The places built upon that which matters most

From left: Elizabeth, Julia, myself, Eric, Jackie, Jason, and Christianna. The Cuatro Estaciones (Four Seasons) Restaurant. Tuesday, July 26th, 2011. It's only fitting that I'm tucked away in the corner. I am defined by my relationships with others, and on that night, I don't think I could have picked a finer bunch to be defined by. It's been only a little over 24 hours since this photo was taken, but I already miss you all more than I can compose with words. One day, we'll all go back. One day.

This entry will not be about a place. You see, despite my past six weeks in Spain, my brief and beautiful weekend in Italy, and my current status of nursing a cold with Fanta and take-out Chinese in gloriously grey Dublin, today those places bear only marginal personal import. In addition, there’s a strong chance that if you dig well enough through this blog, you’ll find several other entries about the same-ish adventures in the same-ish places scattered about the continent. So instead, I’ll write what most likely has been thought and felt by my fellow Scholars but only mentioned at times.

Today was rough.

It was the last day of my program with the Fundación Ortega y Gasset in Toledo, Spain. I was the only UTD student as part of a small contingent of other solo students with Arcadia University. The rest were large groups from Ohio State, Notre Dame, and The University of Minnesota. I lived within Fundación itself: the convent San Juan de la Penitencia reconverted into a dormitory/classroom building. Living and learning within “The Fúnd” (pronounced “foond”) gave me a taste of dorm life I never had at UTD. And within there and through other students who lived with host families, I developed friendships that are infinitely more valuable than any gilded locale of antiquity.

It’s pretty obvious, but what makes any place a home, regardless of the language spoken, are the people there. You see, Toledo is a beautiful city. It really is. It sits on a high rocky hill surrounded on three sides by the Tagus River and is postcard worthy from any angle at any time of the day. The perilously narrow and steep cobblestone streets challenge tourists and taxis alike, and even with the canopies and cleverly designed curving streets, the Spanish sun can still make it feel as if one never left Richardson. There’s lots of culture, art, and history. El Greco, swords, and marzipan are big deals here. But in all honesty, Toledo merits a long weekend trip from Madrid at most. It became surprisingly predictable after a week or two.

However, Toledo merits a special place in my heart because of the people I met there. I’m not particularly religious, but I can’t help but feel that some (non-Tarantino) divine intervention was at work during my time there. I expected to make friends and have a good time, but I didn’t expect just how close some of us would become. It worked counter to all my other friendships built upon time much longer and experiences more difficult. It happened in just six weeks. But it worked. And I can’t help but feel indescribably blessed by the people – not the places, food, nor tours – I have been given. Indeed it is my experiences with those people that are the most important part of my time in Spain.

It was by having breakfast early on that first Saturday that I went on my first run with Jackie. It was a chance encounter that would help me find a new running partner, but by the end of our last run, help me find a true friend when I needed one most. It was through playing cards the second afternoon that I met Jason, a young man who served as more than just a font of free laundry supplies but also as a measure of how far I’ve come in three years and how much I still have to go. It was by playing ninja in the lobby that I met Christianna, a young lady wise well beyond her years, with whom I shared precious conversations on her balcony about life, love, swing dance, and God. It was through buying a pesky red wristband and touring too many Toledan churches that I met Julia, our unofficial “líder” whose mind is as sharp as the sword she’s bringing home, and Elizabeth, the tall gentle beauty (who’s not actually 25 and from Australia) with whom I shared a passion for art and tasty food in Italy. It was through something random that I met Dickson, a manic of a man who rivals some of the people I know at UTD in bluntness and hilarity. It was through random musing about Onomatopoeia and flash mobs that I met Viktoria. It was through just sitting down at lunch with two new dudes that I met Lonnie and Sarvesh, two glorious gentlemen that taught me how to plank, made me speak Spanish during mealtimes, and gave a weekend in Italy to remember forever.

Indeed it was chance encounters with the above and so many other wonderful people that makes me feel even more blessed when I reflect upon how strong of friendships we have cultivated in so short a time. If there’s anything to be learned from this it’s that the scenery of a study abroad location is just that: scenery. The cast is the focus and should be. It is the lifelong friendships I’ve made here that inspire me to write as tangentially and cheesily as I have. Places like the Alhambra and Venice will be around for a while, hundreds or even thousands of years in some cases. People won’t. It’s precisely why they’re that much more precious, more deserving of space on this blog than whatever shiny old thing I saw in some overpriced city.

Today was rough. We had to leave at 5:30 for the Madrid airport and this did not allow for the most ideal of goodbyes. Viktoria and I learned the hard way that one cannot travel between terminals, even after check-in, even if it’s just to see dear friends off. I then had to go by myself to here in Dublin, where the grey skies reflect my sense of melancholy after departing sunny Spain and the friends I had there. I already really miss them, even though some are still within transit in the US.

But I know that one shouldn’t be sad that something is over and instead be happy that it actually happened. I think Dr. Seuss said that. I feel nostalgia in the most bittersweet and painful sense, and when I finally return home to the United States, it’ll hit me harder than today that I’m not quite sure if and when I’ll see mis queridos amigos de Toledo. It’ll hit hard when I actually stop procrastinating and upload all the photos I’ve taken in the past month.

But for now, I’ll upload the one that graces the bottom of this entry. It’s of several of us on our last night, having a nice last supper as former strangers, now lifelong friends. I have no idea when we’ll ever take that photo ever again. But I have faith it will. Somehow. Some way. Some day. For now, as much as I look forward to my planned trips through Ireland, London, and Scotland, I’m even looking even more forward to the days when I can travel to Columbus, Ohio; Notre Dame, Indiana; and Minneapolis, Minnesota. And of course, I look forward to returning to Fort Worth and Richardson. These aren’t places built upon cobblestone and gold, nor grand history and culture. These are places that are built upon that which matters most. These are places that are built upon friendship and upon love.

Highlights from Irene's trip to Argentina

Photo: Marissa and me jumping and attempting a "Whoosh!" in front of the Floralis Generica

During my first weekend in Buenos Aires, my friends Marissa, Husain, and I all went to the Buenos Aires Zoo together. Upon entering, we were surprised and pleased to discover that many animals were just wandering around loose on the path, including ducks and some strange animal that looked like a combination rabbit and dog. After holding out on spending the money for awhile, I finally broke down and bought a bag of food, which all three of us shared. It was a good purchase, as we proceeded to feed zebras, llamas, goats, deer, lemurs, giraffes, and several other animals. We had the most fun with the giraffes, because if you threw the food far enough away from them, they would extend their super long and flexible tongues to get it. Overall we had a great time; the day wasn't too hot, and the zoo was very pretty, although a bit run down. Later when I discussed this excursion with my Spanish teacher, she suggested I check out a larger zoo called Temaiken, where the visitors can supposedly pet most of the animals, including wild animals such as tigers. Unfortunately I ran out of time to explore this other zoo, as it was a bit of a trip to go there, but I had a great time with the animals in Buenos Aires nonetheless.

During my first week in Buenos Aires, I began attending Spanish classes at the Fundacion de Ortega y Gasset. My Spanish teacher's name was Juliette, and it was just Lye-Yeng and me in the advanced Spanish class, so we received lots of personal attention. Juliette was by far the best Spanish teacher I have had in my life. She was incredibly knowledgeable about linguistics and therefore was very good at explaining things. She spoke in Spanish the entire time during class, but she was very easy to understand and had lots of insight on Argentine Spanish and culture. The first day of class we discussed differences between Argentine Spanish and Latin American Spanish that I had been totally unaware of, such as pronouncing "ll" as a "j" and changing verb conjugations in the second person singular. We also spent a lot of time in class discussing differences between American, Argentine, Malaysian, and Moroccan culture, all in Spanish of course. I could tell my Spanish was improving every day, and I was glad we had so many oral exercises in class. It was also helpful and exciting that Juliette also taught Latin at the university in Buenos Aires. Sometimes she was able to better teach me a concept in Spanish by relating it to Latin.

I had some good times with friends in Buenos Aires. One Saturday, Marissa and I went to Recoleta together and wandered around the large weekend market they have there for several hours. Afterwards we attempted to enter the cemetery, but it closed right as we approached the gates. To make up for this unfortunate event we walked to the nearby Floralis Generica, a large metal flower sculpture that opens and closes its petals depending on the time of day. We felt it was necessary to take some cliche tourist photos in front of the flower, and we proceeded to do so for almost an hour, having way to much fun in the process. The flower is very amazing and beautiful and is a nice touch to the city.

During the middle of the trip the group found out about an upcoming concert at the famous stadium Luna Park. La Fuerza Bruta, an Argentine acrobatics team that is similar to the American Blue Man Group was giving performances over several nights there. The entire group eagerly purchased tickets for the show, but unfortunately I was a bit slow on the uptake and did not figure out my plans for that night until it was too late to buy a ticket. I was extremely disappointed, especially when I heard reports from the others the next day about how awesome and interactive the show had been. I determined that I would make up for my situation by buying tickets for a later performance, even if I had to go alone. Based on tips from my friends, who were disappointed in the seats they had had, I purchased tickets for the pit. While I would have to stand during the entire show, these "seats" would be more exciting because the acrobats would enter and perform in the pit. Sure enough the performance was very exciting! The show was a combination of percussive music, inscrutable acting, and acrobatics. It featured movable stages and cranes that were constantly being driven in and out of the pit, forcing the audience to have to move out of the way continuously, as well as a large plastic beehive sheet that was thrown over the audience on which the acrobats ran, and two large clear plastic swimming pools that were lowered close enough over the audience's heads, so that they could touch the girls that were swimming in them, through the plastic of course. At one point water was dumped on the audience in the pit, and the entire pit routinely became a mosh pit. Needless to say, I was soaking wet and a bit dirty by the time the entire show was over, but I had a great time and enjoyed talking about the show with some new Argentine friends as I took the subway home.

As the end of the trip drew near, some friends and I realized that we had been to only one milonga, La Catedral, and that even this milonga probably wasn't representative of most Argentina milongas. Determined to remedy this situation, Jessica and I headed to a new milonga one evening. We arrived, and the place seemed crowded and very fun. They were alternating between tango music and other kinds of music such as salsa and rock-and-roll. We eventually found a table, and I ordered some lemon ice cream. While I was happily eating my lemon ice cream, determined that I would never dance, but hoping that Jessica would get asked to dance, so she could show off her tango skills, an older man approached me and asked for a dance. I was horrified. I immediately declined and told him to ask Jessica instead, but this cute old man was very insistent and told me he would wait till I finished my lemon ice cream and then we could dance. Despite my continuous protestations, I soon realized that my only option in this situation was to dance with the nice man, which was unfortunate for me since I knew no tango whatsoever, or any kind of dance really. Luckily this man (I think his name was Eduardo, but I don't remember for sure) was very patient and kind and taught me a few basic steps and one more fancy step. I could tell that he was a very good dancer, as I always knew where we were heading on the dance floor and I never got stepped on, even when I was not doing the steps correctly. While I'm sure I was horrible, I had a very fun time and enjoyed the tips he gave me ("Don't look at your feet"), as well as the stories he told me about his daughter who lives in Florida. To my surprise, after that performance, he asked me to dance again for some rock-and-roll songs. At this point I started to feel bad, because I, with no dance experience and really no desire to dance, was getting asked regularly, while Jessica, with tons of dance experience and a huge desire to dance some more tango before leaving Buenos Aires, had not gotten asked yet. The situation was only exacerbated when I was asked to dance again, this time by a different and younger guy. He was not as good and kept running us into other dancers, but I appreciated that he too provided me some lessons on basic steps while we were dancing. We must have been a humorous dance couple, as he was much shorter than me. Once again I had more fun than I thought I would, and I left the milonga in a good mood.

Anna's European Travels

Rolling with the Locals

Outside of studying at Schloss Brunnenburg with fellow UTD classmates, I spent some time before and after traveling through Europe to study other types of European architecture. Every European city I visited was so different from anything I knew in America--so many of the buildings, especially the museums and churches, are so old and magnificent. I loved learning about the different quirks of each city through free tour guides as well as my hostel-keepers. Although I had studied abroad in Argentina the previous summer, I had never traveled extensively on my own, so this summer was my first time doing that. Thankfully, the rail system in Europe is very easy to navigate, and after a few nervous rides on my own, it seemed like there was nothing to it.

Even though I have only studied Spanish in school, I surprised myself with the ability to pick up limited but essential phrases in other languages, such as Italian and German. For example, while wandering around Berlin with a couple of new friends from London, I surprised them by reading off gelato flavors in German! While traveling on my own, I also was reminded of how different, yet how similar, people across the world are to each other. In Seville, I bonded with two sisters from France and a guy from Australia over the course of two short days. Even though we were from very different parts of the world, we could still easily relate to each other and joke with each other as we explored a new city together. Overall, I am very thankful for the opportunity to travel and study abroad in Europe this past summer, and the experiences and memories that I made while there will not soon be forgotten.

A different world - Marissa's perspective

The first thing I noticed about the people of Buenos Aires was their colorlessness; the high-end fashion they wear comes mainly in shades of black, grey, black, tan, and black. Everyone wears leather shoes and leather jackets. Everyone has brown eyes and brown or black hair. Even on relatively warm winter days, when the temperature can reach about fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit, everyone is bundled up behind a thick layer of long jackets, scarves, hats, gloves, and boots. I was told that as a person of obvious European descent, I would not stand out at all here because lots of people “look like you do.” This is a lie. There are lots of white people in Buenos Aires, but there are no blonde people. I got used to heads turning in my direction when I entered the Subte in the morning, and any attempt I made to ask someone for directions was inevitably followed by “¿Alemania? ¿Inglaterra?” (“Germany? England?”). When I walked down the rows of blankets laden with artisan crafts on Florida Street or through the aisles of booths set up on Sundays at San Telmo, artisans would yell after me in English: “Hey you, come over here! I have a free gift for you!” On the few occasions that I went to a bar, men would turn to watch me pass them and say loudly, “My love!” When I walked down Florida to get back to class after lunch, the waiters who stand outside their restaurants thrust their laminated signs in my face and said, “Hel-lo, la-dy. You eat lunch here now?” I often took to wearing my leather jacket’s hood while in crowded public areas, just to give people one less reason to stare.

The fact that I stood out so much in Buenos Aires, and the attention that it often drew, did not dampen my experiences there; rather, it was merely an aspect of my trip that I had not anticipated and which played a fairly significant role in my life there. It was interesting to be an outsider for once in the sense that I could not blend in, no matter how hard I tried.

Buenos Aires: First Impressions from Irene

Photo: Irene in front of the Casa Rosada (Pink House), which is where the president of Argentina works

As I entered the city of Buenos Aires for the first time there were two things I immediately noticed: traffic and trash. These things make the city very different from most US cities.

As my fellow travelers and I quickly discovered, crossing the street is a matter of life and death, and you often have to "play Frogger" with the cars, especially if you're crossing a road with two-way traffic. Luckily most of the roads here are one-way only, and there are several pedestrian streets on which you will only be bothered by the occasional moped. Interestingly enough, however, the city of Buenos Aires is still much more pedestrian friendly than most US cities. There are plenty of sidewalks and crosswalks, and there are other people walking everywhere, so you always have the protection of the masses when crossing a street. And when it comes down to it, the cars here will not actually hit you. I have already had several brushes with death while crossing the streets here, but the cars have always stopped and given me room to pass, even if I was the one "breaking the law" and even if they were angry about doing it. I put "breaking the law" in quotes here, because traffic laws seem very lax here. Stop signs are nonexistent; at many intersections cars just slowly nose their way forward until they can see if someone else is coming or not. And while there are lanes painted on the streets, no one stays in them, and mopeds are even known to drive up onto the sidewalk in order to pass some glut of cars that is in their way.

Another noticeable aspect of the city is the trash that is everywhere. In the US we have a mentality that it is almost morally reprehensible to litter, and that if you have some trash in your hand you have to hold onto it until you find a trash can where you can dispose of it properly. That mentality does not exist here. People drop trash onto the sidewalk, into the gutters, out their car windows, into the subte tracks, and the trash is anywhere and everywhere. In addition, people do not clean up after their dogs, probably because the owners are not usually the ones walking the dogs; a dog walker is. So the city is very dirty, and you constantly have to watch your step. The situation is exacerbated by the fact that the garbage collectors will occasionally go on strike (This happened once while we were visiting), and the uncollected bags of trash will simply lie around for days on end until they begin work again. Buenos Aires does not really have a recycling program in the way a US citizen would think of it, but they do have very poor men and women who root through the trash for recyclable goods that they can sell for money. This is a very sad sight to see, but is an appropriate image of the economic plight of the city combined with this other waste collection problem.

As I spent more time in the city, I quickly realized that traffic and trash were not the only distinguishing characteristics of Buenos Aires.

The city is very busy and runs around the clock. If you want to buy a bag of milk (Yes, they sell milk in bags here) at 4am, you can do that. And the interesting thing is, you probably won't be the only person doing that. I don't know if this is the case in big US cities like New York, but I know that this is a huge contrast to a city like Dallas. In Dallas proper, almost everything will be closed by 10pm, and in Richardson, where UTD is located, most businesses are closed by 8pm, if not earlier. I love the late-night rhythm of Buenos Aires. The people here tend to stay up very late -- talking, dancing, clubbing, buying bags of milk, working -- and then sleep in late as well. It seems that most jobs do not expect their employees at 8am sharp as in the US. In addition, if you do go out late to party, the scene won't get very exciting until at earliest 2am. This is hard for us US citizens, who are used to heading home from the clubs at 3am or 4am, while here they are just getting started at that time.

In addition, the public transportation system here is very good, better than any public transportation I've experienced in the US. Marissa and I ride the subte (subway) to school every day, which is a crazy experience. In the mornings, the subtes are jam-packed with people trying to get to work. When I say jam-packed, I mean more jam-packed than anything someone from the US could imagine. Standing on the subte during rush hour, your body will be touching the bodies of at least five other people. With so many people around you, you cannot tell if the guy behind you is feeling you up, trying to pick your pocket, or simply touching you unintentionally. I feel like the subte is a living organism. It arrives at the platform, and everyone presses their bodies together toward the opening doors. Then once you make it through the doors you are swallowed by the subte, and your body is not your own anymore. You have no control over where in the car you will end up, because you cannot move; the crowd moves you. However, despite the highly cramped conditions, the subte will get you where you want to go. The city of Buenos Aires is HUGE, but the subte covers a good chunk of it, and what you can't reach via subte you can reach via colectivo (bus). Colectivos are just like buses in the US, except they go faster and farther, and there are hundreds in the city of Buenos Aires, so there is always one to get you where you need to go. The don't run on a schedule; you just wait at the stop until one comes, but you usually don't have to wait more than 15 minutes, unlike in Dallas, where I have spent more than an hour waiting for the bus I needed to arrive. You do have to be careful not to miss your stop, especially if you are not familiar with the city. When in doubt, take a taxi. I disagree with the advice we were given and think it is perfectly OK to hail a taxi from the street, so long as you know what to look for to make sure the cab is safe. All you have to do is tell the driver the address, and he will know exactly where to take you, and it will probably only cost about 24 peses (6 USD).

The city of Buenos Aires, as well as the nation of Argentina, is definitely in a severe economic situation right now. Many people are without work, and the people you see on the subtes or walking in the streets look very somber. Everyone wears dark colors, and one of the primary ways foreigners stand out is by the bright clothes that they wear. The peso is worth much less than the dollar, and the public has not gained back the morale it lost during the economic crisis of 2001. It is depressing to see a country that was once so great in such a slump. Even the architecture manifests this situation. Grand old European-style buildings are crumbling throughout the city; it is as if the people don't care about preserving these architectural masterpieces, or don't have the money to do so, or both. I wish I could have seen Argentina in its initial days of splendor around the turn of the century, when it was one of the top economic powers in the world, but instead I am viewing the product of decades of coups, dictatorships, human rights abuses, and corruption. It is an important lesson for all nations, including the US, about the impact that bad government can have on an economic superpower.