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From Abroad

So two weekends ago I finally made it out of Aalborg and traveled with my four favorite girls to London! It was no doubt the best vacation I’ve ever had. Despite the shared hostel bathrooms, the constant disorganization between the five of us, and all of us getting sick afterward….it was amazing! It felt just like home.

You may not know this, but I was raised under the sincere belief that I was British. My parents spent a considerable time in Britain until I was around five years old. Since then my house has been filled with British decor, traditions, music, movies and television shows. I’m not even sure I realized I was American until I began school. My schoolmates always asked “Why do you talk like that?”. I was always confused and asked them the same. I don’t think I have a strange accent, but it’s not exactly a West Virginia accent. In high school it was even worse. People frequently confused me with an exchange student. Even here in Aalborg, most people I initially assume I am from the UK or Australia! It’s always a long and complicated explanation, but I’ve explained it so many times, I’m quite used to it now.

So….needless to say Britain felt more like home than anywhere I have been in my life. It felt very very nice! All I really wanted to do was shop and eat (I needed foods, products, and prices similair to what I knew), so that’s a lot of what I spent my time doing. However, I did find the time to see all the wonderful historical aspects of London as well. We spent some time bargaining our way through Camden Market and managed to make it to the London Eye (such a fantastic experience!). We met up with one of my friend’s old friends who is living and working as a tour guide in London. He gave us a fabulous tour of all the bridges and neat facts about each one. We went to St. Paul’s but didn’t get there in time to take a look around.

The friends I traveled with were from France, Germany, Finland, and Italy. They were much less interested in eating fish and chips and much more interested in things like the changing of the guard at Buckingham and visiting Madame Tussauds. I just wanted to wander the streets and take it all in. But in our short three day adventure, we made time for all of it. Every night we came home exhausted, but it was well worth it!

The area we stayed in seemed to fit me perfectly! Half of the stores and restaurants in Hyde Park were entirely British and half were Arabic. My boyfriend at WVU is from Saudi, so I’ve become quite accustomed to the culture and really have learned love it. London culture is so vibrant! I was able to enjoy my fish and chips and my Shisha all at the same time! Staying at a hostel in a room with four other girls in bunk beds is not a dream vacation, but it was a learning and bonding experience. We had our “Top Model” and “The Bachelor” moments, but most of the time it was like summer camp.

The most obvious difference between Denmark and the UK was the existence of wealth and poverty. Upon approaching the airport I saw enormous beautiful country homes with pools and tennis courts and five car garages. In the city I saw lots of poverty: homeless people sleeping ion the sidewalks and park benches. I didn’t feel quite as “safe” as I do here in Aalborg, but I did feel at home.

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.

Flamenco Flamenco Video

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…

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below are some of my favorites:

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!).

Hong Kong is the epitome of a concrete jungle. According to the world’s most trustworthy scholarly resource, a.k.a. Wikipedia, there are over seven million people jam-packed into the 428 sq miles of this “special administrative region” of the People’s Republic of China. This makes HK one of the most densely populated cities on planet earth. Everything within this cosmopolitan garrison of capitalism is on a massive scale. The architecture of the financial district is a funky blend of feng shui and free market capitalism that must be seen to believe. The view of Hong Island at night from Victoria Peak is like something out of a science fiction novel. If planet earth has a city that can be compared to Coruscant, perhaps Hong Kong is it. The consumer culture here is relentlessly out of control. The shopping malls are more like materialistic mazes that sprawl vertically and horizontally across multiple buildings that put me in a state of vertigo leaving me dazed and confused in a swirl of spring shoe sales and neon advertisements. For those of you who love to shop, Hong Kong is the Mecca of all things “made in China.” For those of you who are absolutely disgusted by commercialism run rampant, avoid Hong Kong like the avian bird flu. Lingnan University, my university, is located in the New Territories of Hong Kong, which are generally considered the suburbs. But this Hong Kong hillbilly can’t tell the difference. Surrounding our tiny campus are sky scraping housing developments with towers taller than any building in the state of West Virginia, each one of them teeming with Hong Kongians. It is from this concrete jungle that my adventures from behind the great Bamboo Curtain begin. Please allow me to be your guide. Come with me if you want to shop til you drop, eat bizzare foods, or contemplate the parodox that is this post-colonial capitalist economy functioning under communist rule.

*I’m very frustrated..I thought this posted about a week ago, but apparently it did not. Sorry for the delay.

I would like to start with a disclaimer. I have not done any extensive research on this topic, but all I have to say comes from the several classes I have taken on Scandinavian culture and from my own observations. Denmark’s social system has contributed significantly to what I am experiencing as “Culture Shock”. I remember being outside my hotel early in the morning on the first night I arrived in Denmark. I wanted to badly to walk fifty feet to the fitness center just across the street, but since it was so late at night and I was alone in a foreign country, I was very hesitant. I feared being mugged or attacked or murdered. So I asked a woman who was passing by if she thought the area was safe to wander around. She held back laughter when she answered “of course”.
It’s a strange feeling to walk the streets at three in the morning and feel like I’m safe at home in my own bedroom. And the reason for this is clear: there is no one to be afraid of. Occasionally late on a weekend night a car will pass by and men will honk their car horns of whistle out the window, but in general it is a rare occurrence to even make eye contact with people. But why is there no one to be afraid of? Because the Danish government has gone above and beyond to ensure that poverty and crime do not exist.

I found out shortly after I arrived that my traveler’s health insurance was useless. The Danish government has provided me four doctors free of charge (including dental care!). I was, again, in shock. As a traveler is it even fair for me to take advantage of this system? The Danes seem to think so. Admittedly, seeing a doctor has been a great hassle. I have been somewhat ill since I’ve arrived my doctors are usually unavailable to make appointments. This is due to the eight weeks of paid vacation every worker in Denmark is promised. At home I can usually see a doctor, but it does cost me an arm and a leg. Here everyone is insured regardless of status.

I have yet to see what Americans would call the “ghetto”. Even immigrants live in nice apartments. The city I live in has a population of around two hundred thousand people, and we are all housed the same. We all live in eight story apartments with small city-provided gardens and eco-friendly appliances. It almost as if everyone lives in a dorm. Our windows allow us to see clearly into other people lives, and although some people have more valuables than others, but for the most part we all live “equally”.

For instance, I have a Danish friend who has graduated with two degrees. He works as a street-cleaner picking up trash and other things left of the streets in the mornings. In America this type of occupation would be considered substandard. Why would someone like him accept such an occupation? Here it doesn’t seem to matter where or how you work. Unemployment is a rarity. My guess is that he accepted the job because it probably pays a salary close to what he might get as a doctor, or a lawyer, or a CEO. Poverty seems non-existent as does wealth.

I spend fourty minutes on the bus each morning traveling from the city to the countryside where my school is located. I have yet to see the slums, but even stranger I have yet to see a really extraordinary house. The houses that are very nice have been split up into apartment complexes. The homes are certainly beautiful, but they are certainly not large dream homes. They wouldn’t last a minute in Beverly Hills.

The same goes for cars. I am thrilled with this subject because I have always insisted that old cars are the way to go! They are built like none other and are, for the most part, fuel efficient. Most people here drive cars from the early nineties and have no shame in it. They are also mostly manual, my other favourite feature! I’ve seen only one Jeep since I’ve been here and only one truck, a Toyota Helux, both of which seem to be fairly recent models. SUV’s and pick-up trucks are an extreme rarity. The newer cars all resemble Toyota Priuses and Yarises. They’re all small hatchbacks with minimal features and high gas mileage. Interestingly, there don’t seem to be any cars manufactured between 1994 and 2005. That’s something I’m dying to explain, but can’t quite figure out.

So how do the Danes afford such a comfortable lifestyle? I took a class just yesterday that explained it all. They pay about half their salaries and a VAT (value added tax) to support the welfare state. Throughout the entire lecture one question constantly arose. How do they keep people in the workforce when unemployment is paid for up to eight years? The answer was surprising. The people here have a very high work ethic. It’s simply unacceptable for someone to live off the money of the government. Even women are shameful in staying home to be “housewives”. People enjoy being employed regardless of their position. It’s a societal thing. I’ve concluded that this is the very reason such a system would not work in larger countries such as the US or even the UK. Our large population combined with unmanageable immigration would make such a system very inefficient.

In conclusion, I’d like to say that I appreciate the way of life here. It’s very stable and reliable and seemingly efficient. However, I enjoy the American way of life. I like to pursue the “American dream” without much help from the government. The students here (and from all over the EU) will leave without any student debt. I am up to my chin in debt pursuing my education, but I feel like that only motivates me to work harder and to make the most of my education. I will only know when I graduate if it’s all worth it…but so far it most certainly is!

So I’m starting my blog a little late into my trip, so in order to catch everybody up to date on my last month in Spain I’ll just touch on the basics and add more specific stories later.

My first lesson that I learned about studying abroad is when they tell you to pack light, they REALLY do mean pack light. I packed way too much luggage and had a very difficult time getting it to my final destination. It was especially difficult having only one wheel when I landed in Madrid, which later fell off and became no wheels all the way to Granada. So my advice to first time travelers would be one big suitcase, one small suitcase and a carry on is sufficient!

My second lesson that I learned very quickly was I didn’t speak as much Spanish as I thought I did before. In a classroom setting you become very comfortable talking with other students who may not speak very good Spanish either, so they can not correct you. Once you are talking to fluent speakers, it is a whole other world. I have received plenty of confused faces after reciting some of my broken Spanglish. So my advice would be to find fluent speakers to practice with a few times a week in a café or park before studying abroad. They can help by correcting you and telling you the proper way to say things. I practice here in Granada with what we call “Intercambios” They want to improve their English and in return helps me with my Spanish.

I don’t like to call some things I learned about the food and clothing a culture shock because I actually was not shocked. I was warned before I came how it was going to be, but I did not expect to notice the differences so abruptly. The first lesson in Spanish dining is DO NOT eat it if you do not want it! I learned that the hard way of finishing a particular dish I did not care for and was then served it several times after because I must have gave the impression I liked it! The second lesson in Spanish dining is DO NOT eat more than you usually do or usually care to eat on a normal basis, because again the impression is you can eat this large portion of food regularly and you will be served the same amount next time. My third lesson is you should know the phrase “Estoy llena!” which means “I am full” because if you try to casually turn down more food with a polite “No, Thank You” they will insist that you eat more because you are the guest and they assume you are just being shy, when truthfully you do not desire to eat anymore.

If anyone reading this blog attends WVU, then you know how comfortable everyone is with wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts all the time. Well, in Spain that is not the traditional style of dress no matter where you are going and no matter what day of the week it is. You will never see a Spaniard dressed in sweatpants. I was aware of this before I came so luckily I brought plenty of nice jeans and dress shirts. A very popular style is leggings or fashion stockings with high boots and long shirts. So that will save you some room in your suitcase as well, because you do not need your bulky sweats!

Soli Deo Gloria,
Kellen