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From Abroad

I had an incredible stroke of luck a couple months ago when I met a young composer, Diana Popoff, at a concert. She is the daughter of a well-known bassist, composer, and arranger, Yuri Popoff, and the niece of one Brazil’s greatest guitarists and composers, Toninho Horta. She has been very gracious in introducing me to other musicians as well as a whole style and sound that was pioneered by her uncle. The music comes from Minas Gerais, a state in the interior of Brazil. Many say that becuase Mineiros don’t have beaches like Rio de Janeiro, they instead turn to more introspective efforts. As such, the harmony in this region is deliciously rich and complex. A side note for jazz fans: the Pat Matheny “sound” is actually heavily influenced by this muisc; he traveled to Brazil and studied with Toninho Horta.

I had the pleasure to play a show with Diana with only her compositions. I think you’ll agree that her writing is very unique and sophisticated; it certainly wasn’t easy to play. Diana is playing piano and singing, her father is playing guitar, Rodrigo Ferreira is on bass (the same guy from the previous videos), and Kleberson Caetano on drums.

Click “Continue Reading” at the bottom to see the videos.

So finally, after three months in Denmark…school has actually begun. Up until this point I have really had no real assignments. The instructors never took attendance at lectures and classes only lasted eight weeks. I’m still in the process of understanding the system and it’s a very very different one. Now, while all of my friends at home are finishing up their semesters and heading home, I’m just now beginning mine.

My grades this semester are based entirely on my final “take-home” exams. These consist of two twelve page papers and two seven page papers. In addition to that my biggest assignment is a fourty-five page group project. This is due in just a few weeks and so far I’ve written almost nothing. My group members and I have spent a total of over twenty hours in the library trying to brainstorm and get some ideas down on paper. Somehow it’s not coming together as we liked.

Clearly this study system was designed for someone with a lot of self-discipline, and honestly, after two months of no actual work, I’ve lost all the self-discipline I came into this with. It’s becoming very frustrating. Fortunately It think I may be starting to get some back. Now that the deadlines are approaching I’ve finally begun to buckle down, but it’s really been a challenge!

In the meantime there are lots of student activities to keep me very busy. This school has really done an excellent job of giving international students things to do in their spare time. Things like the weekly “International Night” at the student house, weekend trips to Sweden, and Erasmus trips around Denmark to historical sites and fun places like Legoland are very enjoyable.

So just to recap…I’m having a great time! Getting started was tough, but I’m really going to be upset to leave. There’s nothing like being part of an international student community. But there are lots more things to look forward to before it’s over!

Facefoot Party

A group of us on a trolley in Gottenburg, Sweden

On the beach in Skagen, the northern-most point of Denmark

After over a month of computer and internet problems, I have returned and will try to make up for the time lost. This first post is of my first real gig here in Brasil, at a restaurant called TriBoz (tribes). The restaurant was started by the trumpet player in the clips, who is an Australian musicologist living in Rio (he switches between English and Portuguese when he’s announcing tunes). I found out about the place through the bass player, who is a fellow music student at the university. After sitting in a couple times, the trumpet player asked me to be part of this gig, and others in the future. The alto player is also a really interesting guy: he’s Brazilian but has lived for a while in Canada, the US, and France. So it’s a multi-cultural group.
The “theme” of the evening was the cool jazz style, typified by the “Kind of Blue” album by Miles Davis. I can’t honestly say that we stayed true to that style very much, but it was fun nonetheless. The lineup of the group is as follows:
Mike Ryan – trumpet
Marcelo Padre – alto sax
Yours Truly – tenor sax
Tomás Improta – piano
Rodrigo Ferreira – bass
Eduardo Magliano – drums
Please enjoy.

I return to the States in 25 days… I can almost feel the grime on the streets, the taste of Panera Bread, the sound of the highway drowned out by my music (I haven’t driven a car in 100 days!!!), and the smell of fresh mountain air in the New River Gorge. I get antsy just thinking about it!

Study abroad is supposed to be this big “life-changing experience”. I want it to be part of who I am, but I don’t want it to be WHO I am. I don’t want to be like a typical study abroad kid and roll up to PF Changs and try and speak in my limited Cantonese to the high school hostess and dismiss it for being too Americanized (mainly because I prefer PF Changs to real Chinese food haha, Westernization has its merits).

What has changed about me? I’ve realized it is one hundred and fifteen percent fruitless to wear make-up in most places in Southeast Asia because it will melt off your face. I know you can’t walk out the door without 35% DEET insect repellent or you will get 30 bug bites in 5 minutes (NO EXAGGERATION HERE, I’m stuck wearing jeans, leggings, and tights in 80 degree Hong Kong heat and humidity because I am embarrassed of my legs!!). I threw away my trusty travel hair dryer that has been through 3 continents worth of travel with me and didn’t bother to replace it, because Southeast Asian heat and humidity has destroyed my perfect blow-outs and bouncy hair. I’ve learned to eat vegetarian because then you don’t have to worry about what creature you are eating, as well as it’s typically tastier anyway. I know every time I leave the country I’m bound to get caught in a tropical downpour (“maybe monsoon”, as we heard in the Philippines). I’ve figured out how to get through a city of 7 million people on my own and thus, how to hold my own. I know to wave off Indian suit makers and how to bargain for a cheap taxi ride or a steal on a backpack. I roll with what happens and know it won’t be the end of the world. In a sense, I’ve grown out of that over-concerned teenager phase and just figure out what I need to do to get by.

I’ve seen a lot this semester, I’ve done a lot this semester, and by no means are my adventures in Southeast Asia done yet for this stint, nor for good. Southeast Asia lacks the rudeness, expenses, and hit-or-miss nature of Europe with all the religion, ancient culture, and food on 1/4th of the price of its Continental neighbor to the Northwest. I miss the US, sure, and I can’t wait to get back in the normal swing of things that involve salads, running on green trails, and half-and-half in my coffee, but there is definitely a sweet spot in my heart for Southeast Asia now, too.

Songkran is the Thai New Year. It always falls on April 13-15th and is 543 years ahead of the Western calendar because the Thai calendar coincides with the birth of Buddha in 543 BC, meaning it is 2552 in Thailand right now!

When we were planning our Easter trip to Thailand we didn’t realize it was Thai New Year, or what a big deal Songkran really was, but we soon found out.

Our first day in Bangkok we saw people with bowls of water and painted faces lining the street getting ready for a parade. People were passing out tourist brochures that gave a low down on Songkran: it was a time for washing, cleaning, and blessing with scented water and white paint. Today, those traditions have given way to an all-out three day water war.

We were in Hui-Hin on the Southern Gulf Coast of Thailand. Our first day, walking through the streets, we kept getting sprayed by water guns and I got a bucket of water thrown on me, which I was not pleased about. The next day we realized we should just join in on the fun, as all the other Westerners (which possibly outnumbered the locals) were doing. We bought water guns and took to the streets!

People posted up outside of stores and restaurants, and really hardcore people had water hoses and buckets of water they threw on people. You could also see tons of people in the back of trucks with huge vats of water to pour on by-standers as they drove by.

It’s really hard to explain Songkran: it’s one of those things that you had to be there for. Just imagine a whole town in the midst of a huge water war. Everyone gets involved. And you also get painted on. Those are the only ways I can think of describing Songkran!

An example of people in the back of the truck scenario.
People on the side of the street waiting for innocent passer-byes (mainly me).
Me pretending to be Rambo after a hard day of fighting (we were like only 30 miles from Myanmar, so that joke went on all week!)

Flamenco is very popular in Spain. The art originated in Andalusia. The historical dance was a way for the poor to express their oppression and culture. It is a combined art of a dancer, a guitarist and a singer. Some shows includes one of each, or a guitarist who sings as well. Here’s a picture of the ensemble I saw.

The dancer contributes sound with the hard strikes of the feet and toe strikes, snapping of the fingers, clapping called palmas and experienced dancers play castanets. Castanets in Spanish are called “palillos”. They are traditionally made of wood and played by wrapping the string around the middle finger and using the others to tap them. This is the Female dancer clapping or making the “palmas” sound.

There are tons of places to see a show. They all have a different quality and offer a little something different. Some are free in a small bar others are a little more pricey for what they would call an “Espectacular Flamenco”, which includes an entire rehearsed show. The show that I saw was not an “Espectacular” show, but it gave the general feeling of what Flamenco is.

There was a male dancer who did a pretty good job as well.

Sitting at the end of the long rectangular dinner table, i rolled the jar of JIF peanut butter between my palms and waited to see their responses. The only two things I brought with me to represent my country, at least in a culinary sense, were smooth peanut butter and A1 steak sauce. For almost everyone, the former was something completely foreign, and suprisingly, they were a little confused by it. What would you eat this with? Why would you eat it? By the end of the taste test the general concensus on my beloved peanut butter or as they say in italian, burro di arachidi, was painfully clear: too sticky, too salty, too strong… disgusting.

In the end though, food is that one thing that brings us together, even if we don’t agree on it. And without a doubt, Italy, is the graceland for all things culinary.

In the memior, “Eat, Pray, Love”, Elizabeth Gilbert travels to Italy to do as she says, “rediscover pleasure”. And the vehicle for it all? Food.

Just like Gilbert, here in Italy, I too have stumbled upon an unexpected appreciation and passion for the subject. And through all of this, i have learned that its not just the taste that matters, but the ritual.

It sounds hokey, i know. In the beginning, it seems too simple, too cliche, too fleeting. You create, you consume, and then its over. And you get on with the rest of your day.

But if you allow yourself to slow it down a little, you can realize how enjoyable the mindless, necessary and inherantly normal act of cooking and eating can be. Those moments when you’re leaning over a plate of pasta fagoli at the dinner table or stirring a pot of sugo arrabbiata in the low lights of the kitchen… These moments, I’ve come to not only acknowledge, but savor.

Okay- perhaps its overly romanticized, all this, but so what? Food is king, here! And I, am its loyal servant.

Instead of bringing back replicas of Michaelangelo’s statue of David or a leaning tower of pisa wash-cloth, i will give my loved ones the highest quality of mementos: My recipes.

-from the arancini to the spaghetti alle cozze
-the ndjuya to the risotto alla salsiccia,
-the polenta to the parmigiana di melanzane,
-or the gnocchi to the scallopine

Like postcards, i have acquired these things, and will not only distribute them to my family and friends within the states, but take part in the process myself.

With all this eating, however, comes consequences..

Before I came here i was told i would most likely return with:

1) knockoff leather purses

2) useless souveneers and

3) tighter jeans.. MUCH tighter jeans (i’m talking about gaining weight here)

And, as hard as I’ve tried to eat in moderation, the concept just does’t exist here. I hate to generalize but it just is consistantly true, that within the home of an everyday italian, eating large portions is encouraged, if not pushed. Sittingly alongside an italian family at the dinner table, if you don’t finish your plate, let alone accept seconds (because there is no doubt you will be asked/told to have seconds) then you are in some way or another offending the host. Sure, there are tons of people out there who don’t shove a plate in your face or even get upset when you ‘throw in the towel’, but in general terms, everywhere you go, the greatest compliment you can give to a host is asking for more.

As you eat all of this wonderful food, naturally, you’ll have to loosen the belt a little. Don’t be alarmed. For some reason, within the borders of the stivallo, at least in my opinion, there is a general sentiment, a common belief, that once and a while you need to stuff yourself, treat yourself, and indulge in the goodwill and cooking of others. Here, at the end of the meal, if you are so full you can’t even stand up, you don’t lament the past hour of feasting and frantically begin counting carbs. Instead, there is a certain feeling of satisfaction, and confidence, gumption, and even allure of being full of good food. Plus, if you’re jeans don’t fit, just remember one thing: YOU’RE IN ITALY- what better place to go shopping?? at least now you have an excuse…

I am studying in the southern part of Spain. Granada is the city and what they call the province is Granada as well, the state is Andalusia. So it’s Granada, Granada, Andalusia Spain. Andalusia is well known for there specific accent. They do not pronounce the s’s or d’s in their words. It is very distinctive and very hard to understand for a beginner like me.

Andalusia also has an abundance of olive trees. They are practically everywhere, all along the countryside and highways. My mentor told me there would be a lot but I did not imagine long stretches of lands and mountains covered with them. As you could imagine olive oil and olives are very cheap here.

Granada is located at the base of the mountain range Sierra Nevada. It is amazing how close they seem. The snow is very vibrant. When I first arrived it was a little cold but now that it is hot, the mountains still look just as beautiful. You can see them from practically anywhere in the city without a building in the way!

Granada is named for the Pomegranate in Spanish. The streets are lined with little pomegranate statues everywhere. My advice is to be careful when you are walking because I tripped over a few.

Here is a picture of the statue that is centered in the middle of the city. The plaza is called Plaza Isabelle Catolica. It is depicting when Queen Isabella granted permission for Christopher Columbus to travel to what he thought was Asia. She paid out of her own money for his journey and after he “discovered America” Queen Isabella did not have to split the fortune with King Ferdinand because he had nothing to do with the journey. This is my interpretation from my Spanish tour guide! 1492 was a BIG year for Granada. Besides Columbus’s discovery the last Muslim leader surrendered control of all of Granada to the King and Queen and it was slowly converted into Christianity from Muslim beliefs.

The most amazing attraction I have seen in Granada is Al Alhambra. It is a major tourist attraction. It combines a lot of history of the city and Spain. The architecture is combined with the Moorish influence that it was originally built from and the Christian influence that came to follow. It is humongous inside and basically is indescribable? The pictures are worth more than my words.

These photos will never do it justice, this is a must see, if you are ever in any part of Spain. It would be worth traveling to Granada and spending at least a day to see the palace.

A great view of the Alhambra is from a location in Albaicin called El Mirador San Nicholas. You can see the whole palace and the summer home. It is most appreciated at sunset.

It was my birthday when I went there so I felt special and wanted to take a picture!

I still have a lot more to see in Granada, but so far so good.

Hong Kong is a city that never sleeps, or at least the local people never do. My friends from America and I constantly discuss how our roommates go to sleep at 3 or 4AM when we’ve been asleep (or trying to, over slurping noodles, Cantonese phone calls, and Taiwanese pop music) since midnight. Then, there are two scenarios: either they sleep until 1 or 2PM or they wake up at 8AM and snack on cuttlefish or pound the keyboard pretty hard. Nice people, sure, but maybe not so considerate to the sleeping patterns of us lethargic Americans. Personally, I require 7-9 hours of sleep a night and like to wake up early-ish and not waste my day in bed, but at the same time, I hate tip-toeing around trying to be quiet. I dream about having my own bedroom and bathroom just for me again! On the weekends, this isn’t as much of a problem, as most of the locals go home to be with their families.

This is the first weekend I’ve been on campus in about three weeks, which is relaxing in a sense. Last weekend my family (!!!) was here and we went to Macau, which is a former Portugese colony that was handed back to China in 1999 and the only place in China where gambling is legal. You can gamble at 18 in Macau, unless you are a citizen of Macau, and then it is 21! I did get ID-ed at the entrance of the casino of our hotel. It’s really frustrating when people think you are 16 or 17 and I’m 20! This was the second time in Hong Kong I’ve been asked for proof of my age – and the third just happened Friday! So anyway, Macau was pretty relaxing because it reminded me of Europe and we stayed in a 5 star hotel. Watching the Paris runway shows in the bathtub and reading Vanity Fair – could it get much better? I also scored a pair of real Raybans for around 70 USD, which was basically a steal and I don’t know how that happened.

The weekend before that three friends and I went to Taiwan. I previously had no interest in Taiwan and thought it was stupid, but upon more research, it looked cooler and cooler. We spent two days in Taipai, the capital, then took a train south along the coast to Taroko Gorge and went hiking. It reminded Joey (another WVU student and blogger here) and me of the New River Gorge, which is basically in our backyard in Beckley. It was insanely beautiful and a really good time.

I spent my birthday weekend, the first in March, on Lantau Island. On my actual birthday, when walking to the beach, we ran into a wild ox, which are all over the place in Lantau. (My family was pretty excited to see them when I took them to Big Buddha.) Apparently seeing the wild ox is pretty lucky on your birthday, especially because it is the year of the ox, but a) everything is considered lucky/unlucky here and b) wild animals are everywhere.

So this weekend I was sick of planes, trains, and ferries and spent the weekend on campus. Friday was Rugby Sevens, which is the world cup of Rugby (for teams of 7, at least). America lost in the first round, which was pretty depressing. Argentina played Hong Kong (and won) which is ironic, because my American roommate is currently studying abroad in Argentina.

Yesterday we went to the beach which is about a 10-15 minute bus ride away then ventured around the part of the New Territories where we live. We went to Yuen Long, a few MTR (subway) stops up, and looked for this famous desert place… it turned out to be bowls and bowls of fresh fruit with coconut milk and tapioca balls, which was exactly what we needed! We also wandered into a spa on our way back to the MTR where we booked a facial and a massage for 30 USD each. In Morgantown I have shelled out about 3 times that for a massage, so I’m pretty excited for our Monday night pampering session! When we were in the Philippines we had a half hour massage for 2 USD and in Malaysia, a 60 minute Chinese CHI massage (which was more painful than relaxing) for 15 USD or something, maybe 20, I don’t really remember. I love the cheapness of Southeast Asia, especially after the price gouging that is Europe the past two summers!

I took a break from writing a boring paper on boring wooden furniture industry in not-so-boring Thailand and Korea to write this, so I’m going to continue my productive streak and go back to it before my run and a relaxing guilty pleasure chick flick this afternoon and hopefully Italian food (after I complain how much I hate Italian food, the allure of not having it readily available makes me crave it!).