I’ve been in Ireland for almost a week and I think I’m finally beginning to settle in. I got picked up at the airport in a group of study abroad students by the DCU bus when I first arrived. The driver was really friendly and I have to admit to my surprise that the whole driving on the left side of the road thing kind of a freaked me out. The bus driver dropped off our group at Shanowen Hall. We were greeted by…no one. There was an empty office that didn’t open until 10 and the dorms were almost completely dead because all of the students were still on holiday. Sooo we waited. And waited. And waited. We waited for an hour and a half with giant suitcases outside the empty office. The wait wasn’t too bad. I got to know some of the IES students pretty well. We are all American and it turns out that two of the girls were assigned to live with my friend from Loyola. Finally 10:00 rolled around. Management arrived! They informed us that, actually, we waited and waited and waited at the wrong place. The place we were staying at was about 100 feet away on the other side of a wall. Sweeeeeet. Haha. We made our way over to Shanowen SQUARE and settled in to our rooms.

Campus here has some differences from Loyola that are taking time to get used to. My apartment has 5 girls living in it. We each have our own room with a desk, closet, bed, and bathroom. We share a kitchen and living area. It’s massive. I love it. There is also a bar on campus in the student Hub. It was a pretty wild concept for me at first. Public transportation is 1.60 Euro (I don’t know how to type the euro symbol yet.) each way. And the buses stop running at 11:30 pm. I miss my UPass.

I saw the Book of Kells at Trinity college. It was gorgeous. I didn’t even know what the Book of Kells was until my mom insisted that I visit it when I got here.

I love it here so far, the sky has been blue  the past couple of days and I’m in the process of planning a shopping trip and an adventure to the Cliffs of Moher!

Hopefully now that I have internet these posts will become more frequent!

As much as I have enjoyed my two months working at the local coffee shop, I am ready for an adventure.

Most college students vacated my hometown about a month ago; needless to say, I can’t wait for a change. In just under one week, I will head into Chicago, not to visit Loyola (although I will miss it), but to leave on the very long flight from O’Hare to Melbourne International.

Australia, here I come.

Not so fast though. The flight consists of an eight-hour layover in San Francisco and another two-hour layover in Sydney.  So with the time difference, I am looking at over two days of travel. My fingers are crossed the flights will go smoothly though.

I still don’t know what to expect upon arrival.  I, however, do know that I will be trading in all this snow for lots of Australian summer sun.  For now though, I should probably turn my focus to packing, fitting four months into two suitcases.

Check back here about twice a week. I look forward to sharing my Australian adventures with you.

This past weekend was a blast.

Since Friday is the Holy Day in Islam, weekends here start on Thursday. This past Wednesday night there was an urs (wedding) at the house next to mine. I wasn’t invited but my 11 year old host brother told me to just walk on in. The father was very welcoming – he gave me tea and stuff. I guess weddings in Oman are like those in the Godfather (“Accept this gesture as a gift on my daughter’s wedding day“). I helped set up the bands equipment and after a few minutes of hanging out I left.

I’ve been meeting a lot of my host dad’s friends. On Saturday we visited one of his work friends who came to Oman from Zanzibar (The two were once part of the same country). I also met a couple of his friends who are cultural pariahs. Homosexuality in Oman is a very secretive thing. Their apartment was almost hidden in the back alleyways of the city. In fact, this society in general seems to have a great deal of secrets. Girlfriends, drinking, homosexuality, etc.

On Friday we went to a small city about an hour north of Muscat. It was snugly located in the middle of a crescent of rocky mountains. After visiting my host-moms extended family, we went to a massive Omani fort. I guess the thing was only built about 60-70 years ago, but that didn’t stop it from being impressive. I definitely know what I’d do in case of a zombie apocalypse – nothing could get into that thing.

We finished by going to a small creekbed inhabited by a bunch of doctor fish. If you don’t know, doctor fish are used in the Middle East (as well as Asia) to eat the dead skin off of the body. Imagine your feet being encased in a school of bottomfeeders, all scraping at your feet. It was new to me, and on several occasions I either burst into laughter or frantically jumped out of the water – I highly recommend it.

This morning I found out that I have a huge problem. One of the kids in my host family went into my bag five days ago and took my emergency global cell phone. The phone I have for emergencies ONLY because it is so expensive. In the three days he had it he ran up a $350 cell phone bill!!! I’ve contacted the cell phone company so hopefully I’ll be able to find someway to fix it, because I certainly can’t afford it. Stay tuned.

The city of muscat is shaped like a ruler. It’s not very deep, but it just keeps going in either direction. It is just so long. And as a city has really only started to come into its own recently (like, within the past 30 years or so) it escapes me as to why the city wasn’t subject to a more centrally planned design. There are three distinct sections of the city – Ruwi, Mutrah, and Muscat (Old Muscat), but between them, and even whithin them, there are long stretches of empty, uninhabited desert.

This design of course facilitates a city which is built around transport via automobile. Those who don’t have cars can take one of the many cabs or a rather uncomfortable tightly packed minibus taxi known as a ‘Baiza’ bus. However Muscat doesn’t have a light-rail system or even city buses. This means that many of Muscat’s residents who can’t afford cars, namely its South Asian ex-pats, are restricted to using these types of transport. Moreover, as a city which is attempting to foster tourism, the presence of only taxicabs, especially ones which are notorious for ripping foreigners off, is harmful.

Unfortunately, as Muscat is built around such an awkward shape, it would pretty much be financially unfeasible to construct such a large light rail system. Buses would be the only option, but that would require a more intimate knowledge of the city than a tourist-friendly rail system.

Basically Muscat is in a situation where it pretty much has no other option than private vehicles in order to get around, in this temperature not even bikes are feasible.

Know this begs another question – as a rentier state wherein petrol is cheaper than water, was this design intentional? I’m sure the car companies are pleased with it.

This post was pretty boring so I promise that next time it’ll be fun.

Ciao everyone.

I noticed a little while ago that no one was blogging from Rome this Spring 2011 semester. And as I already set up a blog on another site, I figured I can copy my posts over. That way my writing will reach a broader spectrum of readers. Hopefully, through reading this blog you decide to study abroad or take a vacation.

Rather than copying over the posts I’ve already made, it would take a while as there are many posts and I have limited free time, I will include the link to my other blog and you are welcome to catch up.  http://k2heartsrome.blogspot.com/

You’ll find out quickly that I’m no english major, so there are bound to be errors. However, I’m a bit of a comedian so you’ll be sure to get a few laughs.

Here’s a very quick recap of my time here so far, to get you caught up a little. (But if you want a more in depth version, see my other site.)

I left a very snowy Chicago on January 11th, arriving in Rome on Jan. 12. After what seemed like the longest day ever, I was awake for what I figure to be 36 hours, I was finally all settled at the John Felice Rome Center (Loyola’s very own campus in Rome). The rooms are typical “dorm” style, bathroom in the hall and all that jazz. I am a bit lucky as I got a single, which you might think is lonely, but there is no internet access in the dorms so if I want to skype (or let’s be honest, Facebook) I have to go to either Rinaldo’s cafe in the downstairs of the center or the brand new Information Commons. So life here is VERY social. The Rome Center is situation on Monte Mario, a hill of Rome. Only 20 minutes from the heart of Rome by bus, that is IF the bus comes. Public transit is nothing like it is in Chicago, I miss the CTA so much. As for classes, we only have them Monday-Thursday so traveling on the weekends is easy and encouraged. The teachers know you’ll be traveling so homework is not too hard, just quite a bit of reading, but you have to remember it’s still college.  So far I’ve been to Paris, Florence, the Vatican and Naples. And soon to be going to Pompeii, Tivoli, London and Greece for Spring Break. I was a bit homesick pretty much immediately upon arriving in Rome, but with each day it gets better and now I’m seeing just how fast this semester is going! Rome is such a cool city, I am glad I chose to come here. Granted my italian is mediocre at best, I’m finding myself able to understand it more and more and going out and about is good practice. It’s definitely easier to learn a language if you are IN that country.

I think I will wrap it up there for now. I don’t want to overwhelm you all in my first post. My next post will dive right into my life here, picking up right where my other blog is. I hope you enjoy reading, and if there is anything you want me to explain, write about, do in Rome, please let me know, I believe you can comment on the posts!

Until next time, best wishes and “ci vediamo!”

Ken

Yet another weekend almost over. I tell you, it’s going by quite fast. Sheesh it’s almost March!

It was a great weekend. As I mentioned before I was heading to Napoli on friday. Thus, I woke up at 6:30a to head to the treno stazione. It was a rather quick train, only 2 hours. But immediately upon our arrival, Naples showed her true colors. The colors of trash that is. I learned that the public service sector is more or less run by the Mafia, yes Mafia, thus they clean up whenever they darn well please. We right headed to Pizzeria da Michele (as seen in Eat, Pray, Love) but it was way famous before that movie anyway. Best pizza I’ve had in italy so far. Naples is not very big so we just walked around for a few hours, going into a number of churches and stores. All the while avoiding the trash, that due to the wind was forming trash tornados. Did not get back to Rome until later in the evening and upon arriving at the train station hunger was intense. I’m ashamed to say I got McDonald’s, I did not come to Italy for that. BUT at least got something called a McRoyal which we do not have in the States.

Fast forward to Saturday evening. A few of us decided to go out for dinner instead of mensa again. You really have to be here to understand just how “blah” it can be. Anywho, we headed to the south of Roma, “Trastevere”. There we went to the #1 bar in the world according to some beer website. It’s nicknamed “Ma Che” because the full name is much too long for anyone to remember. It’s fun to try various beer from around the world, it’s much like trying different wines, each has a unique flavor. I’m still adjusting to the whole “It’s perfectly legal to drink here” But I have to say I have been very responsible, I’m in a foreign land and I’d rather have a good time and remember my experiences here. Afterwards we got a table at the restaurant “Bir & Fud” (Pronounced Beer & Food, but burrr ‘n fud as I call it). We had some of the best antipasti I’ve ever had. Suppli (fried riceballs basically) and ham bruschette. For the main course we had pizza that rivaled Neapolitan pizza. However, the 2nd pizza we shared had anchovies on it. I was feeling adventurous so I tried it. IT’S SO SALTY. I’m glad I tried it, but I will probably never be eating it again. Then in typical Roman fashion we wandered the streets and ate gelato. There’s no such thing as too much gelato.

On to sunday. Slept in a little, I love doing that by the way. Amo dormire a lungo! After dragging my lazy butt out of bed, Katie Mac and I ventured to the Porta Portese flea market in Trastevere. This market is HUGE. So many vendors selling, well you name it they have it. Granted a good number of the items were your typical “made in china” trinkets, there was a good deal of legitimate products as well. This was my first real shopping outing while here, I’m not a huge shopper by the way but I figured it was time to get some gifts for the friends & fam. Among my purchases was an authentic soccer jersey for myself. I choose largely on color but also because of the player, Buffon, a goalie and as I am team keeper for our intramural team I figured it was a good choice. Today was also my first taste of the regional trains here in Italy. I’ve been on the “train” trains and metro, but the regional trains are much like Chicagoland’s Metra. Katie and I could not figure out where/how to buy tickets so we just got on. Ended up not having to pay there or back. Train for free equals train for me.

Now I sit here, still needing to do a bit of homework for class tomorrow but I think I’ll go to dinner first. So I should probably leave you now. Thanks again for reading! Ci vediamo! Ciao ciao.

I’ve gotten a lot of people asking about the protests that have been happening throughout the Arab world. To put it bluntly – it will never happen here. As long as the Sultan is in charge there will be no mass protests or regime changes. People here genuinely love the Sultan. And they should.

Before the Sultan wrested control of Oman from his father in 1970, the country was not in good way. The Sultan’s father, Said bin Taimur, strictly outlawed any symbol of western culture. Smoking, wearing closed-toed shoes, playing music, and numerous other innocuous actions were punishable by jail time and even death. Since Qaboos bin Said has been in charge, the people have seen the outlook for their country take a complete 180. Without the Sultan, the modern, stable, and prosperous Oman of today would not exist.

That being said, there have been two protests. On February 19th, about 300 or so people gathered outside the Ministry of Labor to request a higher minimum wage. Among there cardboard signs were numerous pictures of the Sultan and messages showing support for him. There was no anger or violence. The police gave out cold drinks and snacks.

The protests that have been happening are relatively close by – Yemen is our nextdoor neighbor and Bahrain is just up the Gulf – but they are still far away. Sitting at my house in Muscat is about as chaotic as sitting in an apartment in Chicago – actually it’s probably safer. We’ve gotten a few students who were evacuated from Egypt, and the SIT Jordan program is coming here for their excursion instead of Egypt, but other than that there’s nothing. The protests are a topic of conversation here, that’s about it.

The title really sums up my week pretty well, so maybe I don’t need a blog post after all……..nah I’ll still do one anyway.

Y’all. The protests that have been happening around the Middle East are with good reason. Mostly.

A lot of media outlets – CNN, NYtimes, Fox, etc. have been grouping Oman in with the rest of the Middle Eastern countries that have experienced protests. Although they don’t overtly say it, they promote the image of these Omani protesters as fighting for freedom against an all powerful monarch.

Don’t believe the hype.

Some of the protesters demands are legitimate – Oman does have problems with nepotism and corruption – but some of their demands are so outlandish that they wouldn’t fly in any country.

Cancelling all loans? Top-level jobs for college dropouts?

Many of these protesters are little more than 20-something year olds, too big for their britches, who have grown up in a society where the government gives you food, builds you a house, gives you medical care, doesn’t make you pay much tax, and generally helps you far more than most governments ever could. Now in the face of very tame problems, coupled with the happenings around the region – they have decided that this government is now intolerable.

Now some of the protesters are well educated people with very concise, fair, and legitimate demands. Corruption and nepotism is a pervasive problem throughout the Gulf that must be dealt with, and a codified constitution can never hurt either. But the notion that burning down supermarkets, torching cars, vandalizing property, harassing passers by, and looting (seriously – looting isn’t even a form of protest, it’s just stealing stuff!) are justified is totally unfounded. Don’t compare rambunctious Omani youth with the freedom fighters of Libya or Tunisia – it’s not the same. Don’t believe the hype.

The bedtime story is an event which occurs nightly in the bedrooms of most little girls with their mom or dad at their side and a stuffed bunny in their lap.  Most revolve around a princess in a pink gown or a unicorn in the sky, but my mom rarely pulled out the legend of the prince who saved the day. Instead, I remember her telling me about the year she left small town Minnesota and moved to Bogota, Colombia where her life was forever changed.  Ever since those stories were implanted in my mind Colombia has always been one of those places I knew I had to visit.  So, when the idea came up of taking a 10 day trip there while sitting around a campfire on the beach in Puntarenas, Costa Rica with 2 new friends I realized it would finally happen.

So two weeks ago as the school week ended and our spring break began my friend Katelyn and I sat in my room and packed our small school backpacks with enough clothes, toiletries and bug spray to last 10 days and left with our friend Eric to Colombia.  Our flight from San Jose to Cartagena, Colombia was painless and when we got out off the plane I was approached by a young Brazilian woman name Flora who asked if we could split a cab into the city.  From that cab ride on Flora stayed with us almost the entire trip and I am so glad we met her because not only was she well traveled and educated with tons of good stories, she was so much fun to go out dancing with and reminded me so much of my Brazilian sister Tati!

The only way I can explain Cartagena is a city that resembles Sevilla, Spain in the center and Miami, Florida on the outside.  The center of the city is completely enclosed in old fortress walls and inside the architecture is amazing with colorful colonial homes, narrow cobblestone streets, Spanish style Cathedrals, and horse carriages.  Beyond the city walls the city is adorned with white skyscrapers along the Caribbean coast.  We spent the majority of time in Cartagena riding bikes around the city, cooking in the hostel, taking pictures at sunset, and going dancing with the people we met in the hostel from all around the world.

After one day and a half in Cartagena we departed for Santa Marta for one night.  The city of Santa Marta has a lot more to offer on the weekend but because we were there on a Sunday the feel was pretty relaxed.  We walked along the boardwalk and ate dinner at an outside cafe.  The next morning we went to Taganga, a small fishing village on the Caribbean Sea inside a cove which was so beautiful.  Katelyn, Flora and I got a hotel room in the town and found a secluded beach for some sunbathing until sunset.  Then, we got ready for the night and went out to a restaurant for some authentic Colombian seafood fresh from the sea.

The next day Flor, Katelyn and I woke up and decided we would go meet Eric (an avid surfer from California) at a surf camp he had ventured to earlier in the week.  The surf camp was amazing to say the least.  It was located on a piece of land sold a few years ago from a para military group to a pair of Canadian brothers.  Because most of the land has remained unsold the beach we were on was deserted for miles.  All the surf camp consisted of was a few hammocks tied to palm trees, 2 outside showers, 2 outside toilets, a picnic table, a thatched roof kitchen, and a storage of surfboards.  The camp was called Costeno Beach and there were only 12 of us or so there, all backpackers from all around the world.  It felt so amazing to be one of the only people on a deserted beach as far as the eye could see.  We went swimming in a fresh water river, cooked and ate communal meals together, had a campfire on the beach, slept in hammocks, awoke to the sunrise, and Eric even taught me how to surf! The main mode of transportation was a two seater bike that could conveniently carry surf boards on the top, holler monkeys were used as the morning alarm clock, and Mario the beloved dog was the only form of security.

After a 2 days in secluded paradise we decided it was time to go inland.  We said a sad goodbye to our Brazilian friend Flora and picked up a Canadian amigo Loren who came with us to Medellin.  The road to Medellin takes 14 hours from the North coast so we opted to take an overnight bus to save some time and money.  The bus went through the mountains and the mix of high altitude as well as a blasting air conditioner made me wish I had my North Face down jacket.  It felt so good to step off the freezing bus in the morning and breath in warm, fresh air of Medellin.

Medellin is a Colombian city notoriously known for the former violence and control imposed by drug lord Pablo Escobar.  However, today the city is peaceful and I enjoyed it very much.  The city lies in a valley but as the population has grown more and more communities have grown up the mountain.  We took a metro cable car to the very top of the mountain that overlooks the city and it seemed as though it would never end.  Also, most of the homes are an orange-ish, tan-ish color so the view from the top looks like a sea of brick.  Also, while in Medellin we took a day trip to a small town named Guatape with hopes of climbing this huge rock with a killer view at the top.  The town was gorgeous with green hills surrounding clean, clear, blue lakes.  Also, it seemed untouched by tourists as the majority of people on the streets were Colombian.  When we got to the top of the hill the rock sat on via horse we saw a sign that broke our heart.  It cost 8 mill pesos (about 4 dollars) to climb the rock.  BUT due to a lack of planning we realized hiking the rock would mean forfeitting our bus ride to Medellin.  So, we had to cut our losses and give up hope of climbing the 500 stairs up to see the view.  Instead, we found an empty lot that was for sale and climbed down a path to the water to go swimming.  I don’t think I’ve ever swam in water that clean or refreshing.  We spent our last day in Medellin touring the city with a friend of my Colombian friend in Chicago and got some shopping in as well.

After a Colombian breakfast we thought we had gotten away with a flawless trip without any major obstacles.  However, we were proven wrong while at the airport.  As we stood in line to get our ticket we realized we first had to go through another line and when we approached the man in the first line he asked for our Yellow Fever vaccination cards, we all pulled ours out from our perspective clinic and got a worried look from the man at the counter.  He left us and then came back to explain that mine and Katelyn’s were not in the correct format for re-entrance into Costa Rica and we would not be let back on the plane.  A frantic feeling entered our stomach and we tried to fight it through.  Luckily, the airline workers were so helpful.  The man got us through the line, called a Dr. for us, and gave us directions to the closest hospital.  After running around the city, paying off the doctor, racing back through the ticket line, immigration line, security, and to our gate we barely made the flight!!

While I am more than happy that I made it back on that flight to Costa Rica I do feel like I am not finished exploring Colombia.  From my short time there I learned how diverse the country truly is and also how misrepresented it is. Contrary to popular belief, I personally never felt in danger nor did I see any resemblance of the FARC presence, paramilitary groups, drug trafficking, etc.  I took the normal precautions I would take as if I were in Chicago or even Costa Rica but did not feel like I ever put myself in a negative situation.  The Colombians I met were more than hospitable and welcoming.  I have a feeling that one day I will return to go beyond the tourist sights and see more of the culture and the people of Colombia.