It’s been a little over two months since I have arrived in Europe and exactly two weeks since I have been at Cambridge. What an exciting journey this all has been.
Cambridge has proven to be an unbelievably intellectually stimulating experience. I am constantly writing down titles of books I must read and poems I must lookup and writers I need to know about. At first I was very nervous about the very full days, but I have seemed to adjust and I have met some great people to help make the days pass by quickly; however, there is no rush for them to do so. I went through a period in Portugal where I just wanted time to fly, but now that I am here and have regained composure and self-confidence I realize how great it is to be where I am right now. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m really looking forward to the months ahead.
It’s amazing; I’ve been so lucky and have had such a great time in college. I was looking through all of my pictures on facebook today and was deeply moved to see all of the different grounds covered and more importantly bonds built. A year ago two people that were some of the closest people to me in the world were still in my life, and today they are no longer here but still somehow I am ok- I am happy. Nonetheless my heart still hurts when I think about either of them: the death of my aunt and the split up with my lover/best friend. It amazes me how even with different grounds covered you still take who you were with you. I am still very much the same, just more chizzled by experiences and much more aware.
Already, I have finished four classes in this Academic boot camp. Wordsworth vs Byron, although was a rather dry topic at times, I have come to learn an insane amount about both and have especially found (as you may have read earlier) a fondness for Lord Byron. I also took, Charlotte Bronte Jane Erye & Villette, Sophocles Tragedies and my most favorite of them all: Variations of the Tragic. Variations of the Tragic was a great class where we read different modern tragedies. The play I was most moved by was Death of a Salesman: it truly is a must read for Americans. It touches upon such important and relevant themes in American society—something I am sure many many can identify with. The conversation in class over the play was very invigorating, and it was especially interesting to see the perspectives of non-Americans in reading such an American play. After the class my heart was racing and I my mind was reeling from academic debate, I loved it.
Things I haven’t liked? Oh of course there are a few. One is that everyday there is a mandatory Plenary Lecture before lunch. We have had a few interesting speakers over the past couple of weeks, but most unfortunately they have been dreadfully boring. A lot of these academic types just get up to the podium and read their academic papers. They assume the audience has heard of some of these obscure authors or topics. I’ve been unimpressed by these people, how can you teach for one of the best universities on the planet and not know how to engage an audience – it’s one thing if that’s not what you do – but as a “professor” one should know how to profess properly and interestingly. Fortunately the professors for my classes have all been pretty spectacular.
Currently making my way through 8 books I need to read in two weeks before my British Empire through Literature and Film starts in early August. I’m reading, for the first time, Rudyard Kipling and loving him.
I still don’t have a camera, and I lost my iPhone at the Portugal airport. I have to pickup my camera at the post office, but it incurred a 55 pound importation fee which I will have refunded after I pay it and prove that I am a student here. I would have paid it by now, but I am currently really broke and am anxiously waiting for my stipend from Northeastern. Wow, it’s already 10 PM here. I can’t believe how time flies. Well, I really should get back to reading.
Some great quotes from Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller:
“I don’t say he’s a great man. Willie Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He’s not the finest character that ever lived. But he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He’s not to be allowed to fall in his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.”
“A small man can be just as exhausted as a great man.”
“You can’t eat the orange and throw the peel away – a man is not a piece of fruit.”
“After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.”
One thing I love about Literature is in reading these great works; you learn that human sentiment although has changed in language has not really changed in feeling. I am currently studying Wordsworth v Byron and although I am not much of a Wordsworth fan, I really appreciate Lord Byron. “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” is a somewhat autobiographical poem by Byron; my Professor described it as a sort of travel log of his many adventures. Canto the Third had been written after he had fled England after disgracing his marriage and had been ostracized for his “unruly” and “improper” conduct (I put the quotes, but he did do wrong). Canto the Third is the accounts of his travels (through the tale of Childe Harold of course) during a desolate and lonely time for him in his life; he cannot love the woman he loves, a form of torture still today.
One passage in particular rang true to me, and I thought I’d share it:
“Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;
Where roll’d the ocean, thereon was his home;
Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,
He had the passion and the power to roam;
The desert, forest, cavern, breaker’s foam,
Were unto him companionship”
- Canto III. Stanza XIII.
Often times when traveling, you learn to take refuge in the nature around you. Sometimes even, you don’t have the indulgence of someone else to be with you to share the experience and you are seeing these wonders alone. I say this, and then I think… well, that’s not entirely true. For me, as much as I did find peace in nature and appreciating the natural beauties of say southern Portugal; I also did have something there to share it with me. I wrote in my journal one day while strolling along the coast after a day of sunshine at the pool:
My camera is my companion sharing with me these experiences. Its pictures will remind me of what I saw like an old friend does at a much overdue lunch. It will remind me of the times gone by; it will be my keener and more vivid eye as my own memories begin to fade.
This is true though, not just for traveling purposes but also in remembering times that have long since passed. I am not quiet like Lord Byron at all in anyway, but I can relate to him in some ways: the seeking refuge in traveling – hoping to escape the memories of love and other times of happiness – and then falling victim of painful nostalgia. It seems, that no matter how far you go, these memories can still grab a hold of you and feel as sharp as it would anywhere in the world. I like when Byron says, “What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?” and those scars are painful to remember. Yet we carry on, through the adventures… then pretty soon your other pictures are buried with newer pictures, of new sights sought and lands conquered. I have come to realize that scars tend to fade with a lot of sunshine, a tan can cover a lot of things up; nonetheless, covering it up does not mean that they do not exist. Now I am getting lost in metaphorical messages, enough.
I have finished four full days here at Cambridge. I have been more than comfortable in my accommodation, and I have quiet literally received a royal treatment here; it is truly an academic oasis and it is inspiring. I do not have a camera right now (long story), but it was supposed to have arrived on Monday. Hopefully, when I do receive it, I will be able to share some photos and in turn document some memories.
Traveling is not always easy. Right now I am having a weak moment. I am worried about the future, haunted by my past and thus having problems focusing on the present. A friend of mine had said some unsettling things to me the other day, and I have yet to be able to shake their sting from my soul. What is it they say, “sticks and stones…” such utter nonsense that is, I’d take the stones any day. Sometimes I find it difficult to realize all that I am, or try to be, while in a foreign country. It can get a little lonely on the road, and when these moments happen it can get difficult to remember that somewhere, not too far away, I belong to a community, a family, friends, a school; even though not many people know it here, but somewhere someone does know my name. When I feel lonely during a long train ride, I try to keep as many pictures as I can on my iPhone and I start paging through them. Seeing the smiling faces, the times that have passed, brings sunshine to the chill that loneliness can bring. I think about what my friend are doing now, and I think about the USA and how it is starting to become summer and how that always had meant something to me. It doesn’t really mean anything to me now, because I feel so far away from it all.
The one-month whirlwind with Sarah has come to a conclusion; although my own journey continues. It is almost impossible to know where to begin talking about our trip, but I will eventually. I really want to do something with all the information I have accumulated and the random stories of experiences and new people met. I am in the brainstorming process now, but am open to any suggestions. I am taking a memoir writing class in the fall, perhaps I will use some of this there. Traveling is just one big learning experience. Of course there are moments of indulgence, but for the most part, it has been one lesson after another. I have to force myself to start writing more, especially since I will be alone the rest of the way. Classes start July 5th, and I will move into Cambridge July 4th. July 4th has always been my favorite holiday, so it will be interesting to celebrate it in the country Americans celebrate their independence from.
Sarah in front of the Parthenon, Athens
One conclusion/ beautiful thing I have observed is that people are people no matter where you go. This is most obvious when observing people on the metro. In all of the metros in all of the world, people get on, and a lot of times you can find similar expressions on people that you have seen in other cities. You wonder if you had seen these faces before. People chatting on their phone, sitting listening to their ipod, people heading home from work or school, tourists, couples – same faces just different races — same common feelings, the commonalities amongst humanity. It is these commonalities that make art, movies, history a uniting force. As Sarah observed, no matter where you come from, what your status is, or what type of person you are – you can go to Rome and still appreciate The Colosseum, or Athens and the Parthenon, etc. At least a part of each of us are still amazed by our past, and humbled when in the presence of such influential pieces of our history, such as artworks like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. People with so many different cultures and backgrounds all wait in line to see the Mona Lisa. Part of traveling is of course seeing these things for yourself, but also recognizing the why you go to see them, and noticing what is around you when you finally do. Maybe the reasoning behind the fame of the Venus de Milo does not quiet make sense to you, but there is still a level of appreciation for a piece of art that was around when Julius Caesar was creating the 365 day Roman Calendar.
Currently sitting, 80s music blasting, in the middle of a camping ground. Suddenly I am sitting, 10 years ago, at the ChiChis restaurant right around the corner from my grandparent’s house. I’m sitting there with my dad and brother, nachos in hand, fake plastic beige stone wrapped around us, with little fake plastic sombreros as the choice decor…
OK, so I’m not really surrounded by sombreros, and no nachos in these luggage worn hands. However, the combo of the blasting 80′s music and every waiter speaking perfect English. makes me think that I am at some kind of American ChiChis (although I think those waiters had accents) restaurant, in an American camping ground such as Mohican National Park.
It is all very funny, because I am not sitting at an American camp ground. No, no. I am also not sitting in an American restaurant. Actually, really, I am sitting in just 20 minutes outside of Rome, ITALY. Sometimes I feel like there are more “Americans” in foreign countries than there are “Americans” in America.
Sarah and I have decided to be economical on this trip to Rome and are staying at a cabin in a camping ground outside of Rome. Needless to say, it’s our first night here and it’s already a memorable experience. Just another “hostel” to add to my hostel resume. No complaints- after all- they say when in Rome do as the Romans do. I guess you can say we are doing just that.
After being back in the United States for a solid 10 days, I’ve come to the conclusion that that chapter of my life went by too quickly. I guess because it is this faraway place, it has the ability to seem less real than other chapters. Whereas, with things I miss or think about around here, I am reminded of them much easier since I am surrounded by them or pass by them regularly.
The night of our goodbye party, I mentioned in conversation that it is a sad realization that “this is the closest we will all ever be again.” My friends and I from this trip will probably never be in such close proximity at the same time, and as close again emotionally. There are always exceptions to the rule, but it is unlikely and that is a sad realization. For, there are not many times in life where you grow close with people and know for a fact that this will be as close as you will ever be, I guess when certain friends are moving or you are leaving you always assume that you’ll have the chance to be close again because you’ve had them part of your life for so long. With study abroad it is a bit different than that.
I guess that is what makes studying abroad such a highly regarded experience: for a short while you experience what it is like to live and create a world in another country, with different friends, different foods and life-altering experiences. For the most part, all of these experiences and ways of life are temporary-, which in a sense romanticizes the whole thing. Already, I have a tendency with nostalgia only remembering the good and forgetting the bad—oh sweet memory. As I think about the times from Australia, I remember them with fondness and appreciation more and more.
20 months ago I had a root canal and never had it capped. Before I left, I saw my dentist and was told that I needed to have it pulled. I wanted to get it done before I left, but unfortunately there wasn’t enough time to do it. My tooth started to bother me while I was done here, and so I decided to drop $400 on getting it pulled. It’s funny; I thought that by pulling the tooth the pain would go away. Now, I must take painkillers every 6 hours before the space starts hurting again. Pulling one pain only to deal with another. I thought that by pulling out this other pain, my mouth would heal in a couple of days and it would be like the tooth was never day. Boy, I was wrong. Not only does it hurt, but also sometimes I find myself putting my tongue there or forgetting before I bite and then dealing with the pain of the food hitting the wound or something like that. Eventually this new wound will heal, and I will become used to not having that tooth there anymore… and then, in the fall I’ll get a new tooth and one day I won’t even remember what it felt like to have the old tooth, or to have it pulled in the first place. I don’t like ending one pain to deal with another pain; however, that’s how it ends up working at times.
My friend Sarah, whom I went to high school with and she now goes to Princeton, is in Spain right now. She is studying in Sevilla. We are meeting up May 12th to begin a European tour. Well, we were talking last night and she was giving me good sound advice, and passed along some advice she has received: “A friend once told me that if you really want something, you have to be willing to lose it.” I couldn’t agree more with that.
Odds are if you really want something, whatever it is… you have to realize that it probably won’t last. Technology becomes outdated, people change, you grow and your interests vary. How do you know if you want something enough to lose it? I guess most people are afraid of relationships for that very reason, they already know, going into it that odds are they are going to lose it. So why even bother getting attached in the first place? I have my own feelings regarding that, but I’m not interested in getting into that right now. I’m just sharing the random thoughts that are jogging my brain right now. What Sarah’s friend said to her though, doesn’t necessarily have to have a pessimistic ring to it. It can also mean, if you decided to make a decision to go for something you want, you have to recognize the risks involved with doing that. Taking a chance isn’t always that bad, and it’s good to recognize the chance that you are taking. These thought processes can be very stressful. Personally, one of my favorite adages has always been, “he who hesitates, loses.” Because this has 9 times out of 10 proved to be correct.
Today, I’m trying to get my work done and I have actually been successful. I’ve mostly finished my first cinematography assignment, and I am going to work on studying for the exam I have next Tuesday. Tomorrow I am heading to Sydney with My and Steph.
Sydney is one of the main things I’ve always associated Australia with. I’m really looking forward to seeing what it’s like. It’s crazy; to finally see something you’ve spent your whole life imagining what it would be like. In first grade, my dad, my brother and I would play this game where we were given famous pieces of architecture from around the world and we would have to match up the pieces to its city. In first grade I was very impressed and interested in the Sydney Opera House and here I am, 15 years later and I’m finally going to actually see it.
This weekend my friends: Anita (from Finland), Leigh (from Cleveland), Kristen (from Mass.), Stine (from Norway) and I all went to Brisbane for Saturday and Sunday. We took a train from Robina, which cost us a total of $5 each way.
An excerpt from my journal as we were on the train to Brisbane:
02/06/10
“Right now I’m on the train to Brisbane. It’s funny, I feel like I’m on a nicer version of the commuter rail in Boston. A trains a trains a train. If only the commuter rail could be as nice, would have made my commutes a couple of years ago much more bearable.
I just started thinking about age and how sometimes I don’t realize how young I am. But at times, it’s hard to realize because age is relative. Why should I realize it if I haven’t experienced anything else? Well, the obvious answer is of course through other people.
Another thought I had was about love and how love is maddening – just thinking of the things that I’ve done when enraged by love. Even now I could do crazy things for it, and I’m sure crazier things have been done. Things like flying half way around the world and spending insane amounts of money are a couple of things that come to mind. How many people have done these things only to be rejected? Or worse.. To find their love with a new love?
There’s an Asian woman of about 60-70s holding a girl of about 3-4. They look beautiful. I don’t want to forget this image… sitting on a train in Australia, looking to my right and seeing many people but being intrigued by the beauty of the woman and child. Looking ahead I see my new friends and the Australian countryside flying by me at a staccato rhythm. Just as I think it’s going to be a green field it turns into a brown swampland, Australia, you’re as inconsistent as my thoughts and words on this page. I love you for it. “
My video series regarding the trip:
Video 1: Accommodations
Video 2: Day Time Fun
Video 3: Nightlife
Video 4: Reflection
As always, for all of the pictures taken from the trip please click on me at the top left hand corner.
Going through customs was fun and they were trying to figure out what my iMac was. I told them it was a computer, and then the guy picked it up and said, “Oh it’s a screen!” I didn’t argue, he was partially correct.
Getting off the plane and walking into the airport, was pretty exciting. Mainly because it had been a long time since I had been through customs and going through it makes you realize that you’re entering a foreign country, even if they speak the same language.
On the bus to the next gate, I was alarmed that the driver was driving on the wrong side of the road, and then it dawned on me… the driver is driving on the wrong side of the road, but then I remembered that Australians drive on the opposite sides here, and was happily amused.
At first glance, Australia does not have as many palm trees as I would have imagined, at least I haven’t seen any in Sydney. Instead, the trees look like trees I see in Ohio, or New England. But we’ll see what the trees in Brisbane look like. Some of the girls in my group were loud and obnoxious on the bus; I could see the Australians looking at us: No wonder America has the reputation that it has. If we were in the US, I wouldn’t mind that kind of behavior; it only bothers me when it is fulfilling a stereotype, in another country.
It feels like I’m in a warm climate, everyone has that cheery summer tone and that golden sunny glow. I can’t wait to get my sun on.
