A long period of absence
After over a month of no postings, I return to my keyboard with a lifetimes worth of experience and observation. I'm actually not using my keyboard, and I don't know that I will be able to for quite a while, as my computer has become quite ill and has left me without access to my files and pictures. So for the moment, my litterary descriptions of my adventures will have to suffice probably to the demise of my audience as my prose sometimes lacks in everything but sentimental exclamations. I will do my best to mold my writing to accomodate the call of the moment, but I make no promises.
I see that my last post was before my birthday, which I remark is when a new life in my same body awakened. As many know, it was my 21st, and again as many are familiar the American 21st is a sort of right of passage in the youthful circles of debauchery. My experience in France, however, was not that. Although I carry my identity with pride, I felt no need to attempt to recreate the cultural shame of belligerence in the first few hours of my American adulthood abroad. I was flossing my teeth when the clock struck midnight here in France, yet I was promenading next to the Old Port in Marseille as the hour of my birth came, as measured from the place of my birth.
A week later, I started my vacation in Spain, a country of beautiful people, cities, art and general approach to life. La Movida is the way of life, and it is best to accept that from the beginning if you desire an enjoyable and relaxing Spanish experience.
I started in Barcelona, where I stayed for 4 days before travelling to Seville for the next 4 days. What can I say of these cities? Barcelona... the city of artists and architecture... business and progression... and a history of the celebration of life. From the subterranean roman ruins to the top of la Segrada Familia, the Park Guell to the Olympic Stadium, the city is alive with activity, exuding an energy I have felt nowhere else.
I met my friend Geoff in the city, my friend from Madison who is studying in this fantastic city. Life is a fragile thing I was soon reminded two days after my arrival, as I listend to his description of his bus he was taking to Andorra for a day of skiing, flipping on its side killing one young boy, and severing the limbs of many others, all due to the carelesness of the driver. We must be mindful of the power we hold in our hands. I approached the next day with a somber vitality as I wandered the streets of the Gothic Quarter of the city. I left that night for a new city and another experience that would change my life in another way.
Life is beautiful in Seville. I cannot grasp what exactly it was that seduced me to love this city, but I know it will forever have a special place in my heart. It was a combination of the wonderful climat of the region, the thousands of orange trees bearing sour fruit, the fantastic gardens not yet in their splendor, the Christian mosque calling out the irony of life, the Arabic baths into which I plunged myself body and soul... with the singular act of kindness shown to me by one woman.
I was visiting Jenna, a friend from high school that I have been graced to keep, and who has had the good fortune to live with Rosario for this semester, her Spanish host mother who treated me like a member of her family from the moment that I walked in her door. I will leave out her personal story she imparted to me, and opt to simply say that life seems so cruel to some of the kindest people in the world.
I returned to Aix-en-Provence almost unwillingly after my experience in Spain. I almost unhappy to reimerse myself in the country of identity conflict that, coming from Spain, seemed so cold both in temperature and culture. It is always ironic how you grow to love the disagreeable.
The next weekend I traveled to London, the seat of the largest empire the world has ever seen. I met my friend Ryan, an alumni from my fraternity, and a man recently engaged with a wonderful life ahead of him. It was cold in London, and expensive. The only things free in the city are the museums, each no small wonders in themselves. I found the city very familiar from the beginning, and be it from the lack of cultural shock value it provided me or the start of travelers exhaustion, I was not incredibly surprised by what I found. That is not to say in the least that London does not have infinite redeeming characteristics, it is only an indication of my growing desire to feel out of place. I have developed, however, an endearment for English pubs with Guiness Draught on tap.
My most recent travels brought me to Lyon, a city that serves to break a lot of the stereotypes surrounding my current country of residence. If it's agreeable French people you seek, come to Lyon and you will be warmly received and well fed to boot. Living in the valley where the Saone and the Rhone converge, Lyon was both the seat of the Gaul capital of the Roman empire, and the French resistance to the German forces, and their French sympathizers, during the second world war. I discovered the city with another friend from high school, Emily, who is also the sister of my sister's boyfriend. And on to the next...
I have been in Aix now since Monday, March 6th.
I started this post more than two weeks ago. It promises to be the longest I have created. What I want to communicate within it is simply that life is changing very quickly, for me and for everyone else. It is starkly evident for myself as I am confronted daily with new things, culutural, academic, and always human, that force me to challenge my conception of what life is, what the meaning is, and what the possibilities for it are. I believe that we are on the brink of changes never before envisioned as a world community. While I lack the foresight to predict what exactly they may be and what they will mean, I believe they will force the people of the world to reevaluate their barriers, their fears, their beliefs, their humanity, and decide whether or not they are willing to open up to the possibility that we, as humans, do indeed have more in common than we do in difference.
There it is, my call for a new utopia. Now, on to more concrete things.
The universities in France have been on strike for the past three weeks. Indeed, it seems that the whole country is going to strike next week, extending into multiple labor unions in all sectors, and even reaching into the nations high schools. My university has students that are striking, although they refused the idea of a blockage of access to the school. Just today, we voted on the idea of pushing back exam dates so the students who have decided not to attend class would have a fair prepatory time. We voted no... a fact I am grateful for.
Police directed processions are almost daily. The sound of collective voice is becoming another part of the scenery. Pictures of piled chairs and flooded streets, student-run general assemblies and labor union meetings, and unfortunately increasing acts of violence, are all taking over the local press. It's interesting how calmly some of the French react to these manifestations of strife. It truly is a way of life for many people, so much at times that I begin to doubt its real effectiveness.
I am in the process of matching for an internship in Morocco this summer. I should know within the next week whether or not I am accepted. I also have exams in a week. Starting April 1st, I will begin to take my single chances to demonstrate to my professors that I am comptetent in their subjects and that I deserve to pass their classes. A life experience is fast approaching me.
Well, this quick monologue about summarizes my last month and a half. If you have made it through to this part of my commentary, I commend you for your efforts. If my words come across as slightly delayed and melancoly, it is because that is a bit how I feel. After a period of so much excitement it is hard not to give in to the feeling of just having enough... But, before I leave my wonderful readership with a depressing worried feeling about their expatriate friend and family member, I present this one last statement. Life comes by one moment at a time, each moment only coming once. These past moments I have had, are ones that have changed my life forever. I am excited to be changed by many more.
I see that my last post was before my birthday, which I remark is when a new life in my same body awakened. As many know, it was my 21st, and again as many are familiar the American 21st is a sort of right of passage in the youthful circles of debauchery. My experience in France, however, was not that. Although I carry my identity with pride, I felt no need to attempt to recreate the cultural shame of belligerence in the first few hours of my American adulthood abroad. I was flossing my teeth when the clock struck midnight here in France, yet I was promenading next to the Old Port in Marseille as the hour of my birth came, as measured from the place of my birth.
A week later, I started my vacation in Spain, a country of beautiful people, cities, art and general approach to life. La Movida is the way of life, and it is best to accept that from the beginning if you desire an enjoyable and relaxing Spanish experience.
I started in Barcelona, where I stayed for 4 days before travelling to Seville for the next 4 days. What can I say of these cities? Barcelona... the city of artists and architecture... business and progression... and a history of the celebration of life. From the subterranean roman ruins to the top of la Segrada Familia, the Park Guell to the Olympic Stadium, the city is alive with activity, exuding an energy I have felt nowhere else.
I met my friend Geoff in the city, my friend from Madison who is studying in this fantastic city. Life is a fragile thing I was soon reminded two days after my arrival, as I listend to his description of his bus he was taking to Andorra for a day of skiing, flipping on its side killing one young boy, and severing the limbs of many others, all due to the carelesness of the driver. We must be mindful of the power we hold in our hands. I approached the next day with a somber vitality as I wandered the streets of the Gothic Quarter of the city. I left that night for a new city and another experience that would change my life in another way.
Life is beautiful in Seville. I cannot grasp what exactly it was that seduced me to love this city, but I know it will forever have a special place in my heart. It was a combination of the wonderful climat of the region, the thousands of orange trees bearing sour fruit, the fantastic gardens not yet in their splendor, the Christian mosque calling out the irony of life, the Arabic baths into which I plunged myself body and soul... with the singular act of kindness shown to me by one woman.
I was visiting Jenna, a friend from high school that I have been graced to keep, and who has had the good fortune to live with Rosario for this semester, her Spanish host mother who treated me like a member of her family from the moment that I walked in her door. I will leave out her personal story she imparted to me, and opt to simply say that life seems so cruel to some of the kindest people in the world.
I returned to Aix-en-Provence almost unwillingly after my experience in Spain. I almost unhappy to reimerse myself in the country of identity conflict that, coming from Spain, seemed so cold both in temperature and culture. It is always ironic how you grow to love the disagreeable.
The next weekend I traveled to London, the seat of the largest empire the world has ever seen. I met my friend Ryan, an alumni from my fraternity, and a man recently engaged with a wonderful life ahead of him. It was cold in London, and expensive. The only things free in the city are the museums, each no small wonders in themselves. I found the city very familiar from the beginning, and be it from the lack of cultural shock value it provided me or the start of travelers exhaustion, I was not incredibly surprised by what I found. That is not to say in the least that London does not have infinite redeeming characteristics, it is only an indication of my growing desire to feel out of place. I have developed, however, an endearment for English pubs with Guiness Draught on tap.
My most recent travels brought me to Lyon, a city that serves to break a lot of the stereotypes surrounding my current country of residence. If it's agreeable French people you seek, come to Lyon and you will be warmly received and well fed to boot. Living in the valley where the Saone and the Rhone converge, Lyon was both the seat of the Gaul capital of the Roman empire, and the French resistance to the German forces, and their French sympathizers, during the second world war. I discovered the city with another friend from high school, Emily, who is also the sister of my sister's boyfriend. And on to the next...
I have been in Aix now since Monday, March 6th.
I started this post more than two weeks ago. It promises to be the longest I have created. What I want to communicate within it is simply that life is changing very quickly, for me and for everyone else. It is starkly evident for myself as I am confronted daily with new things, culutural, academic, and always human, that force me to challenge my conception of what life is, what the meaning is, and what the possibilities for it are. I believe that we are on the brink of changes never before envisioned as a world community. While I lack the foresight to predict what exactly they may be and what they will mean, I believe they will force the people of the world to reevaluate their barriers, their fears, their beliefs, their humanity, and decide whether or not they are willing to open up to the possibility that we, as humans, do indeed have more in common than we do in difference.
There it is, my call for a new utopia. Now, on to more concrete things.
The universities in France have been on strike for the past three weeks. Indeed, it seems that the whole country is going to strike next week, extending into multiple labor unions in all sectors, and even reaching into the nations high schools. My university has students that are striking, although they refused the idea of a blockage of access to the school. Just today, we voted on the idea of pushing back exam dates so the students who have decided not to attend class would have a fair prepatory time. We voted no... a fact I am grateful for.
Police directed processions are almost daily. The sound of collective voice is becoming another part of the scenery. Pictures of piled chairs and flooded streets, student-run general assemblies and labor union meetings, and unfortunately increasing acts of violence, are all taking over the local press. It's interesting how calmly some of the French react to these manifestations of strife. It truly is a way of life for many people, so much at times that I begin to doubt its real effectiveness.
I am in the process of matching for an internship in Morocco this summer. I should know within the next week whether or not I am accepted. I also have exams in a week. Starting April 1st, I will begin to take my single chances to demonstrate to my professors that I am comptetent in their subjects and that I deserve to pass their classes. A life experience is fast approaching me.
Well, this quick monologue about summarizes my last month and a half. If you have made it through to this part of my commentary, I commend you for your efforts. If my words come across as slightly delayed and melancoly, it is because that is a bit how I feel. After a period of so much excitement it is hard not to give in to the feeling of just having enough... But, before I leave my wonderful readership with a depressing worried feeling about their expatriate friend and family member, I present this one last statement. Life comes by one moment at a time, each moment only coming once. These past moments I have had, are ones that have changed my life forever. I am excited to be changed by many more.
posted by snirapnotreknipnnyldrahcir at
1:39 PM
3 Comments
