Allegheny College Study Abroad Spring 2009

I have only been in China for about a week and classes have only just begun today, thus I do not have many experiences for me to reflect upon.

Despite my lack of skills in literacy in the Chinese language, it seems that I blend in with the people in Beijing well enough that I am never labeled as a foreigner. This has gotten me strange looks when I find myself asking people to help me read signs and posts or walking around the nearby supermarket in circles for extremely long periods of time searching for every day things that was in front of me all along. I have also had the unique experience of somehow blazing through the registration process while it took other similar students hours of waiting on various lines. Unfortunately, the speed of my registration also meant that I didn't receive notices on orientation (which I apparently accidentally skipped ) or when I was getting tested on my placement in Chinese (I ended up hunting down a teacher/professor).
Fitting in this well in what I suppose would be considered a foreign country for now is a bit strange, but fully appreciated. When I visited Taiwan with my father a few years ago, we stayed with relatives and family friends, it was known among them that I was a foreigner, that I was an ABC (American Born Chinese) and was treated as such (ex. Oh my! You can speak Chinese!). However, here I am seen as just another Chinese person (who might be a trifle touched in the head).

D.C. offers many exciting experiences for me to draw inspiration from. There are people from all different walks of life, all different cultures, coexisting in this city. However, if I had to choose one event that I continuously think back to and that continuously affects me, I would choose January 20, 2009 - Inauguration Day. On this day, not only did I get to witness history being made but I also was able to witness the beauty of community.

Inauguration Day was a crazy day. Not only were there millions of extra people in the city, but all of these extra millions were on the metro. Traveling on that day became an adventure; and I was convinced that the long lines and packed metro cars would create a mob of monsters. Thankfully I found that just the opposite happened. People were helpful and considerate and supportive. When I was packed like a sardine into a metro car, instead of hearing complaints and grievances, I heard words of friendship and support. One specific instance sticks out the most for me. I overheard a Washingtonian explaining to a man from Moscow and a woman and her son from California the ins-and-outs of the metro and of the city - which stop to get off at and which streets to stay away from. He ended up getting off the train with them and helping them all figure out where to go so that they wouldn't get lost and would be able to experience the event fully.

This event serves as a reminder to me that through sharing experiences and uniting for a common purpose, people form communities. Waiting in line, traveling on the metro, huddling for warmth - all of these experiences brought out the best in people. This reality encourages me as I meet new people, explore the city, and have new experiences.

I went with a group of friends one weekend to the Agra to see the Taj Mahal. At the Taj we had tons of people ask to take photos of us or with us. And there were plenty of people who didn’t even ask, they just would take photos of us while we passed by. We asked one family why they would want to take photos with a group of strangers, and they said our skin was so pale, we looked so smart. I have never before been so aware of my skin color.

Considering I am in England, the culture isn't too different from what I left, and since I spend most of my time here on campus I haven't really had much to look back on that has spurned any new 'learning' for me.

The only thing that I can think about is the time I went up to Scotland for the weekend, me and my friend Cait from Australia took a day trip from Edinburgh to Loch Ness (Which was so amazing). The thing is, there were four people from Greece on our trip- none of whome spoke english.

The only way we could communicate with each other was to use pretty much act out what we were trying to say to each other. I still look back on that and smile and laugh because each grou- me and them- were both so confused at first. It took us a while to try and get used to the whole 'speak slower and louder' technique, but we eventually did. This was a 12 hour trip mind you and we had a lot of time to spend together.

But it was just so fun- we all got a kick out of it. They were laughing, I was laughing, the tour guide was laughing. We were all making gestures with our hands to try and get across what we meant- and it was fun.

I've never had to come across something like this before because most of the time, people speak enough English for us to get by, or I know enough of the language (Spanish and French that is) to understand enough. This was something new for all of us and it really makes me sit back and grin.

So many people just don't have that happen in their lives- and so many people so often get frustrated and angry when they have trouble being understood. I'm glad we got to make a sort of game out of it and come out laughing instead of all of us getting angry.

It is pretty sad that about seven million people are homeless in Washington, DC, the capital city of the United States, the city that houses the president and is also home to many cultures. Being homeless is something we hope not to experience. Although I never looked down on homeless people, I never realized that the difference between me and a homeless person is a check and family support.

I became aware of this fact through interactions with a client at an institution that I volunteer at in DC. Many think that all homeless individuals are either on drugs or mentally ill. This, however, is not the issue in most cases. Most people are homeless because they have either lost their jobs, or have been evicted from their homes and are receiving no form of support from either their families or spouses.

My story begins with this young man, whose name will remain anonymous, who comes from a very rich and influential family in New York City. This young man graduated from a prestigious college, was top of his class, and worked with a prestigious company. Life was going well for him until he lost both parents. This tragedy turned the man’s life upside down. In order to start life over again, he moved to DC. This young man did not have a smooth start. He had no money and no place to go, so he turned to the streets. The streets became his new home, the place where he both lives and sleeps. This young man became homeless not because he was on drugs or sick but because his life took a different turn than he expected.

This story might not have an effect on most people, but it certainly did have an effect on me. I think this man’s story makes me reflect on how ignorant I was about the issues of homelessness and poverty. I always associated homelessness with drugs and insanity. Ever since this interaction with the man, the phrase, the difference between you and a homeless person is only a check, has always been at the back of my mind. Homelessness, from my experience, is no reflection of what a person is truly like

Imagine what it would take to have a snow day at Allegheny. Last semester, Allegheny didn’t even have a delay when a foot of snow fell and none of it was clear for 8am classes. It also did not shut down when the slightly sloped walkway from Brooks to Schultz is covered in a glossy sheet of ice.

I have lived in the Snowbelt all of my life. My school district would maybe have two snow days all year and that was after three or more feet of snow would fall in one night. Meadville, although it is not in the Snowbelt like everyone says (The real Snowbelt goes through Edinboro, PA), gets a decent amount of snow for five months of the year, but the city does not shut down.

In Washington, school districts close the day before if the “weather” is coming! What is that! At the end of January, it snowed maybe an inch. Instead of shoveling the snow, they did nothing even though D.C. was expected to get freezing rain over the night. The next morning, I check my email to see if there was a snow delay. American University was closed until 11am. I had my internship that day so I went out. All the snow had turned to ice. No one in the entire city was spreading salt or shoveling. It would have been very easy to fix the ice “problem,” but no one did anything. The government shut down too. The Metro had all types of problems and I waited 40 minutes for a train. This Monday, I had entire snow day because of four inches of snow. My professor said “the roads were too treacherous” to come in. Four inches! Maybe it is just me, but any car can drive over four inches of snow!

It is crazy to think that just seven hours South of Allegheny, the weather has a completely different meaning.

This past weekend we had the homestay portion of the program here. It was only for a two days and one night, really just to give us a sample of what a Costa Rican family looks like than anything else. I’ve done two homestays in Mexico already, so I have some experience with the awkward adjustment period that comes with living in someone else’s home. This time was no different. We started off with the usual introductory small talk, just like any other time meeting someone new. Eventually we got used to one another’s company until they basically started treating me like a member of the family. Usually the first thing that comes to mind in situations like this is how different everything seems. Their family was much tighter knit than mine is. They all live in basically the same area and see each other almost every day. The differences are easy to see.
Something that I’ve always noticed and enjoyed, though, are the things that aren’t so different. With every family I’ve stayed with, there are always moments that strike me as so completely universal it’s astonishing. Mothers scolding their children, children rolling their eyes at their parents, all the things that, no matter what language they’re spoken in, everyone understands perfectly. Though I’m far away from home, moments like that always bring me right back. It’s strange the things that people draw comfort from.

One event I think back to is one of the many times I turned down going to the pub my first week or so here. I wanted to save cash, and honestly, most the beer I've had here is not to my taste. So popping to the pub in general just didn't have much appeal, and besides, there were lots of other things to do being a new student in new college classes and exploring the lancaster area and activities. Normally this worked out fine. I saw these people again later, went out with them, made friends etc but it's fairly likely one of the main reasons I'm not going to wing chun so much anymore is because I turned down having a drink with someone one day after we worked out together in class. Why? Simply because no group activity is fun if you don't enjoy the community it has. The main reason I dislike going to wing chun is that the teaching style and the students seem a bit detached, quite different than the welcoming home of kung fu san soo at home. Not to say that they don't have a nice community, I just don't really fit into it very well. The person whom I got along with so well there didn't show again, and I get the feeling it's for the same reason as I tend to not go.
So I regret not taking him up on the offer, that way I could have a companion for wing chun and it'd be more fun. Instead I've focused a lot more of my attention on fencing (Our team has just secured our win of the league today, undefeated if we win a tourney next week, fun times) probably because enjoy the people there. So the basic moral of the story is that though going out for a drink may seem like just a waste of time and money, when first setting up somewhere it can be one of the most important things you can do. The reason is you will have a lot less trouble functioning in an activity, or a place if you've got a community behind you to keep it interesting and help you out.

After reading the section on journaling it took me a while to figure out what the question was actually asking. I decided to start a journal in the form demonstrated in the book to see if that would spur any thoughts. While writing, the experience I kept thinking about was not a huge experience and honestly could have happened in any country or any part of the world. The reason why it stands out is because of what it did or me; it changed my entire perspective on the culture here.
I knew before coming to Mexico that the culture would be extremely different. I wasn't worried about going through culture shock because I figured I was prepared enough for the changes. Nevertheless after about a month of being here, I was very frustrated with the differences in culture, even though I knew I shouldn't be. I tried to think of ways in which the inefficient culture of Mexico had benifits over my home culture but it was not working. One day, I was walking with my tray of food and did not see a group of Mexicans standing in the doorway of the cafeteria having a conversation. This act to me symbolized the whole inefficiency and disorganization of the country. I bumbed into one of them spilling my soup on him. The group of people laughed and introduced themselves and we actually all became friends. It was from this experience I realized how much more at ease with everything they are compared to me. This culture doesn't mind waiting in long lines or not having things done as quickly as possible because they love life and are in no rush to get it over with. They converse on stairs or in entrance ways because they don't mind running into people they know (or do not know) and striking up a conversation. I can now see that this culture is so friendly relaxed. They do not stress about little things such as bad service or complicated processes, because they honestely don't care. If you embrace that part, the differences will not matter as much because you will not be as stressed out. This experience has helped me come to terms with the differences in a good way and am now starting to enjoy life here a lot more than I was.

Much like Jenna noted earlier, there are more similarities between the UK and the United States than there are differences. However, I did become aware of an interesting sense of my fellow students understanding of their nationality--or not--in a history class discussion. Wrapping up the Lent Term of the course, in which we were discussing early modern Britain (1500's-1600's), we talked about the 1707 Act of Union which brought Scotland and England together under one king and one parliment (which, if one has any understanding of English/Scottish history, was a contentious issue long before and long after the Act was passed) under the title of Great Britian. We then discussed whether there could be a Greater British history or would it always be segmented into English history with a bit of Scottish and Irish history added. My class tutor then asked (while forgiving my lack of British heritage) whether the students in the room would call themselves British or call them selves English, Irish, Welsh, or Scottish. About half said British while the other half would express their particular region. While the class as a whole was unbothered, the idea of either being British or English/Scottish/Welsh/Irish never really crossed my mind.

Of course, I have studied and read about British history, which almost always involves England fighting Scotland or Ireland or both (when not fighting France, of course) and am aware of the regional differences and competitions today, such as with professional sport teams. However, I never really considered that contemporary people in the UK really labeled themselves based on their regions instead of their overall nation. This is especially mind-boggling for someone from the United States. After all, it takes about 7 or 8 hours maximum to drive from the north of the main island to the south while it would take me, a native of Pennsylvania, a little under seven hours just to drive across my state. Why does such a small nation think of itself in such regional divides while many Americans, living in such a large nation, think of themselves as Americans rather than what part of the country or what state in which they live. This is a nation very much shaped by the conflict of past generations that still makes itself known today, even in a united kingdom. I think this experience taught me to be more careful when throwing around terms like "Britian" and "England." I may have my concept of Great Britian--while the person I am talking to could have a very different, regional version.

As a note: I'm sorry this was posted late. The brilliant Allegheny College student misread the due date as March 13th. Once again, my apologies, it won't happen again. I've put everything on my calandar for quick--and faultless--access.

During my time in Spain so far, I have had many experiences that have taught me a lot about the language and culture, but also myself and cultural awareness. One experience that I have had here in particular, has taught me about cultural awareness and about myself, and that is their form of greetings and their differences in regard to personal space. When I first met my intercambio, I extended my hand for a hand shake. I figured out very quickly that I had made the wrong move by the look on her face. She shook my hand, understanding that I was used to a different form of greeting, but she also explained to me that in Spain, you greet someone with a kiss on each cheek. As we proceeded to talk, I noticed that she seemed uncomfortably close to me. In Spain, the amount of personal space given when talking to someone is significantly less than the arm's length rule in the United States.
Something so small taught me a great deal about cultural awareness. I felt badly when I greeted my intercambio incorrectly, and I felt like I had been disrespectful. We were able to laugh about it together, but I still felt that I should have done the appropriate thing. I knew about the two kiss greeting beforehand, but it was still very early in the semester, and it wasn't something that I thought about much. Now, whenever I meet someone, I keep in mind the cultural differences, and greet them appropriately. I believe that making that mistake was the first step that I needed to take in order to become more culturally aware.
Through this small experience, I also learned a little about myself and my need for personal space. At times, when I am talking to locals, I feel uncomfortable at how close they are standing, and I find myself wanting to step back. It is just something that I have grown up with, and never even realized, the need for a comfortable distance while conversing. However, this is something I have begun to adapt to and understand as well. Because of this experience, I feel like I am more open and more aware to even the smallest differences in cultures. I also feel more adapted to the culture now, because I am not making the same cultural mistakes I did when I first arrived. I have adjusted my train of thought and allowed myself to mimic their actions in order to become better integrated, even if it was an uncomfortable adjustment at first.

My picture that best captures my experience thus far would be a painting of Obama on the side of a house in Nakuru, Kenya. The message is inviting because it makes me feel welcome in my new country. Images of Obama are everywhere and people seem willing to discuss politics.

I find the election of Obama to be a good starting point when I meet Kenyans. There is excitement on both ends of the conversation because people believe this is a new era for the U.S. and the world. I have a lot of faith that our new president will take pride in rebuilding the image of the country. Obama may be the preside of the U.S. but Kenyans also take pride that his father was a native. People come up to me in various places such as the supermarket or at the post office and say, "Welcome to Obama Country." It makes me feel good inside knowing that Kenyans respect my president and country.

Obama on the side of a house represents more than an election but rather the meaningful relations and experiences that are behind teh image. The sight or mention of name makes many people smile. I would like my friends and family back home to know that we have the support of the rest of the world. The election of Obama was special because of his origin but also because it was another peaceful transition of power.

Places like Kenya and teh rest of the world do not always witness good transitions with governmention positions. For instance, last spring the MSID program was closed due to post election violence. This shows that I live in a country that is fortunate enough to have peaceful transitions. I would want other Americans to know how respected we are for civility.

http://declubz.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/cows-in-india.jpg

Cows, we’ve all seen them and we all know what they are. In Merica they usually serve the basic function of providing either meat, milk, or leather. I’m sure there are exceptions but that’s basically it. In India they still provide milk but meat and leather definitely not. Here cows are more than just some farm animals they are sacred. Though this is mainly a Hindu belief it is observed by nearly all Indians. Leather products come from other animals, such as camels. At McDonalds there are no hamburgers, just chicken or veg. Here it is not strange to see a cow standing in the middle of the road, with drivers risking their own life’s to avoid hitting it. Nothing is worse than killing a cow. Even laws are broken for cows. In Jaipur it is illegal to own a cow within the city limits, but that rule is not observed in the least. Though if someone does report a cow within the city, or if you have one that is too old or unable to produce milk there are a sort of nursing home for cows out in the countryside. That way the cows can have a peaceful and natural death, because you cannot kill a cow.

The particular experience I always think back to is not one but many of the same. Much like this blog, people in Spain do things on their own time schedule. Five o’clock meeting at a bar, restaurant or café means plus or minus an hour or possibly not at all. Being stood up here or having someone cancels at the last possible minute is quite common and I have gotten used to it; each time you are less frustrated. I have even noticed I arrive for everything like 5-10 min late, that’s one time here. No one really is early ever. It is much like the 19th century writer Larra discuss and critiqued in his story “Vuelve usted manana”. Here, he examines the habit of Spaniards to do things on their own schedule and to put things off until tomorrow more often than not. He even criticizes himself and how he put off writing the article with satire and sarcasm. So despite all of this, I have learned much patience, forgiveness, and how to put myself in others shoes based on the experience.

This is a pub here in Lancaster called Merchants. It's been around since 1688. The nifty thing is, it is entirely underground! That's right, those vines growing on the outside of the small portion of brick are actually real.

Merchants used to be a wine cellar, but it was converted into a small, quaint little pub not long after the origional place burned down (at least that was the story I heard). In any case, this little place has been a part of Lancaster for a long, long time and I have never seen anything like this before!

As soon as you walk in you are met with a curved roof, low lighting and only two rooms to eat in, along with the main room which houses the bar. It's a very nice place and the staff is wonderfully friendly- it was actually my very first pub and they made it a great experience! But it is just so different! How many places in the states can boast something like this?

A picture can tell you alot, and they may be worth more than a thousand words, but there are some things neither can describe. The true character of a culture, why it is truly distinct, it's really something you can only experience. I suppose this is why people prefer to travel rather than just flipping through pictures and blogs about the place. In any case here's a picture of the end of an experience I had at Lancaster. Surrounded by some people from all around England, and some not from England at all, all with the distinct quality of their country. There really is just a kind of twist on who people are here compared to other places, not one could have been born in America and ended up as they are. It's an odd thing, because I wouldn't say there are english traits, you could make a list of possible ones and find plenty of people that don't match any of it, but the english are english, and getting to know that amorphous personality is really what coming here is about.

I can say that the way fencing tournaments were run here is toally different from what I've ever run into, but what always strikes me more is the way the people here treat fencing, how they treat their opponents, how they see losing and winning. I could show pictures of castles, of sheep, of green grass and cloudy skies, but england isn't that, lots of places are like that. It's the people are distinct, they're what makes this place different. If all the english people were replaced by americans, it'd only be the smallest bit different than america. So here's a picture of me with what is making this country so distinct for me. Best wishes.

Uncle Rusty explaining the significance of the cave paintings above us, while making string from a native plant. The paintings, representing several dreaming stories of Uncle Rusty's Aboriginal community, are at least 4-5,000 years old.

A thousand words is an understatement. Last weekend, my Indigenous Studies class went on a field trip with Mr. Rusty Butler (Uncle Rusty), a local Aboriginal fellow, so that he could share some of the knowledge of his culture with us. Indigenous culture in Australia is incredibly rich, though most people, even Australian citizens, know little about it. We had a rare opportunity to accompany Uncle Rusty around his people's land and learn the uses of native plants and animals, and the significance of ancient dreaming stories and cave paintings. Not all Indigenous people are the same, though mainstream Australian tourism companies often portray them as such. Uncle Rusty's community is native to an island off of the northeast coast of Australia, but originally dwelled on the Great Barrier Reef, years ago when sea level was lower. Indigenous Australians have been on this continent for tens of thousands of years, making them one of (if not) the oldest cultures on Earth. They have a very rich oral history, passing their stories down from generation to generation for millenia. We were very fortunate, as aliens to this culture, to have Uncle Rusty share the stories of his ancestors with us. After our all day excursion (and several times a thousand words), we had been given a glimpse into Indigenous culture that very few outsiders ever experience.

In the middle of the intersection is a statue of le Roi René, the king who resided in the castle of Angers. This year marks the 600th anniversary of his birth, and it is THE symbol of Angers

Two weeks ago I went by train to Cordoba from Sevilla where I visited this castle in a nearby village. For me, the castle represents the strong, deep, and ancient history of Spain which is not documented as well in the United States at this time. The castle was the strong hold of Pedro the Cruel and my favorite thing I have seen to date in Spain. The eight towers and the strategic position on the ridge overlooking the valley made me think of its historic significance in the past.

This is my favorite picture of the inside of York Minster. Although the Minster in York is especially unique and beautiful, one can throw a stone just about anywhere in the UK and hit a cathedral or a minster, much like in France or Italy. However, I find cathedrals in the UK to have a different cultural purpose. In Italy especially, cathedrals or duomos are visited for their beautiful art work as well as their religious significance. Cathedrals, in England especially, lack this art work (although one might argue that stained glass is in itself a work of art) but still remain must-see tourist sites. Aside from the grand gothic style, I believe that cathedrals and minsters remain so important to the identity of their country due to the centuries of religious struggle while attempting to form one church. Ancient history, one could argue, hardly of interest to anyone in this day and age aside from history majors. And, indeed, these buildings are quite ancient. The York Minster dates back to Roman times, has been torn down and built up twice before finally being left alone by the 13th century. Yet in the 21st century, in an increasingly secular world, the York Minster still stands, still in use as a church and still visited by thousands of tourists every year to observe this relic of history in the midst of a modern world. While the religious turmoil and, indeed, one might argue, entire dependence on religion has all but disappeared, the UK still depends on antiquity for a sense of self, for identity in the post-millenium years. And so these buildings, these supposedly outdated relics of faith, remain standing today, helping the UK embrace its past in order to look towards the future. The cathedrals and minsters might be ancient, but perhaps they have the last laugh after all.

A picture may show more than 1000 words worth of meaning, but a single phrase can sometimes reveal more about a culture than a picture ever could.

Shopping districts are in no way unique, they can be found in any country, city, or town. Xidan shopping district is one of the many in Beijing, and is usually patronized by the people who live here rather than tourists. In my favorite mall/marketplace tiny stalls reign supreme, owners usually all sell similar things, and just about everyone barters. Exercising my bartering skills has been a fun experience with mixed results, occasionally you are followed and chased by the shop owners telling you to come back and they will meet your price, and occasionally they get angry and insulted when you ask for too low of a price, but I suppose one of the stranger experiences is having one chase you down, clearly angry at your supposedly insulting price yet willing to meet it. However, this is not what is unique or characteristic of the Chinese culture.

While browsing, one of the most common phrases you will hear in an attempt to convince you to buy is that it has a very "foreign air," or that you would look very foreign if you wear it. It may sound like the Chinese are trying to ape the western world, yet they have their own fashions. If one flips open a stylish magazine, such as Cosmo, Glamour, etc , the outfits one sees are very different from the kind you would find in the American version. Foreign goods have been equated to good and/or high class. Foreign goods can be sold at double or more the price of its Chinese counterparts, and more than a few brands attempt to ape the brands of America or other western countries, such as Mainform instead of Maidenform. The reasons for this phenomenon are wide and varied, but perhaps one of the major reasons is the illusion of status, of being able to afford such goods, even if said goods are clearly counterfeit. Another reason maybe quality control, China is such a large market with such a varied income, one can find a sizable consumer base on just about anything. The problem however, is quality control, the recent milk scandal being one example. Foreign brands provide a safety net of sorts. While they may be more expensive, you are also certain that it will not have any ill effects on your health or being.

This picture is from a soccer game in Sevilla, Spain. The game was Sevilla FC vs. Almería, and was on a Sunday evening. In Spain, soccer is a huge part of their culture, comparable to what football is for a lot of people in the United States. On the days of a game, especially a home game, Sevilla is intense. Everyone is wearing their Sevilla FC gear, and all of the bars advertise that they are showing the game on tv that night. I was lucky enough to get tickets to this game, and the stadium was filled. During the pregame ceremonies, everyone in the stands holds up a colored sheet of paper, and if you look around the stadium, you see a pattern in the stands of the colors of Sevilla in support of the team. Not to mention, this character was wondering around the stands for the entire game. I feel like he really emphasized how big a deal soccer, and Sevilla FC is to the city. He was walking around the stands, playing his drum and singing the teams chant. I'm used to teams having mascots, but this was different than just a person in a funny costume that jumps around. He actually interacted with the crowd, and got people excited for the game. I think that this character is unique to Sevilla, and shows how important, and how exciting, soccer is to so many people in the city, and the country in general. It is a huge part of their culture, and I feel like this character signifies that.

In 1912, the American Government received Cherry Blossom tree seeds from the Mayor of Tokyo to establish a good relationship between the two countries. The First seeds were planted near the Tidal Basin in North Platonic Park. The blooming of the cherry trees has since remained a cultural festival to the people of Washington, as well as other Americans in the States.

The cherry Blossom festival is celebrated early April. The festival is a unique celebration to Washingtonians, since it brings families and friends together. It is a two week celebration, marked with races and cultural activities. These activities are organized to bring awareness to both Asian and American cultures.

The celebration attracts thousands of people both from the District of Columbia area and from other parts of the world. This celebration means a lot to both American and Asian people all over the world, but most importantly to the American government and the Asian government. I am glad to be in Washington to experience the celebration of this historic festival.

The Smithsonian Institution Building known as the Castle is the center of free entertainment in the Nation’s Capitol. The Washington area holds 16 of the 18 museums; the other two are located in New York City. James Smithson, a British scientist, donated all of his fortune to Washington, D.C. “for the increase and diffusion of knowledge (Smithsonian’s visitors guide).” Now the Smithsonian Institute contains artifacts from American history and other cultures. Everything from the Space Shuttle Enterprise to America’s first postal stamp is kept in the museums.
Visitors from around the world come to Washington, D.C. to learn of the United States’ government and history. The free museums make it easy for people of all ages to learn. Since I’ve been here, I visited 12 of the 16. My goal is to experience all of the Smithsonian Museums. Besides the more commonly known Smithsonian museums on the Mall, I would recommend visiting the Donald W. Reynolds Center for American Art and Portraiture, the National Postal Museum, and the National Air and Space Museum’s Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. I have not visited the National Zoological Park yet, but I am sure I would add it to the list of recommendations.

goSmithsonian.com

The photo that I am using for this entry is one of the Virgin of Guadalupe. It is the most venerated icon in all of Mexico. This specific photo was taken of a shrine in the parking lot of the supermarket but there are many shrines just like this one all over the city o Queretaro (and the country). I have seen them in gas stations, drug stores, on public busses, in homes, on the side of highways etc. According to the Mexican catholic tradition, she appeared in the 16th century to a man named Juan Diego and asked for a church to be built in her honor. When the Bishop asked for proof, roses from his native home in spain grew where it was impossible for roses to grow and an image of the Virgin of Guatelupe was imprinted on the robe Juan Diego was wearing. This occurence rapidly spread the catholic religion through Mexico and today Mexico is 90% catholic. Also, thoughout history the icon of the Virgin has been transformed into a symbol of Mexican nationalsim and pride. During the war of indepedence, for example, rebel leaders shouted "death to the Spaniads and long live the Virgin of Guatelupe!" In today's culture, the icon and the story is taken very seriously. You do not tell a Mexican that the story of the Virgin is silly or ridiculous unless you are looking for a fight. I have heard also heard people in Mexico say that they have long since lost their faith in the catholic church but they will never lose faith in the Virgin of Guadalupe. It is a symbol that unites all of Mexico. It is very interesting because I don't think in the United States we have a symbol that is venerated to this exstent. It shows that in some ways Mexico has more nationalism than we do. For example, the American flag is probably the most important symbol in America yet there are people who burn the flag to because they have the right to or to prove a point about politics etc. I don't think it would be acceptable under any circumstances to deface a shrine of the Virgin.

Attending a school that is relatively small allows me to find a greater sense of community. I wouldn’t trade my experiences there for anything else, but studying at Duke has shown me what a large size school has to offer. Attending an Allegheny men’s basketball game is always a lot of fun, but you don’t have to prepare for months before you go. This is where the experiences of a small school differ from those of a large school. :-) Let me introduce you to the legendary K-Ville. Coach Krzyzewski has been the head coach of the Duke men’s team for 29 seasons thus far and has won over the hearts of all the Duke students. Now of these 29 seasons there is always a game which rules above all the others as the “must see” game. Duke vs. UNC. Students are permitted free entrance to all the games, but there is a catch. You see one must be in line early enough to actually get a seat in the smaller scale stadium, Cameron Stadium. Line-up for a typical game can begin anywhere from the day before to mid-morning on game day, but the UNC game is an entirely different story. Every year starting ooohhh around December students sign up to camp out in the quad. The students then proceed to camp out until the Duke/UNC home game and this can be anywhere from 1-2 months. Some students must remain in the tent at all time or they are disqualified and at night everyone must be present. The “Line Monitors” (students in charge of making sure people are in their tents) can call for a head count whenever, be it 12 am or 4 am. If you are not present for these head counts then game over your tent is out. The weekend before the game presents the greatest challenge and is called “Personal Checks”. If you miss two out of the 4 or so checks you are out even if it is the day before the game and you have been camping out in the freezing cold for two months. So, you ask a Duke student… “is it really worth it?” Their response can be seen on their faces at the game, pure joy. These die hard students are known as the Cameron Crazies…and crazy they are!! :-)

In reflecting on my time here I have to say that it hasn’t been one particular experience which has influenced me the most, but a compilation of many different minds and surroundings. I am attending a school on an island  I wake up every morning and look out over the water to see boats and the wild horses on the island across from ours. Sometimes this view is lost on me by lack of sleep or familiarity, but some days it strikes me. I step back and appreciate the view like I did the first morning. Being here has taught me two extremes of life. I live here with 25 other students from all over the United Sates and as one might imagine it can sometimes feel confining, but I have found myself growing as a person. Learning to find the good in every situation presented. I’ve always liked to think that I am an accepting person, and in such close quarters this is a much tested quality. This is where the beauty of my surroundings comes to my benefit. In the mornings I find my own time… time for just me without anyone else, and you know what I do with this time :-) I run. I run out to a beach which I have termed “my beach”. When I am there it allows me to step back and examine my life as it has been flying by me. I find myself enjoying the simple ways here… I mean honestly there is not much to do on an island :-) . I like the slower pace. I like, but I know it isn’t completely who I am, you know to just be quiet. So when I need the hustle and bustle one can get lost in I go to the main campus where I blend in as just another student. I find this blending in as an awakening experience which causes me to check where I am in life. I do not want to be just another passing face, but rather someone who leaves a mark in other peoples lives, whether it is simply a smile or a long conversation. I enjoy finding a balance in my life and the experiences I have here daily are slowly helping me to gain more perspective.

One thing I have learned in Kenya is that English here is different than in the U.S. Greetings are very popular so anytime you walk down the street people just want to say hello. They will ask you how you are and the correct answer is fine. Americans often use the wod fine sarcastically. When people say fine they don't really mean fine. In Kenya, fine is great or excellent. Sometimes people won't even known what you mean if you say good! Additionally, the Kiswahili word for fine or well is nzuri. I was taught that this is the correct answer to "how are you." My teachers said that you greet people and then complain later. I think this can be symbolic to the culture where people brush problems aside. Sometimes people act like hakuna matata or no worries when that is not the case. Kenyans value their greetings and do not want to hear of your problems soon after meeting you.

Another form of communication popular among the youth is Sheng. Sheng is the combination of Swahili and English that has been referred to as the street language. It is not a formal langugage taught in schools but it appropriately shows the blending of cultures. Many books and songs are being published in Sheng to represent the diversity of the youth. People feel a connection to their African heritage but are also being influenced by the west.