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At the Heart of Culture

At the Heart of Culture

I am a firm believer in the link between language and culture. The daily vernacular can show as much, if not more, about a people’s beliefs, customs and perceptions as art or music.

“An lar” means “the center”

Americans are lucky; we share our language with several other countries while retaining our unique dialect. That patented American accent is the quickest way to find a kindred soul while abroad. While Ireland is in a similar position, the country has been working for the last 100 years to revive its native language, Gaelic.

And now, time for a history lesson with the man we all love to hate: King Henry VIII.

In 1541, the Irish Parliament passed a statute that declared good ol’ Henry the King of Ireland. The Irish nobility had given their allegiance to the King in order to maintain their titles, power and land. But, alas, allegiances are mostly just words, and as the newly Protestant England worked to impose laws upon the predominately Catholic Ireland, the English overlords ran into some trouble. So England tightened its grip. Eventually, the native Irish lords were stripped of their power, and Irish culture, language and law laid by the wayside. More Scottish, English and Welsh settlers moved to Ireland as English culture, language and law was enforced.

The next 200+ years saw English rise as the accepted language. Using Gaelic was looked down upon and even punishable at times. The late 1800’s, however, saw a push for the use of Gaelic as a cornerstone of Irish culture.  As Ireland gained more independence from Britain, the language found more of a foothold.

Another shot of Cork

Today, Irish students are all required to take Gaelic in some form. And I, being the cultural thrill seeker I am, am taking an intro class in modern Irish.

It’s different. Incredibly different. My safety net of Latin root words is gone. The words, so easily formed on an Irish tongue, sound strangled and clipped when I try to say them. And yet, I’m happy to learn. Its through language that we find the heart of a culture. I don’t expect to use it in everyday life, if at all, but it helps me decode my surroundings.

It’s something that many have fought for the right to speak. So even if I butcher it, I’ll give it my best go.

 

An Umbrian Getaway

An Umbrian Getaway

This past weekend, the JFRC facilitated a class-wide trip to Umbria, the literal heart of Italy.

image provided by Wikipedia Commons

Situated just west of Rome, Umbria is by far one of the most rustic and authentic Italian places I have been.   I’ll give a basic rundown of the trip because quite honestly, my words cannot describe the antiquity and beauty of it all.

 

Day One:

Built and created in Sberna
taken by Hannah Jarvis, in Deruta, Italy

First stop was a ceramic shop in Deruta. Sounds simple (and kind of odd) enough. But if you are like me and most of my other classmates, you would instantly recognize the beautiful and hand-painted designs that adorn all sorts of plates, vases, tables, candelabras and more.   Keep in mind that Saks and Nordstroms buy these goods and sell them for primo $$$.

After the shop we made our way over to lunch which was simply delicious.  A five course meal, served under a replication of a renaissance mansion, on a beautiful and luxurious estate.

taken by Hannah Jarvis
taken by Hannah Jarvis

Very full and happily buzzed from the delicious wine served with lunch, our next destination was Perugia.  Perugia is most famous for their chocolates (which are divine), but what I didn’t know until we got there was how breathtaking the landscape was.

Situated on rolling and very steep hills, the city offers views of Umbria that Bob Ross could only dream of painting.  We didn’t have very much time to in Perugia but it’s definitely worth a trip out to Umbria, should you be interested.

After Perugia we made it to our final destination (for the day), to our hotel in Spoleto.  After a glass of wine in a local but very friendly bar, I fell into a deep and lovely air-conditioned sleep.

 

Day Two:

taken by Hannah Jarvis

We started the day off with a tour of Spoleto.  The hilly but picturesque walk was led by a lovely Umbrian woman who told us all about the rich history of the small town.  She took us through some of the most beautiful areas, including crossing a bridge that would scare the hell out of anyone afraid of heights.

The walking tour was followed by a lovely lunch at Spirito Divino, a beautiful countryside hotel/restaurant, where we ate giant pizzas and drank delicious wine.

The day was concluded with another walking tour in the town of Bevagna, most famous for their medieval preservations and shoppes.  Not only was the town relatively flat (a major relief after having climbed around Spoleto and Perugia), it was charming and pretty educational.

 

Day Three:

The final day was focused around the town of Spello.   Another guided walking tour led us through the steepest but (arguably) the most quintessential Italian citta.  Prosperous in the Medieval era, Spello was also home to many gorgeous and very old churches, apartment buildings, gardens, and watch towers.

The trip was concluded with an intimate and low-key lunch in a olive grove, surrounded by the rolling hills of Umbria, olives you could pluck off the branch and pop in, and good people.

 

All in all, Umbria is a must if you are looking for the classic and non-touristy side of Italy.

Bienvenue!

Bienvenue!

Bonjour tout le monde et je suis desolée pour le retard! Je m’appelle Marli, comme Bob (as the French tell me).  I am a rising junior at Loyola University Chicago studying anthropology with a minor in French studies. Who could possibly know what I’ll be able to do with that; but c’est la vie, vrai? Now, I am studying at Université de Pau et des Pays de L’adour (Université de Pau for short) as an international student (étudiants étrangers). This will be my second week here in the lovely, small city of Pau, France! To be honest, a lot of people don’t really know Pau exists. I live in the Aquitaine Region of southwest France, in what the French call: le département de Les Pyrenées Atlantiques (the Pyrenees). This petite ville (small city) is not well known to be full of tourist attractions but offers an array of beautiful scenery and a few famous castles. I recently visited le Chateau de Henri IV le week-end dernier (last week-end) and found myself absolutely speechless. This enormous castle stood against this beautiful backdrop of the Pyrenees like something out of a fairytale or Disney logo. From perfectly manicured bushes and landscapes, everything looked immaculate!

As far as language barriers go, I have had my share of unfriendly remarks and snickers because of my inability to speak French. I have also had university students call me “mignon” which means “cute” because they find my franglish endearing. I have to say that it is a bit difficult to try and salvage what little French phrases that I know because most French people aren’t very patient. For example, when I am checking out at the grocery store I usually greet le caissier with a “Bonjour” or “Bonsoir” depending on the time of day. Side note: It is not very acceptable to say ‘bonjour’ any time after 7 p.m. (even if it’s the only word you can think of at the time)! As I put my groceries into my bag, le caissier tells me the price of all my items. In my haste, I rambled in English and I repeated the total back to her, in French, to make sure I heard correctly. Apparently, you don’t do that. While I was reaching into my purse to look for my euros, le caissier immediately writes the total down on a piece of paper (like I didn’t see it on the register) so I’d have both a verbal and visual understanding. Her expression was bothered and she rudely gave me my change. I could feel that she didn’t want to be pestered with my less than accurate French speaking or my incoherence and “inability” to read a register screen. But this was only one encounter. Discouraged, I hadn’t tried to speak French while I went to the grocery store or to the small university mall. One day, two native French students told me to only speak to them in French whether I thought I would be wrong or right in my responses. So, I did. And guess what? I was told that I was not as bad as I made it seem. I was told that French people are no more confident with their English than foreigners are with their French. I made the mistake by inadvertently forcing le caissier to understand my comfort language of english rather than forcing myself to step out of my comfort zone and speak in hers. Since then, I have had nothing but pleasant experiences while shopping and going around about the ville. I have noticed that people are more amiable and helpful when I speak a little French than when I ask for help in English.

My American Problem

My American Problem

“Just say you’re Canadian.”

Before heading for foreign soil, Americans are often told to brush off questions of nationality by saying they’re Canadian.  The U.S. isn’t exactly the darling of the global community. And, I mean, it’s close enough, right?

The River Lee

For some, fudging the border lines is a non-issue. But for me, I have a hard time claiming I’m from a country I’ve only visited three or four times in my life. Luckily, I’ve never been in a situation where I had to lie, and I figured it wouldn’t be much of a problem while in Ireland

Four days in, though, and I’ve heard from a few locals that leaving the U.S. out of it might be the safest route.

As soon as I arrived in Cork, I struck up a conversation with a taxi driver as he drove me to my new home. When I mentioned to him that I’m a journalism major, the conversation quickly turned toward Syria. I wasn’t at my best after a six hour flight and a four hour bus ride, and I had a difficult time following him. I do, however, remember him telling me that it was probably safer if I avoid discussing politics with the locals.

Later, after I had settled into my room, I introduced myself to one of my Irish roommates. She’d been to the U.S. before, and while she said she admired our diverse wildlife, she did have some decisive opinions about how wasteful we all were. She couldn’t get over how big everything was there – the roads, the cars, the food. There isn’t even public transportation, she said.

All my encounters with the locals so far have been beyond pleasant, but I worry when I walk down the street. Not for my safety, no; I worry that they’ll recognize me as an American by the way I dress or the slightly dazed look on my face and think I’m yet another lost tourist. I fear that my slightly nasal midwestern accent will make them assume that I drive a tank and only eat McDonalds.

University College Cork

What I want is to be recognized as an individual. I want to be able to discuss politics and to hear other views. As I slip further into the culture here, I’m certain that my fears will vanish. I’ll learn the right way to approach a touchy subject. I will be proud of where I’m from without discrediting where I am. I’ll recognize that I have just as many preconceived notions to banish as others have of me. Hopefully, a frank discussion and a pint will be all it takes to air out those stereotypes.

But, at least for now, I finally understand why sometimes it’s easier to say you’re Canadian. Even if the Canadians don’t appreciate it.

 

 

Ancient History

Ancient History

Take any Islamic Civilization or Islamic Art class and you will inevitably study Granada. Granada and Córdoba have some of the best conserved buildings from before the Catholic Kings took over Spain, the best examples of which are the Gran Mezquita de Córdoba (in Córdoba) and the Alhambra (in Granada). Walking through some of the neighborhoods here puts you in touch with buildings and streets older than the idea of exploring the Americas. In the U.S., if something’s really really old it might have been built in the 1800s. Here, that’s new and shiny.

Last week we took a trip to Córdoba for our Art and Architecture class so that we could see Madinat Al-Zahra, the city built exclusively for the Caliphate of Córdoba by Abd Al-Rahman III, and the Gran Mezquita de Córdoba.

In 929,  the emir Abd Al-Rahman III decided that since he was so rich, he didn’t have to be ruling a measly emirate, still linked to Damascus, so he declared himself the caliph and established the Caliphate of Córdoba. After doing this, he decided to build a city for himself. This city is Madinat Al-Zahra, outside of Córdoba. It was built with the finest materials and adorned with the finest decoration, because it was meant to be a city of brilliance, the symbol of the caliphate’s power. As time wore on and the caliphate was divided into the Taifas, then defeated by the Almorávides, and then the Almorhades, and then the Catholic Kings, Madinat Al-Zahra was abandoned and buried in the sands of time. Until some farmers outside of Córdoba happened upon some stones too perfectly arched to be natural, and caused an archeological uproar. The mythical city of Madinat Al-Zahra had been found. Now the city is a museum, and you can visit it and walk on the very floors that the former kings of Andalucía laid. It’s unreal. I’ve never felt so much like I was in a history book. In my classes we study the Independent Emirate, the Caliphate, the Reigns of the Taifa and their art, but it is something very different to be able to stand there and run your fingers across the deeply carved capitals of the red marble columns.

Being in the mosque was another experience. I’ve seen iconic pictures of the forest of red-and-white striped arches printed on the glossy pages of books, and to stand looking up at them gave me chills. Not only is the mosque still largely intact from when it was finished during the Caliphate, but parts of the Christian church it was built on top of still exist as well. The grandeur and the detail are unlike anything else, but the part that really blew my mind was that it was still standing. Through the years of Andalusian turmoil, it is still standing, and around us swirled the whispers of the worshippers who had come through the ages, the whispers of the architects and kings who shaped Spanish history.

There is something magical about being one of millions to have laid your feet down in the same place, and to have stood in awe. There is something beautiful about stopping to gaze and reflect in a building that has held thousands of years of human beauty and suffering and discovery and questions.

 

Portico and arches at Madinat Al-Zahra outside of Córdoba, Spain

 

Serving the Greater Good

Serving the Greater Good

Although the process towards getting our service learning projects started was a bit rough, when all was said and done, the experience has been far more rewarding and positive than I could have ever hoped. In the past week I have been able to tend to the children of Mai Tam as well as work alongside and empower peers at KOTO. Being able to give back and help better the nation of Vietnam was one of the biggest influencing factors on my decision to study here and it gladdens my heart to see actual differences being made.

Mai Tam is an orphanage that cares for up to 77 children from month-old to 17 who all share one common factor: they are HIV+ and parent-less. The organization shelters and educates the children because governmental and other social institutes in Vietnam will not. KOTO stands for ‘Know One Teach One,” and they strive to help the underprivileged youth of Vietnam by taking them from the streets, teaching them life skills, and training them in the hospitality industry. Currently KOTO facilitates training centers in Hanoi and HCMC, both of which also operate restaurants as a social enterprise entirely run by KOTO trainees.

From talking with Fr. Josef at Mai Tam, Anh Duc at Thao Dan, and my colleagues at KOTO, I have gained an even greater understanding of the plight of the underprivileged in Vietnamese society. It seems as if there are almost unwritten codes that discriminate and make it harder for such individuals to prosper. The fact that the government provide little if any aid towards the education of HIV positive children is especially depressing to hear. However, as all of the service projects sites demonstrate, there is a growing movement to change things for the better. I am especially proud that our university’s pillar of social justice encourages this mission as well.

On my first visit to Mai Tam, I did not really know what to expect. However, Conner said something to the extent of, “Just hold the kids, it’s amazing that all they want is a little bit of affection and to be loved.” A short taxi ride later, I found myself in the first level nursery room where I struggled to move as 4-5 children dangled from my limbs. The short time I spent with the children and facilitators at Mai Tam really brought into perspective just how fortunate my opportunities in life have been. I conversed with the mothers and other adults there and learned that what drove them to work in what society would call a ‘fruitless endeavor’ was because they had invested their hopes into these children. Even if they [the children] started life with a disadvantage, their innocence and sincerity to learn would carry them leaps and bounds ahead.

More recently, I have poured a large amount of my time into work at KOTO, which has nearly become a part-time job and another daily facet of my life in Vietnam. Being exposed firsthand to the power of social enterprises and life-changing endeavors such as that of Banteay Prieb in Cambodia bolstered my ambition to help foster such differences in the lives of others. While unfortunately, I am not able to directly help out in sharing life skills and mentoring at KOTO’s training center due to space restraints, I have more than found a niche for myself with the background staff of the KOTO organization. Working with the marketing, fund-raising, promotion, and design teams of the organization has revealed to me the intricate support structures that a social enterprise such as KOTO or Friends (in Cambodia) require in order to continue making a positive impact on the lives of others.

My adviser, or ‘boss’ at KOTO, Matin Tran, revealed to me that KOTO is in the midst of a re-branding and expansion. As evidenced by the successful event they held this Sunday, KOTO has already succeeded in establishing a presence in Vietnam. However, the organization hopes and earnestly believes in trying to change as many as lives as it can, that is why KOTO has begun launching other social enterprises such as cooking classes, catering, and a bakery. The goal is to increase the amount of trainees the organization can support and provide a wider set of hospitality training and industries that these individuals can learn and make their livelihoods from.

While I may not be directly helping my peers at KOTO, I still have the opportunity to interact with them everyday at the restaurant or during events such as the Happy Feet Slipper Race on Sunday. When working alongside other volunteers or trainees, I am privy to small moments where we connect. We laugh, smile, and share our dreams and aspirations. It is these little opportunities that have made me enjoy my work so much at KOTO, whether it be hands-on such as helping out with event planning or photography or as simple as scrambling to help assemble the new menus for guests arriving within the hour. Currently, I put in upwards of 10-15 hours a week at KOTO, but that does not include the time spent outside of the office doing other work such as researching event ideas and planning how to put those ideas into action. Working at KOTO has been phenomenal, and I only hope to continue doing my best.

Pictures to come!

Crepes, Crepes, and more Crepes, please!

Crepes, Crepes, and more Crepes, please!

Sorry that is has been so long! February was a very busy month. SO MUCH TRAVELING!!

In the beginning of February I went to Paris!! It was an amazing trip because not only did I get to visit the City of Lights, but also I got to see my cousin and friend Mia. My cousin Bridget is studying in London for the semester and then Mia is in Paris. It was once in a lifetime experience to go and meet up with some of my best friends in such a beautiful city.

I arrived in Paris on Thursday night and stayed until Sunday morning. Bridget and I stayed together in the hostel because Mia is doing a home stay. On Thursday night we all met up to get dinner and catch up on our time abroad. We ended with our first night together by seeing the Eiffel Tower at night. It was the perfect way to end our first night together!

On Friday morning we got up early and walked around the city. Mia lives right near the Eiffel Tower so we walked from that area all the way to the Lourve. What was great about our trip was that Bridget and I had already been there when we were young with our grandparents, so we didn’t have to do any of the touristy stuff. We just roamed the streets of Paris, which was absolutely perfect. I had my first crepe and french macaroon there, AMAZING. I would go back solely to eat the macaroons.

We were tourists one day and went out to see the Palace of Versailles. I had never seen pictures of the Versailles, and I’m glad I didn’t; the pictures would not do it justice. It such a grand and beautiful place to go, and I would recommend anyone traveling to Paris to see it. The rooms were all extravagant and a bit ostentatious. My favorite (along with everyone else who goes to Versailles) was the Hall of Mirrors. I took a few mirror pictures, and I am not ashamed of it. After Versailles we went back to Paris, to again wander around Paris.

By far one of my favorite experiences I have had thus far in my time abroad. I still can’t believe that I got to see my closest friends in Paris! It was unreal to all be in Europe together and then being able to meet up.

Until next time….

Case

 

Through the Lens of Hip-Hop: Vietnamese Youth Culture

Through the Lens of Hip-Hop: Vietnamese Youth Culture

A HipHop (B-boy) dancer landing a freeze during the Converse Street Festival
A HipHop (B-boy) dancer landing a freeze during the Converse Street Festival

Converse shoes, beanie caps, graffiti, and break-dancing are all elements of today’s hip-hop scene in Vietnam. While these facets aesthetically resemble a similar culture in the United States and other parts of the world, Vietnamese hip-hop conveys a deeper message hidden under the clout of imported flash. MCs, graffiti artists, b-boys, and DJs comprise only one of the counter-cultures that have developed in Vietnam through the processes of globalization. As one of the most youthful countries in the world, Vietnam must balance the traditional customs of past generations with the trends and developments of today’s world.

I have chosen this picture to expand upon for a number of reasons. Having been involved in the hip-hop scene in the U.S., I hope that I can relate to similar minded youth in Vietnam. I believe that Vietnamese hip-hop is a developing culture that is different than similar subcultures in other countries. Finally, I view the hip-hop subculture in Vietnam as lens through which one can visualize Vietnam’s progress and development.

In the early 1970’s hip-hop formed in the Bronx in New York City as a form of self-expression and protest by the youth. As it spread, the messages associated with the movement also found audiences in Europe, Asia, and other parts of the world. By the end of the 20th century, and with the economic success of the early 21st century, Vietnamese youth readily gained access to the rest of the world through venues such as MTV, the internet, and their neighbors in Asia. It wasn’t long after that a hip-hop culture developed in Vietnam.

However, in my observation and interaction with hip-hop artists in Vietnam, there is an almost entirely different message being portrayed underneath all the baggy shirts, flat brim caps, and break-beats. While American hip-hop music is notorious for off color language and a subculture that often lends itself an unsavory reputation, Vietnamese describe their brand of hip-hop as “clean.” Raps are often about romance, youth culture, dancing, expressing yourself, and being who you want to be. There are almost never political or societal issues conveyed through Vietnamese hip-hop. The overall message is resoundingly individual and being true to yourself.

As said in Saigon Electric / Yo!, a 2011 film exploring Vietnam’s street dancing scene, “We [Vietnamese] dance because we have to. It’s all we have to live for.” I believe that this quote highlights the ambiguity of the task Vietnamese youth have in forging their own culture. When President Clinton visited Vietnam for the first time in 20 years following the end of the conflict in Vietnam, he was exposed to a new generation of Vietnamese who had the freedom to find futures beyond the wars of their parents and grandparents’ generations. However, as Vietnam steadily opened up to the rest of the world, the next generation of youth have pushed the envelope even further in the creation of a unique, and thriving youth culture.

Converse’ arrival and success in Vietnam display just how eager Vietnamese youth are to ‘catch up’ with their contemporaries around the world. While Converse’s image might inspire images of old-school basketball or pop-punk bands and skater culture in the United State, Converse has harnessed a slightly different approach in Vietnam. The Converse Street Festival in Ho Chi Minh City represents nearly a decade of growing presence in Vietnam. While staple “Converse cultures” such as skate boarders, rock bands, and b-boys transitioned and took root in Vietnam, Converse successfully marketed itself to a population that literally grew up with the brand in Vietnam. While it seems that Vietnamese artists in the hip-hop scene earnestly take their inspiration from the United States, Europe, South Korea, Japan, and other hip-hop centers, a unique Vietnamese identity is slowly taking shape.

When I arrived on site at the Converse Street Festival, there was already a large crowd gathered on the main stage where the b-boy crews were battling. I noted that with few exceptions, nearly everyone in the crowd was my age or younger, and that their energy far exceeded what should have been possible for the amount of people. I have been to jams (b-boy competitions) many times larger in Chicago and the United State, but the excitement and talent of the performers, spectators, and judges in Vietnam was just as comparable!

Hip-hop in Vietnam, through conveyed through the same vehicles as ‘original hip-hop’ across the world, conveys a deeper story. The growth of this subculture parallels the development of Vietnam in recent years, not only economically or culturally, but also consciously. I believe that it would not be too farfetched of a statement to say that Vietnamese hip-hop is proof of Vietnamese identity taking new shape in an uncertain future. With over half of its population under the age of 30, Vietnam’s youth are eager to soak up the rest of the world’s trends. However, they do not seek to just catch up, but also gain the tools to forge their own of unique identity whether it be through industry, policy, or something as obscure as street dancing.

Roadside Tagging in Mui Ne

A B-boy starts his routine

A semi-related preview of my holiday break in Nha Trang

For more info on the Vietnamese Hip-Hop scene, specifically b-boying check out these links!


Vacationing before Vacation!

Vacationing before Vacation!

Vung Tau is a popular destination for short getaways. An hour and a half away from HCMC, the city used to be known as a petroleum capital of Vietnam, but also boasts a strong fishing industry and its beach resorts are a draw for tourists. This was our first spontaneous trip out of  the city that we Loyola students took of our own volition. While our roommates helped us book places and figure out what to do, we were going to be on our own there.

We traveled via hydrofoil to get to Vung Tau and were bombarded with sales pitches, persistent taxi drivers, xe oms, and rickshaw peddlers the moment we stepped off the dock. Most likely because of the impending Tet holiday, much of the resort city was already empty as people returned to their hometowns. This made us as fresh a group of tourist bait as possible. Between figuring out where our hotel was, gathering our return bus tickets, and finding out that the hotel reservation was actually for a “Tinson D.,” it was quite an experience.

However, the rest of the day and weekend were phenomenal. We explored the whole of the peninsula, and even ended up at the exact same beach that I visited with my family 5 years ago! Friday evening, we sat down for dinner at Ganh Hao, which nearly every local we met suggested to. Sitting nearly 5 meters away from the sea and literally have our pick of the day’s best catch available, it is nearly impossible to describe the ambiance as anything more than splendid.

We capped out trip by scaling the local religious/tourist attraction known as Christ the Redeemer of Vung Tau. Finished in 1993, this larger-than-life statue of Jesus stands over 32m as one of the tallest of its kind in the world,  larger than even the famousCristo Redento in Rio de Janeiro! Getting to the statue is a pilgrimage in and of itself as it is located at the summit of a 270m hill. Scaling the the hill, there are rest areas every 20-30m that showcase sculptures of prominent figure in Christianity such as Moses, the 12 Apostles, Angels, and etc. As a Catholic, it was really inspiring for me to see how my faith is practiced in my parents’ homeland.

When we finally reached the Jesus statue, we also found out that inside of the statue is actually a small chapel and a 133-step winding staircase that took you up to the shoulders of Christ! Unfortunately, shoulders and knees were required to be covered before we could step in, so many of us shorts-wearing Loyolans had to improvise.. By tying some of my extra bandanas to over my knees and throwing on an extra shirt over my tank top, the elderly gentlemen watching over the door nodded their approval, and I began my ascent to one of the most breathtaking views ever. Nearly 300m above the ground, on top of Christ’s shoulder, I saw city, land, air, and sea all at once. I did my best to take photos and video, but nothing could do that view justice than being there yourself.

A couple hours later, we caught out ride home at the hotel. As my friend Brian goes to detail to say, the ride home was very much like a ride on Harry Potter’s ‘Night Bus!’ Being the only Vietnamese speaker during the Vung Tau trip was an enlightening experience I’ll never forget. I have to personally commend tour guides and other bilingual professions on their efficiency in facilitating and helping large groups have as much fun as they do when abroad. However, I can’t say that I’ll miss being our psuedo-tour guide as it could be frustrating and difficult at times to navigate unfamiliar territory with such a large group. It was a fun and successful weekend though!  With the Tet holiday coming up, I’ll be venturing out on my own with my roommate to his hometown of Phan Thiet for another adventure and vacation.

If you haven’t had the chance already, you should really check out fellow Loyola blogger and friend Brian Priddis’ recap of our previous weekend in Vung Tau!

 

8 + 8 + 8

8 + 8 + 8

There are 24 hours in a day. Those 24 hours can be divided into three sets of eight hours. The Spanish day essentially follows the structure of 8 + 8 + 8. Eight hours of rest, eight hours of work, and eight hours of free time.

We’re thinking that we are not going to possibly have enough time to get all our schoolwork done and explore the city and absorb the culture and travel, but eight hours a day for free time is a lot. And that’s just the five-day work week.
It’s interesting that Spaniards think of the day this way, with free time and time to enjoy oneself built into the routine. In the U.S. it seems like we know that we need to be at work or school for eight hours a day, but then we have to come home and do more work and more things and if we don’t totally get eight hours of sleep then that’s the way it goes. We enjoy life so much less than we should.

Here, things are more relaxed. Whenever we leave to go on a walk or to go out for food, our host señora says “se disfrute mucho”, which means “enjoy yourself to a great extent”. Here, the meals are slower. They are meant to be cooked with love and shared with friends over good conversation. Life is lived in the street so that it can be shared, so that experiences can be had and friendships can be made. Life here is about enjoyment and living in the moment.

If nothing else, this is what I want to bring home with me. To remember to let myself enjoy life, and to remember to divide my time so that I can equally feed my body and my soul, as well as my obligations to society.