Whilst being in Europe, we all get excited to go see all of the different countries especially because traveling is cheaper in comparison to America. My advice to students who want to study abroad would be to pick a handful of places you absolutely would love to travel to and plan those out. There may be a lot of pressure to hit a ton of countries, but as I have experienced these past few weeks, getting to know the country your living in is an incredible feeling. I am studying in Alicante which in itself is a beautiful city, my friends and I have been able to take trips to nearby cities in day trips, discovering hidden gems. A lot of these places have less mass tourism and are much more authentic, allowing us to get an intimate feel for the country we’re in. Altea is a small city on La Costa Blanca, or the white coast, which was a small town on the Mediterranean filled with immaculate white homes and buildings. We found a small restaurant where they insisted we get the lasagna, it was the best I had ever had, it was so fresh and rich. It was a lovely city and we had a perfect day. The next day we went to Calpe, another city a few hour from Alicante on train, where we hiked up a mountain there. The view was absolutely breathtaking, you could see for miles, even into other cities. We were above the clouds and able to see beyond the horizon. After, we had dinner on the beach and relaxed along the coast. I have had many of opportunities see the countryside of Spain and have had the pleasure of meeting manylocal people. When I go back to the states, I want to feel like I actually lived here, so I am so glad I’m able to travel within the country and immerse myself in the local culture.
Sitting in Alteastrolling through AlteaViews from Calpe
So, there I was, sitting in Rinaldo’s in my usual seat on the couch in the corner listening to my peers discuss travel plans for the upcoming weekend. I couldn’t join in because I had no plans so I decided I needed to go somewhere. I pulled out my computer and my credit card, searched “Rome to Venice” and booked a train ticket and a hostel for the weekend. Spontaneous and maybe even a little impulsive, I made the decision and didn’t need to discuss it with anyone. After I realized what I did, I thought, Oh my God I’m going to Venice, ALONE!! And there began the brewing of excitement tinted with unease in the pit of my stomach.
Here’s my “excited-to-travel-alone” selfie.
After a late night of cheering on the Men’s basketball team and celebrating their victory into the Sweet Sixteen, I woke up (a little hungover), packed, and made my way to the train station. I’m not an anxious person, but when it comes to traveling with a deadline, I’m always on the edge of panic but everything went smoothly and I made it on the fast train headed to Venice. With a grin on my face, I admired the hills and fields passing me by as I sped over 150 mph towards the City of Water. Four hours later, tired and hungry (the default state of being for a college student studying abroad), I arrived in Venice, immediately dropped my backpack off at my hostel, and went off to explore the narrow streets and winding canals.
Venice is a maze. Google Maps would tell me to walk down what appeared to be a dark, deserted alleyway but, when I would turn the corner, the street would be bustling with life. I thought I was walking in circles because I would pass Murano glass shops, mask shops, and pizzarias then I’d walk over a bridge and pass more glass, masks, and pizza. I happened upon Piazza San Marco, the only piazza in Venice, crowded with one half tourists and the other half pigeons. Children were chasing the pigeons, couples were dancing to live music emanating from the caffès lining the piazza, men were feeding the pigeons and trying to get tourists to pay to take pictures with the birds, and tourists were walking around with their selfie sticks, always looking up with their mouths agape. When you travel a lot, you start to notice the typical tourist giveaways.
At the East end of Piazza San Marco lies Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco, Saint Mark’s Basilica. Unfortunately, I was unable to go inside but I did admire the facade, which was highlighted with gold mosaics and sparkled in the golden hour sunlight. The sun was approaching the horizon and I realized that now was my opportunity to see a Venetian sunset so I frantically walked around trying to find that perfect view that I’ve seen in photos but, unfortunately, I could not beat the sun. I started back towards my hostel, meanwhile glancing at all the menus posted along the way. A woman, whose job consisted of getting people into her ristorante, advised me about the perfect Venetian dishes to try for a seafood beginner (I’m not a fan of seafood but I wanted to be adventurous). I ate spaghetti alle vongole which was spaghetti with teeny, tiny clams in their shell and tomatoes with garlic sauce. Delizioso! Oh, can’t forget the glass of white house wine, one must drink wine in Italy.
I began my second day in Venice with a cappuccino and a trip to Murano, an island about a thirty-five-minute waterbus ride from my hostel. Murano is famous for its glass production which began in the 7th century. I went to the Glass Museum and saw some ancient glass and learned the history surrounding the main product of Venice. The glassblowing process is so fascinating, I wish I could’ve seen it in person! After leaving the museum, I walked along the canals and browsed through the shops lining the water. It took lots of deliberation but I found some beautiful souvenirs to bring back home for my friends and family.
Let’s talk about transportation in Venice. There are no roads, only canals, so you can either walk or travel by water. Waiting for the bus consisted of standing on a swaying platform next to a dock and hopping on a boat when it arrived. Venice did not feel like a real place because it is so different than any city I’ve ever seen. Florence has mopeds, Amsterdam has bikes, London has the Tube, Paris has the Metro, and Venice has waterbuses and gondolas.
Gondolas have set rates in Venice so one gondola for forty minutes is €80 and you can have a maximum of six people splitting that cost. As we know, I was traveling by myself and I could not afford an €80 private gondola ride on my romantic solo trip but I couldn’t go to Venice and not ride a gondola! I scoured the internet until I came across a deal on Viator.com for a walking tour plus thirty-five-minute gondola ride for $51. US DOLLARS! Lifelong dreams were coming true that day. It was time to meet up for the walking tour of Venice and my tour guide was a Venetian with a sarcastic, dark sense of humor and I enjoyed it. We toured an area with less tourists and saw a few of the one hundred and twenty-five churches of Venice. Venice sinks about 12 cm a century so now is a great time to invest in the housing market (credit for that joke goes to my tour guide, Marco).
It was finally time for my gondola ride! I was put onto the boat with two couples and another solo rider and we embarked on our thirty-five-minute expedition around the winding Venetian canals. My gondolier did not sing or wear a fun hat like I saw other gondoliers wearing but he peacefully propelled us along. The best way to experience Venice is by water and I am so glad I was able to go on a gondola ride. It was peaceful and beautiful but over all too quickly.
After disembarking from the gondola, I wondered around a bit and happened upon Piazza San Marco, again. There are wooden walkways for when the city floods stacked all over the piazza so I went off towards the Doge’s Palace to sit on the walkways with the other tourists. I had a salami sandwich in my purse leftover from my sack lunch and I was starving so I thought it would be a good time to relax for a minute and eat. Plus, I was saving money because I did not need to buy another meal. I pulled out my sandwich, unwrapped the tinfoil around it, and took a bite but within thirty seconds of that first bite, a seagull swooped down and grabbed the sandwich from my hand. The seagull landed about fifteen feet in front of me and eight other seagulls were fighting that thief for my sandwich. I was completely shocked. Did a seagull really just take my sandwich? The other tourists around me also looked shocked and I started to laugh hysterically. I could not believe that just happened and I thought it was hilarious because it was such a stupid mistake to try and eat in a piazza FILLED with birds. If you go to Venice, please do not eat in the Piazza San Marco, learn from my mistake!
There I was in the piazza, hysterically laughing, alone, and without food so I wondered around until I found a take away pizza place. I had walked past it a couple of times during my earlier adventuring and there was a spinach and ricotta pizza that I had been eyeing. Of course, I got the pizza because it was only €3.50 and the slice was huge! I think my sandwich was meant to be taken from me so that I could enjoy that delicious pizza. It was waaaaay better than any pizza that I’ve eaten in Rome so far.
The sun was setting on my second day in Venice and I found myself at a dead-end with a perfect view of the sunset. It finally hit me that I was in Venice. Traveling is hectic and everything moves so fast that it’s possible to forget to take a breath and really appreciate the place you’re in. I felt the cool breeze on my face and I knew that if I touched the water, it would be cold. I’m not sure for how long I watched that scene but I did not walk away until the sun made its full decent beyond the horizon.
Venice is gorgeous, unique, and a little bit ridiculous and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to visit before it sinks. I’m kidding, that’s not going to happen for a while. Traveling to Venice felt unreal because it is so different than any city that I have ever seen. This small town will forever hold a place in my heart, even if it feels like just a dream.
I live in Rinaldo’s. I’ve officially set up shop and am not leaving until spring break starting today. I realize that I’m spending too much time focusing on creating content for work and brainstorming that I haven’t been studying enough. I’ve done research on different and effective ways to use instagram to make sales, while posting 3 times a week, I’m supposed to also be posting 2-3 stories a week,
finding new stories to write about like new restaurants, and the March Events Blog post is due next Monday. I completely bombed my finance test which probably shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. I need to be more focused and balanced in how I’m allocating my time. The rest of my midterms are next week so I’m basically not leaving JFRC until my grades are where I need them to be (or sleeping probably, but that’s college right?). Today I took the 990 Bus to Vatican City to take some pictures for my internship and send out postcards to my friends and family. It was 2,80 euros per stamp. The man who was working at the post office seemed was super rude. I handed him my debit card and he threw my postcards on the
desk and said, “No Card.” Alright, noted. I handed him cash, took my postcards and stamps, and left. It was probably because I spoke English to be honest. On my way back to the bus I stopped at a McCafe. I wish McDonalds had them in the united states like they do here. They have cheesecake, muffins, cornetto, colorful doughnuts, and it’s awesome. I got some decent pictures for the Roman Foodie instagram. I ended up buying a creamolosa al caffee. Its pistachio fudge topped with espresso and vanilla soft serve. I had no idea what I was getting but I figure I should try a new thing every day if I can. My life has been changed. With such easy access
to sweets, I’ve come to the realization that I need to do something to keep me healthy. So, for the past month or so I’ve gone to the gym 5-6 times a week depending how my body feels. I’m finally starting to see the benefit of all the work I’ve put in and I’m really happy about. So, the goal for next week is to sort my life out, but its really hard to say the least.
Walking on the beach of Phu Quoc Island, looking distantly into the horizon of the South China Sea while listening to Oceans is an incredible experience. Less incredible was walking behind an older woman who’s bikini top was at her waist and her bottom piece was more nonexistent than existent, if you know what I mean. Over the weekend I spent 48 hours in retirement paradise amongst mostly people old enough to be my grandparents. I met up with a new friend, Kate from Canada, and shared laughs over the fact that we were the “young chicks” as one sweet older couple called us.
As she headed off to motorbike around the island, I headed off in search of clean beaches and time to reflect over the last 4 weeks of my life. As I walked, I strolled through street markets, to local areas, to dirt roads, to talking with local children just getting out of school, to accidentally stumbling upon and deliberately sneaking into a 5-star resort with a beautiful beach. Here’s the thing though: it worked. As I walked onto the beach and set up camp, I wasn’t questioned. I blended in, sitting there amongst the small crowd of variably tan white people, and was never questioned whether or not I belonged there. It was then that I realized that the privilege I have in the US as a white female is just as real here and everywhere else in the world. The whiteness of my skin is a ticket to not being questioned of my authority or belonging. So what do I do with that? How do I treat my privilege here or anywhere? These are the questions I’ve had for much of college and studying abroad continues to confront me with this, especially living in a district mostly populated by local Vietnamese. I still don’t have answers. I do my best to acknowledge my privilege and bias but I fail all too often. One important lesson I learned from an international experiential education conference I attended a couple of years ago is that there is a 100% chance that you will offend others at least one point in your life when trying to make cross-cultural connections and confront your own privilege. However, now more than ever you have to make room for brave space. Be okay with the fact that you will fail and try anyway. I’ve learned the most through conversations with others, and I’ve already had several eye-opening conversations here about race and what it means to be a foreigner in Vietnam.
So switching gears a bit, I’m a month in and have been blessed enough to have done a ton of traveling and bouncing around within SE Asia. However, I’ve been yearning for something more, something more immersive. And yet, I’m the only one getting in my way. There are moments of motivation where I reach out to service organizations that are mostly Vietnamese run or have conversations with locals who don’t have English as their first language that push me outside of my comfort zone. And then there are moments that have me running to my cà phê sữa đá in English-speaking cafés and my bed with Netflix. I want to be happy enough with the progress I’ve made so far, the small victories, the lessons I’ve learned, but I can’t help but think that there’s more to this. Should I just throw my computer out the window, cut off all ties to the US and walk out my front door in search of solely Vietnamese company? Should I keep enjoying my status quo of classes, cafes, banh mi, and short interactions with locals? As I struggle through what it means to be in search of an immersive study abroad experience, any advice can be directed to 497 hoa hao, Phuong 4, Quan 10, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. At the beginning of the year I made a list of 17 for ’17 achievable goals for the year that would challenge me to open up my perspective of the world and enjoy each moment as it comes. While I’m happy that I’ve started to make progress on many of them, I’m realizing more and more how little I know and have experienced so far.
Fisherman off the coast of the South China Sea
So by now you’re probably wondering why I titled this post the way I did. For reading this far, I’m granting you the answer. So one thing that’s great about all of the flights around SE Asia is that they all play music while boarding and getting off. On my solo flight to Phu Quoc, excited for the weekend ahead, I knew it was going to be a good time because as soon as we landed, they started playing an anthem by the great hero, Sufjan Stevens. And not just any song, but “Chicago” of all possibilities. I took this as a sign that not only is it going to be okay, but I need to see each moment for what it is and accept each emotion as they come. Between signing myself up for an adventure race in April, joining a local church, and continuing to make a name for myself here in Vietnam, I’m slowly but surely learning who I really am and want to be, all the while experiencing things I never could have dreamed of before coming here.
Here’s my motto for the rest of the semester:
Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry. – Jack Kerouac
During the past two weeks there have been two protests here in Santiago. They are called marchas and are basically a parade full of people that march in protest for some cause. On May 1 there is a march every year for the workers of Chile. Many workers gather with their coworkers, groups of friends, or people from their school and together they march down Alameda (the main street in downtown Santiago) with signs, shouts, and music. We had school off that day so I went to the march just to watch and take some pictures.
The first thing I noticed is how dead downtown was. There was hardly any activity besides the march. All of the stores were closed (probably due to the combination of the march and Labor Day) and the streets were blocked off with no cars. There were not nearly as many people walking on the sidewalks as usual, although there were some. The people were either meeting with their friends and going to the march or were like me and just taking pictures or filming it. There were lots of police officers in various parts of downtown. Some blocked off streets in riot gear, some patrolled the area on motorcycles, and others monitored the march, walking with the protesters in the very front and the very back.
I picked my spot in front of Universidad de Chile, which was about the halfway point of the march. The demonstrators started at metro Los Heroes (right next to my university) and would finish at Plaza Italia. I had no intention of going to Plaza Italia. Many Chileans warned me that there is often violence and problems there because the police and protesters always fight at the end. Most of the people marching wanted more rights for workers, such as pensions, less hours, things like that. A lot of them were communists – most people were wearing red and there were a decent number of communist flags being waved about. I also saw a lot of Mapuche flags (the main indigenous tribe of Chile).
It was cool to see the march but it was not anything mind-blowing. At one point I thought a gas grenade exploded. There was a loud noise and about 100 feet in front of me there was white gas all in the air. I prepared myself to run into the metro and leave, but turns out it was only white powder, and not gas. It dyed the ground white and the march continued on uninterrupted. At the end of the march, there were a group of anarchists marching, mostly young people. This really shocked me. They were dressed in all black and legitimately promote anarchy with the A symbol and everything. I didn’t notice it at the moment, but when I was leaving I saw they had spray painted graffiti on the walls of the buildings with their phrases and symbol. I am almost positive that they are the ones that cause trouble with the police at the end.
Fortunately, mi primera marcha passed without incident. The second one, however, was a different story. The student march happened a week later on this past Thursday. I was not going to go to this one, because the student marches are typically more dangerous and a lot bigger than the workers’ march. In Chile, students are fighting for free and quality education at the university level. The president, Michelle Bachelet, has promised to make college free for students during her second term, which she just began serving in March. Many students, however, do not believe her attempts are sincere and think that her plan is flawed as well. Thus they take to the streets to voice their discontent.
My history classes were canceled for the day. At Universidad Alberto Hurtado, the students of each major vote to see if they will go to the march or not. If the no’s win, they go to class instead of the march. If the yes’s win, they go to the march and send the professor an email telling them that nobody will be going to class. The history students voted yes, so naturally I didn’t have class. The march went well until the end, when some young bandits caused some trouble. These people are similar to the anarchists, they wear all black, have their hoods up, and place bandanas over their faces so only their eyes show. Apparently, they go to some marches just to fight with the police at the end.
At the end, they threw some molotov cocktails at the police, who threw back gas grenades, and the scuffle began. Many police officers were hurt and most of these bandits were detained. By this time, the students had filed into a park for a concert that marked the end of the march, so they were not involved in the fight. The conflict was all over the news and in the newspaper.
Disclaimer: This does not mean Chile is a dangerous country. I have felt extremely safe here and have had little to no problems with my personal safety. The marches typically only have conflict in the end, yet it does not affect the majority of the protesters nor the majority of the police. On Thursday, nobody was seriously injured.
To conclude, it has been very interesting and informative to see these marches. To me, these rarely happen in the U.S., and when they do they definitely don’t have this type of conflict. In Chile, the marches are fairly common. These marches happen at least once a month for various reasons, and in 2011 there were a great number of student marches. Because of this, they are in the news, people talk about them, and las marchas have become another part of Chilean culture.
Last weekend, Theo and I went camping in Cajon de Maipo, a valley in the Andes about an hour away from Santiago. We got there on Thursday afternoon after taking a bus from the end of the metro. Unfortunately for us, it was May 1, or Día del Trabajador, also known as Labor Day. Due to this, all of the main grocery stores were closed, forcing us to buy our food from an overpriced convenient store. A nice girl on the bus gave us some advice on where to go and what to do in the valley. She recommended going to El Morado, a glacier just off the border from Argentina.
The bus took us to San Jose de Maipo where we bought a little more food and went to check out the tourist center. As we expected, it was closed, leaving us with only the girl’s information on what to do. Like good travelers, Theo and I did hardly any research about Cajon de Maipo. We only knew how to arrive to San Jose and from there we were winging it. From my experience, traveling works out better this way. You never know what to expect and a lot of surprising and cool things end up happening.
We hitchhiked (which is perfectly legal, common, and safe in Chile) from San Jose heading deeper into the Andes and closer to the mountains. Along the way when we told people we were going to El Morado we got some strange responses. A woman in San Jose told us we were very brave men to be doing this, especially with the weather (it was raining all day). Later when we were deeper and higher up in the mountains a taxi driver stopped and asked us where we were going. After telling him, he asked if we were prepared, warning us that it’s dangerous and we should notify the police that we were going there in case something happens!
Wow! At this point we started to think what is El Morado? We definitely were not prepared for any intensely cold weather. We did not have winter hats or gloves and Theo’s tent is not made to camp in the snow. We started to have second thoughts but decided to keep going until Baños Morales, where the park entrance to El Morado is and where we could get more information. At around 6PM, we stopped at a man’s house who lets people camp in his yard. Fortunately, he let us spend the night in his house. His name was Josepe and he helped us out a bunch! He let us stay inside, gave us food, made us a fire, brought us mattresses, and then played guitar with us for two hours!
In the morning, I woke up and looked outside to an incredible view! Less than a kilometer away on each side of the house stood mountains with the top third covered in snow. Outside the house there was a flock of sheep, with sheep dogs and shepherds directing them, and a flock of goats fenced in. There were also pigs, horses, chickens, and dogs. It was pretty much a farm for animal husbandry. Josepe told us that another man owns the animals and uses them for milk (to make cheese) and wool mostly. On top of his generosity, Josepe made us breakfast and let us keep our backpacks in his house while we continued on our hike.
We walked the eight kilometers to Baños Morales on the dirt road surrounded by beautiful scenery. This was a Chile I had never seen before. It was very rural, with about a house every 400 meters that usually had some flock of animals. There were little to no cars, only big trucks passing us by that were working on construction up ahead. At one point, a man even passed us riding his horse and accompanied by two dogs. He greeted us in a very thick, mountain accent that was tough to understand, which we laughed about and imitated later. It was a beautiful morning, clear of rain, cloudy and with fresh, unpolluted air (unlike Santiago). We were also ascending deeper into the mountains and it was getting colder and colder because of the altitude.
We reached Baños Morales, a cute little town built on the summer tourism season from El Morado and las termas (the hot springs). Unfortunately, the park was closed due to the rain. Every time it rains there is a chance of rock and mud slides and they close the park for a few days. A little disappointed that we couldn’t get to El Morado, we went to las termas instead. That was even more disappointing. The hot springs were man-made pools with water running from pipes into the pools. Furthermore, the water wasn’t even hot – it was room temperature. With it being probably 40 degrees, starting to rain and no clothes to change into, we didn’t get in. A Chilean couple did though, although they did not stay in for long.
We hitchhiked back, stopped at Josepe’s to pick up our bags and said goodbye to him. He gave us a big, warm, circle loaf of bread as a gift (check my Facebook pictures) and told us to come back and stay there again. He was very nice and we thanked him many times for everything he did for us. For the day we hopped around the valley, checking out the small towns and trying to find a spot to camp. Finally we camped under some trying conditions (nighttime, no lighter, limited food and water) a little bit past San Jose. In the morning we tried to find a trail to hike but to no avail, so we hitchhiked back to Santiago.
Overall, I had a great time in Cajon de Maipo and am really glad I went. It was my first time in la Cordillera (the Andes) and I saw a part of Chile completely different from what I had already experienced. Once again, my travels have given me with many stories to tell and have introduced me to amazingly kind and wonderful people.
Whoever said that taking a semester abroad is like being on vacation in college was slightly mistaken.
Although being surrounded by so much art, history, culture and great looking Italians has its perks, the workload that defines being a college student does not falter while abroad. Of course you do have on-site classes to look forward to which are necessary in order to fully understand what you are studying at the moment (in the case that the class pertains specifically to Rome/Italy). The ability to conquer sightseeing and enough study time is a fine art you will come to master during your semester abroad.
As for me, it truly is no lie that time flies when you are having fun. For a minute I could have sworn I had been here for barely two weeks and before I knew it has already been a month! I mean I know time is relative and all but could I be having that much fun or does the world turn faster in Europe? So far I have throughly explored my new hometown, the Eternal City, visited the Amalfi Coast for our orientation trip and went to one of the world’s smallest nations with one of the highest GDP per capita for a lovely party at the Italian Ambassador’s House in Luxembourg.
My advice to future J-Forcers: Definitely take time to plan trips out before arriving here in order to fully take advantage of your time here but leave room for spontaneous trips. You never know what life has in store for you. Plan on bringing clothes that aren’t so snug. Whilst living in Italy, it is NOT a good time to try starting a diet and I don’t care how many five-star Italian restaurants you have been to. It will never be the same as eating Italian food in Italy. Not to mention the fact that gelato is addictive and you will crave it at least twice a week. Enjoy the experience and don’t limit yourself. Also if you are set on not gaining weight here (HA), do plan on living at the Zone Hotel. That twenty minute uphill walk is no joke but the breakfast makes it totally worth it.
That’s all my advice for now. This weekend I’m off to London for Fashion Week so that should make for an interesting time. Until then it’s homework city for me.
Hola! My name is Tom and this is my first blog post from Santiago, Chile. If you want to know a little bit about myself, go ahead and read my short bio. I’ll try and recap my last two weeks here, be prepared though because there’s a lot of stuff.
First flew in to Santiago on Friday, January 10. My first full out exposure to Spanish included my luggage not arriving at the airport and having to describe my bags to an employee hahaha. Fortunately, my host mom is super nice and she called the airline company every day until my luggage arrived on that Sunday. I live in a house in Las Condes with her and my host sister Carolina, who is studying to pass her law test to become a lawyer. They are both very engaging and supportive, I feel very comfortable at home. I also have a brother here, but he lives in a different house with his girlfriend and daughter Rosilo, who is three years old and so cute!
Basically I commute from my house during the week to downtown (or El Centro) Santiago where I’m taking a Spanish class at Universidad Alberto Hurtado. It takes me about 50 minutes to get there after taking a bus and the metro, which is extremely fast compared to the L in Chicago. My Spanish is pretty good – I had a lot of exposure and practice before coming here – so the class is easy to me. That leaves me plenty of time to explore Santiago after class in the afternoon. So far I have seen La Moneda (Chile’s White House), La Catedral (the Cathedral), Cerro Santa Lucia and Cerro San Cristobal (two mountains you can climb and see the whole city), the biggest mall in Latin America, and many other places!
Of all of those places, I think Cerro San Cristobal was my favorite. It is this mini mountain that you can either walk up or take an elevator-like machine. My friend and I took the machine up and then walked down the mountain on this awesome, dirt bike path through the woods. At the top of the mountain, you can see all of Santiago! The city is very flat, except for Tobalaba, where the skyscrapers are. Besides that neighborhood the city does not have many large buildings like cities in the U.S. Due to this, the city just keeps going and going and going. It takes up a lot more space because there are not many skyscrapers, thus most people live in houses or small apartment buildings.
To summarize, it has been a great first two weeks and God blessed me incredibly. I’m starting to meet some Chileans, understand the culture, and communicate effectively. More to tell later, let me know if you have any questions! Hasta luego!
P.S. I’m having some trouble uploading pictures but as soon as I figure it out I’ll post them.
The week of New Years is about to start and Ho Chi Minh City is already starting to clear out. Everywhere, decorations are being put up and flags are being flown proud. So far, I get the feeling of 4th of July and thanksgiving is coming. National pride is everywhere, flags and banners are everywhere. Today I saw someone driving around in a Mercedes with a giant 6×9 flag attached to the roof. People are getting filing out of the city and traveling to stay with family during the celebration. The city is quieter and it is ten times easier to cross the street, even during rush hours. The excitement can be felt in the air everywhere around the city as people clean their shops and restaurants and post signs saying they will be closed during the New Years. I can’t wait for the fireworks.
Last weekend, a group of nine of us Loyola students took a trip to Vung Tau, which is on the coast just east of Ho Chi Minh City. We woke up early on Thursday morning to make it to the river to catch a hydrofoil boat. It was around $10 for the hour and a half ride through ports and forests, all while weaving in and out of huge container ships. This was really cool because we were going so fast and it was pretty smooth. When we got off the boat though, we were overcome with the sea breeze and sunshine. It is crazy how just an hour boat ride and the air clears right up and it is noticeably easier to breathe.
We walked over to the bus station and bought our tickets, then checked into our hotel and straight to the beach we went! The waves were huge! It was so much fun to jump and play in them, even though it was really really really salty. After what seemed like 45 minutes, but was really 3+ hours of swimming and building sand castles, we all realized we were starving. We caught some xe oms to a restaurant that everyone was referring us to. Our table was literally 15 feet from the waves and we had some of the freshest seafood I have ever had. It was so yummy, especially the calamari.
That night, we played a card game in the hotel driveway on little plastic chairs, it was awesome, especially when the desk worker guy played with us. A couple people went to go get food and when I went to go find them, I ran into this guy who called himself “Crazy Moe.” I tried calling him just Moe a couple times, but he would correct me every time. He walked me to his house and I had a good forty-five minute discussion with him. He was 66 years old, fought for the South Vietnamese Navy during the Vietnam war, was “reeducated” after the war, and about his family. His first daughter was born in 1972, his youngest, 1992. It was great to hear someone talk about how the government really works in a citizen’s point of view.
After checking out of the hotel the next day, we traveled to the base of a giant hill that had a huge jesus on top. Kind of like in Brazil. It felt like the stairs went on forever, but we finally made it to breathtaking views and a strong breeze to cool off with.
The journey back was an experience unlike any other… a sprinter van pulled up to our hotel, we climbed in and the sliding around started. Our driver was one of the most aggressive drivers I have ever even seen. It reminded me of the Night Bus in Harry Potter, weaving in and out of thousands of motorbikes. We would just stop in the middle of a huge intersection, someone would climb right from the back of a motorbike into the van, then we would speed away. Another weird thing that happened was it was picking up more and more people as we went. It got to the point where someone hopped in and the driver handed them a little plastic stool to sit on.
Something really funny that I’ve been noticing here, restaurants must just pick “popular english music” playlists. I am currently sitting in a cafe, with Jingle Bells blasting. It really makes you smile, especially when you don’t know what you’re eating.
This weekend was weird, for the first time in my life, did not watch the greatest game of the year. I could not watch the Super Bowl. I tried to pull a How I Met Your Mother and watch it later without hearing any news of it, but I accidentally saw the score.. but nothing more! It is currently downloading on this super slow internet… at between 12 and 24 KB/s… not to mention the only one online that I could find was 8.9GB. I am anxiously waiting to watch it when it finishes downloading. It’s been downloading for over 15 hours, and just over half way.. I hope I can last!
Back to classes for a couple days, then now I am off until the 17th for the New Years. After growing up in Wisconsin, this whole hot weather in February stuff…. I feel like I might actually melt into the sidewalk.
It has been a week and all I can say is WOW. Vietnam is exactly what they say, a totally unique study abroad experience. Everything is dramatically different than life back in Chicago. From the millions of motorbikes crowding the streets to being able to barter for anything, even groceries and on to buying a decent DVD copy of Skyfall for 10,000vnd. Loyola University Chicago’s Vietnam Center is a truly immersive study abroad experience. Vietnam has everything from living with an awesome Vietnamese roommate to getting a ride on some random guy’s motorbike. Just walking down the street is like a sensory explosion from the sights and smells. Cell phone stores line the streets next to family run bakeries and restaurants. This program is everything a student who wants to study abroad somewhere unique wants.
Globalization is very prevalent here, Vietnam was ruled by the Chinese for over a thousand years, then the French colonized it and the Americans were here in the sixties and even more. Even though it is not a truly developed country, the effects of globalization can be seen everywhere. Here I am, typing this up on a computer that was designed by an American company, then built in China. Then, I am sipping on some of the freshest orange juice I have ever tasted while savoring some ice cream from New Zealand and listening to music from the United Kingdom. I would say the orange juice rivals Spain’s.
Now I bet you are wondering what I have been up to other than class and homework. I have been exploring Saigon a lot by foot, walking around is great because you get to capture every sight as it happens. I’ve visited the backpacker’s district and it was pretty crazy! I visited a museum yesterday, and it totally changed my perspective on the Vietnam War.
The War Remnants Museum here in Ho Chi Minh City, I honestly have never been so impacted by a museum. At first you get there an are amazed by the American jets, helicopters and tanks, but then you get inside and read the stories and see the pictures of the monstrosities that occurred during the Vietnam War. Now I know that this museum is very propagandaish towards the Vietnamese, they did ‘win’ the war so they can tell any story they want, but it truly made me feel a wide range of emotions while walking through the exhibits. They had a section on American war crimes of aggression, I always knew a lot of bad stuff happened during the war, but they had pictures of everything. There was a picture of American G.I.s waterboarding a Vietnamese, another where someone was being unruly while being transported in a helicopter and they threw him out, another of a G.I. holding up a man ripped apart by a grenade launcher. There was a section though in that exhibit that hit me the hardest, it was pictures that were taken by journalists. One that sticks out the most in my mind; of an elderly man who was so weak he couldn’t walk who looked like he was begging, his face showed one of pure terror. The photographer noted that he was ushered away after clicking the shutter and a minute later heard two shots. In another exhibit, it displayed the dramatic effects of Agent Orange, a defoliate agent used by American troops to clear the jungle canopy. Agent Orange devastated the country, from destroying land and farming livelihoods to birth defects seen by pictures in the museum as late as 2008. I do not want to share too much of the museum though, because I feel that it is a must go place to anyone coming to Vietnam, even if you come with a main purpose of spending the 15,000vnd to get in and experience it. After some reflection, the propaganda side of the museum comes out; with portraying Americans as evil and the Vietnamese as peace loving farmers, but the facts are still there. I highly recommend everyone to visit the museum.
Well, on a lighter note, living with a Vietnamese roommate is one of the greatest things about Loyola’s Vietnam Program! My roommate, Trung, is an amazing guy. I feel like I got really lucky, especially since we both love to sleep in past the time the cleaning lady comes in to clean on weekends. Which is one of the most vivid differences between America and Vietnam to me. When staying at a hotel, at least the guest house, when it is time for the cleaning lady to come clean your room, even if you are still sleeping, she will come in and clean the bathroom and sweep/mop the floor. At first this really shocked me!
Vietnam truly is an amazing place, and I cannot wait to explore more of it! With Tet coming up, I will have a break to walk around Saigon with less traffic and people about. I cannot wait to see and experience as much of it as I can. I hope everyone had a great weekend!
