Hey all,
I went to visit Molly and Chris in Munich this weekend, and it was my first venture out of Ireland in over a month. I've been getting kind of used to living in the atmosphere of small-town Ireland (even though Cork is about as big as Spokane) but it was fun to get back into a big city and experience a completely different European experience than I've been having.
I finally found my way to Chrolly (Yes, I really am too lazy to type Chris and Molly) after a terrifying experience involving me missing the airport shuttle, not knowing any German, and my cell phone not working in non-Ireland countries. But I made it, and I didn't even break down crying in the U-Bahn, which is something I'm quite proud of. Friday we went and looked around the university and other cool places in Munich. I'm a big fan. I generally like big cities, because whenever I go to a new one, I think it's my favorite that I've been to, and Munich was no exception. Friday night we went to the opera and saw Marriage of Figaro and I understood none of it, but it was still quality entertainment and I feel more cultured now.
Saturday was the best part--we took a day trip to Salzburg and saw all kinds of cool stuff! I really liked the narrow streets with high buildings on both sides and the cool architecture, but my favorite event of the day was when we found a park based on the Magic Flute and played there for over an hour. The slide was my favorite part. Or maybe the tire swing type things.
Sunday we went to mass (in German!) and then an art museum. That night we watched a movie which I'm pretty sure beats out Hackers for the title of "Worst movie ever". I got back to Cork this morning and Chrolly is coming to visit me this weekend, so I have to make sure my hostessing skills are up to the challenge!
Sadly, I had to write my very first paper since May this week, which was very depressing as it is putting a damper on my 6-month long vacation from hard-core school work, but I know I cannot complain about that when all my Gonzaga buddies just had midterms.
I hope all is well back in Spokane or scattered across the globe, my dear friends.
Love,
Anna
Monday, October 29, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Oxford
This is an account of one of the more surreal days I've had in Oxford.
I was sick, and had been for several days. I was also running out of cash so I thought I would force myself out of the house and to the bank in order to get some. I barely remember the walk down; my head was fuzzy and my breathing was about the same. Every three steps or so I was reduced to hacking coughs. That, plus the fact that I was wearing one of my heavier jackets in order to retain some semblance of warmth, probably was the reason several people stopped me and offered to buy any copies I had of Big Issue, which is the magazine homeless people sell around here.
Most of the walk to my bank is generic English town. There are lots of little grocery stores, cafes, newsagents, and bicyclists. It could even be some place in America, somewhere on the east coast but without the massive snobbishness, and with a far more diverse selection at the farmers market. Still, there is not much that makes you think you're in the city that grew up around the oldest University in the English speaking world.
Oh, except the Clarendon printing house of Oxford University Press (go look at any books you have which are OUP: if they say Clarendon St., then that's the one near me), which is about two minutes walk from my house. But that hardly counts.
About fifteen minutes walk in, I've gotten to the part of the city which actually looks like a University, probably because it is. My bank, however, takes me away from the beautiful Bodleian library and Trinity college, my own. Instead, I turn down the market street, which is typically English. It is the widest street I've seen in Oxford, but it's closed off to traffic. It is full of actual stores: a couple of bookstores, music shops, and a department store, but also several banks. Today, though, it is particularly crowded. There are usually several street musicians plying their trade around this area, including a guy on the bagpipes whom is the best I've ever heard. Today, near the end of the street, by my bank, there is a full salsa band. I cursed the fact that I was sick, because at that moment I had a wild urge to ask the next passing woman for a dance, but it would have taken too much energy.
Actually, perhaps it was just as well I was sick.
I withdraw my money and I start heading back. Instead of pushing through the crowd this time, I stay close to the edges and try to sneak past them. I notice, however, that there are people there set up with stands, looking like they have things to give away. As I never pass down something free to read, I head over there. The first one turns out to be a stand for the local communist party. I laugh, and start to move on, but I notice the title of one of the pamphlets: "Communism: The Only Viable Future." Feeling like I needed some amusement and actually being somewhat interested in how they sweet coated a "Scientific expression of History" I took it and started to move on. I was stopped mid-step by one of the communists taking my arm.
"It's seventy pence," he said.
The wracking coughs that I produced signified for him to repeat his statement.
I was astonished. The communist party was reduced to selling its pamphlets: it was making money on production, it was betraying its proletariat ideals, it was gouging the price of cheap literature. I had to buy it. I would have paid pounds for that experience. As I took out my money, he asked me where I was from, and what I was doing in Oxford. I told him I came from Utah, and he said it was "One of the more exotic parts of the States." I told him I was studying in Oxford for the year, and he insisted that I sign up for their e-mail list. I really couldn't think of any reason to refuse. Now, of course, I think: If I ever run for office in the U.S., this would probably work against me. On the other hand, I'd really like to see one of their meetings.
Anyway, after that, the next stand was a Muslim proselytizing. I didn't get into nearly as long a conversation with him, probably because I mentioned I needed to just pop round the corner and buy some whiskey, but I would love to come back to talk to him. I did take his pamphlet, though, and I'm proud to say that Christian tracts are much, much worse. I don't believe it's an art form meant to be perfected.
After that, I decided that the previous events had cheered me up so much I was up for a little studying, so I went to Trinity college's gardens (absolutely gorgeous, by the way) to read the book I had brought in case of such an eventuality. I read for perhaps an hour when I was overshadowed by two men who were waving a camera at me. I wondered at what kind of shot that would produce before I realized that they wanted me to take a picture of them. I did, they thanked me ("shih-shu, shih-shu") and I got up to leave. On my way out I realized I was at a university, at a college within that University, that regularly had tourists show up and want to see the sights that were the grounds where I am studying. It gave me a little shiver down my spine.
After that, I walked back and took a nap. All in all, a good day.
I was sick, and had been for several days. I was also running out of cash so I thought I would force myself out of the house and to the bank in order to get some. I barely remember the walk down; my head was fuzzy and my breathing was about the same. Every three steps or so I was reduced to hacking coughs. That, plus the fact that I was wearing one of my heavier jackets in order to retain some semblance of warmth, probably was the reason several people stopped me and offered to buy any copies I had of Big Issue, which is the magazine homeless people sell around here.
Most of the walk to my bank is generic English town. There are lots of little grocery stores, cafes, newsagents, and bicyclists. It could even be some place in America, somewhere on the east coast but without the massive snobbishness, and with a far more diverse selection at the farmers market. Still, there is not much that makes you think you're in the city that grew up around the oldest University in the English speaking world.
Oh, except the Clarendon printing house of Oxford University Press (go look at any books you have which are OUP: if they say Clarendon St., then that's the one near me), which is about two minutes walk from my house. But that hardly counts.
About fifteen minutes walk in, I've gotten to the part of the city which actually looks like a University, probably because it is. My bank, however, takes me away from the beautiful Bodleian library and Trinity college, my own. Instead, I turn down the market street, which is typically English. It is the widest street I've seen in Oxford, but it's closed off to traffic. It is full of actual stores: a couple of bookstores, music shops, and a department store, but also several banks. Today, though, it is particularly crowded. There are usually several street musicians plying their trade around this area, including a guy on the bagpipes whom is the best I've ever heard. Today, near the end of the street, by my bank, there is a full salsa band. I cursed the fact that I was sick, because at that moment I had a wild urge to ask the next passing woman for a dance, but it would have taken too much energy.
Actually, perhaps it was just as well I was sick.
I withdraw my money and I start heading back. Instead of pushing through the crowd this time, I stay close to the edges and try to sneak past them. I notice, however, that there are people there set up with stands, looking like they have things to give away. As I never pass down something free to read, I head over there. The first one turns out to be a stand for the local communist party. I laugh, and start to move on, but I notice the title of one of the pamphlets: "Communism: The Only Viable Future." Feeling like I needed some amusement and actually being somewhat interested in how they sweet coated a "Scientific expression of History" I took it and started to move on. I was stopped mid-step by one of the communists taking my arm.
"It's seventy pence," he said.
The wracking coughs that I produced signified for him to repeat his statement.
I was astonished. The communist party was reduced to selling its pamphlets: it was making money on production, it was betraying its proletariat ideals, it was gouging the price of cheap literature. I had to buy it. I would have paid pounds for that experience. As I took out my money, he asked me where I was from, and what I was doing in Oxford. I told him I came from Utah, and he said it was "One of the more exotic parts of the States." I told him I was studying in Oxford for the year, and he insisted that I sign up for their e-mail list. I really couldn't think of any reason to refuse. Now, of course, I think: If I ever run for office in the U.S., this would probably work against me. On the other hand, I'd really like to see one of their meetings.
Anyway, after that, the next stand was a Muslim proselytizing. I didn't get into nearly as long a conversation with him, probably because I mentioned I needed to just pop round the corner and buy some whiskey, but I would love to come back to talk to him. I did take his pamphlet, though, and I'm proud to say that Christian tracts are much, much worse. I don't believe it's an art form meant to be perfected.
After that, I decided that the previous events had cheered me up so much I was up for a little studying, so I went to Trinity college's gardens (absolutely gorgeous, by the way) to read the book I had brought in case of such an eventuality. I read for perhaps an hour when I was overshadowed by two men who were waving a camera at me. I wondered at what kind of shot that would produce before I realized that they wanted me to take a picture of them. I did, they thanked me ("shih-shu, shih-shu") and I got up to leave. On my way out I realized I was at a university, at a college within that University, that regularly had tourists show up and want to see the sights that were the grounds where I am studying. It gave me a little shiver down my spine.
After that, I walked back and took a nap. All in all, a good day.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Random Encounter
So life in Switzerland is never dull. It's just been very busy and interesting.
So this week I've been trying to finish working out the problem with my visa. I been sent to one person after another and who knows where the end is. But Thursday I was in downtown Lausanne getting lost (as is normal is the city with crazy skinny curvy streets that change names every block or so it seems) trying to find the Office of Population. I guess I was pretty obviously lost cause this guy stops and asks if he can help me. And I'm like I'm trying to find this building and I had the address and he's like okay I'll help you out. So we walk around and find the building, but just my luck, they are already closed for the day. Everything closes so early here it's obnoxious. I don't know how anything gets done. No so then this guys continues to talk to me and follow me as I'm trying to go shopping to grab some bread and other stuff for the night. All of a sudden he's like I want to give you something for letting me talk to you. And I like, k, this is strange, but yeah.... So he takes my hand and takes off the diamond ring he is wearing and gives it to me. I'm like no, no, I can't take that and try to give it back to him, but he's like I'll just throw it into the street if you don't take it, it means nothing to me. And I'm still like no, I can't have it, and through confusing French that I don't quite understand I end up with it. Then going k I need to get away from this strange person, but no matter which way I go he's still just going along following me and talking to me where I have to stop him every few words to get him to explain what in the heck he's saying, trying to be somewhat annoying so that it's a very interupted conversation, but he's still there. Eventually as I'm getting down to where I actually kinda know the city he's like, oh no come this way cause there's a grocery store right along here that you can go to, and being me, I'm like okay, so we go and I can see it and I try to go to go get my stuff, but then somehow I'm not quite sure what was said, end up not going in and somehow still walking with this random person. He was very nice and patient, but I'm like this is strange..... So then as we pass all these little cafes, he's like come have a drink with me and I'm like no I don't drink. I don't want a drink. After being asked for the millionth time, I'm like fine, I'll have a coke. So then he orders me a drink and doesn't get one for himself and I'm like k what's up with that? And he explains that he's a Jew and that today is one of there fast days. So I'm sitting here drinking this coke with this strange person that is trying to get me to trust him, and I'm just trying to figure out how to get home without him following me there. So, yeah, basically this guy follows me around for two hours before I lose him and that only because he had to make dinner for his friend, and I'm was finally like no, I'm not going to go eat dinner with you. So I finally get to do my shopping and go home, but that's was not until after he's bugged me about what I was doing Friday night cause he wanted me meet him again. I told him I already had plans, so he's like what are you doing Saturday? And again I already had stuff planned to do, so I'm like k, I'd rather not see you again. But then he's like what are you doing that you want to do instead of see me? (Basically anything or even nothing...) But so I told him every Friday I go to Yverdon-les-Bains for a religion class with some friends. So he's like well what are you doing Saturday then, and I told him I was meeting up with some people from school to go to Geneva and I didn't know when I was leaving conviently or when I was getting back. So the crazy guys like, well I'll come with you to Yverdon Friday, and I'm like great.... I couldn't say no, so since he had my cell number he was going to call me so that we could go together on the train cause he didn't want to go with the people I knew in their car....
So I made it home, hoping that he really wouldn't want to come Friday, but overwhelmed and crazy and kinda freaking out and just out of my head. I was like what in the world am I supposed to do with this diamond ring? Cause it's real, and seeing that the guy was wearing an Armani suit, and some kind of designer shades and he'd explained that he had a lot of money, I don't know what to do with the thing. It's pretty and all, but yeah....
So why I gave this guy my cell number I don't know, but he called my incessantly Saturday night. It just makes me laugh. He was definitely infatuated with me and the more he called the stranger he got in my head. Till I'm like with guy is psychotic. I'm like there is no way I'm meeting him alone Friday night and I'm going to try dang hard to figure out how to not ever meet him again.
Friday, he again called incessantly, and so I found some other people to ride the train with. But Fridays I meet with my Tandem partner until six at school and then meet up with Serge at 6:45 at school to go to Institute. So as soon as I was done, I hop on the metro to get downtown to the train station. I buy my ticket and then take off for the track cause I'm not sure if I'm going to make the train. All thoughout this time, this guy, Joseph, is calling me cause he doesn't want to miss me. I'm just trying to not miss the train and meet him just as I'm getting on board, figuring that I can find Eric and his sister once I'm on the train. So I get on and the train leaves and Eric calls to see if I made it on, I told him it did, and he's like okay I'll come look for you. So Joseph's like come sit down and I'm trying to explain that I'm trying to find my friends, but there is a definite language barrier, and I don't know if he's just choses to not understand what I'm saying or not. So Eric calls again cause he realized that the train were on is two separate ones hooked together so you can't walk the train from end to end and of course we are on separate ones. Luckily the train ride was only like a half hour, but I'm not interested at all in this guy and he just doesn't get it.
So we get to Yverdon and I'm so relieved to see Eric and we walk to Institute, but no one but me knows the strange story of this guy and how I really don't know him at all, and I can't quite explain that with him right there and talking with people later, they all just assumed that I'd known the guy for forever. So we go to class and it was fun and amusing and Joseph had a good time cause he told me that he wanted to come with me every week afterwards, and I like this just isn't working cause I'd really rather never see this guy again in my life. So left at like 10:30 to go home earlier with some other girls cause I didn't want to end up alone with this strange man, and I didn't want him following me home, so I figured even though I had no clue where these two other girls lived I'd just follow them until they got home and if this guy was still following me I'd just stay with them. But luckily after waiting forever for missed buses and being close to downtown, he left, and I'm was relieved to finally be able to tell them the strange story and try to figure out where in the world I was and where I was going so that I could eventually get home.
So since then I haven't run into the guy although he keeps calling and texting me incessantly and wants to try to get me to meet him somewhere.
So that's my random story of the week.
Hope your lives aren't quite as exciting
Stephanie
So this week I've been trying to finish working out the problem with my visa. I been sent to one person after another and who knows where the end is. But Thursday I was in downtown Lausanne getting lost (as is normal is the city with crazy skinny curvy streets that change names every block or so it seems) trying to find the Office of Population. I guess I was pretty obviously lost cause this guy stops and asks if he can help me. And I'm like I'm trying to find this building and I had the address and he's like okay I'll help you out. So we walk around and find the building, but just my luck, they are already closed for the day. Everything closes so early here it's obnoxious. I don't know how anything gets done. No so then this guys continues to talk to me and follow me as I'm trying to go shopping to grab some bread and other stuff for the night. All of a sudden he's like I want to give you something for letting me talk to you. And I like, k, this is strange, but yeah.... So he takes my hand and takes off the diamond ring he is wearing and gives it to me. I'm like no, no, I can't take that and try to give it back to him, but he's like I'll just throw it into the street if you don't take it, it means nothing to me. And I'm still like no, I can't have it, and through confusing French that I don't quite understand I end up with it. Then going k I need to get away from this strange person, but no matter which way I go he's still just going along following me and talking to me where I have to stop him every few words to get him to explain what in the heck he's saying, trying to be somewhat annoying so that it's a very interupted conversation, but he's still there. Eventually as I'm getting down to where I actually kinda know the city he's like, oh no come this way cause there's a grocery store right along here that you can go to, and being me, I'm like okay, so we go and I can see it and I try to go to go get my stuff, but then somehow I'm not quite sure what was said, end up not going in and somehow still walking with this random person. He was very nice and patient, but I'm like this is strange..... So then as we pass all these little cafes, he's like come have a drink with me and I'm like no I don't drink. I don't want a drink. After being asked for the millionth time, I'm like fine, I'll have a coke. So then he orders me a drink and doesn't get one for himself and I'm like k what's up with that? And he explains that he's a Jew and that today is one of there fast days. So I'm sitting here drinking this coke with this strange person that is trying to get me to trust him, and I'm just trying to figure out how to get home without him following me there. So, yeah, basically this guy follows me around for two hours before I lose him and that only because he had to make dinner for his friend, and I'm was finally like no, I'm not going to go eat dinner with you. So I finally get to do my shopping and go home, but that's was not until after he's bugged me about what I was doing Friday night cause he wanted me meet him again. I told him I already had plans, so he's like what are you doing Saturday? And again I already had stuff planned to do, so I'm like k, I'd rather not see you again. But then he's like what are you doing that you want to do instead of see me? (Basically anything or even nothing...) But so I told him every Friday I go to Yverdon-les-Bains for a religion class with some friends. So he's like well what are you doing Saturday then, and I told him I was meeting up with some people from school to go to Geneva and I didn't know when I was leaving conviently or when I was getting back. So the crazy guys like, well I'll come with you to Yverdon Friday, and I'm like great.... I couldn't say no, so since he had my cell number he was going to call me so that we could go together on the train cause he didn't want to go with the people I knew in their car....
So I made it home, hoping that he really wouldn't want to come Friday, but overwhelmed and crazy and kinda freaking out and just out of my head. I was like what in the world am I supposed to do with this diamond ring? Cause it's real, and seeing that the guy was wearing an Armani suit, and some kind of designer shades and he'd explained that he had a lot of money, I don't know what to do with the thing. It's pretty and all, but yeah....
So why I gave this guy my cell number I don't know, but he called my incessantly Saturday night. It just makes me laugh. He was definitely infatuated with me and the more he called the stranger he got in my head. Till I'm like with guy is psychotic. I'm like there is no way I'm meeting him alone Friday night and I'm going to try dang hard to figure out how to not ever meet him again.
Friday, he again called incessantly, and so I found some other people to ride the train with. But Fridays I meet with my Tandem partner until six at school and then meet up with Serge at 6:45 at school to go to Institute. So as soon as I was done, I hop on the metro to get downtown to the train station. I buy my ticket and then take off for the track cause I'm not sure if I'm going to make the train. All thoughout this time, this guy, Joseph, is calling me cause he doesn't want to miss me. I'm just trying to not miss the train and meet him just as I'm getting on board, figuring that I can find Eric and his sister once I'm on the train. So I get on and the train leaves and Eric calls to see if I made it on, I told him it did, and he's like okay I'll come look for you. So Joseph's like come sit down and I'm trying to explain that I'm trying to find my friends, but there is a definite language barrier, and I don't know if he's just choses to not understand what I'm saying or not. So Eric calls again cause he realized that the train were on is two separate ones hooked together so you can't walk the train from end to end and of course we are on separate ones. Luckily the train ride was only like a half hour, but I'm not interested at all in this guy and he just doesn't get it.
So we get to Yverdon and I'm so relieved to see Eric and we walk to Institute, but no one but me knows the strange story of this guy and how I really don't know him at all, and I can't quite explain that with him right there and talking with people later, they all just assumed that I'd known the guy for forever. So we go to class and it was fun and amusing and Joseph had a good time cause he told me that he wanted to come with me every week afterwards, and I like this just isn't working cause I'd really rather never see this guy again in my life. So left at like 10:30 to go home earlier with some other girls cause I didn't want to end up alone with this strange man, and I didn't want him following me home, so I figured even though I had no clue where these two other girls lived I'd just follow them until they got home and if this guy was still following me I'd just stay with them. But luckily after waiting forever for missed buses and being close to downtown, he left, and I'm was relieved to finally be able to tell them the strange story and try to figure out where in the world I was and where I was going so that I could eventually get home.
So since then I haven't run into the guy although he keeps calling and texting me incessantly and wants to try to get me to meet him somewhere.
So that's my random story of the week.
Hope your lives aren't quite as exciting
Stephanie
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Ein Wochenende in Dresden
Upon the generous invitation of the family of the foreign-exchange student my family housed for a few months last year, I spent last weekend in Dresden. Considering its history of the fire bombing in World War II and position within Eastern Germany (and a major flood just five years ago) I guess I was expecting something like how Prague was described by a few friends. Maybe a nice city center but otherwise lacking in areas you, as a tourist, would want to visit. I was very wrong. The city is gorgeous. Not in the same grandiose way of certain Munich streets but amazing just the same. In the first place, the city is more open. Unlike Munich where it is unusual to see more than a quarter kilometer because some new building is rising up to obstruct your view, Dresden is less dense. Kind of nice, especially considering my hometown. Also, all the destruction visited upon this city has just lead to the construction of new buildings. Generally beautiful and lacking in age related wear, though the prevalence of graffiti does mar many. Not to say Dresden lacks in the classic. The city was a king's seat and is the government center of modern Saxony. The famed Opern and Zwinger and Frauenkirche were all rebuilt as they originally were.
Visited the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, a gallery of paintings by European masters around the time of Renaissance, while there. I am sure you're all familiar with that picture of the two cherubs, mildly bemused/ bored expressions upon their faces? Saw that. Also learned they are only a smaller part of a much larger picture with the Virgin Mary flanked by two saints. Passed through a room of paintings by Peter Paul Rubens, all of them a good deal larger than me. Very nearly floored by the sole Jan Vermeer I saw. And I did not even visit the entire gallery.
Should these descriptions inspire feelings of jealousy, I offer this anecdote as a mediator. Sunday morning I get up early. The father tells me to take a left from the house and walk down to the river. If I look right, towards the smoke and across the river, I'll see the church. After Mass, breakfast will be ready. Of course he tells me this in German. The family has only been talking to me in German all weekend, and I think, no problem, I've been understanding them well enough so far. Well, after I finally figure out which left he was talking about and make it to the river, the church bells are ringing. Makes it easier to find the church, but I have to hurry. Turns out it is a Lutheran church, but Catholic churches are in short supply in this part of Germany. I roll with it. After the service I make my way back to the house and learn of my mistake. Breakfast was not quite ready, so I was supposed to just take a fifteen minute walk or so, enough time to check out the river and make it back. Then breakfast would be finished, and we would go to a Catholic church they had found online. Yeah... Oops. Sorry about that.
Still, two days and one night was not enough time in Dresden. Too bad getting back is going to be a long shot.
Visited the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, a gallery of paintings by European masters around the time of Renaissance, while there. I am sure you're all familiar with that picture of the two cherubs, mildly bemused/ bored expressions upon their faces? Saw that. Also learned they are only a smaller part of a much larger picture with the Virgin Mary flanked by two saints. Passed through a room of paintings by Peter Paul Rubens, all of them a good deal larger than me. Very nearly floored by the sole Jan Vermeer I saw. And I did not even visit the entire gallery.
Should these descriptions inspire feelings of jealousy, I offer this anecdote as a mediator. Sunday morning I get up early. The father tells me to take a left from the house and walk down to the river. If I look right, towards the smoke and across the river, I'll see the church. After Mass, breakfast will be ready. Of course he tells me this in German. The family has only been talking to me in German all weekend, and I think, no problem, I've been understanding them well enough so far. Well, after I finally figure out which left he was talking about and make it to the river, the church bells are ringing. Makes it easier to find the church, but I have to hurry. Turns out it is a Lutheran church, but Catholic churches are in short supply in this part of Germany. I roll with it. After the service I make my way back to the house and learn of my mistake. Breakfast was not quite ready, so I was supposed to just take a fifteen minute walk or so, enough time to check out the river and make it back. Then breakfast would be finished, and we would go to a Catholic church they had found online. Yeah... Oops. Sorry about that.
Still, two days and one night was not enough time in Dresden. Too bad getting back is going to be a long shot.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Something Exotic in Gaelic Here...
Hey Honors Pals,
It's been a while since I put an update on here about life in Ireland, and after reading Molly's post about German beer and boys, I was quite inspired to write.
I have been going to classes here for about two weeks, and (cross fingers) I expect that they should not be nearly as challenging as what I'm used to. They all seem interesting (except for my class on Irish Local Politics--yuck) and my I am in love with my Art History professor, mostly because he has the most amazing Scottish accent I have ever heard. The lack of school work and class time has left me much time to explore Cork, enjoy life, and yes, spend a lot of my time going out to the pubs. I heard that Ireland drinks more alcohol per capita than any other European country, and after three weeks in Ireland, I believe it! But don't worry about me, I plan on coming back home with my liver mostly intact.
Cork is a really great city, and there are lots of opportunities for smaller trips around Cork and around Ireland too. The Irish bus and train system is very extensive, so you can get about anywhere in the country you want to go to. My first weekend here I went to the Blarney Castle and kissed the Blarney stone, and yesterday I went to the small port town of Cobh to see the last port of call for the Titanic. Next weekend I am planning on taking a two-day trip up to the Aran Islands, which are supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in all of Ireland. I am loving it over here, but I do miss a few things and people from home. I hope you all are having a great time, either in Spokane or in assorted exotic places abroad!
Slan (Which I think is Gaelic for goodbye)
It's been a while since I put an update on here about life in Ireland, and after reading Molly's post about German beer and boys, I was quite inspired to write.
I have been going to classes here for about two weeks, and (cross fingers) I expect that they should not be nearly as challenging as what I'm used to. They all seem interesting (except for my class on Irish Local Politics--yuck) and my I am in love with my Art History professor, mostly because he has the most amazing Scottish accent I have ever heard. The lack of school work and class time has left me much time to explore Cork, enjoy life, and yes, spend a lot of my time going out to the pubs. I heard that Ireland drinks more alcohol per capita than any other European country, and after three weeks in Ireland, I believe it! But don't worry about me, I plan on coming back home with my liver mostly intact.
Cork is a really great city, and there are lots of opportunities for smaller trips around Cork and around Ireland too. The Irish bus and train system is very extensive, so you can get about anywhere in the country you want to go to. My first weekend here I went to the Blarney Castle and kissed the Blarney stone, and yesterday I went to the small port town of Cobh to see the last port of call for the Titanic. Next weekend I am planning on taking a two-day trip up to the Aran Islands, which are supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in all of Ireland. I am loving it over here, but I do miss a few things and people from home. I hope you all are having a great time, either in Spokane or in assorted exotic places abroad!
Slan (Which I think is Gaelic for goodbye)
Le commence d'ecole
My long, long vacation has finally ended. I'm back to real life as a student with homework again.
Monday I finally had my first class. It was a little overwhelming to jump back in to the swing of things. Especially since I'm a week behind almost everyone else because I couldn't start classes until I'd finished up some testing. What actually surprised me was how well I could understand my professors. Just being here in the midst of everything and having random conversations with people, I felt like my knowledge of French was very weak. Trying to communicate with people has been very frustrating and difficult, but as time is passing it is becoming easier, although I probably sound really weird to them because my vocabulary is so lacking. I was trying to say 'trail' and the best way I could in French was 'the little road on the mountain that goes up to the top.' Yeah, it takes me forever to say anything because I have to describe the one word that I don't know.
Tuesday and Wednesday, I spent all day at school, going from one class to the next. This semester I'm only studying at the school of French as a foreign language (EFLE) so I have exciting classes like, Overview of the written media, a grammar class for 7 hours a week, Introduction to linguistics, phonectics, introduction to french and french speaking culture, Translation from English to French, and my favorite... methodology of studying a foreign language at university. So overall I have 20 hours of class a week, so hopefully enough to keep me busy. I'm not quite sure how homework goes here, but there is definitely less of it. I'm already missing math and physics classes, but they don't offer any of those at UNIL.
Friday I didn't have any classes, so instead of doing my homework, like I probably should have, I went shopping. I live close to two good sized malls, and can't help but wander over there. It's kinda funny cause all the malls here have grocery stores in them. My problem is I would love to spend all my money on their great shoes and coats, but I do want to travel some while I'm over here and so I have to save my francs for that.
\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>No, but it's fun to have classes and to study at EFLE because for the most part there are the same people in most of my classes and we all don't speak perfect French. It's fun to see the diversity of people that have come to Switzerland to learn French. Unfortunately, the people I talk to the most are the Americans and the British. It is easier to speak English to get to know people, but I really am trying to just speak French at school and hopefully meet more non-English people.\n\u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>Yeah, the people here laugh at me cause I'm not at all used to the petits-bissoux, the little kisses on the check that you do with people you know. I'm like k, you're invading my personal bubble here, and I'm not sure if I know you, but I'm trying to get more used to it cause that's the way things go here. Maybe I'll get more accustomed to it so they don't always tell me afterwards, if they speak English, it's a european thing.\n\u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>Yeah, so life here is good. It's beautiful and still green. The temperature is still around 65 F. But it's funny because you'll see people here all bundled up in heavy coats and scarfs and boots, and I'm like this is still good enough weather to wear shorts. I wonder what they'll do when it actually gets cold.\n\u003c/div\>\n",0]
);
D(["ce"]);
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No, but it's fun to have classes and to study at EFLE because for the most part there are the same people in most of my classes and we all don't speak perfect French. It's fun to see the diversity of people that have come to Switzerland to learn French. Unfortunately, the people I talk to the most are the Americans and the British. It is easier to speak English to get to know people, but I really am trying to just speak French at school and hopefully meet more non-English people.
Yeah, the people here laugh at me cause I'm not at all used to the petits-bissoux, the little kisses on the check that you do with people you know. I'm like k, you're invading my personal bubble here, and I'm not sure if I know you, but I'm trying to get more used to it cause that's the way things go here. Maybe I'll get more accustomed to it so they don't always tell me afterwards, if they speak English, it's a european thing.
Yeah, so life here is good. It's beautiful and still green. The temperature is still around 65 F. But it's funny because you'll see people here all bundled up in heavy coats and scarfs and boots, and I'm like this is still good enough weather to wear shorts. I wonder what they'll do when it actually gets cold.
Monday I finally had my first class. It was a little overwhelming to jump back in to the swing of things. Especially since I'm a week behind almost everyone else because I couldn't start classes until I'd finished up some testing. What actually surprised me was how well I could understand my professors. Just being here in the midst of everything and having random conversations with people, I felt like my knowledge of French was very weak. Trying to communicate with people has been very frustrating and difficult, but as time is passing it is becoming easier, although I probably sound really weird to them because my vocabulary is so lacking. I was trying to say 'trail' and the best way I could in French was 'the little road on the mountain that goes up to the top.' Yeah, it takes me forever to say anything because I have to describe the one word that I don't know.
Tuesday and Wednesday, I spent all day at school, going from one class to the next. This semester I'm only studying at the school of French as a foreign language (EFLE) so I have exciting classes like, Overview of the written media, a grammar class for 7 hours a week, Introduction to linguistics, phonectics, introduction to french and french speaking culture, Translation from English to French, and my favorite... methodology of studying a foreign language at university. So overall I have 20 hours of class a week, so hopefully enough to keep me busy. I'm not quite sure how homework goes here, but there is definitely less of it. I'm already missing math and physics classes, but they don't offer any of those at UNIL.
Friday I didn't have any classes, so instead of doing my homework, like I probably should have, I went shopping. I live close to two good sized malls, and can't help but wander over there. It's kinda funny cause all the malls here have grocery stores in them. My problem is I would love to spend all my money on their great shoes and coats, but I do want to travel some while I'm over here and so I have to save my francs for that.
\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>No, but it's fun to have classes and to study at EFLE because for the most part there are the same people in most of my classes and we all don't speak perfect French. It's fun to see the diversity of people that have come to Switzerland to learn French. Unfortunately, the people I talk to the most are the Americans and the British. It is easier to speak English to get to know people, but I really am trying to just speak French at school and hopefully meet more non-English people.\n\u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>Yeah, the people here laugh at me cause I'm not at all used to the petits-bissoux, the little kisses on the check that you do with people you know. I'm like k, you're invading my personal bubble here, and I'm not sure if I know you, but I'm trying to get more used to it cause that's the way things go here. Maybe I'll get more accustomed to it so they don't always tell me afterwards, if they speak English, it's a european thing.\n\u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\> \u003c/div\>\n\u003cdiv\>Yeah, so life here is good. It's beautiful and still green. The temperature is still around 65 F. But it's funny because you'll see people here all bundled up in heavy coats and scarfs and boots, and I'm like this is still good enough weather to wear shorts. I wonder what they'll do when it actually gets cold.\n\u003c/div\>\n",0]
);
D(["ce"]);
//-->
No, but it's fun to have classes and to study at EFLE because for the most part there are the same people in most of my classes and we all don't speak perfect French. It's fun to see the diversity of people that have come to Switzerland to learn French. Unfortunately, the people I talk to the most are the Americans and the British. It is easier to speak English to get to know people, but I really am trying to just speak French at school and hopefully meet more non-English people.
Yeah, the people here laugh at me cause I'm not at all used to the petits-bissoux, the little kisses on the check that you do with people you know. I'm like k, you're invading my personal bubble here, and I'm not sure if I know you, but I'm trying to get more used to it cause that's the way things go here. Maybe I'll get more accustomed to it so they don't always tell me afterwards, if they speak English, it's a european thing.
Yeah, so life here is good. It's beautiful and still green. The temperature is still around 65 F. But it's funny because you'll see people here all bundled up in heavy coats and scarfs and boots, and I'm like this is still good enough weather to wear shorts. I wonder what they'll do when it actually gets cold.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Wie geht's??
Hey all-
It looks like Chris has kept you all updated, but I just wanted to say hello because you all might not see me for awhile... I basically love Germany and I'll probably stay here forever.
We've had bad weather and most German boys have bad haircuts, but other than that I have been living it up. I now love German beer and have now done my share of partying at Oktoberfest in the past couple weeks. Plus, there are more guys than girls in our group, so I have been loving the change. Instead of the honors program girls fighting over the guys at home, the girls here are hot commodities.
I'm laughing as I write this, because I am following Chris's eloquent post about the Alps with a discussion about boys... but c'mon, whats more important??
Anyway, I miss you all and Spokanistan like crazy... don't have too much fun at Hopkins without us!
Loooove, Molly
It looks like Chris has kept you all updated, but I just wanted to say hello because you all might not see me for awhile... I basically love Germany and I'll probably stay here forever.
We've had bad weather and most German boys have bad haircuts, but other than that I have been living it up. I now love German beer and have now done my share of partying at Oktoberfest in the past couple weeks. Plus, there are more guys than girls in our group, so I have been loving the change. Instead of the honors program girls fighting over the guys at home, the girls here are hot commodities.
I'm laughing as I write this, because I am following Chris's eloquent post about the Alps with a discussion about boys... but c'mon, whats more important??
Anyway, I miss you all and Spokanistan like crazy... don't have too much fun at Hopkins without us!
Loooove, Molly
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Ein Tag in den Alpen
We, being myself, Molly and a goodly number of other JYM students, went to the Alps last weekend. Originally, the trip was supposed to be on Friday, but a poor forecast pushed that back a day. This bothered me at first as I had planned on attending the AnderArt Festival, a celebration of Munich's diversity through poetry and music and the like, on Saturday, but that stopped being a concern while we were still on the train and still over a half hour from our eventual destination, about the time the Alps first came into view. Autumn had not yet peaked, but the brushing of oranges and yellows and reds on those forests scaling the mountains just made the greens are the richer. And when the forests fail to cover the entire mountain, the bare, ragged rock continues on, sometimes with a layer of snow and always with a brash face that catches such a rich texture of shadows.
Before arriving in Munich, I had gone through these mountains with my grandparents, but these things remained impressive. First of all, you have to keep in mind the whole raised-in-Minnesota thing where anything with more elevation change than a ditch is a big deal. Since then, most of my experience with mountains has been of the Mt. Spokane sort, the ones which, given a few hours, you can summit. The mountains in the Alps are more of the "Here's climbing equipment and a week's supply of rations. I'll see you when you make it back, if you make it back" style, though not completely without mountains you can take on foot as our little excursion proved. In all truth, these mountains are the sort that screw up meteorological systems and have their own clouds.
Our physical journey began in the village of Mittenwald, as Bavarian as my grandparents' hometowns. Classic dark orange tile roofs with the tight peaks, and white exterior walls, perhaps painted with illustrated stories, and almost-black brown trim. We took the trail right out from there. The trail was well-maintained, wide gravel with frequent benches for breaks, and for a while, it followed along a glacier fed stream, which came down in another small waterfall every 150 meters or so and whose water was so clear that it constantly fooled you into thinking it was shallower than it truly was. The summit was great. A large meadow, it allowed you an unimpeded view on every side just by turning and was high enough that you could discern the individual shadows of passing clouds. Really, my only complaint was the weather was too nice, low 70s and sunny. I had been expecting something a little more brutal and brought my fully tricked winter coat. That was slung over my arm within 20 minutes and stayed there for the rest of the trip. Well that and I forgot to bring water or anything to eat. Stupid mistake balanced by the generosity of friends.
Must have been something about that air, fresh and lightly tinged by the scent of fall, that energized me. Literally, I was constantly running up and down on the trail, trying to frame the picture just right without getting too far behind the group or maybe to snap a shot with some of the other hikers. Filled two and a half rolls on that. Too bad I still have yet to find a dark room.
I hear that this was a sort of test run for the JYM Alpine Club, something to give interested people a taste of what is to come and what is expected. Not staying the entire year, I will not be able to complete it, but I bloody well look forward to the next trip.
Später.
Before arriving in Munich, I had gone through these mountains with my grandparents, but these things remained impressive. First of all, you have to keep in mind the whole raised-in-Minnesota thing where anything with more elevation change than a ditch is a big deal. Since then, most of my experience with mountains has been of the Mt. Spokane sort, the ones which, given a few hours, you can summit. The mountains in the Alps are more of the "Here's climbing equipment and a week's supply of rations. I'll see you when you make it back, if you make it back" style, though not completely without mountains you can take on foot as our little excursion proved. In all truth, these mountains are the sort that screw up meteorological systems and have their own clouds.
Our physical journey began in the village of Mittenwald, as Bavarian as my grandparents' hometowns. Classic dark orange tile roofs with the tight peaks, and white exterior walls, perhaps painted with illustrated stories, and almost-black brown trim. We took the trail right out from there. The trail was well-maintained, wide gravel with frequent benches for breaks, and for a while, it followed along a glacier fed stream, which came down in another small waterfall every 150 meters or so and whose water was so clear that it constantly fooled you into thinking it was shallower than it truly was. The summit was great. A large meadow, it allowed you an unimpeded view on every side just by turning and was high enough that you could discern the individual shadows of passing clouds. Really, my only complaint was the weather was too nice, low 70s and sunny. I had been expecting something a little more brutal and brought my fully tricked winter coat. That was slung over my arm within 20 minutes and stayed there for the rest of the trip. Well that and I forgot to bring water or anything to eat. Stupid mistake balanced by the generosity of friends.
Must have been something about that air, fresh and lightly tinged by the scent of fall, that energized me. Literally, I was constantly running up and down on the trail, trying to frame the picture just right without getting too far behind the group or maybe to snap a shot with some of the other hikers. Filled two and a half rolls on that. Too bad I still have yet to find a dark room.
I hear that this was a sort of test run for the JYM Alpine Club, something to give interested people a taste of what is to come and what is expected. Not staying the entire year, I will not be able to complete it, but I bloody well look forward to the next trip.
Später.
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