we could deduce that what they were trying to tell is was not to sleep on the benches because it was too dangerous (especially being two young women). When the guards left, this man sitting on the bench next to us told us in broken English in which he threw in broken French, Italian, and Hungarian, that it was okay, that we could sleep and he would keep an eye out for us. He seemed trust worthy enough so we slept though miserably under the circumstances. Then finally, the we got of the train for Budapest.
We arrived in Budapest after three hours of travel, checked our bags at the station, then explored the city for the day. My impressions of Budapest were affected by the fact that I have already visited Prague, Czech Republic, and Belgrade, Serbia. Bascially Budapest, felt like standard Eastern Europe, though not as run down as Belgrade, and not as pretty and scenic as Prague. The Danube river (which also runs through Belgrade, Prague, and German cities) runs through Budapest, separating "Buda" from "Pest". On the Buda side, we explored Buda Castle, views from the Halaszbastya, Szt. Anna templom, Matyas templom, Baths created from natural hot springs and other monuments. On the Pest side, we saw the impressive Parliament building with monuments dedicated to the resistance of Hungarians towards the Soviets, Zsinagoga (the largest synagogue in all of Europe, some museums, and Szt. Istvan Bazilika (St. Steven's Basilica) which was beautiful. That evening we ate some traditional Hungarian gulash! Then it came time to return to the train station and take yet another late night train ride to Vienna, Austria.
Only Tara, Nancy, and I went to Vienna, and we wished we had had more time there because Wien (Vienna) is actually an enormous city with so much culture and so much to do it could keep you busy for weeks! It's the birthplace of so much classical music, (Beethoven, Bach, Strauss to name a few) and was a location for so many important events in European history. To begin our Austrian adventure, we checked in to our hostel where the nicest Austrian man ever was our host. The hostel was several buildings large and we inquired as to what the history of the area was. With that said, the man led us to the backside of the building and pointed up to an apartment and a brick building next to it. He said that the brick building was an old abandoned factory and that the apartment was occupied for a year by "a man named Hitler" is how he put it. In shock we said, "you mean...THE Hitler!?!" And yes, indeed, the hostel we stayed in was annexed to an apartment Hitler lived in for a year during a time which he ironically was dating a Jewish girl that worked in the factory right next to it. So that was some interesting WWII history.
The next day we got an early start and visited Schonbrunn Palace, the most important monument in Austria, where generations of important historical rulers, the Empress of Austria, even Neopolian lived. We took a tour and even stood in the room where the 6-year old Mozart gave his first concert and public appearance. The Palace is enormous but the gardens behind the Palace are really really enormous. We walked all around and even sampled some Austrian coffee at the cafe on top of the hill overlooking the Palace, the Palace gardens, and a sweeping view of the city of Vienna (Austria too, is famous for its coffee and coffee houses, NOT to be confused with Amsterdam's coffeehouses!) After doing the Palace and gardens, we took the absolutely lovely and clean, easy-to-use Vienna public transit system to the City Center. We were lucky because only the day before we arrived the Christmas Market had opened! So we got in the Holiday mood, sipping our cider as we walked about the tents filled with Austrian Christmas trinkets and goodies. There were also TONS of crazy cute Austrian kids that we people watched while sitting on a bench near a playground. We saw a little boy holding the cutest puppy we have ever seen so of course we made friends so that we could pet it.
The evening we had to then return to Bratislava by bus, so that we could catch our flight back to Milan. By the time we got back we were completely, and utterly exhausted in every sense of the word. I have never crashed so hard to bed, ever. We felt to accomplished after pulling off such a stunt of a weekend. In a course of 36 hours, we were actually in 4 countries (including Italy) and we actually got to see sights and explore a decent amount).
Our next trips should be no where near as chaotic since we will be staying in one city for each. We are SO stoked for next weekend in beautiful Copenhagen, Denmark (and we plan on poping over to a Swedish village as well), Barcelona, Spain, and our finale, 3 days in Paris, France. C'est la vie!
Ciao, friends, I will be home before you know it!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
La Vita è Bella
I am now officially over half way done with my studying abroad adventure.
Today was a day in which I reflected on Italy and life as a foreigner in attempts to begin processing what my Italian experience has meant.
It was yet another rainy day here in northern Italy, the Milanese skies gray and gloomy as it usually is, yet somehow I enjoy Milan's rainy days better than its typically gray, non-rainy days. At least the rain gives the illusion of cleanliness. The hustle and bustle of the city is increased in its difficulty on these days, the congested sidewalks now crowded with solid and plaid patterned umbrellas, usually purchased for 2 euro from the street immigrants who sell them in the underground subways. These umbrellas are cheap and fall apart easily, I have one of my own, so of course the old and dignified Italian businessmen carry umbrellas of distinction, with carved wooden curved handles and pointed tips, like the shiny pointed tips of their shoes. On these days the buses are more crowded than usual, and they are usually very crowded. Wet bodies pack together, heightening the scent of mustiness, and the windows completely fog up so that there is no visibility of the streets as the bus twists, turns sharp corners, stops abruptly, honks its heavy horn. The rain makes the immigrant gypsies, the beggars, the street dwellers take shelter, leaving their usual begging posts and street corners. However, the rain does not prevent the Italians from dressing in their usual formal attire--in fact, it seems as if the rain makes them dress up even more. The people are walking art, in their dark wool coats and leather boots. The puddles that pedestrians are forced to jump over and dodge don't seem to hinder the choices of Italians and their footwear. But I saw the strangest thing today as I was walking down Via Carducci towards the mezza for lunch--an older Italian gentleman was wearing a shower cap to protect his balding head from the rain.
My interactions with Italians sometimes puzzle me. We (and by "we" I mean the other Americans and non-European foreigners in my program) are definitely "those weird foreign kids" when we're in big groups, walking to class or eating in the cafeteria. We dress differently and it shows, even if we try are best to blend in. We talk differently, that can't really be avoided. Our body language is different--we're awkward, we're overly expressive, we're displaced, though now that we've been here this long, I think it shows that we're much more comfortable in our surroundings than we used to be. When I speak to Italians, they ask, "Inglese?" and I say "Si" but they go on to assume that I am British, not American! So I have to say, "No, sono Americana". But I guess they just hear the English and cannot distinguish a British accent from an American one. I guess this makes sense because I would not be able to tell the difference from a Milanese accent from a Tuscan one or a Venictian one.
I am still enjoying my classes here immensely, especially my modern Italian literature class with Maria. Now we are studying Neorealism and reading Calvino's "The Path to the Nests of Spiders" which is about WWII in Italy and the fighting partisan groups, after Italy joined the Allies side and Germany has invaded. The story is told from the point of view of a young Italian boy, Pin, a street orphan with a prostitute sister, in the region of Liguria (Northwest Italy, along the rough coastal landscape). It's facinating hearing about the era in history from an actual Italian. Maria's father was in a partisan groups himself during this turbulent yet epic time in Italian history. The two main partisan groups that were fighting each other in a kind of civil war, fighting Nazi fascism, and resisting Mussolini's fascist party, were the "Reds" and the "Blue Ones" or "Ozzurri". The Reds were communists and the Blues were liberals/Catholics/Socialists. Eventually these two groups come together and write the Italian constitution, thus there is must communist ideology and influence in modern Italian society which I think many people, mainly Americans, don't realize. And this time in history was of immense importance for Italy culturally and intellectually. "Einaudi" was a publishing house located in Torino (Northern Italy, Torino and Milano were are the head cultural and intellectual centers of Italy) where artists and writers came together to resist censorship and illegally listen to London radio that told the truth about the events of the war, free from Italian propaganda. These writers translated much American Neorealistic literature of the time, like Hemingway, since the Italians wanted to identify with the symbolic and epic American ideology of freedom and liberty, as well as to express dissent and resist oppression. This process of translating was also monumental in forming the Italian language. At this time, Italians still did not have a unified language since isolated regions still spoke using the their local dialects. Yes, Dante back in the Middle Ages was the "Father of the Italian language" but it wasn't until much more recently that Italians formed a unified, common vernacular. The Italian language was always considered to be an elitist and academic language since it was used mostly in the writing of texts. So writers faced the problem of expressing themselves with a common vernacular that represented the language of the people--also, in translating American realism, a more universal Italian language had to be formed. Thus the modern Italian language was born, using elements of regional dialects as well as the classic academic form and structure of the language. This has given me entirely new insights on the language, especially since I'm in the process of learning it. It is a product of the old, Middle Ages and Renaissance old, and the New, WWII new, and a conglomeration of dialectal vernaculars. At times it is an extremely refined and elegant language, but it also can be used in a crude, simplistic, casual manner. It's expressive (along with Italian hand gestures, which are a language entirely in its own respect) but at the same time it's monotone and consistent in its intonation. Italians I've met have commented on how the English language is actually extremely expressive because of how many tonal variations we have. We can ask the question, "How are you doing?" in such a variety of ways with different connotations because we change the pitch and tone of our voices. Italian is not so. It's very rhythmic, but you never hear a high-pitched Italian voice. Even the women speak with a quick, rhythmic, yet single-toned voice that usually is very deep for females. Italians put all of their expression into their facial and hand gestures rather than their voices.
My Italian life is closely linked with the following elements: language, academics, food, fashion, socioeconomics, and the most character building city bus commute of all time. I'm craving a home-cooked meal, made by the hands of my mother, or the flavors of Mexican food which are lacking on this continent. I miss my home, my family, my friends. But here, I am surviving and even thriving perhaps with this non-stop jet-setting, train-riding, bus-riding, multicultural European lifestyle. I only have a little over a month left and I am constantly trying to soak in my surrounds--the old well-dressed Italian women who walk arm in arm down the streets, stopping to admire the artistry of Milanese widow displays, the little children and their childlike accents, the flavors of fresh, preservative-free produce and the freshest, most delicious mozzarella cheese on earth that you buy as a ball in a baggie of liquid.I want to enjoy the company of my roommates and travel buddies, and take it into account that when I drink a cappuchino at my favorite cozy little cafe, that I'm drinking espresso from the very place it was invented. I want to appreciate the intricacies of the Italian architecture that surrounds me, as relics of Renaissance history.
I have felt displaced living here as a foreigner and truly estranged, being prejudiced for being an American, scoffed at and blamed. I have been judged by Italians for my lack of effortless Italian style, yelled at by the old men on buses when I inappropriatly put my feet up on chairs, yelled at by the lunch ladies for taking too much food in the cafeteria, taken advantage of because I am foreign and fined 34 euro for a bus pass that I already purchased, and have been treated and viewed as the object of men who ask for sexual favors on my bus route or on the streets of my immigrant, low-income neighborhood in the seedy outskirts of Milan. It hasn't been easy to put things lightly. Despite the chaos of this city, this culture, the frustrations of political corruption, inequalities of women, the poor, the immigrant populations, the fragile infrastructure and disorganization, the dangers, the influence of the mafia, the fashion-obsessed consumer culture, I will survive this place and I will return to the comforts and the familiarities of my home and my culture as a more complete person with extensive international experience.
I have learned so much, and despite my struggles which had to be overcome, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Today was a day in which I reflected on Italy and life as a foreigner in attempts to begin processing what my Italian experience has meant.
It was yet another rainy day here in northern Italy, the Milanese skies gray and gloomy as it usually is, yet somehow I enjoy Milan's rainy days better than its typically gray, non-rainy days. At least the rain gives the illusion of cleanliness. The hustle and bustle of the city is increased in its difficulty on these days, the congested sidewalks now crowded with solid and plaid patterned umbrellas, usually purchased for 2 euro from the street immigrants who sell them in the underground subways. These umbrellas are cheap and fall apart easily, I have one of my own, so of course the old and dignified Italian businessmen carry umbrellas of distinction, with carved wooden curved handles and pointed tips, like the shiny pointed tips of their shoes. On these days the buses are more crowded than usual, and they are usually very crowded. Wet bodies pack together, heightening the scent of mustiness, and the windows completely fog up so that there is no visibility of the streets as the bus twists, turns sharp corners, stops abruptly, honks its heavy horn. The rain makes the immigrant gypsies, the beggars, the street dwellers take shelter, leaving their usual begging posts and street corners. However, the rain does not prevent the Italians from dressing in their usual formal attire--in fact, it seems as if the rain makes them dress up even more. The people are walking art, in their dark wool coats and leather boots. The puddles that pedestrians are forced to jump over and dodge don't seem to hinder the choices of Italians and their footwear. But I saw the strangest thing today as I was walking down Via Carducci towards the mezza for lunch--an older Italian gentleman was wearing a shower cap to protect his balding head from the rain.
My interactions with Italians sometimes puzzle me. We (and by "we" I mean the other Americans and non-European foreigners in my program) are definitely "those weird foreign kids" when we're in big groups, walking to class or eating in the cafeteria. We dress differently and it shows, even if we try are best to blend in. We talk differently, that can't really be avoided. Our body language is different--we're awkward, we're overly expressive, we're displaced, though now that we've been here this long, I think it shows that we're much more comfortable in our surroundings than we used to be. When I speak to Italians, they ask, "Inglese?" and I say "Si" but they go on to assume that I am British, not American! So I have to say, "No, sono Americana". But I guess they just hear the English and cannot distinguish a British accent from an American one. I guess this makes sense because I would not be able to tell the difference from a Milanese accent from a Tuscan one or a Venictian one.
I am still enjoying my classes here immensely, especially my modern Italian literature class with Maria. Now we are studying Neorealism and reading Calvino's "The Path to the Nests of Spiders" which is about WWII in Italy and the fighting partisan groups, after Italy joined the Allies side and Germany has invaded. The story is told from the point of view of a young Italian boy, Pin, a street orphan with a prostitute sister, in the region of Liguria (Northwest Italy, along the rough coastal landscape). It's facinating hearing about the era in history from an actual Italian. Maria's father was in a partisan groups himself during this turbulent yet epic time in Italian history. The two main partisan groups that were fighting each other in a kind of civil war, fighting Nazi fascism, and resisting Mussolini's fascist party, were the "Reds" and the "Blue Ones" or "Ozzurri". The Reds were communists and the Blues were liberals/Catholics/Socialists. Eventually these two groups come together and write the Italian constitution, thus there is must communist ideology and influence in modern Italian society which I think many people, mainly Americans, don't realize. And this time in history was of immense importance for Italy culturally and intellectually. "Einaudi" was a publishing house located in Torino (Northern Italy, Torino and Milano were are the head cultural and intellectual centers of Italy) where artists and writers came together to resist censorship and illegally listen to London radio that told the truth about the events of the war, free from Italian propaganda. These writers translated much American Neorealistic literature of the time, like Hemingway, since the Italians wanted to identify with the symbolic and epic American ideology of freedom and liberty, as well as to express dissent and resist oppression. This process of translating was also monumental in forming the Italian language. At this time, Italians still did not have a unified language since isolated regions still spoke using the their local dialects. Yes, Dante back in the Middle Ages was the "Father of the Italian language" but it wasn't until much more recently that Italians formed a unified, common vernacular. The Italian language was always considered to be an elitist and academic language since it was used mostly in the writing of texts. So writers faced the problem of expressing themselves with a common vernacular that represented the language of the people--also, in translating American realism, a more universal Italian language had to be formed. Thus the modern Italian language was born, using elements of regional dialects as well as the classic academic form and structure of the language. This has given me entirely new insights on the language, especially since I'm in the process of learning it. It is a product of the old, Middle Ages and Renaissance old, and the New, WWII new, and a conglomeration of dialectal vernaculars. At times it is an extremely refined and elegant language, but it also can be used in a crude, simplistic, casual manner. It's expressive (along with Italian hand gestures, which are a language entirely in its own respect) but at the same time it's monotone and consistent in its intonation. Italians I've met have commented on how the English language is actually extremely expressive because of how many tonal variations we have. We can ask the question, "How are you doing?" in such a variety of ways with different connotations because we change the pitch and tone of our voices. Italian is not so. It's very rhythmic, but you never hear a high-pitched Italian voice. Even the women speak with a quick, rhythmic, yet single-toned voice that usually is very deep for females. Italians put all of their expression into their facial and hand gestures rather than their voices.
My Italian life is closely linked with the following elements: language, academics, food, fashion, socioeconomics, and the most character building city bus commute of all time. I'm craving a home-cooked meal, made by the hands of my mother, or the flavors of Mexican food which are lacking on this continent. I miss my home, my family, my friends. But here, I am surviving and even thriving perhaps with this non-stop jet-setting, train-riding, bus-riding, multicultural European lifestyle. I only have a little over a month left and I am constantly trying to soak in my surrounds--the old well-dressed Italian women who walk arm in arm down the streets, stopping to admire the artistry of Milanese widow displays, the little children and their childlike accents, the flavors of fresh, preservative-free produce and the freshest, most delicious mozzarella cheese on earth that you buy as a ball in a baggie of liquid.I want to enjoy the company of my roommates and travel buddies, and take it into account that when I drink a cappuchino at my favorite cozy little cafe, that I'm drinking espresso from the very place it was invented. I want to appreciate the intricacies of the Italian architecture that surrounds me, as relics of Renaissance history.
I have felt displaced living here as a foreigner and truly estranged, being prejudiced for being an American, scoffed at and blamed. I have been judged by Italians for my lack of effortless Italian style, yelled at by the old men on buses when I inappropriatly put my feet up on chairs, yelled at by the lunch ladies for taking too much food in the cafeteria, taken advantage of because I am foreign and fined 34 euro for a bus pass that I already purchased, and have been treated and viewed as the object of men who ask for sexual favors on my bus route or on the streets of my immigrant, low-income neighborhood in the seedy outskirts of Milan. It hasn't been easy to put things lightly. Despite the chaos of this city, this culture, the frustrations of political corruption, inequalities of women, the poor, the immigrant populations, the fragile infrastructure and disorganization, the dangers, the influence of the mafia, the fashion-obsessed consumer culture, I will survive this place and I will return to the comforts and the familiarities of my home and my culture as a more complete person with extensive international experience.
I have learned so much, and despite my struggles which had to be overcome, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Hallo Goedemorgen, Amsterdam!
Ciao! My latest European adventure was spending our post-midterms four-day weekend in Amsterdam, Holland! Wow, what a neat city Amsterdam is! It sort of reminds me of a kind of Scandinavian Venice with its canals and bridges and such. Every canal with its row houses and trees is so picturesque!
Amsterdam is probably the most bike-friendly city in the world, no joke. EVERYONE rides bikes and you're constantly having to dodge pedestrians on foot, bikes on their bike paths, cars, and these above ground trams that run through the city at all hours. We flew in to the Netherlands in Eindhoven, a town an hour and half's train ride south of Amsterdam. Along the train ride to the city we got a glimpse of what the Dutch countryside looks like and it is amazing. I had heard that the Netherlands was one of the cleanest places in the world and I believe it must be true. There are diary farms everywhere, lush green pastures dotted with cows and autumnal trees lining bike paths--it's absolutely gorgeous. The city was quite cold (it is very norhtern Europe after all) but the skies were crisply blue. And the people I encountered in Holland were the nicest Europeans yet! They would go out of their way to be courteous and friendly to everyone.
So since the city of Amsterdam has basically been built for bike riders, of course we rented bikes! We rode EVERYWHERE in the city, which is quite small actually, but we didn't really fit in as locals since they could tell we were foreigners by they way we rode. A few times we faced the wrong direction on a bus path or didn't see where the paths connected and were on the pedestrian sidewalks and such....but we got the hang of it the end and it was quite pleasant--I had been craving a bike ride for so long! It felt invigorating to ride over the scenic canals, with the yellow leaves falling from the trees with the wheels rolling briskly accross smooth pavement. It was simply wonderful. Besides city riding, we rode in Vondel Park which is Amsterdam's version of Central Park, a park that the Dutch are proud to call their own! And it deserves it because it is gorgeous with a lack in the center, long winding, wide bike paths.
We (and by we I mean Tara, Nancy, Mike, Devin & I) also got a chance to see the Van Gogh museum. I had always like Van Gogh's impressionism and thought it was nice, pretty art, but seeing the paintings in person made me look at Van Gogh in a whole new way: as a bonafide genius. This museum in particular holds the largest collection of Van Gogh's work in the world, even though it's not even half of the paintings he produced during his lifetime. Most of it is his early work (since Amsterdam was where he did most of it). I had never realized what a deeply religious man Van Gogh was (he was a pastor's son as well) and how his heart went out to the peasantry, which explains why he longed to leave the hectic and congested city to be out in the rural countryside, painting the lives of peasants and the poor. His use of color of course is well known, but seeing the paintings that I've seen prints of many times before look completely new and vibrant when seen in person. He somehow uses the same multicolors in his subject as he does in the background yet somehow, it works. It was a beautiful gallery and I will never forget the experience.
We also had a chance to view the contents of Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum which is their National Gallery and holds most of Rembrandt's work which is quite impressive. Rembrandt's control of light in his paintings as it appears over his subjects is absolutely masterful. There was also a Hirst exhibit in the gallery (Hirst is a modern artist who we discussed in my art history class and does some pretty wild stuff, you should check him out). The Hirst piece was titled "For the Love of God" becuase that's what his mother told him when he informed her what exactly he was going to do with this piece. You enter into a pitch black room and in the center of the room is a glass box encasing a real human skull (the person is unidentified) with thousands of diamonds encrested into the skull and it shines brilliantly in the center of the dark room. That's all it is. Apparently Hirst is trying ot make some statement about life and death, the soul and the afterlife. Oh modern art.
Another amazing thing I had the chance to experience in Amsterdam was seeing the house of Anne Frank. I remember reading the diary of Anne Frank in middle school, but seeing the hosue and walking through it in person was incredible. The museum itself was very well organized with artifacts (including possessions in the house, the family's concentration camp cards, etc.) and short video clips with interviews of various people such as Anne Frank's childhood friend and her father, Otto Frank. The house and museum also displays exerpts from the diary and you progress through and it makes the whole experience very, very powerful. The mood of the entire museum is solumn and serious. You walk behind the moving bookcase (teh secret entrance Anne describes in her diary) that leads to the secret living space of Anne and her 7 other family members that hid from the Nazis during WWII. There are no furnishings in the living quarters (Otto Frank had asked for it to remain unfurnished) however Otto described where things were placed in the house and the museum has dollhouse-like model displays showing what the rooms looked like at the time thery were being lived in. After walking through the two floors that the family occupied, you enter into the last room which holds the actual physical diary that belonged to Anne Frank and it is opened inside a glass case. It's a cute little girl's diray with a pink cover and gold lock. Also in this room is a final message from Otto Frank in a video clip where we confesses that he never knew at the time what Anne's internal thoughts were during their time in hiding, and that it wasn't until reading the diray after her death in the concentration camp (just a month before liberation) that he realized what deep, profound feelings and mature thoughts she had about her lonliness, their situation, fear, her longings for freedom, and her courageousness in facing adversity. Otto's final statement is that, "parents never truly can know who their children are" which seems strange but true and I think children can have much more profound and deeper understanding and insights into life than we realize.
And I knwo what you're all thinking: "Yeah Dani this all sounds great...but what about Amsterdam's famous red light district and coffee houses we hear so much about???" Yes, it's true, it's a big deal there and the Dutch people are very "open" in general but really they just don't like conflict so they tend to just allow things. But this culture of Amsterdam is not really the real Amsterdam--not according to the people. The red light district and the coffee hosues are concentrated in one area of town, right next to Central Station and the Financial district, and yes it is seedy, but not nearly as intense as I think people make it out to me. Canabis products (marijuana) is technically illegal in the country of Holland yet Coffee Shops (f.y.i. they're not the same as Starbucks, folks!) still sell drugs and people do them openly in the streets (even though the rules technically are that the drugs must be used or smoked in an indicated room indoors). Coffee Shops typically sell joints and brownies, special milkshakes, but Smartshops are where people can purchase shrooms and other hallucinagenic products. The red light district was not as intense as I had imagined it to be, but it is appauling to see the women standing behind the glass windows skantally clad. When curtains are closed so that all you see is the red light shining through means that they're with a client. This area of town, though seedy, is pretty safe since so many tourists are around. Though one night I was offered ecstacy and cocaine. good times. Some of the population in Amsterdam is making efforts to change things and eventually with the rules that are in place, the drug culture will probably die out. There is a law that when a coffee shop owner dies, the shop dies with them, meaning that never again can a coffee shop be there and it can't be resold or anythig--so eventually it may die out. Amsterdam is quite the unique city--it's like Berkeley on steroids in ways.
Well that sums up some of the things I saw and experienced inthe beutiful city of Amsterdam! Next time I visit though I want to explore more outside the city and maybe take a day trip to where the tulip fields are.
Next weekend....I am traveling through Eastern Europe for a third time. This adventure will bring me to Bratislava, Vienna, and Budapest! It is bound to be crazy, we have quite the itinerary.
Ciao ciao my friends, hope all is well back in the States or where ever in the world you are reading this from! I have 6 weeks left in Europe--I can't believe it's already november!
pace & amore!
Amsterdam is probably the most bike-friendly city in the world, no joke. EVERYONE rides bikes and you're constantly having to dodge pedestrians on foot, bikes on their bike paths, cars, and these above ground trams that run through the city at all hours. We flew in to the Netherlands in Eindhoven, a town an hour and half's train ride south of Amsterdam. Along the train ride to the city we got a glimpse of what the Dutch countryside looks like and it is amazing. I had heard that the Netherlands was one of the cleanest places in the world and I believe it must be true. There are diary farms everywhere, lush green pastures dotted with cows and autumnal trees lining bike paths--it's absolutely gorgeous. The city was quite cold (it is very norhtern Europe after all) but the skies were crisply blue. And the people I encountered in Holland were the nicest Europeans yet! They would go out of their way to be courteous and friendly to everyone.
So since the city of Amsterdam has basically been built for bike riders, of course we rented bikes! We rode EVERYWHERE in the city, which is quite small actually, but we didn't really fit in as locals since they could tell we were foreigners by they way we rode. A few times we faced the wrong direction on a bus path or didn't see where the paths connected and were on the pedestrian sidewalks and such....but we got the hang of it the end and it was quite pleasant--I had been craving a bike ride for so long! It felt invigorating to ride over the scenic canals, with the yellow leaves falling from the trees with the wheels rolling briskly accross smooth pavement. It was simply wonderful. Besides city riding, we rode in Vondel Park which is Amsterdam's version of Central Park, a park that the Dutch are proud to call their own! And it deserves it because it is gorgeous with a lack in the center, long winding, wide bike paths.
We (and by we I mean Tara, Nancy, Mike, Devin & I) also got a chance to see the Van Gogh museum. I had always like Van Gogh's impressionism and thought it was nice, pretty art, but seeing the paintings in person made me look at Van Gogh in a whole new way: as a bonafide genius. This museum in particular holds the largest collection of Van Gogh's work in the world, even though it's not even half of the paintings he produced during his lifetime. Most of it is his early work (since Amsterdam was where he did most of it). I had never realized what a deeply religious man Van Gogh was (he was a pastor's son as well) and how his heart went out to the peasantry, which explains why he longed to leave the hectic and congested city to be out in the rural countryside, painting the lives of peasants and the poor. His use of color of course is well known, but seeing the paintings that I've seen prints of many times before look completely new and vibrant when seen in person. He somehow uses the same multicolors in his subject as he does in the background yet somehow, it works. It was a beautiful gallery and I will never forget the experience.
We also had a chance to view the contents of Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum which is their National Gallery and holds most of Rembrandt's work which is quite impressive. Rembrandt's control of light in his paintings as it appears over his subjects is absolutely masterful. There was also a Hirst exhibit in the gallery (Hirst is a modern artist who we discussed in my art history class and does some pretty wild stuff, you should check him out). The Hirst piece was titled "For the Love of God" becuase that's what his mother told him when he informed her what exactly he was going to do with this piece. You enter into a pitch black room and in the center of the room is a glass box encasing a real human skull (the person is unidentified) with thousands of diamonds encrested into the skull and it shines brilliantly in the center of the dark room. That's all it is. Apparently Hirst is trying ot make some statement about life and death, the soul and the afterlife. Oh modern art.
Another amazing thing I had the chance to experience in Amsterdam was seeing the house of Anne Frank. I remember reading the diary of Anne Frank in middle school, but seeing the hosue and walking through it in person was incredible. The museum itself was very well organized with artifacts (including possessions in the house, the family's concentration camp cards, etc.) and short video clips with interviews of various people such as Anne Frank's childhood friend and her father, Otto Frank. The house and museum also displays exerpts from the diary and you progress through and it makes the whole experience very, very powerful. The mood of the entire museum is solumn and serious. You walk behind the moving bookcase (teh secret entrance Anne describes in her diary) that leads to the secret living space of Anne and her 7 other family members that hid from the Nazis during WWII. There are no furnishings in the living quarters (Otto Frank had asked for it to remain unfurnished) however Otto described where things were placed in the house and the museum has dollhouse-like model displays showing what the rooms looked like at the time thery were being lived in. After walking through the two floors that the family occupied, you enter into the last room which holds the actual physical diary that belonged to Anne Frank and it is opened inside a glass case. It's a cute little girl's diray with a pink cover and gold lock. Also in this room is a final message from Otto Frank in a video clip where we confesses that he never knew at the time what Anne's internal thoughts were during their time in hiding, and that it wasn't until reading the diray after her death in the concentration camp (just a month before liberation) that he realized what deep, profound feelings and mature thoughts she had about her lonliness, their situation, fear, her longings for freedom, and her courageousness in facing adversity. Otto's final statement is that, "parents never truly can know who their children are" which seems strange but true and I think children can have much more profound and deeper understanding and insights into life than we realize.
And I knwo what you're all thinking: "Yeah Dani this all sounds great...but what about Amsterdam's famous red light district and coffee houses we hear so much about???" Yes, it's true, it's a big deal there and the Dutch people are very "open" in general but really they just don't like conflict so they tend to just allow things. But this culture of Amsterdam is not really the real Amsterdam--not according to the people. The red light district and the coffee hosues are concentrated in one area of town, right next to Central Station and the Financial district, and yes it is seedy, but not nearly as intense as I think people make it out to me. Canabis products (marijuana) is technically illegal in the country of Holland yet Coffee Shops (f.y.i. they're not the same as Starbucks, folks!) still sell drugs and people do them openly in the streets (even though the rules technically are that the drugs must be used or smoked in an indicated room indoors). Coffee Shops typically sell joints and brownies, special milkshakes, but Smartshops are where people can purchase shrooms and other hallucinagenic products. The red light district was not as intense as I had imagined it to be, but it is appauling to see the women standing behind the glass windows skantally clad. When curtains are closed so that all you see is the red light shining through means that they're with a client. This area of town, though seedy, is pretty safe since so many tourists are around. Though one night I was offered ecstacy and cocaine. good times. Some of the population in Amsterdam is making efforts to change things and eventually with the rules that are in place, the drug culture will probably die out. There is a law that when a coffee shop owner dies, the shop dies with them, meaning that never again can a coffee shop be there and it can't be resold or anythig--so eventually it may die out. Amsterdam is quite the unique city--it's like Berkeley on steroids in ways.
Well that sums up some of the things I saw and experienced inthe beutiful city of Amsterdam! Next time I visit though I want to explore more outside the city and maybe take a day trip to where the tulip fields are.
Next weekend....I am traveling through Eastern Europe for a third time. This adventure will bring me to Bratislava, Vienna, and Budapest! It is bound to be crazy, we have quite the itinerary.
Ciao ciao my friends, hope all is well back in the States or where ever in the world you are reading this from! I have 6 weeks left in Europe--I can't believe it's already november!
pace & amore!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
A Swiss Weekend & Obama Makes History
Ciao!
Currently I am swamped with the stress that is midterms week so I haven't had too much time on my hands to do updates or be online. So to fill things in, this past Halloween weekend I went to Bern, Switzerland! It was beautiful, the air was crisp, and our train ride went through the Italian and Swiss Alps which was epic. Switzerland however is extremely expensive. A typical Starbucks sized coffee is 7 to 8 Swiss francs which is approximatly 6 to 7 euro. ouch. And one day we were craving mexican food and found a Swiss Mexican restaurant but it was extremely overpriced and the food wasn't all that good. Everything was fried and nothing tastes right. Europeans don't know what they are missing when it comes to a filling and fantastic traditional mexican burrito. Also in Switzerland, I visited the Alpines museum and the Einstein Haus, the very residence of Albert Einstein and where he came up with his theory of relativity. neat. And Bern has a bear pit with live bears (the bear is the emblem of the city according to their folklore) and there was a rose garden I hiked up to with sweet views of the city with the Alps as its backdrop. Unfortunately my computer's memory is full and I am currently unable to add any pictures which is upsetting. But one of my favorite things I did in Bern was attend a service at the Munster cathedral, one of the original Luthern cathedrals in Europe that was around just after the Reformation. The service was completely in German (which made reading and singing from the hymnal interesting) but I thoughroughly enjoyed the gorgeous music of the choir and enormous organ that boomed from behind the pews and echoed throughout the gothic styled, stained glassed structure. It was an awesome experience.
Upon returning to Milan, me and my roommates have been frantically preparing for midterms but lacking in motivation. It's been rough. Last night we all went to bed in anxiousness and suspense because when we woke the morning we knew that we would have the results--America would have chosen its knew president. And how relieved we are! It's been a strange but great experience being abroad at a time such as this. History is being made in my country and I'm not there to experience but I am experiencing it from a broader worldview and seeing my own country through the eyes of foreigners, of the world. It's been one of the most beneficial things that I've learned while being abroad, how focused the world is on America and how what we do and decide matters, and it is one of the most important things I will brign back with me to the States. The man who works at our favorite coffee shop that we frequent before Italian class every wednesday and friday smiled at us this morning and the first thing he asked was, "Are you happy?" I've been asked that question a lot today.
With that said, Obama sure does have a load to inherit: wars, an economic crisis, a deteriorating health system, social security and education system. It's overwhelming, but things I think will get better from here.
I have one last midterm to study for tonight and to take tomorrow afternoon and then I'm off to AMSTERDAM for the four day weekend.
pace & amour
Currently I am swamped with the stress that is midterms week so I haven't had too much time on my hands to do updates or be online. So to fill things in, this past Halloween weekend I went to Bern, Switzerland! It was beautiful, the air was crisp, and our train ride went through the Italian and Swiss Alps which was epic. Switzerland however is extremely expensive. A typical Starbucks sized coffee is 7 to 8 Swiss francs which is approximatly 6 to 7 euro. ouch. And one day we were craving mexican food and found a Swiss Mexican restaurant but it was extremely overpriced and the food wasn't all that good. Everything was fried and nothing tastes right. Europeans don't know what they are missing when it comes to a filling and fantastic traditional mexican burrito. Also in Switzerland, I visited the Alpines museum and the Einstein Haus, the very residence of Albert Einstein and where he came up with his theory of relativity. neat. And Bern has a bear pit with live bears (the bear is the emblem of the city according to their folklore) and there was a rose garden I hiked up to with sweet views of the city with the Alps as its backdrop. Unfortunately my computer's memory is full and I am currently unable to add any pictures which is upsetting. But one of my favorite things I did in Bern was attend a service at the Munster cathedral, one of the original Luthern cathedrals in Europe that was around just after the Reformation. The service was completely in German (which made reading and singing from the hymnal interesting) but I thoughroughly enjoyed the gorgeous music of the choir and enormous organ that boomed from behind the pews and echoed throughout the gothic styled, stained glassed structure. It was an awesome experience.
Upon returning to Milan, me and my roommates have been frantically preparing for midterms but lacking in motivation. It's been rough. Last night we all went to bed in anxiousness and suspense because when we woke the morning we knew that we would have the results--America would have chosen its knew president. And how relieved we are! It's been a strange but great experience being abroad at a time such as this. History is being made in my country and I'm not there to experience but I am experiencing it from a broader worldview and seeing my own country through the eyes of foreigners, of the world. It's been one of the most beneficial things that I've learned while being abroad, how focused the world is on America and how what we do and decide matters, and it is one of the most important things I will brign back with me to the States. The man who works at our favorite coffee shop that we frequent before Italian class every wednesday and friday smiled at us this morning and the first thing he asked was, "Are you happy?" I've been asked that question a lot today.
With that said, Obama sure does have a load to inherit: wars, an economic crisis, a deteriorating health system, social security and education system. It's overwhelming, but things I think will get better from here.
I have one last midterm to study for tonight and to take tomorrow afternoon and then I'm off to AMSTERDAM for the four day weekend.
pace & amour
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