Reporting on a European adventure

The main train station in Helsinki

Let's start off this incredibly long post with a little recap of my last night of soloing in Helsinki and my first 24 hours in St. Petersburg. I decided that successfully complete my first major solo adventure through Europe required at least a small celebration. So I treated myself (and “Frog”, my little green traveling companion) to a nice dinner (when I say nice, I am speaking in relative terms - remember that I am a student traveler). So I consulted my handy-dandy map-o-Helsinki, which also had a bunch of restaurant ads. It turns out there is Western-themed restaurant just down the street from the train station - a little place called “Santa Fe”. According to the ad it had been voted best food in Helsinki for three years running. The menu out front didn't look have bad and the prices were decent, so I figured I'd go for it. It was just the kind of place I needed to relieve my slight case of homesickness. There were a bunch of kitschy knick-knacks all over the walls, and they had old tequila bottles for candlestick holders. It was so much fun! And I seriously had the best meal of my trip so far. I ordered the "avocado grilled chicken salad" - which had every imaginable salad item on it, plus some. And it was probably enough for about two people rather than just a little American girl (even with a Texas appetite). The best part about it, other than the avocadoes, was how spicy the chicken was. It was fabulous! The Dutch guy sitting next to me ordered the same thing and agreed with me.


Frog and I having a delicious lunch of potatoes and "small white fish". The Finns call these fish "muikut", and that's also the word they use instead of cheese when posing for pictures. Yummy.

After the wonderous meal, I headed back and packed my things, then took some time to do everything that I could possibly think of doing on the internet, because this was probably my last chance for free wireless before returning to the US. [It's a good thing I did that too - I have take a bus to get to anywhere with internet access from my dorm. And forget wireless.]

The train to St. Petersburg was a bit of an adventure. The whole trip took about 6 hours, but I think we were only moving for about 4 and a half of those hours. When we got to the border, the train stopped and an announcement was made - "The WCs and restaurant car are closed until we finish border formalities. Please return to your seats. Leaving the train is prohibited with out permission of the customs agents." So we sat there. And sat some more. Finally these burly border guards got to our car, took everyone's passport, and left. And we waited some more. Eventually the Finnish Railways people came back with our passports, all stamped and ready to go, and the train began to move. Then the "portable bank" trolley came by so that we could change our euros into rubles and get our tax refund cheques from our EU purchases. I almost forgot about that! I rummaged around and found my form from my camera purchase in Budapest. The Finnish guy was completely perplexed by this - he had never seen the Hungarian version of the form, and had no idea what the exchange rate of the Hungarian Forint was. I think it was the fact that I was owed a few thousand forints that was throwing him off. He made a few phone calls and eventually came back with about 45 euros changed into rubles.

I'm glad that I did this when I did, because as soon as I got off the train, I was swept away by my Russian driver, who spoke no English and had the single goal of getting me to the dormitory - there was no time for a pit stop or ATM run. I was a bit scared (with good reason, it turns out) when he said something along the lines of "no seatbelt necessary" when I got into the van and discovered that there was no seatbelt. I think that was the scariest part of the entire trip - zooming through the crowded streets of St. Petersburg (home to around 5 million people), going 70 miles an hour down two lane streets with cars parked haphazardly on both sides. But we got there in one piece. He dropped me off in some random office on the sixth floor with a lady who didn't speak English and left before I could even say thank you.

I eventually figured out that the lady needed a deposit to give me my key, but other than that I had no idea what she wanted me to do next. Luckily a Chinese girl came in after me, and she spoke English in addition to Russian, and took me down to the other office where I got my smartcard to get into the building. What luck!

I finally got to my room a bit later, to discover that two of my three roommates speak English pretty well. They are all very nice. A few days later we were joined by another American student – a girl from Chicago. It took me a bit longer to figure out where I was supposed to be the next day and how to get there. Eventually I found a phone card so that I could call home, and I got the cell phone number for my contact here in St. Petersburg, who told me to meet them at the Hermitage at 11 the next morning. But how to get there? I figured I'd get up early and figure it out in the morning, so I went to sleep (I thought it was early, since the sun was still up, but it was about 1.30 at that point).

At 8.45, a woman came knocking at the door. "Frank Hannah, Frank Hannah!" Apparently she was delivering a message that I was to wait for a driver to take me to the University at 9.30. Okay. I waited, and was delivered promptly. But there must have been some confusion - I was supposed to be at the Hermitage. I told the University people I would have to come back in the afternoon, as my first class at the museum was starting at 11. Luckily it's only about a 20 minute walk, so I hauled over there and met Elena and the other six people in the program - who are all from the same school, Rhode Island School of Design (except for Gleb – he’s from Cooper Union, in NY, but he came through their school). Hmmm. I guess I'm special. There should be other people from the RSL program in my language classes, but in the art classes, I'm doing my own thing. As if that's any different from my normal place in life.

We had a nice introductory tour of the museum, then found where we can go for our free lunches. :-D. I haven't had a free meal in so long! Then we made it over to the Hermitage Youth Center - our HQ for the program. That's where I am right now - because we get free internet! (They won't let me hook up my laptop though). There we met a few of the other teachers, and I parted ways from the others for the weekend (they were on their way to buy art supplies, and we had free time until Tuesday after that). I managed to find my way home from the museum without any major incidents, though it took a bit of time.


Peterhoff Palace

I have done so much since those first 24 hours in St. Petersburg that it’s hard to believe only a couple of weeks have gone by. It took me awhile to straighten out my schedule, as there was some confusion at the University – they put me in a group language class that was at the same time as my art history classes at the museum. But I am now in an individual class with a nice lady name Elena. Once the art program is over, I will spend another month in an intensive group class. But until then, I’ve got it pretty easy as far as language instruction.

The art classes are ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! So far, we’ve seen some rare lithographs by Manet, the restoration department, the vast storage building . . . the list goes on and on. The sad thing is, I am realizing that I could stay here for a year and still not see all there is to see. St. Petersburg is just to cool.

Since I was constantly moving about for a month before coming to St. Petersburg, it has been nice to unpack and get settled in one place. I’ve even managed to complete a few routine tasks. I was able to buy a Russian SIM card for my cellphone so that I can communicate with my new friends over here. I also had the courage to go get a haircut. I’m glad that mission was a success – especially since the lady cutting it didn’t speak any English. I just told her, “Make me look beautiful” and let her go. I think it worked.

I’ve also had a few very Russian experiences. I went to the banya (bathhouse) with my classmates. It wasn't the tradition "naked-old-ladies-beating-each-other-with-sticks" kind - it was this little place that Nastya found where you can reserve the whole place for a group. It only cost us 200 rubles each (that’s about 8 dollars). Well worth the small price - it was so relaxing! Gleb, Drew, and I were the only ones who did the full submersion in the cold water after the sauna. It was really cold, but felt really nice (especially getting out). And it was a nice little introduction to what awaited me back at the dorm...
I hesitate to mention this, for fear that I might receive an onslaught of "I-told-you-so's". But when I got home from the banya, my roommates informed me that there would be no hot water for the next month. "Why?" I asked. Katya's reply - "Because Russia is a great country." Har har har. Apparently it is not unusual for buildings to shut down the hot water in the summer to "fix the pipes for the winter." I guess it's better that I didn't know about this ahead of time - otherwise I would have been dreading this day. But I'll live - I guess I'll just be going to the banya a bit more often. And Katya told me a story that assures me it could be worse - apparently they recently had a year with NO WATER in Vladivostock (where she's from). Hmmm. Sounds delightful.


A view of St. Petersburg from my bedroom at the dorm. If you'll look at the picture details, this photograph was taken rather late in the evening.

I think I’ll wrap up this update by sharing one of my favorite thing about the city – that has got to be the “White Nights”. Seeing as how the summer solstice was this week, making this weekend the longest of the year, my friends and I decided that it was the perfect Saturday to put our plan into action. Meaning we stayed out all night to experience St. Petersburg "by night." It was gorgeous. Some of you back home have heard me talk about how the sun never really goes down here. What happens is there is about a four-hour sunset followed pretty much immediately by a four-hour sunrise. So basically it's really pretty for about 8 hours - the 8 hours during which I am usually asleep. Which is why I wanted to go exploring at that time. I never get to see the museum and the cathedrals and the bridges at that time of "night." We even got to see the raising and lowering of the palace bridge. They print the schedule for all the bridges, so that people don't get stuck on a different island.

I have about two more months here in St. Petersburg, then I need to prepare for an even larger portion of culture shock – taking the Trans-Siberian Railroad to Irkutsk, where I’ll spend the fall semester. I think I need a warmer coat.

>> See Hannah's blog and her photos on flickr

Checking in from Frankfurt

Two pictures for the record, and one not worth the send -- a great piece of translation fun at the Frankfurt airport: The construction sign reads "Great Prospects! We will modernize this level for you until 2007." I just hope they finish in time, because they obviously aren't going to work in 2008 ...

As for the pictures, the first is me in front of the Frankfurt skyline. The prize, however, is the world renowned Comet Cleaners. Yeah, I'll whoosh for that. Seriously. The Comet Cleaners here in Frankfurt. I was really pleased.



Now that the weather has reached a perfect 77 degrees, things are going very well. Class continues onward, and we are amidst the major portion of our class, the World Cup (merely joking!). A good group of other students from multiple countries and continents, and two fun teachers. They weren't kidding with Super Intensive, but hey, neither was I. Anyway, wherever in the world you may be, all the best for your work and studies and travels.

Reporting from a trip to Europe

I have been in Europe now since May 7th. I am currently studying photography and painting in Paris, but I have also been blessed with the opportunities to visit other countries around France. The picture is me on the top of the Schynige Platte in Interlaken, Switzerland. I have classes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We have photo lecture in the morning and every week we are given a photographer to photograph like. We have painting class in the afternoon and instead of painting in a studio, Paris is our studio! We meet every time at a new location and we paint the different landscapes and memorials that we see. It has been a blast and it is all winding down now.

Much thanks to Mrs. McDermott and the McDermott program for sending me here.

Writing from Monterrey

Armed with only clumsy and sluggish Spanish, I tried to convince the Mexican guard at the airport to give me a six week visa. After awkwardly repeating what I believed to mean “me like six week” several times to him in Spanish and getting nowhere, I settled for the ten days he was willing to grant.

The other international students and I were kindly picked up at the airport and brought to the university, Tecnológico de Monterrey, which was nothing short of a high-class petting zoo. Peacocks, deer, ducks, and all were peacefully strolling about the campus grounds. “Neat!” I thought, until I discovered what peacock dung smeared between the soul of my shoe and the ceramic-tiled ground looked like.

Our first week at Monterrey was filled with fun activities, orientation sessions, and excursions galore. Nightlife was dominated by crazy and wild inebriation followed by some drunk dancing that varied from gentle swaying to violent convulsions. There was music involved too. Distracted by the flurry of excitement, we quickly forgot about our visas. It was not too long, however, until hell broke loose among the ten-dayers (some were fortunate enough to get 30 day visas) as we scrambled to fill out and turn in all of the necessary paperwork. Traveling tip: always get your visa before your trip. Or, don’t be a ten-dayer.



Though I’ve visited other parts of Mexico before, I have only seen the insane driving style that has, to me, become one of Mexico’s defining characteristics. Daily use of Monterrey’s taxi and bus service was a novel experience for me. I found out how to hurl myself off a bus and land running when it approached my stop, since the bus never truly came to a halt unless someone was getting on. Equally important was jumping onto a taxi within fractions of seconds, unless I wanted to feel for a second time what being dragged across the street while hanging out of a cab was like. My “friends” who were already in the taxi thought it quite amusing, but my still scraped and bruised leg tell a different story. I’m glad the school required us to have health coverage.

One night as I was crossing the only street between the residence and the Oxxo, I was forced into a game of chicken. My rival? Three steely teenagers in a rusted sedan. Now I’m not one to back down from a good game of chicken, but when it’s human versus gigantic metal car and I’m the human, I’m out. Almost being run over simply highlighted the fact that pedestrians do not have right of way here. Also, traffic laws are more like suggestions than they are laws. I’ve gotten used to the fact that red lights equal stop signs and stop signs equal green lights. Despite the prevalence of police here, traffic control is nonexistent.



Rather than waste precious time on something as frivolous as traffic safety, the police concentrate their efforts on preventing foreigners from taking pictures; and on several occasions, I was curtly asked to put my camera away. Becoming irritated with such unnecessary stringency, I snuck in a picture of the policía themselves and then ran for it.

One of the things that I love about Mexico is the friendliness of the people. They are always more than willing to help and have a disturbing abundance of patience and caring. Whether I am attempting to learn a new Salsa move or trying to purchase a strange-looking food item from the local street vendor, interactions here are unbelievably pleasant. It is this friendliness that I will miss most when I return to the States, and this, among many other reasons, is what makes me want to return to Mexico. I sincerely hope that I will have another chance to study at Tecnológico de Monterrey in the future.

The picture below shows a night scene that frames my friends and myself. From left to right: the in-the-know fashion buff, the multilingual Canadian goddess, the hip-and-happenin’ local, and the shorts-wearing extranjero (me). Mexico is a human oven and how people wear anything but shorts is beyond me.

Writing from Costa Rica

Today I went with 3 friends from Canada to Playa Buena Vista, which my mama tica told me was one kilometer away. After walking for half an hour, we met a woman on the way who told us we were still about a mile away, so the estimating was a little off, but it was a great walk. On the way, we saw (and heard) a lot of howler monkeys hanging from trees (and power lines too, which was a little disturbing. It looked like an anachronism... if that's the right word for that). We saw some newborn calves and horses on the way too, one of which ran up next to Jacklyn as if to pose for a picture and as soon as the shutter closed he ran off.



We had to cross a river before we could get to the actual ocean, which by the way, was bright orange. I guess it's from the silt in the river that flows out into the ocean, but it looked extremely bizarre. We had all been told separately, by Tyrone at the school and our respective Tico parents that if the river was over our knees, we shouldn't cross because of the crocodiles. I just kind of hoped they were exaggerating or joking, but when we got to the river (which was also bright orange and you couldnt see the bottom of it), we all hesitated before we crossed it. All of a sudden some random Tico comes out from the trees and we asked him if it was dangerous to cross, but he didn't answer because he had a place for a trachea tube and couldn't talk, but he led us across the river, so we assumed it was okay.



Once on the other side, we were the only ones on the whole beach which is about 4 kilometers long except for a few people who were on the other end who camp out to volunteer with the turtles that come there to keep them safe from poachers. We ate the sandwiches we brought with us, and before we finished lunch, the tide had come in so much that we had to move way back on the beach. It was at that point that we realized that the river was rising with the tide, and so we went to ask one of the volunteers about crossing the river to get back home. The conversation went something like this:



"What time is high tide?"
"2:00."
"Does the river get really high then?"
"Yes."
"But can we still cross it?"
"Yes."
"Should we still cross it?"
"No." (Notice that he didn't volunteer that information.)
"Is it dangerous to cross the river?"
"No."
"Are there really crocodiles?"
"Yes, they are 2-3 meters in size."
"Ok thanks bye!"



So there are 2-3 meter crocodiles, the tide is coming in, but it's not dangerous? Peculiar. Anyway, when we saw all the volunteers leaving we just followed them across, hoping that the crocs would eat them first if there were any hanging around. Don't worry - we all survived and caught a ride back to Samara. I'm really glad I stayed here this weekend -- I've had so much fun with my Tico family and friends. I'm going to miss them a lot!