I’m just about to start my fourth week of class. Man, does time go by fast. I arrived in Santiago on January 10 and have completed almost three months since then. All the other students and I are talking about it – we’re at the halfway point. While that’s a little sad to talk about, I still have three months here that I will take full advantage of.

Unfortunately, my classes have been just okay. From what I gathered, the professors talk almost the whole class with few questions or comments from the students. Professors usually don’t ask students questions, and therefore the classes can seem to drag on for a long time. Plus, they are a little longer than my classes at Loyola, each session is a minimum of 1 hour and 20 minutes, with my two back-to-back classes lasting 2 hours and 40 minutes apiece. Chile Colonial is definitely my favorite, the professor is very good and the material, including the texts, is very interesting.

I tried out for the basketball team here during la selección and I made the team! We carry 12 players, practice twice a week, and have games once a week. For me, it’s the perfect balance between competitive yet still fun. The coach doesn’t mind if you miss some practices and the players are all very friendly and chill. On Thursday we had our first practice game, losing 46-40. My game is still pretty rusty after not playing organized basketball since high school, but it’s slowly getting better. I would compare the team’s skill level to a varsity basketball team in the States, with less fundamentals. Surprise! I can dunk here! Not sure if it’s because of the elevation, the gym, the hoop, or my athleticism (probably not that one) but it’s nice to throw down lol.

Two weekends ago I went to Curicó with mi amigo chileno Cristofer, who is on the basketball team and another exchange student (because he is not from Santiago). There I stayed with his family, who are very nice, and we went to la Fiesta de Vendimia, a wine-tasting/concert event. For those of you from Independence, I would describe it as a very large Home Days. A bunch of food booths are lined up in the plaza where you can eat, taste wine from the different wineries near Curicó, and listen to music. The main reason I went was because Yandel was singing for free there Saturday night, but it rained and they had to cancel the concert, but the weekend was still fun.

As part of my Poverty and Development class, I volunteer at a local high school and am an English teacher’s assistant every Friday. I’ve now gone twice and so far thoroughly enjoy my time there. Basically I follow around the English teacher, Martin, and help him with anything he needs. This past Friday I graded some quizzes, helped him teach for two classes, and even taught a class alone! The internship is awesome and a lot of fun – it’s great to do something so similar to my minor, English as a Second Language!

Without a doubt, there are some challenging parts to the internship. For example, the school – which is a vocational school, or una técnica – is located in a very poor neighborhood of Santiago, called Cerro Navía Joven. It is also somewhat dangerous there. Due to these factors, the students typically live in poverty, have family issues, and have received poor education before attending Colegio Don Enrique Alvear (that’s the name of the school). The majority of them do not want to learn English, a third of the students listen to music with their headphones during class, and many are disruptive – although there are a handful of role model students in each class. Despite these obstacles, I am determined to teach them the best I can. Although they may not be motivated to study, they enjoy having me in their class and have already asked me a barrage of questions.

Martin has allowed me to make a lesson plan for next week. Still not sure what it will be yet, but I’m hoping to do something interactive with the computer. We are teaching them simple present verb tense right now. Any suggestions?

Hablamos,

Tom

I have never been one for extravagant spring break plans. Usually, they consist of coming home from college and preceding to engorge myself with all the food in the house while watching Netflix for the whole week. So, when I realized I was going to be spending my break this year not fighting Mother Nature and her apoplectic blizzards but traversing across Europe, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle myself. Overall, there were ups, there were downs, laughter, and an inordinate amount of bread (as if anything else could be expected).

We started off our trip in the City of Romance, Paris mon vieux ami, where I attempted to use my 4 years of French knowledge to navigate, only to realize that my lack of ability to form coherent sentences isn’t simply restricted to English. Word for the wise, Paris isn’t a city easily tackled in two days and the weather channel is a liar. What was expected to be a wet weekend of soggy shoes and frizzy hair turned into lovely days of sun and a ridiculous amount of walking. Naturally we saw all the sites that are usually pasted on the cover of a travel guide (Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Versailles, etc). All of which were made more enjoyable by my roommate who’s knowledge of French history is more extensive than any history class I have yet taken, especially when it comes to the French Revolution and Napoleon (she about had a heart attack when we went to Les Invalides to see his tomb). This same roommate has also sparked a daily and insatiable need for ice cream and Paris was no exception to our addiction. The blueberry and raspberry combination that graced my taste buds almost brought me to tears and its deliciousness is only rivaled with the lavender and violet duo from Nice. France has raised the bar on the dessert game and now everything else I try is sub par at best.

We left Paris to head to the south of France, which proved to be in adventure in more ways than one. First of all, traveling by high speed train through the French countryside proved to be one of the most memorable experiences of the semester. The sun shone on the rolling green hills while I stared out the window listening to my classical music playlist. Classy? Check. Kind of nerdy? Double check. Am I abashed? Absolutely not. However, the peacefulness I acquired on the train ride shattered when I stepped into the station. At first glance, I noticed my roommates were not on the train platform. After walking around the entire station, I realized my roommates weren’t in Avignon at all. Commence panic. I’m ashamed to say that my first thought was something along the lines of, “I bet they slept through our stop”. Eventually, thanks to my good friends Facebook and wi- fi, we were reunited (cue Peaches and Herb). There was laughter, tears, and I was pretty happy to see them, too.

The sunny afternoon we spent in Avignon turned out to be perfectly lovely (despite the violent gusts of wind that made a good hair day impossible) once we got ourselves together. Compared to Paris, the South of France’s quaint and peaceful atmosphere provided a much needed relief from the hustle and bustle of every other European city I’ve been too. French people mull about, carrying on with their French lives with an air of ease that made me wish I could live my life in such a way. Nice, however, made me feel as if I had to rethink my view on life. As my mother can attest, I was the girl who despised the beach and everything for which it stood. The sun, the heat, the water, the sand… I would rather stay inside the air conditioned hotel room reading Harry Potter than spend two hours outside on the oceanfront. Or outside in general. I arrived to Nice with the same mentality, thinking one short day would be plenty in an area renowned for it’s Mediterranean coast and vacation spot. Upon waking up and walking outside the our hotel door I was hit with the realization that I was dead wrong. My feeble words are unable to describe the blue of the sea under a cloudless sky or the waterfall on top of the panoramic hill, which overlooked the whole city and its rocky beach. Perhaps 65- 70 degree weather is what I need to enjoy the outdoors but nevertheless, my heart was torn when we left Nice and the South of France behind for our next destination, Spain.

When I think of Barcelona the first thing that pops into my head is usually David Tennant as the brand new 10th Doctor going, “Hello! Hmm… new teeth… that’s weird… anyway. Where was I? Oh, that’s right! Barcelona!” (I should probably mention he was talking about the planet, not the city). After a week it’s safe to say that Doctor Who is no longer my primary thought when this Spanish city is mentioned. Now, I think of Gaudí, the genius architect who’s crowning achievement (La Sagrada Familia) is still under construction after 130 years, or the Vespas that lined every street for blocks, and my two crazy roommates who got in the Mediterranean in 60 degree weather. Also, fun fact, there’s a bridge in Barcelona that you’re supposed to walk under backwards while making a wish, which supposedly will come true (I’m starting to think this is poppycock since Benedict Cumberbatch has yet to show up on my doorstep with a ring and a marriage proposal). The five days we spent in Spain was the longest we’d spent in one city so naturally this means naps were a daily occurrence. For me, however, I brought my laptop on spring break under the impression I was going to do work, but instead I watched the last half of season one and the entirety of season two of Avatar: the Last Airbender while my roommates recuperated from our hectic days of sightseeing. This situation gives you, dear reader, a look into my priorities. My favorite meals during this week consisted of visiting La Boqueria market everyday and wandering through the numerous stands of brightly colored fruits, smoothies, meat pies, fresh seafood, legs of ham, and trying to control the urge to buy seven of everything each time we stopped at a station. In an attempt to be adventurous I also tried a whole mini squid from my roommate’s seafood paella, although looking at it on the fork gave me the willies. Conclusion, swallowing tiny squid tentacles is a mental feat as well as physical and there’s a reason I don’t regularly consume small creatures.

I doubt my spring next year (or the year after that, or the year after that) will be quite as exciting as the one I just experienced but I am hopeful for the future. All I desire is to return to Nice and lie on the rocks and listen to waves of the sea against the shore and feel the cool breeze. Now back to the wonderful city of Prague, which I love and dearly missed.

 

 

 

Whelp. The semester is official over and what a wild ride it has been. Ultimately, I still can’t believe it’s over and that while I remain in Prague, most of everyone else has either gone home or off the explore Europe on their separate adventures. But we’ll save the sappiness for later, shall we?

I rounded off my travels on the European continent in Munich, Germany (sort of… I only went to see the Neuschwanstein Castle, which learning to spell I consider one of my greatest accomplishments the semester) and the city of my childhood, Strasbourg, France.

Anyone how knows me can attest to the fact that I don’t just “like” things, I obsess. Such things include, castles, dragons, Harry Potter, Benedict Cumberbatch, the color of the sky during a sunset, cheese ramen, British television… my list of infatuations is rather extensive. When I realized that the castle to end all castles was located within my reach, naturally it became mandatory that I be there. The Neuschwanstein Castle is mostly famous for being the inspiration for Disney’s Sleeping Beauty Castle, the center monument of any Disneyland theme park (another one of my numerous obsessions) and due to Ludwig II’s untimely death, has never been fully completed. However, the lack of completion did little to stem the awe pouring out of me the minute I looked up at it for the first time (second time according to my mum, curse the vapid memory of a six year old). To the say the castle was magnificent does not do it justice. The surrounding countryside full of snow- capped mountains and flowered hills reminded me of the opening scene from the Sound of Music and the entire landscape seemed to come alive with the sun. I decided on the train ride there that the German countryside is by far one of the most beautiful pieces of scenery upon which I’ve had the privilege to lay my eyes. But that castle, nestled in the mountains, appeared stoic and impervious to any element the winds of change may throw towards its walls. Such grandeur fit perfectly with the strong mountains and clear lakes residing in the area and the cute little village at the castle’s foot completes the fairytale- esque feel that rolls off the scenery. I’ll be back there. Hopefully to live. That’s the plan.

 

After the program officially ended, I decided to go back to my roots and revisit the part of France in which I lived 13 years ago. My memories of my time in Strasbourg and the little village, Reichstett, just outside the city are muddy to say the least. However, walking around my old house and elementary school managed to pull out some long forgotten details, such as when I tried to sleep in the backyard one night because I was upset with my parents or watching my purple- housed neighbor’s turtles from my bedroom window. The town itself felt much smaller than I remember, which probably is due to the fact I was only 4 feet tall during my last visit and therefore everything around me felt monstrous. Strasbourg’s Alsatian charm, however, proved just as beautiful, the bread still warm and delicious, and the weather as cold and rainy as when we were there. I’m a tad ashamed to say that my first thought on seeing the grandiose Strasbourg Cathedral was that it put the St. Vitus of Prague to shame, but only slightly. Another fact I came faced with was the horridness of my French. How sad it is to know that when I was 6, I could speak both French and English and now, at 19, I can hardly put a proper sentence together (I’m sorry Madame Shepard, do not think my forgetfulness is a reflection on your teaching but my own folly). Regardless, the houses and streets of Strasbourg charmed me more now that I could fully appreciate the uniqueness of their designs. I particularly enjoyed visiting the historical museum, mostly because they had various funny hats and Medieval knight helmets for me to try on and buttons to push (when it comes down to it, I really am still 6 years old). While sitting in the sun on the bank of the canal that encircles the center, I felt at peace with my decision to revisit France again at the end for it brought my European adventures full circle.

The hardest part of the semester was not the initial arrival, adjusting to new teaching methods, or even learning to navigate a brand new, unknown city without any understanding of the language. Did all these things come with their own challenges? Of course, but they proved surmountable in the end. For me, the most difficult part of the semester has been the end, the goodbyes. Not just to the city (I’m actually still in Prague until Wednesday) but to the friends and memories that we made together. Parting with my roommates and our apartment has left me with an empty feeling; knowing that we all won’t be together again in the same way we were for the last 4 months. I miss them more than words can say. The last few days of the program can be summed up with this; cry cry cry tears tears tears, boat cruise, “this isn’t goodbye, just see you later”, paddle boat racing, last meal of goulash and dumplings, split second of karaoke, Sherlock slumber party, more tears, more crying. I’m not exaggerating this bit in the slightest. But, in the words of A. A. Milne, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Now looking back on everything, I’ve come up with several notes for future reference as well as final lessons I’ve learned from the entirety of my experience:

Tips/ Final Lessons:

1. Write everything you do down. The biggest lie I’ve told myself is, “I don’t have to write this down, I’ll remember.” Ha, yeah. The brain can be a scumbag. Notes will prove incredibly beneficial when you’re telling your friends all your cool stories.

2. Trains are probably the most entertaining way to travel. Buses are usually cheaper but…. trains. I understand Sheldon Cooper’s obsession with them, now.

3. At least attempt to systematize packing. My method is usually just “Oh hey, let’s stuff everything in the suitcase without rhyme or reason”, which results in me digging through it to find something like toothpaste at the bottom. And then repacking.

4. Food on your plate looks weird? Eat it. Seriously. “But.. but.. its a tiny squid.. it looks-” No. Try it.

5. Best non-Czech related cuisine? Kebab. Kebab kebab kebab. If you go to Europe and don’t eat a döner kebab, we can’t be friends.

6. USAC program directors are some of the best people on this planet. I mean, who else climbs up on a horse statue in the middle of Budapest to get a picture of the program? Or dances around the moving bus wearing a necklace of paprika holding a loaf of bread the size of a small child? Only the best, that’s who.

7. Going overseas in one the scariest adventures you can have, especially when you go without knowing anyone. You might wake up the first day thinking, “What on earth have I done?” But let me tell you, it’s worth it. All of it. The fear and anxiety are nothing compared to the exciting adventures you will have or the strength of the friendships you will make. If I can do it, you can too, trust me on that one.

Overall, my semester abroad has been the most terrifying, exhilarating, and challenging several months of my 19 years. The idea now of going back to the real world and real life fills me trepidation. Yet, all good things must come to an end. But it’s not the end, not really anyways. The memories and knowledge I have gained throughout this experience will stick with me, long after I’ve readjusted to life back on the other side of the ocean.

Ending remarks, the motto of our program:

Live, laugh, love. Never die, frown, hate.

Second time around studying abroad is a lot less nerve-racking.

Living out of a suitcase is a piece of cake. Transferring flights? Child’s play. Don’t get me started on handling a new currency. But this time, I’ll be in a country where English isn’t king. Now, I’m facing the terrifying idea that I may or may not be able to communicate successfully.

I’m a communication major – that idea doesn’t sit so well with me.

When I mention I’m working on a French minor, I get a lot of strange looks. I have no desire to teach the language, nor have I harbored a long-standing passion for the French. It comes down to my love of a good challenge. What’s more challenging than learning a new language?

That’s all well and good in a classroom. But the reality of conversing constantly in French for three and a half weeks seems, to say the least, a little daunting. I’m afraid of messing up and dread embarrassing myself. The next few weeks are guaranteed to be full of fresh embarrassment served up with a pair of blushing cheeks.

If I learned one thing from shipping myself off to Ireland for three months, however, it’s that there is surprising strength in being absolutely terrified. I’m a worrier by nature, so I know the best way for me to handle anything is to dive straight in.

I’ll accept all the embarrassment Aix can through at me, and I will try to handle it with has much grace as I can muster. And in three and a half weeks, maybe I’ll be able to say that sentence in French.

Only two days left in the U.S. Round two, here I come.