Last weekend, I left Accra for the first time in a while to go to Cape Coast, a mid-size city some 150 kilometers west of the capital. Cape Coast is known to many Africans and oburonis alike for its role in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, but aside from that I found it to be a bright, lively town of merchants and fisherfolk happy to see visitors.
On the rocky shore of the ocean is situated a massive castle, covered in white lime to reflect the hot sun, but weathered from years of salty spray. Hawkers, painters, vendors and their booths line the street leading up to the compound’s entrance. Akwaaba resounds from their mouths at the sight of foreigners. A tour of the property was 40 Ghana cedis for a non-Ghanaian student like myself. The price for a Ghana resident was significantly lower – around 15 cedis for an adult pass. Three of my friends and I joined a tour that had just gotten started. The group was 90% white people. It was the most white people I’ve seen here in one place outside of UG’s campus.
Our tour guide was a young man named Frances who studies at the University of Cape Coast, one of Ghana’s most highly ranked universities. We joined him and the group in the castle courtyard facing the ocean, the parapet lined with rusted black cannons and piles of mortar shells. I squinted as the sun bounced off the whitewashed walls and as mist from the waves blew into my eyes.
Courtyard of Cape Coast Castle.
Frances spoke with an exacted rhythm and tone that told me he’s done this dozens, maybe hundreds of times before. I followed him practically on his heels as he led us through the courtyard and toward a dungeon entrance. He invited us to put our heads into a 3×3 hole in the wall with a crumbled staircase that led to a dark tunnel. It smelled like must and salt and faintly of ghosts.
If you, dear reader, know nothing of the slave castles that are littered across the “Slave Coast” of Africa, I beg that you soon learn.
Established by the British, the Dutch, the Portuguese, the French, these castles served many purposes for the growing imperial economies of the fifteenth through nineteenth centuries. They housed the European merchant leaders and, later, colonial administrators who supervised imports and exports from major towns along the Gulf of Guinea – Abidjan in Cote d’Ivoire; Lome in Togo; Lagos in Nigeria; Takoradi, Accra, and Cape Coast in the Gold Coast. In exchange for the promise of European trade, the land to build these structures was sold by the African leaders whose people had lived there for generations. They were designed as commercial hubs, defensible forts, and corrals for the human livestock around which trade boomed.
Scale model of Cape Coast Castle.
This legacy was in the air that I breathed as I stepped under an arch leading to the female slave dungeons. Like before, I was met with the smell of old dirt, wet rock, and thousands of ghosts spread out across two small chambers. Our wise guide explained how young adult women were kept in these rooms for weeks or months at a time, in total darkness with no air, surrounded by hundreds of their sisters.
Across the castle were the male dungeons, made up of three chambers, deeper underground. Frances bent over and placed his hand against the wall about a foot off the ground where there was a deep stain in the rock. Here, he said, was how deep in shit and vomit hundreds of men had to stand and sleep and eat.
On the south side of the chamber were about a hundred small sculptures of men’s faces carved into stone. Many of them were grimacing, or had their mouths open in shock, or simply looked broken – literally and metaphorically. Frances suddenly asked us to look at the faces. Did they look familiar? Whose faces did we see?
A sculpture similar to those found in the male dungeons.
“You might see my face,” he said, as he looked up from the sculptures directly into my eyes.
Whose ghosts were down there? Was it his family? Was it the father of any of the Black Americans I knew back home? People I graduated high school with? These ghosts came from Ghana, sure, but also from Nigeria, and from Benin, and Burkina Faso – maybe even further inland from Mali, or Sudan, or the Congo.
I blinked tears away as I broke eye contact with Frances and with the hundreds of men who stared at me from the dark floor of the chamber.
Upstairs, we faced a huge wooden door painted black with a plaque above reading “Door of No Return.” It was this door which led to the water, where small boats would shuttle captives out to the ships anchored offshore. Countless bodies passed through this door, never to step foot on their mother soil again. Of the twenty million who were led through this door and doors like it across the Slave Coast, only fifteen million survived to see the New World where they would be enslaved (N.B. below).
Five million ghosts, not counting those who died on the march from the inland to the coast, those who died in these dungeons, or those who died on plantations in the Americas. Five million dead not counting their descendants who didn’t survive convict leasing in the coal mines, or the Jim Crow South, or the prison-industrial system of today.
I felt all these souls as I left the castle. My skin, white as the walls that were beaten by the waves, crawled.
View of the coast and the Gulf of Guinea from the Door of No Return.
Examining my position as an American who has inadvertently benefited from the stolen labor of these bodies, I am humbled, humiliated, and somber. I am privileged enough to know where my ancestors came from. I know the names given to them at birth by their people. My ancestors were not doomed to a fate such as this – snatched from their homes, forced to walk hundreds of kilometers to be shipped thousands more kilometers across the sea, and given names foreign to their tongues. Of all the benefits I reap from the color of my skin, this is perhaps the most heart-wrenching. To my Black American sisters and brothers back home, I weep with you at the number of souls lost to the slave trade.
But more importantly, I will fight with you to get back what was stolen, to hold accountable those who devalue your lives and your labor to this day. Africans and oburonis alike – we, the living – vow to uphold this.
The exterior of the Door of No Return, relabeled the Door of Return for those of the African Diaspora who return through the archway.
N.B. There is much disagreement on the exact number of people captured from Africa and brought to the Americas, due to inadequate primary materials from the slave traders. Twenty million captives is generally the lowest estimate. Most agree, however, that of the millions who embarked on the Middle Passage, anywhere from 10-20% of them died on the journey. For more information on the particular controversies surrounding the historiography of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, see Walter Rodney, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (Panaf Publishing: Abuja) 2009 ed., especially pp. 108-120.
For further reading on the African Diaspora, especially from a Ghanaian-“American” perspective, I highly recommend Yaa Gyasi’s debut novel Homegoing (Knopf: New York, 2016).
Additionally, the literature of Ta Nehesi-Coates and James Baldwin provide insights on the contemporary experiences of Black men in America as they have been shaped by America’s legacy of institutionalized racism.
The last time I lived in a building with communal bathrooms and kitchen was my first year at Loyola. I hated it then. I wanted my own space and privacy and I wanted to be able to hide from people I didn’t want to talk to. I knew I would never choose to live in a communal hall like that, but I also didn’t think I’d ever happen to live in one again.
Living communally, however, has been the backbone of my small time in Ghana. It’s made me question why Americans are so bent over backwards about maintaining their privacy, about keeping private spaces walled off from public spaces.
On my first night here, I spent about an hour playing games with the other USAC students who all gathered in the room that would become mine. From the very beginning, I realized that the spaces I occupy here would become shared spaces. Even the things I own here have been shared freely or borrowed indefinitely. I’m an introvert but I’ve become used to never being alone here in Ghana.
On my last night here, I was alone in my room as I packed my things to return home. The rest of the students in my program had left. It struck me that I was the last of us to arrive here, and I was the last one to leave. Now, that loneliness is breaking my heart. I’ll never again walk some few doors down and ask Laura to use her electric kettle, or walk further down the hall and ask Sharne to file my nails; Gerry isn’t here to lend me money for water, Chase isn’t here to open her door for me when I ask her to make me dinner. This community of international students has, in my opinion, become the most essential part to my well-being in Ghana.
Some of the USAC students (not including me) at the wedding of our resident director.
Beyond the doors of the hostel, a similar sense of community is laced in the air that I breathe. Vendors at the Night Market cooperate with little competition. Students preparing for finals share notes and ideas that will help them write their exam. If I don’t know where I’m going or where to find something, I’ll receive help from the first person I ask. Friends are easily made and kept. Everyone is my sister and my brother. And I became a part of these communities from the moment I stepped off the plane in January.
I’m keeping this post short because writing it is making me tear up. I am and will always be infinitely grateful for those I’ve met here who made me see the value of a life lived communally. My heart aches at the distance that will soon separate us. I want Chicago to be closer to Reno and Columbia, Las Cruces and Boston, DC and wherever the hell Sharne lives just so I can get on a train and be at your door. You all helped me become part of a home here, a home in which I feel protected and uplifted and uninhibited – a home whose dynamic would have collapsed as soon as any of acted selfishly.
To my two aunties and the USAC student staff who helped me learn the ropes of life in Ghana, thank you for being patient and kind with a clueless international student like myself. To the countless University of Ghana students who I met and talked with, thank you for answering my questions and letting me enjoy your beautiful country. To my UG professors, some of whom frustrated me, thank you for teaching me about Africa from an African perspective.
Laken and me at our Aunty Abigail’s traditional wedding. Her dress for the ceremony is made of Ghanaian woven fabric called kente.
I will keep all of you in my heart always. You’ve made coming to Ghana the best decision I’ve ever made for myself.
After a short trip of 14 hours from Chicago to Rome, I finally dropped my bags off in my dorm at the John Felice Rome Center and began my semester of studying abroad in Europe.
I’m super excited to keep everyone back home updated on what I’m doing, where I’m going, and talk about my experiences for the next 3 1/2 months. Already I have visited the Colosseum, the ruins of the Roman Forum, a couple of Churches, gotten lost in the streets of Rome, made friends with local shop owners and bartenders, ordered every single cup of coffee in Italian, and planned the next 4 weekends of traveling with people in the 4 days I’ve been here, which seems like 2 weeks already.
Orientation has been a beating with all the activities and amount of walking we are doing. And the jet lag doesn’t help with any of it. But it has been a great few days meeting all the other students here from Loyola Chicago, and a bunch of other Universities. My roommate, Kyle, is from Hawaii and studies at Santa Clara University and has introduced me to the group of students that have come from there. Today I started talking to a Junior, Hannah, from Xavier University and ended up exploring and taking pictures with her and my friend Beth.
I am continuing my nursing studies while here, along with 24 other sophomore nursing majors from Loyola. Balancing the 18 credits I’m taking and exploring the city of Rome and trying to travel around Europe is going to be interesting, to say the least. But I think this semester is going to be the best few months.
Oh yeah, the wine and gelato are pretty good here(:
Hello, everyone! Welcome to my blog! For the fall semester of 2018, I am participating as a student in the Beijing Center (TBC), a study abroad program based in Beijing’s University of International Business and Economics, or UIBE for short. I’m so excited to bring all of you along with me through this amazing experience studying abroad in Beijing, China.
That being said, it has already been a solid three weeks since my arrival in China.
I know. It’s already been three weeks.
In that time, I’ve already taken over 1,000 photos, stumbled through (and I mean, really stumbled through) some survival Chinese, eaten twice my weight in a bunch of different foods, and seen some pretty darn cool things.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just recap my first week in Beijing.
Departure
In the week leading up to my departure date to Beijing, I felt a huge variety of emotions. Anyone who asked me how I was feeling about leaving to study abroad got the same general answer. I felt excited, eager, anxious, nervous, and, honestly, a little bit scared. This would be the first time I was going to be away from home for more than a few weeks. Granted, I had participated in an exchange program to Japan in the past, but that was only for two weeks. This time, I would be gone from home for four months.
That’s quite a long time, and as the departure day crept closer and closer, the realization that I would be on the other side of the world for an entire semester hit me pretty hard.
Especially when I was standing in the middle of Chicago O’Hare International Airport on departure day.
Me all ready to go to board my flight to Beijing!
Let me tell you, the picture shown above is a little misleading, as it was taken before the tear fest happened. When I say tear fest, I mean tears streaming down my cheeks as I said my goodbyes to my family. I mean I made my brother’s t-shirt damp with my tears when I hugged him as he wished me an amazing study abroad experience. I mean my mother telling me to stop crying even though she was clearly crying herself. I continued to cry well after I said goodbye; I had to go through airport security and then find my departure gate with my vision blurred by tears. I’m pretty sure the cash register at McDonald’s was wondering if my eyes could get any redder when she was taking my order for some chicken nuggets. The chicken nuggets soothed me for a little bit before I got onto the plane and the crying started all over again.
But, as much as I did cry, I boarded my plane and somehow managed to lift my 40 pound carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment by myself. I hope whoever witnessed that struggle had a good laugh (I’m 4’11”, by the way).
13 hours after taking off, I landed in Beijing, China, on August 12th.
Week One (Orientation Week)
The very first night in Beijing was, admittedly, pretty rough. I had barely slept on the plane, maybe about 2 hours near the end of the flight. I had spent most of my time anxiously thinking about the upcoming semester while playing my 3DS, doodling in my bullet journal, or just blankly staring out the airplane window. But finally getting off of the plane gave me some energy to perk up. Not long after getting off of the plane, I quickly befriended two other students who were on the same plane and were also participating in TBC’s program. The relief that no doubt all of us felt was liberating; most of my anxiety about the flight to Beijing stemmed from the fear of getting lost after getting off of the plane. At least with my newfound friends, if we got lost, we would be lost together. And so, we made our way through Beijing Capital International Airport.
After getting through customs, we were greeted by a group of Chinese UIBE students who worked for TBC as Chinese roommates and were taken to a cafe to rest as we waited for the rest of the students who were arriving the same day. At this point, my energy was fueled by nothing else but the excitement of finally being in China and the enthusiasm of meeting people involved in TBC. I remember having a lot of lively conversations with both the other TBC students and the Chinese roommates present, even though we students were all exhausted from the plane ride.
On the way to UIBE’s campus from the airport!
Once we finally got on the bus to go to UIBE’s campus, however, I think we all crashed. I know I did. Most of the rest of that night was spent in an exhausted haze. I remember everyone being extremely kind and patient with all of us who had just arrived, and I remember being really overwhelmed with so much new sights and information. TBC had graciously fed us dinner, and I recall being completely out of it, unable to bring myself to eat much because I was so exhausted. I remember finally going to bed feeling completely unsure of what I had gotten myself into.
But, the next morning, I quickly figured out that all of my emotions from the night before were a result of travel exhaustion. We had breakfast in a cute cafe and were able to socialize with each other more. I felt much better, and everyone was so open and kind to each other. It was obvious that morning that the excitement for the upcoming semester was contagious, all of us feeding off of each other’s energy.
The first of many group photos. Can you find where I am?
Then, Beijing Center’s orientation week finally kicked off. Throughout the week, most, if not all, of our burning questions were answered. We went over everything from living in Beijing as a UIBE student, navigating the campus, talking about the logistics of academics, and more. We also met all of the amazing TBC staff as well as the Chinese roommates and got to know one another better through group activities. We even were grouped together with Chinese roommates to go out to lunch and to dinner so that we would know food places around campus. It was such a clear, scheduled, organized way to get us orientated in Beijing.
One of many orientation sessions during orientation week.
In addition to the orientation sessions, there were a handful of excursions that we went on. We went sight-seeing at Tiananmen Square, we saw an amazing acrobatics show, and we went shopping at Aegean mall in preparation for our upcoming Silk Road trip. Every day, I had so much fun, laughing and smiling with my newfound friends, and the stress of the first night in Beijing seemed to just melt away.
TBC invades Tiananmen SquareCute giant koala at the Aegean Mall!
All in all, the first week might have started out a little rough, but after getting over the initial feelings of being overwhelmed and exhausted, I became much more comfortable. I was so relieved to realize that so many other fellow students were in my shoes. I was glad that we all shared the feeling of being in this wonderful experience together, and this feeling brought us even closer together when we all packed our bags and left for a once-in-a-lifetime journey along the Silk Road, a journey that would take us over 2,000 miles away from Beijing.
Hola a todas!
Tonight concludes our very hectic two-day stay in Madrid as part of API’s orientation for Sevilla students. Yesterday when I arrived, I met other API students and the director at the airport. From there, they loaded us into a bus and when we arrived at our hotel I got to meet my roommate for this semester! I definitely appreciated how they gave us the opportunity to room with our future roommates before we even arrive in Sevilla. This allowed us to get to know each other better all while experiencing new and exciting things. After an informational meeting we all went out for a group dinner, where we were able to socialize with more students.
This morning, we got an early start as we walked from our hotel to The Palacio Real where we toured the palace. It was amazing to take the time to appreciate such a beautiful place. We had a short break for lunch and after lunch we walked to the art museum- Museo del Prado where we were able to learn about the works of Goya. Tomorrow we will embark on yet another journey to Toledo, where we will stay for a night.
Major takeaways:
– There is a certain shared sense of vulnerability amongst the students in my program- entering a new country with a different primary language. Because of this, it has been easy to make new friends. My advice is to talk to other students, even those you would not typically strike up a conversation with. A lot of times you will find that sharing your experiences abroad thus far-even some of the more embarrassing ones- will help you form connections with other students.
-People will make their intentions/goals while studying abroad very clear within the first day or so. It’s more than okay to make friends with people who have different intentions than you, but I have found that hanging around those who have similar travel goals as you makes you feel much more comfortable when exploring and makes for less awkward situations in the future. If your #1 priority abroad is to immerse yourself in the culture, you might regret limiting yourself to going out to American clubs every night because that is what the majority of your group wants.
Taken while walking to the heart of Madrid. I loved admiring the architecture
One of the many magnificent ceilings in the royal palace
In the weeks leading up to my flight to Beijing I was a nervous wreck. I would go from being really excited to terrified at the idea of not knowing what to expect. I was traveling to the other side of the world for half the year with my whole life packed into two suitcases. I’ll be completely honest, the closer the day of my flight drew near the more I didn’t want to leave. The only comfort I had was the 12-hour flight ahead to mentally prepare myself for what the next five months were going to bring by watching one too many movies.
As my departure drew closer I had always pictured myself being much happier about leaving the U.S. for five months. The Instagram pictures of students before me traveling around Europe and Asia during their time abroad did not prepare me for the hundreds of emotions I was feeling as I stepped off the plane in Beijing.
Arriving in Beijing
Leaving the airport was a bit of a shock to me. I was not prepared for the smog and humidity that greeted me. I followed some of my new classmates and staff from the Beijing Center to the bus (whom might I add were all complete strangers only an hour ago.) Aside from the weather it still had not hit me that I would be living in China for the next five months. It seemed as if I would go back home after a week or two and I would start classes at Loyola for the fall semester. It wasn’t until the bus drove us to the University of International Business and Economics and I walked into my dorm room that things began to sink in.
As soon as I put my things down into the small dorm room and met my roommate we were invited to a welcome dinner. Students and staff were sitting at round tables each with a Lazy Susan in the middle. Waiters began filling the turntables with huge dishes of different meats, vegetables, noodles and rice. The food looked delicious, but I was so jet-lagged and I will admit I was craving Giordano’s pizza after the airplane food I had. However, I attempted to pick up my chopsticks and try as much of the food as I could.
The next few days after the welcome dinner I was thrust into orientation activities to prepare us for the upcoming semester and classes. I was completely overwhelmed by all the new information on simple tasks like ordering food to-go and using WeChat to pay for just about everything. On top of that I was meeting new people from schools around not only the U.S., but the world. It was a little bit like being a freshman again, it was nice to get a fresh start.
To finish off orientation week, The Beijing Center arranged a field trip to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. It was my first time off campus and exploring the city. Although it was raining that day, the popular tourist destination was buzzing with crowds of people from all over the world.
Tiananmen Square and The Forbidden City
Tiananmen Square was huge, yet our group stood out the most. Many locals came up to us and asked to take photos with us because a lot of them had never seen Americans before. It was fun feeling like a celebrity for a minute.
The Forbidden City was breathtaking. The detailed architecture and intricate, colorful designs were overwhelming. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Each building housed something like clocks or religious symbols. The view from the grounds was just as stunning with mountains covered in lush, green foliage and pagodas dotted the perimeter.
As I began getting used to life in Beijing we were off again on another journey, this time along the Silk Road for two weeks. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.
Stay tuned for two-weeks full of eating, shopping, camel riding and lots of hiking.
After one long flight from Chicago to Rome, a week of jetlag, a weekend in the Italian region of Umbria, and a brief period of lost luggage, I can finally (hopefully) say that I have settled into Roma at the John Felice Rome Center (JFRC).
It’s been a whirlwind of a week filled with gelato, glasses (or maybe bottles) of red wine, and practicing Italian, but I am so excited to be in Rome for this next semester during my year abroad. I can vividly remember the study abroad information session during Loyola Weekend in my senior year of high school when I first heard about the Ricci Scholars Program. The Ricci Program allows me to do cross-cultural research between Rome, Italy, and Beijing, China. From the first moment I heard about it, I knew I wanted to participate but it feels slightly surreal now that I am actually in Rome preparing to research changes in labor law and labor organization over the past half-century.
Not going to lie, the amount of work I’m staring down for this semester and the upcoming year has me feeling a little bit stressed. How am I supposed to balance my work while trying to soak up this whole experience? Last week, every night felt like a choice between being abroad and studying abroad. I was either back at the JFRC reading and working or I was out in Rome – a beautiful city – exploring all of its nooks and crannies. Every turn around the corner was a whole new adventure… but it also felt like I was shaking off my work.
This past weekend in Umbria, however, really helped me to realign myself and my goals for this semester. At first, I was upset that I would lose a whole weekend of either exploring or studying. Yet, as we traveled from city to city in Umbria, as we saw all these hidden gems of Italy, it forced me to slow down and realize that all of last week – in trying to immerse myself fully into my semester abroad – I was completely failing at immersing myself fully into my semester abroad. That fast-paced desire to experience everything, to do everything is so utterly American. This semester is about learning from Italian history and culture, and that means not just walking through a piazza but stopping in it, not just looking at a statue but reading up on it, and not just doing some research but actually learning from it. And why shouldn’t I stop and stare for a while? Every part of this country is beautiful.
And I know that no amount of speaking Italian, eating gelato, or learning about Italy this semester in Rome will be able to make me Italian, but maybe – if I let it – it can make me a little less American.
It has been a little over a week since I arrived at the John Felice Rome Center, and I still can’t stop pinching myself. From the aroma of oven-fired pizza on every cobblestone street to the blooming olive groves lining Via Massimi, I am starting to see why they say living in Italy is la dolce vita.
This past week of Orientation has been planned minute by minute by our trusted Student Life Assistants to give us a crash course in Roman life. We’ve toured the Colosseum, splurged on a gelateria crawl, navigated public transportation, relaxed on the beach, and consumed bottles and bottles of wine (thanks Loyola) to toast the beginning of the semester. This weekend we had the opportunity to tour the Italian region of Umbria, and became aquatinted with the whimsical towns of Narni, Spoleto, Foglino, and Citta di Pieve. Sometime during lunch overlooking Castiglione del Lago, or wine tasting at a countryside vineyard, or even reenacting a Roman battle we grew from classmates to friends as we learned about the ancient history of these fairytale-esque Umbrian escapes.
With the commencement of Orientation on Wednesday upon the Mass of the Holy Spirit, I do have to admit that I’m excited to explore Rome on my own terms, and learn more about exactly what is la dolce vita (with the help of gelato, of course).
I started my senior year of college today and I have never felt more like a freshman. Attending a new school is intimidating enough, let alone when it’s in a foreign country. As an American, I know people are going to make certain assumptions about me (and I don’t blame them), so I’m trying my hardest to blend in and defy the obnoxious American stereotype. I’m a bit clueless about everything but I’m figuring it out with the help the friends I’ve made so far.
A lot has happened this week, but rather than dive into all of the big details about my new apartment, friends, and school, there’s a lot of little things I want to write about that have already made me fall in love with Cork. Like the way you walk into a pub and instantly feel like you’re in somebody’s warm home. Or the way your heels click as you embrace the 20 minute walk down the cobblestone streets to get to the nearest grocery store. Or how a rainy day is really just a constant mist that’s not enough to make your hair wet, but enough to make the ground sparkle.
It didn’t sink in that I was actually in Ireland until I was sitting in a pub, drinking cider and listening to two old men playing the mandolin and singing traditional Irish music. Up until this point, I had been walking around the beautiful streets of Cork feeling like I was in a dream, but this was the moment when I thought, “wow, I’m really here.” I had a laundry list of cities and countries that I wanted to visit while I’m living in Europe, and I know I will check a few of them off this semester, but now that I’m here I realize that I truly want to take in every second of Ireland that I can. I haven’t ventured outside of Cork yet, but this city is so beautiful in ways that I can’t even describe, and I’m sure the rest of the country will continue to amaze me.
I had always been the type of girl who was happiest in a big city and could only fall in love with a place where the sun shines, but Ireland, you might be changing me.
Since around the time of the Han Dynasty (about 200 BCE), the Silk Road connected the East and the West, facilitating the exchange of countless items as well as ideas between cultures. Travelers from both sides of the world used this route in order to get their hands on exotic goods, such as spices and, of course, silk.
A map of the ancient Silk Road. Our route took us from the East in Beijing ended in Kashgar in the West.
We traveled along this same Silk Road. The journey took us over2,000 mileswest, and along the way, we experienced quite a different China, a China that was significantly more diverse, rich, and complex than I had originally thought.
It’s difficult to put the awe and wonder that I felt throughout the trip into comprehensible words. Even as I write this blog, I have to pause every once in awhile to look at the pictures I took and find the right words to describe it all. This is where the phrase “you had to have been there” had to have come from. There was a presence that I felt at some of these historical, and even local, sites that cannot be neatly wrapped up with a bow. The trip left, for lack of a better, less cliche, word, an impact on me. The memories that I created and the emotions that I felt were so personally beautiful that I’ve been itching to digest them for quite some time. And now, through these words, I can unpack my amazing experience and share it with you all.
As a side note, I will be referencing our fondly nicknamed trip itinerary, the “Travel Bible,” which has amazing and detailed information about all of the locations that we visited, here and there, just to provide some background for you all.
All in all, the Silk Road excursion lasted for two weeks. As a brief summary, we first wandered around within the city walls of Xi’an, hiked up mountains and enjoyed Tibetan culture in Xia’he, ate some delicious hand-pulled noodled in Lanzhou, got caught in sandstorms and took selfies with camels in Dunhuang, explored some ancient city ruins in Turpan, and experienced Uyghur culture and bargaining within the bazaars and markets of Kashgar.
Since so many things happened in each city we visited, I will be dividing the Silk Road into a series of blogs, each describing our adventures in one city.
So let’s start with Xi’an.
Xi’an: Starting Point of the Silk Road and Home of the Terracotta Warriors
In the few days leading up to departure day, we spent our time buying last minute things and packing our bags. It’s an art to make sure that you bring just enough stuff to last you for two weeks but not too much stuff that you’re stuck lugging extra weight around for the entire trip. Personally, I brought two backpacks: one that had my clothes and toiletries, which I wore on my back, and one that had my important items, such as my passport and my wallet, which I wore in the front of me.
If you can imagine me waddling around with two stuffed backpacks like a penguin, you have the right idea of Justine on the road.
Our group consisted of the 29 students who make up TBC’s Fall 2018 student body plus 5 “trip leaders.” The trip leaders basically made sure we as a group didn’t fall into complete and utter chaos, but they were extremely good company. I became close with many of them through random shenanigans.
Our first destination was the city of Xi’an, known as Chang’an during the Tang dynasty. It had historically served as an ancient capital of China. The city had seen about 11 Chinese dynasties over a period of about 4,000 years. To get there, we took our first overnight train of the trip (the first of 5 trains).
Here in China, getting onto any sort of train, whether it be overnight or subway, requires you to go through security, and it’s something similar to airport security. I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the process: you put all of your bags through an x-ray machine, then you walk through that gate thing that you pray doesn’t beep when you walk through it even though you logically have nothing problematic on you, and then afterwards, it’s a mad scramble to grab all of your things so you’re not the one holding up the entire line.
But anyways, all 35 of us headed to our designated waiting room once we passed security. We followed one of the trip leaders who held up the iconic red TBC flag so we wouldn’t lose track of the group’s location. Holding the flag was jokingly called the most powerful thing to be wielded throughout the trip, and the person who held it had unlimited power because they decided the group’s fate. If one of the students happened to get ahold of it, even for a few minutes, it was the most universe-exploding thing ever.
In the waiting room, where our “departure gate” was located, we plopped all of our stuff in the middle of an aisle in-between waiting seats, since all of them were already taken. You can imagine the look on some of the Chinese natives’ faces when they saw a huge group of foreigners just chilling out around a fortress of backpacks and suitcases. Multiple times throughout the trip, whenever we would pull out a deck of cards to pass the time, it wasn’t unusual for us to have some curious Chinese folks watching us play card games.
Inside the first train station.Waiting for our first train to Xi’an!
After a few hours of waiting, we boarded our first overnight train. It was the first time any of us students had gotten on an overnight train, and luckily, our first experience was quite pleasant. Most of everyone was in the same train cart, and all of the beds were freshly made. The layout of the cart was rows of three beds stacked on top of each other on one side with one small hallway on the other side. The first overnight train bed I slept in was the middle bunk, so I had to climb up a ladder to get into my bed. I remember most of that night was spent talking to the people in my row before all of us knocked out for the rest of the 11 hours of the train ride.
As you can see, space is limited in an overnight train. This picture was taken when I was sitting on my middle bunk on the right.A tight squeeze… but we’re still all smiles 🙂
Our train arrived in Xi’an early the next morning. My first impression of the city was that it was beautiful. Unlike most city walls in China, Xi’an’s 9-mile long, rectangular city walls still exist, and as we walked around the city that early morning, groggy from the overnight train, those walls were a sight to behold. The sun seemed to greet us as it rose higher and higher in the sky.
Early morning in Xi’an.
We met up with our first tour guides of the excursion, two very sweet local women named Julie and Sophia, who led us to our hotel. After briefly dropping our stuff off at the hotel, we hopped onto our bus and were driven to see our first sight-seeing destination: the Terracotta Warriors Museum.
To briefly explain, the Terracotta Warriors, an army of over 7,000 life-sized clay soldiers, archers, and horses, were made to protect the tomb of a Chinese emperor, Qin Shi Huang. They were discovered by peasants digging a well in 1974, and a total of 3 “pits” were found, the first one being the most popular because it holds over 8,000 soldiers, all standing in battle formation. The warriors, being made out of clay, had been found in pieces, but over the years, scientists worked diligently to piece them together and arrange them in the pits the way they had been buried all of those years ago. If I remember correctly, Sophia told us that only about 25% of all the warriors have been successfully put back together.
Yeah, 75% of the Terracotta Warriors aren’t put back together yet.
The moment we were released to explore that first pit, we got a firsthand account of how popular it was because there was probably hundreds of people trying to wrestle their way to the front of the balcony in order to get the best view of all of the warriors. If there is anything good about being small, it’s that you’re able to wrestle and squirm your way through crowds pretty easily. In this case, it allowed for me to get the best view of all of those Terracotta Warriors.
Pit #1, with 8,000+ soldiers standing in battle formationThe result of me wrestling to the front of the crowd.
Let me tell you, to see all 8,000+ statues standing in line and staring back at you blankly in person was something else. The pictures I took can only mimic the chilling feeling of all of those eyes staring at you. It felt like they all, at any time, could take a step forward towards us. The sheer number of them was enough to be taken aback, but the fact that they all were so realistic made it that much more impactful (every warrior had been sculpted after an actual soldier in the Qin Shi Huang’s army). It looked like that even thousands of years after they were built for their emperor, they were still ready to fight for him.
The second pit had statues in glass boxes so we could get a closer look at them. Before they were buried, the Terracotta Warriors were painted, but upon excavation, exposure to oxygen made the paint oxidize and fade away, leaving the warriors to pale brown color that they are today. But one on display in second pit still had some remnants of paint on him, and my mind wandered at the thought of how he could have looked like if he still was fully painted.
Just one of the restored Terracota Warriors.
After the Terracotta Warriors and recuperating in our hotel rooms for a bit, we walked over to the Big Mosque, one of the largest mosques in China. I wasn’t so sure what I was expecting for a mosque in China, but I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of Chinese-styled architecture in the buildings. They were elegant and very much Chinese-styled, yet they are still used to this day to practice Islam. We were given a tour and a fascinating lecture on the history of the mosque.
Group photo at the beautiful Chinese-styled Big Mosque.
Then, we were given free time for dinner. My friends and I, after wandering around in a street filled with stores selling all kinds of trinkets at a bargain-able price, instantly decided to get some street food along Muslim Street. We had walked past it on the way to the Big Mosque, and our curiosity just couldn’t be contained.
Colorful Muslim Street
Muslim Street was filled with food stalls and stores and brilliantly lit up colorful lights, and it was crowded with hungry people trying to get tasty cheap treats for dinner. I remember the addicting smell of roasted meats and spices and the enthusiastic yells of street vendors. Usually, the food was prepared right in front of you — I vividly remember the hanging meat carcasses and cooks carving meat right off of them before throwing them on a grill. My friends and I managed to get our hands on some that meat grilled to perfection on a stick (like an actual wood stick) and this fried crispy bun that was filled with meat and onions. While we waited for our meat buns, we watched as chefs rolled and folded the dough with their experienced, fast hands, and then flatten them before putting them in a large fryer. The exterior was light and crispy, while the inside was bursting with meat-y and onion-y flavor. The filling just melted in your mouth. It was the best thing I put into my mouth that night. The best part was, I seem to recall that it was less than a dollar. In fact, most of the food that we got was all less than a dollar.
I wish we could have eaten there every night…
Grilled meat on a stick — yum!Chef at work, rolling the dough for the crispy meat buns.That crispy meat bun was the best thing I ever put in my mouth that night.
With full bellies, we wandered back to our hotel, enjoying the lit up pagodas and streets. I remember the night air being very comfortable, and I remember thinking how much we had already done in the first two days of the trip. Needless to say, we slept very well that night.
The next day, we were given a choice in activities: we could either bike along the top of the city walls or we could walk over and explore the Forest of Steles. Because I would rather eat ice cream than become ice cream in the heat and humidity of the day, I chose to go to the Forest of Steles.
The Forest of Steles is a museum that houses over 1,000 steles, or stone pillars that are carved for commemorative purposes. Most of them are carved with the teachings of Confucius, a Chinese scholar whose teachings became what is now known as Confucianism. Some of the steles were able to be touched, and I marveled in awe at these ancient pillars as I traced my fingers along some of the characters etched in the stone. I was even able to recognize some of the characters from my knowledge from studying Japanese. My friends and I wondered out loud what the carvings said and how Confucian scholars were able to carve characters into stone so beautifully many times. In addition to the many steles, there was a special exhibition that showcased Buddha and bodhisattva statues amongst other Buddhist items, which was interesting to look at as someone who comes from a Buddhist family.
Ancient carvings in stele.
After leaving the Forest of Steles and grabbing some lunch on our own, we regrouped with the people who had went biking and were driven to a museum dedicated to the Silk Road, where we were given a tour by one of the staff. There, we saw original coins used by merchants to trade on the Silk Road as well as some discovered goods that are thought to have been traded along the route. We even saw the original preserved ground that still had tracks of the carts that came to Xi’an all those years ago.
If you look closely, you can make out the preserved tracks left behind by the wheels of merchants’ carts that traveled along the Silk Road.
To put this into perspective, the Silk Road is thought to have started around 200 BCE, and this museum still had the imprints of the wheels of merchants’ carts from that long ago.
How cool is that?
Even now I can’t really grasp at how ancient the things I saw in Xi’an were. Looking at the imprints on the ground, I could just imagine the merchants coming into Xi’an to start their journey on the Silk Road. It just really made me put what I knew in perspective. The United States, based on when the Declaration of Independence was signed, is only about less than 250 years old — the Terracotta Warriors were built over 2,000 years ago. The Big Mosque that we visited was built in 742, more than 1,000 years ago.
Isn’t that just amazing?
But before I could even process all of that, we had to hop onto another overnight train to get to our next destinations: Xia’he and Lanzhou.
