Saturday morning our last big trip of the semester began. We were to journey to the Central and Northern regions of Vietnam in order to learn more about the country and to compare the culture and linguistic differences between the regions outside of the south we had yet to experience. We were supposed to leave by 7 AM so by 6:30 I was up, packed, and ready to go. I had half an hour to spare so I decided I wanted to get a nice hearty breakfast before our big day of travelling. What did I get you ask? Well, the usual breakfast of Champions in Vietnam: Banh Mi Oplah! Banh Mi Oplah is a delicious breakfast sandwich comprised of fried eggs (I order 3 usually), cilantro, cucumber, pickled carrots and daikon, butter, soy sauce, hot sauce, diced up chili, and thin strips of chicken, fish, or Vietnamese mystery meat pate which I generally try to avoid for reasons you can guess. All of that is served on an individual fresh French baguette with the additional option of slathering on a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese and sprinkling on a dash of salt and pepper. All of this goes for approximately 75 cents, and I can buy an iced tea or tra da, at a nearby stall for about 5 cents, so I complete my breakfast for 80 cents. Beat that McDonalds!
As I sat with my delicious breakfast and my bags beside me at the cement table outside of our dorm, the others showed up one by one. First Vien appeared with our itinerary and then Gabe with his nicely trimmed beard he had touched up the night before.
We were all very excited, and adding to our already high excitement levels was the fact Rylan brought a sack of doughnuts to the guesthouse to wish us of on our Northern Excursion and say goodbye for two weeks as he was leaving soon for Canada as well. I had given up sweets for lent, but I made a minor concession and enjoyed two of the powdered doughnuts. WOW. They were some of the best doughnuts I’ve had for some time. Betsy, Alex, and Robb showed up a little later and we feasted on the doughnuts and lauded Rylan with praise before hopping in the Sprinter van and speeding off to the airport.
We arrived at the airport and sped through the check in process; that is until the woman at the counter forced us to check our bags even though they were well under 50 pounds. Robb and I protest for a few minutes until we realized the argument was hopeless so we relented and went on our way to the terminal. After watching Chinese Kung Fu movies for half an hour or so we boarded the plane after taking a minibus out to its open doors on a far-out stretch of the runway.
Our plane ride went without a hitch, save the fact Betsy threw candy at me again from across the aisle… anyway, after some sooth flying amongst the clouds over the ocean, we laded at chu ly Airport, formerly an airbase built and used by the Americans during the Vietnam War. The history was quite evident in the long cement tube hangers that stood empty at the end of the airfield. Our plane was the only operational airplane in the airport. It looked quite alone out on the tarmac as we walked toward the doors of the airport. Large sections of runway once used for fighter jets and the ubiquitous huey helicopters lay abandoned and covered in weeds. Far away toward the derelict hangers was a run down soviet era tupolev awaiting its fate, most likely scrap I would venture to guess.
After our bags appeared we met our guide for the next few days named Quyen and then piled in another Sprinter Mercedes van to see the My Lai Massacre Memorial.

My Lai is the site of a brutal massacre that took place during the Vietnam War, and was committed by wayward US troops against innocent civilians. A man named Lt. Calley led the troops into the village with a rousing speech inciting anger and feelings of revenge by talking about how many of their group had been killed horribly, including one of their favorite leaders only a day before to a booby-trap. All of the men were tired and scared of the illusive Viet Cong and very angry at the loss of their comrades. All those emotions proved great kindling for Calley’s speech, and a great fire ensued. A fire of hatred.
The small squad dropped in a rice field outside the village and had a orders to exterminate anything inside the village because it was a ‘free fie zone’ and any non-Viet Cong would have left to go to the village by this point of the day. The troops strolled in not to find Viet Cong as expected; but women, children, and old men. Some children approached the GIs with smiles on their faces because weeks before other GIs had visited the village and passed out candy. The smiles stopped when the soldiers began rounding up people from their homes and shoving them into the irrigation canals for the rice paddies. That was when the shooting began. M16s ripped apart people huddled in the ditches and those fleeing from the village in a panic. One, Herbert Carter, could not handle the brutality and shot himself in the foot in order to avoid the carnage destroying his conscience and be medivaced out of the situation. The troops moved from hut to hut dragging out everyone and shooting them in the mud. Girls were brutally raped and then executed. Grenades were thrown into the concrete bomb shelters obliterating anyone inside. The GIs threw whicker baskets on the homes and burnt them down. If people in the ditches whimpered or cried out, more rounds were repeatedly fired until there was silence. What is really disturbing is that a photographer, Ronald Haeberle, asked the troops at one point to stop “hold it” he said as a group of people were rounded up. He snapped the picture and as he turned away the guns roared and everyone fell dead.
A US helicopter on a reconnaissance mission nearby noticed the smoke and though that a battle must be raging and so the chopper went in to help. Major Thompson commanding the helicopter noticed a wounded civilian woman trying to escape. He threw a green smoke grenade near here and yelled out for a soldier named Medina to help the woman, assuming she was injured in the crossfire of the battle. However Medina responded by prodding the woman with his boot and then putting a bullet in her head. Mortified, Thompson realized this was not a battle, but a massacre.
Thinking quickly, he flew the helicopter between the advancing soldiers and the fleeing Vietnamese. He ordered his door gunners to open fire on any American who got closer or shot any civilians and the gunners gave warnings to the GIs on the ground. The helicopter doors were flung open and one of the crew, Glenn Andreotta and Lawrence Colburn, helped wounded and those who were hiding in one of the remaining bomb shelters not hit by a grenade onto Huey helicopters that were radioed in. With the remaining Vietnamese safe, the helicopter flew away from one of the worst atrocities committed by American soldiers.
Seeing the memorial was very heartbreaking. All of the burned houses were reconstructed in their ‘destroyed state’, and the dirt path of the village was replaced with concrete with the imprints of children’s feet, dog paw prints, bike treads, and the large indentations of American combat boots showing who was present that day. Walking from the outside memorial into the adjacent museum we were met with a large black marble memorial engraved with the names of the 500 victims. We saw pictures of the atrocity in actions taken by a war correspondent (which raises ethical questions of someone documenting this slaughter, and actually saying ‘stop’ not to halt the conflict, but trying to get a better angle of the people being killed. That is a barbarism beyond my understanding). There were life-size dummies of soldiers grabbing women by the hair, burning down houses, and shooting villages huddled together. Seeing life-sized representation of American soldiers, men with star spangled patches on their uniforms, committing such heinous deeds did not seem real to me, it couldn’t be real. The real sad truth is that it IS real and that really did happen. To finish our visit, we went into the basement of the memorial and watched a video called “The Horror of War” in which the narrator discusses what drives ordinary soldiers to such depravity. Lawyers and veterans were consulted, and comparisons to Haditha were made. In the end a veteran returns to the site and halfway apologizes/confronts his past. There is also a meeting of the veteran with a survivor. It was really intense. In the end it is concluded that war is Evil and people can be psychologically pushed to do things they normally do, but what the US soldiers did was illegal for any army and that the ‘following orders’ excuse did not apply and the troops should have been prosecuted. I thought the film was interesting, and when the credits rolled and Al Jazeera was responsible for the film, I was very very surprised.
As we were leaving our tour guide talked to a survivor who lived because she was just two years old at the time and several bodies had fallen over her so the bullets didn’t hit her. Driving away from the memorial I began thinking and reflecting about the site as well as articles Rylan had given us to read as well as some of my own experiences, especially with my friend Zofishan. Zofishan and I had talked about the War in Afghanistan and the war in Pakistan. It is eerie how similar Cambodia and Pakistan are when you look at the war in Vietnam and the war in Afghanistan. Cambodia was a side project for Vietnam, and Pakistan is the Aghanistan War’s side project. Americans never really supported a war in Cambodia, and I’m sure not many Americans today are aware of our involvement within Pakistan, would support it, and to say the honest truth I’m quite certain not many American teenagers could tell you which country was Afghanistan and which was Pakistan if I gave them an unlabeled contiguous map of the Middle East and South Asia.
War is a complicated thing. I used to think the Just War Theory could be used as a conscious Catholic to decide if a war was ethical. I think World War II was a good case of this, but in other cases I’m not so sure. Seeing the impact of war on a country changes your opinion about war. My opinion is still hazy as I try to work through all I’ve seen. However that is something big to contemplate and so instead for my next blog I’ll go with something lighter. Probably the next leg of the trip in Hoi An. Also I know I still have to do Cambodia and other trips. All will come eventually…

The US ambassador gave a lecture this morning at Sultan Qaboos University (SQU) – which is basically like the Harvard of Oman. The lecture was about the Free Trade Agreement that Oman has with the USA.

The Free Trade Agreement is a big deal for Oman. During negotiations the US insisted that if an FTA were to be made then conditions in the Sultanate needed to be on par with America. As a result the FTA contains passages addressing issues like labor rights, intellectual property guidelines, telecommunications, and business ethics. So Oman had to pay a price for it. In exchange for open access to the biggest consumer market in the world, Oman now has support institutions which police copyright infringement, ensure good working conditions, and bust-up monopolies. Additionally, competition for local Omani businesses has increased now that big American business conglomerates are given national status.

So naturally the FTA has the potential to be a hot topic – which is why the ambassador’s lecture was a disappointment. He is a career diplomat, which essentially means unconditional support for US policies. Absolutely no criticism whatsoever. It was cool to see the ambassador and everything, but the content of his remarks was pretty much unusable.

The reason I’m writing about this is because during this part of my program I am working on the famed Independent Study Project (ISP) – one of the cornerstones of SIT’s model. I basically have a month of no classes during which I choose a topic of interest to me and write a thirty page paper about it. The catch is that most of the research for the ISP is done by the student. Since I chose to do my ISP on manufacturing and exports, I’m interviewing people at the Ministry of Commerce, the Chamber of Commerce, and a variety of companies down at the Rusayl Industrial Park. SIT is all about qualitative research, meaning research that isn’t just all numbers – stuff that can only be studied by actually being in the country. So I thought the ambassador was gonna be an awesome source – but, like I guess any good US representative would, he stayed comfortably on the “absolutely no negatives with this” side.

Lesson: government representatives are awful primary sources.

On another note – I met a professor at SQU who is from Cleveland – rock on!

Another week gone by, they are zooming along at a breakneck speed. Seems like just a week ago I was writing my last post…oh it was a week ago. My apologies again, but I feel like my posts are not going to be as frequent or all that interesting from here on out because I’m really going to try and concentrate not losing my mind over all this “holy hell I don’t have that much time left here” stuff.

RECAP TIME.

I found out early last week that I got that marketing internship back in Appleton for the summer that I was hoping to get. It’s only part-time, meaning I am still going to be at Ace (Hardware) for a good chuck of time. But still, it’s very exciting to finally get some real world marketing internship before I graduate and have to, you know, get a REAL job. And I this will tell me if I really do indeed love marketing as much as I say I do. Trying to coordinate two possible summer jobs from Rome is no easy task let me tell you, but it can be done. Also, I’m applying for Supervisor at Phonathon for the fall, I really hope I get it. I feel like Phonathon is where I need to be right now, especially because I would not have been able to go to London had it not been for the Forza Alumni Scholarship. I want to help phonathon continue to grow and I want to show the world just now darn responsible I am and how well I can rise to take down any challenge.

Tuesday night, the JFRC had its semesterly and ever popular Talent Show. Originally I did not plan on attending, but soon I realized it would be the talk of campus for a while, and that there were some good acts so I decided to go. Aside from Improv (we were not able to assemble the Rome Improv Team in time) my talents are not numerous, or at least ones that could be performed in said ‘talent show’ on such sort notice. Anywho…it ended up be a great, and hilarious time. A number of people sang things, there was a stand up routine and a break dance. Now it wasn’t exactly the talk of campus as I expected but it was still a great time, and good way to take your mind off homework for a little while.

Wednesday brought the last regular season game of Calcio. Team Green, looking to rebound from a heartbreaking loss to Lime and head into the playoffs on a high note was taking on Purple. To start off we only had one sub because of some sick members (and one or two girls who have just stopped playing for whatever reason)…and then midway through we had no subs because of a skinned knee to one girl. However, Conor really stepped his game up…leading the scoring with 5 or 6 goals. Purple would not go away, as striker Andy (who played for Loyola’s team) netted 5 scores against myself. Did I have the best game, by all means no, I didn’t save a whole lot. Luckily the team had my back, and we won 8-6. Heading into the playoffs with the #2 seed, the target on our backs is pretty big. Hoping to have a good playoff run, mainly for all the bragging rights…but I also think the champions get a t-shirt, and who doesn’t love free t-shirts?

Thursday brought about the end to yet another ‘fun’ week of classes. You wouldn’t think 4 day weeks would be that hard, but with 3 one day a week classes, the work can really pile up. So when thursday comes around, you are glad you have a three day weekend. It was kind of a low key night, late in the evening Annie and I decided to go get crepes down in Piazza Balduina not too far from campus. However, evidently the crepe place closes at 9pm on weekdays, so that nixed that plan…instead we got pizza on the walk back. That was the end of the night, or so I thought. Nope, we got back and were about to start a movie when Ashley, Erica & Matt came in and said they were heading down to the local watering hole just for a little while. I thought, why not, better than sitting around. We ended up staying at the bar for a while…no topic was off the table, and it turned out to be a very fun night. Which then led me to sleep in quite late on friday morning.

Didn’t feel like doing a whole lot on friday, kind of wanted to take the day for myself as I needed to still pick up a final souvenir or two for various people. Naturally, I headed down to the near the Vatican as the best “Rome Souvenirs” are there. Sure its a bit touristy, but every now and then you gotta do that while living in a big tourist spot. It’s been getting steadily more busy around here with the arrival of Holy Week (starting today) and lasting until, well, mid-summer. It’s going to be crazy here until we leave, especially with the beatification of JP II on May 1st. As much as I’d love to see that, I can’t imagine what the Vatican will be like on that day, half of Poland is due to arrive for that. Might just stay up here on the hill or head to the sunday flea market. I still plan on seein’ old Pope Benny and 40,000 of my closest friends next sunday for Easter mass. Once in a lifetime stuff right there.

Saturday (yesterday) I signed up to do a little good for the environment. So myself, and a number of other J-Forcers headed to the Monte Mario Nature Reserve with Cindy (from the JFRC) and an Italian guide. We were taken on a guided hike through the park, whilst cleaning up garbage on the way. It is a very beautiful park on the hill and because of this, it lends great views of both “old” and “modern” Rome. The walk was very enjoyable and it was great to hang out with friends who share similar interests about the environment and stuff. The most laughable thing of the day was finding hundreds of “preservativi” wrappers in one section of the park, well, at least the italians are being safe about it. A lunch at ‘Il Chiodo Fisso” followed the hike. Perhaps it was the fact I was so hungry/tired from the walk, but that pizza was incredible, they are known for good pizza anyway but it was especially good that day. Suppli and fries for antipasti was also a nice touch. Oh did I mention the tiramisu for dessert? Heavenly. Upon walking back to campus we noticed the tree bed at the end of the driveway was very trashy and weedy, and since that was where we wanted to plant flowers we decided to do a little more for mother earth and clean that up. There was 15 of us so it went really quickly, and we frankly had fun doing it. Plus, the broom I was using looked like a quitich broom from Harry Potter, so of course I pretended I was flying.

A pretty low key afternoon followed, and a nap. But a trip down to Via del Corso for gelato at Giolitti was in order that night. I have discovered the worlds best combination. Biscotto Oreo, Caramello, & Zabaione (eggnog)…with the panna (cream) on top of course. Each bite (lick?) was out of this world and I was truly sad when I had eaten it all. The highlight was seeing a huge group of tourists come in after us, clearly they did not know how the ordering process works (pay at the register then head over to the counter and get your flavors) as they were all lining up in front of the gelato counter thus causing the line to go out the door. Matt and I considered for a moment helping them out and explaining how to do it…but we looked at each other, then said “nahhh, they have to learn.” It’s moments like this that again make me feel like a true Italian and not a tourist. I haven’t really felt like a tourist in a while, I like to try out my Italian on the locals and it ticks me off when I order or ask something in Italian and they respond in English. I’m trying to show them I’m not a “dumb American” but sometimes there is no pleasing these people.

So now today is Palm Sunday, kicking off Holy Week. I was planning on doing mass down at the Vatican but was so tired this morning I could not get out of bed, I’ll catch mass later tonight here on campus. It’s pretty great to be spending this week here in the capital of the Roman Catholic faith. Though I am surprised how many stores where open today, first off, it’s sunday but also a holy day. But in reality, Romans are not that serious in their faith. Hence, when Holy Week rolls around, pilgrims normally outnumber locals.

I’ve said this before but I have definitely changed in my seemingly short time here. I can’t exactly pinpoint how, but I know I am different. I’ll leave it up to you to decide just how I’ve changed….I just feel I now I have a different perspective of the world and my faith. Living in a totally different part of the world definitely has its adjustments, and I will probably have to readjust when I return home, wherever home now is for me. Time is running short for me here in Rome. If I thought leaving the States to come here was hard, leaving Rome to go back and leaving all the new friends I’ve made is going to be a hundred times harder. Sure most of them do go to Loyola with me, but a few don’t. Who knows when I’ll see them again, JFRC reunions perhaps, well thank goodness for Facebook at least.

Calling JFRC alumni for Phonathon really reaffirmed my decision to study abroad here for a semester. I heard so many great stories about how it was the best time of their life. I really couldn’t wrap my head around believing them at the time. But now that I’ve been here for so long, I know exactly what they mean. Some of them are twenty years removed from studying here, but they still think about it daily. I know I will be just like that. American food with taste differently, busses will actually run on time, and I won’t get robbed when it comes to exchanging money. But would I change a second of my time here?

You know the answer to that.

Dubai

Dubai. Dubai, Dubai. Okay I gotta be frank here. I’m a city kind of guy. Muscat isn’t what I’d call a city, it’s more of a bunch of suburbs encircled by the same border. Getting around without a car is possible, but it is a p-a-i-n in the butt. There’s giant patches of desert throughout the city, and goats – goats and kids and dogs running around. Cats too.

Coming to Dubai I expected a similar set-up. Fancy pants buildings and malls, but not really urban. Boy was I wrong.

Dubai could be New York. Dubai could be Chicago. It has that same big city feel as places like that. It doesn’t yet have the culture as those cities, but – come on, the whole damn city isn’t even more than forty years old. Most of it isn’t more than ten. Dubai is an easy target. They think they’re all that, they build their own islands. But give ’em a break. They built the most beautiful metro system I’ve seen in just under two years. It’s arguably the most international city in the world. Arabic’ll get you nowhere in Dubai, you’d be better off trying English or Hindi – Tagalog even.

I’m confident that in twenty years or so this diverse mix’ll start producing some innovative and unique cultures and subcultures.

Oh by the way – last semester I had a good view of the Willis (yeah right, Sears) Tower from my St. Louis Hall window. I first saw the Burj Al-Khalifa from a comparable distance, and I can say – that thing is a monster. It is the tallest building I can even comprehend being built. It’s so much taller than anything in Chicago. It’s quite tall.

On a more negative note: The Emiratis, the ones I met at least, are kind of jerks. They pushed past foreigners in the malls so they could order their carrot juice, they were impatient, I got the vibe that they felt like they were more entitled to stuff in Dubai than the rest of us. Now that’s a sweeping generalization and I’m sure it’s not true for all Emiratis, but, first impressions are important. And for me, they dropped the ball.

Okay two down, one to go – next time Abu Dhabi.

…..actually….I’ll just do it now ’cause it isn’t too complex.

Abu Dhabi

Abu Dhabi: Take an older,more lived in city, add in equal parts Dubai and Doha. Mix it up, let sit. Add one (1) Ferarri World for garnish and, if you’d like, a big circle building. Boom. Abu Dhabi.

Little bit of this, little bit of that. That’s Abu Dhabi. It’s a nice city, and the bus is only one dirham (think about 30 cents). Not to mention it basically owns the rest of the Emirates. It’s the political capital, plus Abu Dhabi, the Emirate that is, takes up about 80% of the whole country.

So there’s the rest of the Gulf. Now back to Oman.

This past week was my program’s big excursion. Over the course of eight days we visited Doha, Dubai, and Abu Dhabi. Each city was incredibly different than the others. I’ve been struggling to decide which one was my favorite – so I’ll reserve my judgement until later. But anyway – here’s the breakdown

Doha

After a short layover in Bahrain, we arrived in Doha. Doha is absolutely beautiful and the weather was perfect (Muscat was just hit with a wave of humidity so it was nice to get away from that). Doha is one of the richest cities in the world – as in, it probably is the richest. It’s basically a city-state, as 80% of the population lives there, and it has 15% of the world’s natural gas reserves. So yeah – big money.

A lot of people just found out about Qatar because of its successful bid for the 2022 World Cup – that’s fair – but Doha certainly hasn’t been resting.

Recently Qatar has been investing this money into benevolent institutions to try to create Doha’s image as an international, intellectual city. It’s very international by the way- only about 10% of the population is actually Qatari. But about the intellectual stuff – the news network Al-Jazeera is headquartered in Doha, and this is not happenstance. It was set up by the Emir in 1996 to serve as an Arabic language news agency devoted towards delivering un-censored news and opinion about Middle East politics. Since then it has become the worldwide network we know today.

We had the privilege to visit Al-Jazeera’s headquarters and meet the hosts, the people behind it, and everyone else that helps make a major news agency run.

In addition to Al-Jazeera, Doha also  features the brand new Education City, which hosts satellite campuses for prestigious American Universities like Northwestern, Georgetown, Carnegie-Melon, and Cornell. There are actually very few students that go to these schools (I think the Northwestern one has about 120 or so) but the amount of resources available to them is staggering. The Qatari government literally pours money on this campus in order to help its reputation. Plus all the schools there are there by invite only. Loyola can’t just set up a campus in Doha all willy-nilly. They have to be specifically requested to set up a campus. As appealing as the offer of an all expense paid campus in a beautiful country might be, some schools denied it. Try not to talk about it in front of Ohio State or Penn State.

If you look up Doha on Wikipedia, you’ll see that the main picture is a bunch of skyscrapers. That’s not downtown, it’s NEW Doha. The city is built around a C-shaped corniche. on the northern side there is a series of new skyscrapers being built. To most people, that might seem like the center of attention, but it’s actually not. Despite the buildings’ modern architecture and size, not much really happens there. It’s kind of like, “here’s the city, and there’s the thing that you think would be the city, but it’s not”

It was weird, the whole time I was there (and this was the same in Dubai and Abu Dhabi) I was constantly amazed at how – unimpressed, I guess – the residents of Doha were about the city’s progress. I talked to some students at Qatar University about it and they were kind of like “the skyscrapers? Oh yeah, yeah, they’re good, you know, it’s all good,” I guess it’s just because I am coming from America where our tallest building is from the 70s that I was so impressed about it all.

So that’s Doha. Next time it’ll be flashy-pants Dubai.

It’s been quite a great week if I do say so myself. The weather as been very great (with the exception of a random 15 minute hail storm on wednesday). So that just set the tone for this said great week.

Monday was actually kind of a buzz kill, full day of classes. But I did get to have one last dinner with the ‘rents before they left the next morning. So that in and of itself made the day better. Sad to see them go, it was great to have them here. Sheesh my dad was here for nearly a month! So kind of weird to not have him around but it’s also good to have my freedom back. One month left, gotta make it count!

Tuesday, clearly nothing earth-shattering happened because I cannot remember really much of anything that went on. I know I stayed up late for some reason, which was dumb because I woke up with a cold that morning (but now today, saturday, I’m back to normal, I was popping vitamins like it was my job…kicked this cold’s butt). I want to say I wrote my Theology paper on tuesday afternoon…Oh wait, tuesday was a really nice day, so I said “no thanks” to homework and yes to laying outside for 3 hours, as did most of us.

WEDNESDAY, if you know me at all you know what I’m about to talk about. That’s right, calcio. Other things happened Wednesday too, more laying outside in the sun and reading. As well as studying for an Italian quiz I had on thursday. But let’s get to the important stuff. Calcio. First off undefeated Lime was taking on one loss Red (we are 2nd in front of Red by virtue of goals for/against). Red decided to not help us out and went and lost to Lime. That just meant we had to take care of business in our game against Orange, and boy did we ever take care of business. Orange has had a rough season (no wins) and so we knew we didn’t have to go hard, but apparently we did. Jumped out to a 6-0 half time lead, at which point I requested to be pulled from goal and put into a field position, it was getting quite boring back there (I did make few easy saves). Not 2 minutes into the 2nd half, I am in front of Orange’s goal, I get a stellar pass from Connor and one time it with my left foot into the goal. Adding another goal near the end of the game I finished with 2. Final score was a shocking 10-1 (My replacement Joey ruined my bid for a clean sheet…haha but he was a sport for taking over and letting me play field). So this sets up a very TASTY match up for next week. Undefeated Lime vs. 2nd place Team Green (us)….a classic battle of titans…winner gets first place. It is onnnn. (I realize I talk about calcio a lot…but you gotta be here, it gets real fun and competitive)

Thursday, was another beautiful warm day (sensing a theme here?). Just had my one class as usual. Felt kind of blah due to my cold, but laying in the sun helped for sure. Side note: It was also my dad’s b-day. So hooray for that. That night a number of us just hung out, shared music and watched Black Swan. FREAKY MOVIE. Very dark and crazy. But I thought it was good.

Friday, I was planning on getting some shopping for gifts done BUT Roma atac (buses) had other plans, they decided to strike again. So hence, a few of us just decided to walk down to the Vatican for Burger King and gelato (bad i know, but I needed a burger). Afterward we laid out in piazza risorgimento and felt fat. Luckily it was after 5pm at that point so they buses were running again, but evidently some buses never stopped running? They do strikes all wrong here. Sooo because of this long day of walking around in the sun, I was hot and tired so we chilled around the J-Force for the evening. But not before getting food from the grocery for the picnic the next day. Which brings me to….

Saturday!! (today). Got up, not early, but at a reasonable hour and took the metro to Villa Borghese. For those of you who don’t know, its a big park, much like Central Park in New York. It’s got gardens, walking paths, bikes to rent…and a lot more vendors than in central park…can’t go two minutes without some guy trying to sell you roses. So we had our little picnic out in the sun, laid there for a while (I’m a little burnt now…but totally worth it). Now there is a zoo there as well, so I knew I had to hit that up. It was kind of pricey for a smaller sized zoo (12 euros) but it was a zoo nonetheless and I am a fan. Some of the animals kind of seemed sad or didn’t have a lot of energy, which you do not see in the US zoo’s. The pool that the white seal was in just looked like a pool at a crappy motel, leaves and crud on the surface, I felt bad. So perhaps they treat zoos differently over here, I mean it’s a whole different lifestyle, so why wouldn’t the zoo be different, just something to think about. After that, we walked down Via del Corso, i wanted to go to the Adidas store, but for some reason we did not find it, we realized later that we walked passed it, probably when we were complaining about the tourists on the sidewalk. Oh well, it’s probably for the best I didn’t spend money on sporting clothes…but I’ll probably go back tomorrow…they have cool stuff there. But seriously, it has been a great weekend…probably one of the best I’ve had since coming here. I can’t even accurately put it into words it was so good. I am just happy right now, that’s all I can say. (Despite the sunburn).

NOW, it’s off to go eat the cannoli I picked up on the way back to campus earlier…well I got two, so I will probably eat both, but we’ll see.

All that said, this week went pretty fast…and that’s kind of scary. I half want time to go fast so I will be home, I mean I won’t lie, I am missing a lot of stuff. But at the same time I am having a great time here, stellar even. So I half don’t want it to end. Oh life is tough eh?

So this week is crunch time. Tomorrow all the papers for the semester are due and on top of that, the – cough 50% of our grade cough – Arabic final is the same day. Now I am a man who likes to plan things like this out, so when something unanticipated happens I get kind of messed up.

But that’s just what happened last night.

One of the papers we need to write is a follow-up analysis of a short interview that we conduct. My interview was planned to be last night with one of my host dad’s friends.

Right after we got home my host dad was like “We will go,” so I got my laptop and recorder together and went with him. First we spent about an hour getting medicine for his son – I was a little annoyed about that. After that, we got a call from his brother saying that his car had broken down in the middle of the souq. So we had to go to the souq and push the damn thing halfway through the crowded souq to a nearby car repair shop. Turns out all the car needed was a jump. So now two hours in, we stop at one of my host dad’s other friend’s house for dinner. By the time we finally finished it was about 9:30.

So I called Dominic, the guy I was supposed to interview – no answer. I tried again – still no answer. So, defeated, I ceded that we should to dinner at a small little kabab shack off the side of the road. By the time I finally got back it was about 10:30. I was dead.

I got no work done on a day during which I had planned to do a lot. I will still get everything done and it will still be excellent, but damn, it’s gonna be a late one tonight.

I heard somewhere that American’s are obsessed with time. That’s definitely true but I don’t understand how other cultures aren’t. Time rules us. Are lives are nothing more than a period of time. I guess it’s just the Omani style to be so flexible but sometimes I wish I could get more of a heads up. I don’t want to have to sacrifice my grades for deeper cultural immersion.

Lets dive right into this post shall we?

As I mention in my last post, my family had arrived in Italia, last weekend and they got back into Roma on thursday evening. So after class I went down to meet them at the apartment that they rented for the long weekend near Villa Borghese. It was a bit tricky to get to, so I took a bus to Via del Corso and walked up the Spanish Steps…questionable idea, it was a much longer walk than expected, but I survived and saw cool stuff on the way. As I was walking I kept getting annoyed at the all the tourists who kept getting in the way, which made me realize “Wow, I’m actually…Roman now”.  Anywho, I showed them around near the Trevi Fountain and Spanish steps. Then took them to my favorite restaurant in Rome “L’Archetto” it’s a spaghetteria…so they have quite literally dozens of sauces for spaghetti. Plus it’s cheap for Rome, not like I had to pay (they treated) but still, it’s easy on the wallet.

Friday, my parents and grandparents came up to Monte Mario to see the JFRC. They obviously loved the campus as much as I do. We even had lunch with Director Iodice, he is a great guy and I can’t thank him enough for all he has done to help myself and my family over the past few weeks. Mensa was actually very good for lunch, which was rare…it’s usually so-so. Hence, my parents now think I eat well here, little do they know. After all that, we headed downtown on the bus…grandpa really enjoyed that. He was cracking jokes the whole time. I then took them down Via del Corso and to Piazza Navona. But more importantly I introduced them to Giolitti gelato, which is delicious (as all gelato is). But I really like their pastries more than gelato. I was more so excited that I was able to find Giolitti by myself without a map, because the other times I went I was with others and wasn’t really paying attention. This weekend really showed just how well I know Rome, even though I don’t think I know it that well. As for dinner, we ate at a place near the apartment, they had real good pizza and I also got suppli (which was subpar…c’mon italy)

Saturday my family did their own thing because I had a preplanned day trip to Tivoli for a cooking instructional. It was probably my favorite day trip I have done thus far. First off we didn’t have to wake up ridiculously early, and secondly because we got to make pasta and eat it, in addition to other awesome food. Well on the way to Tivoli we stopped at Villa Adriana (Emperor Hadrian’s villa). Basically an awesome and HUGE complex of ancient ruins. This dude hated Rome (even though he ruled it) and so he built a huge getaway. It was very well preserved, I even saw a lizard. They make you pay for maps so naturally we kind of got lost when we were inside, kind of freaked out for a bit because that is how every horror movie ever starts. But we found our way out and on to Tivoli. The restaurant was automatically cool right off the bat because it was inside ancient caves. The chefs taught us how to make bow tie, fettucini, and gnocchi. I have to say I am pretty awesome at making pasta, it’s also cool because it only takes a few ingredients and then most of the pastas can take any kind of sauce to make TONS of dishes. After a 4 course meal and delicious dessert, we had time to walk around Tivoli. Most of us decided to go to Villa d’este; not sure exactly who built it or when but it has a crap load of fountains and fresco paintings. So whoever built it had a lot of money and free time on their hands, because those gardens were huge.

Finally, Sunday (today). Met my parents after lunch downtown. We had tickets for a tour of the crypts and catacombs. I would have to say the catacombs were my favorite, they go over 100 feet underground and the halls go every which way, without a guide one would surely get lost. Unfortunately they do not allow pictures in the catacombs (or any of the sights we saw today)…so I definitely did NOT take ANY pictures AT ALL. (sarcasm is pretty thick here). Anywho after the catacombs we saw the San Clemente Church; which is a 12th century church built on top of a 4th century church built on top of a 2nd century church on top of a 1st century church. Yea, exactly. It was pretty epic going down through all the levels. There was even a spring running underneath the bottom level, which clued the ancient people in on the fact that there was multiple levels they forgot about. After that it was on to the “Church of Bones” and old Capuchin monk place (whatever you call those)…basically each crypt is made of a lot of bones, over 4000 monks are displayed. It was kind of creepy but also kind of cool. Another great italian dinner with the family followed…though I had a steak. There was still wine and such involved so it was still very italian.

Grandma and Grandpa leave early tomorrow morning, and then the parents leave on tuesday. It was great to see them, a good way to spilt up the semester and make it a little easier to be away from home for so long. Only 6 weeks left!!! Crap its going by fast!! London in two weeks!!! I want make the best of the time I have left…but I will be happy to go home. It’s quite a catch 22.

Sorry if this post seemed rushed and a little business like, I try to make them witty, etc. But I am quite tired….I wanted to post while the topics were fresh in my head. So I’ll end it here before I say something you all can hold against me later haha.

Ciao ciao.

For my religious studies class in Vietnamese Religions, Fr. Julio invited Gabe and I on a day trip to Da Lat, a city nestled in the mountains of Vietnam’s central highlands, called Tay Nguyen in Vietnamese. For our trip we would go to Da Lat’s famous Zen monastery and pagoda to get more hands on experience with Vietnamese Buddhism by talking with some of the monks there. We would also be touring the city and meeting several nursing masters students attending Loyola’s new nursing campus opening up in Vietnam as part of Loyola’s web of projects in the region. This trip had been in the plan for weeks and had been nestled between our Taku and Northern excursions. A week or so before our trip Fr. Julio opened up the possibility for the rest of the students to join us, which they gladly did. So, shortly after Vietnamese class on Friday the five of us Loyola students met Mr. Ky, Fr. Julio, and our driver outside the university gates. We all greeted each other, hopped in the Mercedes sprinter van, and headed north on our way to Da Lat.
On the way we saw may cool things. One town was filled with giant boulders. There would be a stretch of houses and then a boulder, there was a factory buil around a boulder, and one bolder even had a giant Buddha statute fixed on top of it. That was interesting. Later on we saw miles and miles of thin trees lined up perfectly and extending as far as one could see in columns on both sides of the road. Fr. Julio commented that these were trees used for rubber, and that the French had planted these huge rubber plantations centuries ago. After a stop a gas station for a quick lunch, we continued on our way.
Crossing the vast plane of rice paddies we eventually came upon a river. This river was quite remarkable because there were house boats stretching along both banks of the winding river as far as we could see. The river emanated from the highlands, which we were about to enter.
Upon entering the foothills, Mr. Ky, a devote Roman Catholic, asked Fr. Julio if we could stop at a shrine of the Madonna to pray for protection during our upcoming journey in the mountains. Fr. Julio agreed, saying it was a good idea, and just as the road began to rise and twist we found ourselves at a little roadside shrine. We pulled over to pray and have a little refreshment before the real arduous part of the journey began. I climbed up several steps to a large stone statue of Mary in the center of a large brick platform overlooking the mountain pass. I silently offered a pray to the Virgin Mary as several Vietnamese children approached waving incense sticks and placing them in a large stone urn filled with sand at the feet of the statue. This practice looked almost identical to what I have seen with prayers done I front of statues to the Buddha or bodhisattvas. I remembered a professor I had freshman year, Kim Searcy, and his quote about the spread of Islam across the globe, “Islam is like a river. It runs through many countries and although the water, the teaching, is the same, it picks up the colors, the culture and practices, of whatever country it flows through.” I smiled and thought that for sure this same ideal was true for Catholicism. I continued my prayer and then began to notice the sound of rushing water that reminded me of a certain place in northern Michigan called Roaring Brook. I grew excited, and ending my prayer, I walked past the statue and up into the hills to look for the water.
I found it in a little stream rushing down the hills. I went down to the waters edge and put my hand in the cool water down into the soft sand and then rubbed my fingers over the smooth stones. I was instantly transported to the city of Harbor Springs in northern Michigan, a place where I spend my summers. The cool air, greenery all around, and this little stream were almost identical to what I live to experience every summer.
I was summoned out of this trance when Gabe approached behind and said everybody else was getting a snack at a little shack below the shrine. So, pulling my fingers out of the water and my mind out of my memory I crossed a little arched stone bridge and approached the canteen. All of us had a simple coffee or tea and then we were back on the road, heading up winding paths that would rock from side to side with our windows filled with the reflections of the awe inspiring mountains that loomed above us.
Hours passed as we rolled by giant mountains and little towns clinging to the edge of the road and straddling cliffs and sharp plummets. Tea plantations began to pop up and the simple rolling hills and steep mountains began to be terraced, offering structure to the wilderness we had been witnessing for so long. Terraced tea hills were dotted with dark green tea plants and packed with reddish brown dirt all the way down to the valleys which were covered in bright green rice paddies. Among all this, medium green palm trees dotted the entire scene. This array of vegetation and shades of green was very pleasing to the eye.
Sunset hit us a few minutes before we hit Da Lat on the final incline. The sun set among the mountains between the summits and the clouds. The effect was quite stunning. The sky remained light blue as the burnt orange setting sun hit the puffy clouds mixing white and orange as the greenery of the mountains grew darker. It was truly a unique sunset. Finally the sun disappeared below the mountains as we rose over the final hill into Da Lat.
Beautiful. That’s all I can say. When we crossed that last hill we entered into a little European enclave in Asia. I could have mistaken Da Lat for Alpine Switzerland. Pine trees were everywhere and French colonial villas surrounded a large central lake. Thousands of houses were nestled in the slopes comprising this large bowl at the top of the mountain and church steeples were prominent among the city skyline. I was in awe.
When we reached the hotel, we were greeted by several Vietnamese attendants in parkas. Yes, PARKAS! Even I had trouble believing it when I first saw it, but didn’t after a few moments outside the van. I was wearing gym shorts and my ‘Vote for Dave’ T-shirt that tightly hugged my upper body. I began to shiver. The air was temperate by American standards, but having lived in Saigon for the past few months, my body had not experienced this kind of ‘cold’ in so long I was not used to it. “Wow, I’m shivering in Viet Nam… this is odd”, I thought to myself.
We checked into our rooms and after a little half an hour break we met in the lobby for dinner, and were met by around twelve nursing students and two doctors from Loyola’s Vietnam medical school based in Da Lat. Fr. Julio introduced all of us and we were ushered into the hotels dining room to eat a large Vietnamese feast, including a hot pot of beef, squid, and shrimp. During our conversation, a woman named Tuyet, which means snow in Vietnamese, began to tear up. A woman sitting next to her asked what was wrong, and Tuyet said that I reminded her of her son, who was also twenty because I acted like him. I smiled and she smiled. We continued our dinner and Fr. Julio clinked his wine glass with a spoon and stood up, raising a toast for this to be the first of many dinners between Vietnamese students and Loyola students studying abroad and for increased friendship between those studying through Loyola in Vietnam, and those coming from Loyola to study in Vietnam. We all raised our glasses and drank the sweet pink wine produced locally from vineyards in Da Lat. We also enjoyed the distinctive Da Lat tea, which is based on artichokes. It was a very subtle, and yet sweet flavor.
When dinner was concluded we bid the Vietnamese nursing students goodnight, Betsy headed off for bed, and all us guys headed off into the city to wish Robb a happy birthday by hopping around bars. The first bar we came upon was called ‘Why not?’ All three of us looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Why not?” while shrugging out shoulders and laughing. Upon entering and climbing upstairs we found a white floor and multicolored walls with different colored orbs. Behind the bar Disney channel was playing on TV and the DJ was playing techno that reminded Robb of German clubs. Several young Vietnamese were drinking on the balcony and we sat down for a drink inside. After our drink we head out into the city center to find a lively night market of old folks frying things on charcoal stoves, little kids playing, and people eating little fritters on the classic Vietnamese ‘kindergarten table and chairs’ that are ubiquitous across the country, all wrapped in parkas and woolen caps mind you. Some of the old women stooped over cooking reminded me of my adopted Bhutanese refugee family I work with, and the grandma Bhagi, who is always wrapped up, not used to the Chicago cold. A little boy in a baseball cap ran out and quickly rubbed my belly before asking us to have a warm milk at his families stall. We opted not to and kept going. That was the first time I had my belly rubbed. I’ve had my stomach patted by a Buddhist monk, a old woman on the street, and one of the cleaning ladies at the dormitory I am living in. I have no idea why this keeps happening. I wonder if its good luck or something, but nobody has given me an answer yet. Anyway we found our next bar and had another birthday toast to Robb, who turned 21. Not too too late we arrived home and went to bed. We had a packed day a ahead of us, and needed some sleep.
I awoke promptly at 5:30 and lay in bed until around 6 when I got up to take a shower. I dressed in clothes appropriate for a pagoda, and woke up Robb because he is notorious for sleeping in. After that I descended from the stairs to an almost empty dining room and grabbed some fried eggs, dragonfruit, pineapple, and a soft baguette. Sitting down to eat and looking out the window to the little mountain get away, I began my breakfast very content. I was soon joined by Alex who returned from his morning walked and we ate together. I sipped the local artichoke tea until we were eventually joined by our other friends in succession. Julio informed us this was a big morning for the hotel because today it was being upgraded from the rank of a two star to a three star hotel. Pretty cool huh? There were a few banners, some communist party members, photographers, and bunches of flowers. Activity picked up farther into breakfast. Eventually we all finished and packed into the van, heading off to the Zen Pagoda.
We arrived at what looked like a Japanese castle with stone walls, gates, and little buildings with the iconic sloped roof separated from each other by gardens, stone walkways, and many saffron and orange clad monks scurrying around. We entered the monastery and followed Fr. Julio to the chambers of one of the monastery’s senior monks. I never really learned his name because all of us simply called him teacher. We all greeted him with pressed palms and Fr. Julio shook hands with him. The monk was older, very lean, had a shaved head, and had a very charismatic smile that lit up quite often. We were led into a small library around a large table and were served fresh tea grown right in the monastery by a novice monk. After settling in and sipping our tea, the elder monk began his talk with a great smile. The talk went on for quite some time and he emphasized clearing our mind of distractions, being mindful of what we do, and showing the greatest compassion to others. The monk said there were three levels of compassion: 1. Realizing that there is compassion. 2. Having compassion for ourselves. 3. Sharing and outpouring unlimited and boundless compassion with the world. I wonder what stage of compassion I am at? That is a good question to ask yourself too reader… At any rate, the monk concluded his talk by offering advice to us students saying, “The most important thing now is to stop learning so much, and to actually do something.” I’m sure many students at Loyola can relate who take a full slot of classes and continuously find themselves holed up in the IC day after day studying and studying. DOING something would be a breath of fresh air. I think that study abroad is actually doing something. So Loyola students reading this: Consider Vietnam, Rome, or Beijing next fall or really any semester at Loyola you think you are ready for. See the world while you are still in school. Do something!
Anyway after the monk’s talk we went on an exclusive private tour of the monastery beyond the gates baring tourists. We were able to see private libraries stacked with books, meditation halls with giant gold Buddhas and murals of bodhisattvas, stautes of Bodhidharma abounded, and beautiful flower gardens of lotus flowers, roses, and hydrangeas among many exotic plants and bonsai trees in rock gardens following the Zen tradition. It was very peaceful as we walked around quietly, the monk smiling and using his umbrella as a cane as we paced behind him every so often asking a question. After seeing the men’s meditation hall we walked to a railing overlooking a river flowing down from the mountain and observed what the monk called ‘personal retreat centers’ which were little one room cabins spread out along the river. The monk said that these little cabins would be used by a monk for personal retreat in silence for reflection, and would be separate from the rest of the community from a few weeks up to several months. The monk then told us he once spent over three months in personal retreat. I was impressed by this. I’m not sure I would mentally be able to handle isolation for that long. Besides silent retreat, all the monks gather together for meditation at 3:30 to 5:30 AM, 2:30 to 4:30 PM, and 7:30 to 9:30 PM. Can you imagine six hour spent meditating a day. I feel like I’m lucky to get in half an hour, let alone six. The monastery life sure is different from that of a busy Loyola student.
After our private tour, Teacher let us wander around the monastery while lunch was being prepared. So we all split up and independently explored the terraced gardens, a prayer room, and the little buildings holding large gongs and Asian drums. Russian tourists and Vietnamese pilgrims were among us as we checked out the different places. I removed my shoes at the prayer room and was offered a lit incense stick by a monk so I did a little prayer. I then proceeded to the garden and smelled red flowers when Robb called everyone to eat. The meal to follow was one of the most memorable of my life.
We gathered around a table. We students sat with novice monks at one table, and several other tables were filled with other monks. We said a little prayer and then sat. Then we pressed our hands together and said another prayer. Silence followed and a monk whispered to us, “Use the chopsticks only for picking food up in your bowl from the table, do not eat with them. For that, use your spoon.” Then the monks all picked up their bowls with their right hand and with their left put their fingers into a seemingly ‘rock on’ gesture with the thumb over the two middle fingers and said another prayer. Following this prayer a little bell was rung by teacher, who changed out of the standard saffron robes and was now wearing bright yellow robes. The meal had begun. The novice monks heaped chunks of rice into our metal bowls and we all proceeded to pick up tofu, spinach, and cucumbers for ourselves with our chopsticks. We also had the best squash soup I’ve ever had. It was very zesty and full of squash and a kind of lentil. By the end of two little bowls eaten mindfully and in silence, I was full. But there was still a tray of watermelon to eat! So I grabbed my chopsticks and plopped a cube of watermelon in my bowl. There was enough melon for each person to eat a cube, so it was expected we each ate a piece. While eating my watermelon most monks poured tea into their bowls and were finishing off their meals/cleaning their bowls with the tea. I picked up the pace of my mindful eating so we all wouldn’t have to wait in silence while only I ate. I hastily (but politely Mom, incase you are reading) ate my watermelon and a few seconds after I finished the monks said another prayer breaking the long silence of only clicking chopsticks, clinking spoons, and chewing food. After the solemn melodic prayer the little bell was rung again and the monks instantly got up and began to clean the tables. They were very surprised when we offered to help. We picked up dishes and took them back into the kitchen with the myriad of smiling monks. Loyola students stood apart from the average tourists once again.
After lunch the old teacher monk wished us farewell and gave us several books on Buddhism which will be a great read I’m sure. After shared smiles and pressed palms, we departed the monastery and headed back into Da Lat proper for one more attraction before hitting the road and ending our day trip. Fr. Julio and Mr. Ky had more business to attend to, so we split paths, but not before Fr. Julio gave us some money to cover dinner and snacks for the way home. It was very nice of him and good for me since I’ve been trying to keep my spending to a minimum.
Our last pit stop before the long journey home was Da Lat’s ‘Crazy House’. Formally known as Hang Nga guesthouse and built by Dang Viet Nga it is very crazy indeed. It is five stories tall, comprising a central core house and large constructed trees and mushrooms that wrap around and go through the house. It is very bizarre with strange animals like giraffes popping out of places, ladders everywhere, little bubbled cubbies in tiny hallways, and multiple staircases going up and down in every direction. There were lots of purple flowers all over the place, and the top provided a great view of the city. It was…interesting. Not really my cup of tea, but a cool experience nonetheless. After about 45 minutes of exploring that odd place, we regrouped in the central garden and ordered coffee from a smallish log cabin covered in moss. I then had probably the worst coffee of my life. It was basically brown water. Blech. Oh well. So ended our night and half day in Da Lat! It was a crazy little adventure. Even though we really didn’t spend a whole day there, I guess I’ll call it a Day Trip.
With that we hopped back on the private bus and sped of down the mountains on our seven hour journey home. I simply laid back and watch the mountains and clouds roll by. I find myself increasingly busy in Saigon with a flurry of papers popping up, Vietnamese getting harder, scholarship deadlines to deal with, and of course volunteering on top of that. So, before I threw myself back into the craziness I simply sat and enjoyed the ride. When else do you get hours of mountain trail to enjoy?

Peace,

Jimmy