Note to self: There's a reason why the curriculum of classes is meant to be spread over the course of 15 weeks. In the past week and a half, I have absorbed so much information, I've got a brain-ache. But I'm almost halfway done! And the sooner the classes get done, the sooner I get to leave! Plus these crazy class schedules are bringing the group much closer together.
I have really enjoyed seeing the difference between my two study abroads so far. They are drastically different in organization and purpose, but both have been so great. I love the international opportunities available to me through USU!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Travel Itinerary!
So, as the world traveler I plan to be, I am preparing for my trip to Asia! I'm headed to South Korea, Vietnam, and China. We got our flight itineraries today, and I'm getting so excited! I think I'm mostly excited to just see what life is like there. I plan on taking the risks of eating bugs, and whatever else I can get my hands on. My travel motto? Don't just see the area, experience it! Actually that is my ultimate goal with everything in life. Don't be afraid to experience everything!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Long Time, No Blog
So props if you are still checking in to see if I've changed my ways (Aubrey, this means you). I just thought since I was done with my essays that I'd post a few.
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"Each face, each stone of this venerable monument is not only a page of
the history of the country, but also of the history of knowledge and art....
Time is the architect, the people are the builder."
— Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris.
The visit began like any of our other visits to monuments in Paris: lines, waiting, and anticipation. Lines are expected at any attraction, be it in Paris, Disneyland, or your local swimming pool. Though long, the line seemed to pass quickly, due to good company. Before we knew it, we began our ascent to the top of the Notre Dame.
This of course was no easy feat. Reminiscent of practically everything else in Paris, it required climbing many windy, twisty stairs. Three hundred and eighty six, to be exact. As I climbed, my head hung, not in shame, but in concentration and lack of visual stimulation. Though the building is beautiful, the staircase lacked the majesty of the rest of it. Inside the staircase, there were no stained glass or sculptures reminding the onlooker of the holiness of the building, simply off white stone as far as the eye could see.
As my eyes followed the slow plodding of my feet, I began to notice how worn the stairs were. The steps were not flat, but rounded and almost bowl like. As a chronic over thinker, my mind started buzzing. Could this even be safe? What if all these stairs came falling down all at once? If they aren't flat, I could fall on my face so easily. But soon, my mind drifted to why the stairs were so worn.
Built more than seven hundred years ago, Notre Dame de Paris has more history than one could fathom. It isn't the age, though, that weathered the stairs; it is the millions of feet that have stepped where mine do now. My patent leather flats kept up their slow pace, but my mind began racing.
It must have begun with a simple stone mason; just at another day on the job. Could he have imagined the impact his project would have on so many generations? Did he know that several decades later, people from around the world would line up around the block, just to climb the steps that he made? I don't think he could have comprehended the countless feet that would scale the simple stones he carved. He was probably a peasant, and this one staircase his life's work.
I tried to imagine who would've used these stairs before it was opened up to tourism. Maybe a bell boy, sent to ring the bells after evening mass. It would have been quiet then, with no laughing friends and crying children. Could he have dreamed of the tourists that would come and take their token picture of his home? He would've known a Notre Dame like very few have the opportunity to. In his spare time, I'm sure he would've explored every square inch, and found the best places to hide things.
Our little group reached the halfway point and had the opportunity to wander around the middle section, known as the parapet. There is so much to see, but I was entranced by the gargoyles. They are so close, one can reach out and touch them. They are just like I have seen in the movies, but even more than I expected. They are incredibly well done, I half expected them to turn their heads and talk to me. My staring contest with a gargoyle was broken by the toll of the bells, those famous bells of Notre Dame. They were exactly behind me, singing for the enjoyment of all that can hear them. They are like messengers from God, coming from high above the world, reminding us that there is still beauty and goodness.
This must have been how the author Victor Hugo felt. He saw the life that the Notre Dame held, even when others only saw a dilapidated old cathedral. In the face of talks of demolition, Hugo stepped up and brought romanticism to the landmark once again. I'm sure he spent many hours here, just soaking up the atmosphere and imagining his characters. With the toll of the bells, he envisioned a disfigured Quasimodo, shut out from the rest of the world, but still capable of love. Thanks to his writing, millions fell in love with the cathedral once again and they chose beautification and renovation instead of demolition.
After my exploration, we continued onward and upward. My legs were burning by now, I'm still not used to having to climb this amount of stairs. I started to think of how in shape the priests would have been. Who needs a Stairmaster, I thought, when you could climb these every day? Then when you are done, instead of being in the same smelly workout room, you would be rewarded with an amazing view of Paris! I think of how the priest must have loved to scale these stairs and take a break on top of the world. This would be an enviable escape from the dirt and disease of medieval Paris. In an age with no high rise buildings or airplanes, he must have felt so close to God. Here, I'm sure, many a prayer was offered. Though below held a holy sanctuary for all, above was a private place of worship for the people who dwelt inside.
As I looked over the streets of Paris, I felt inspired. Maybe a Crusader stood right where I am now. As his group met here before they left to conquer the Holy Land, I'm sure one would have slipped away for a private moment. Up here, the air is clear, which in turn helps to clear your mind. He must have been reminded of the reason he was leaving, and why it was important to him. This was his town, his God, his life.
Soon, the tour is over. It was time to leave the lofty haven and descend the stairs. My feet move a little more quickly going back, as I'm not longer fighting gravity. Going down the stairs, I felt as if I am escorted by those who have gone before me. They were my spiritual tour guides, giving me insight to another Notre Dame, their Notre Dame. As they walk me downstairs, I don't want the tour to be over. I don't want to leave, I beg. Their presence answers the question I didn't ask. If you love the Notre Dame, you leave a piece of yourself here, and in exchange, the cathedral never leaves you. I stepped into the summer sun and left them at the door, waiting for another to notice them.
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"Each face, each stone of this venerable monument is not only a page of
the history of the country, but also of the history of knowledge and art....
Time is the architect, the people are the builder."
— Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris.
The visit began like any of our other visits to monuments in Paris: lines, waiting, and anticipation. Lines are expected at any attraction, be it in Paris, Disneyland, or your local swimming pool. Though long, the line seemed to pass quickly, due to good company. Before we knew it, we began our ascent to the top of the Notre Dame.
This of course was no easy feat. Reminiscent of practically everything else in Paris, it required climbing many windy, twisty stairs. Three hundred and eighty six, to be exact. As I climbed, my head hung, not in shame, but in concentration and lack of visual stimulation. Though the building is beautiful, the staircase lacked the majesty of the rest of it. Inside the staircase, there were no stained glass or sculptures reminding the onlooker of the holiness of the building, simply off white stone as far as the eye could see.
As my eyes followed the slow plodding of my feet, I began to notice how worn the stairs were. The steps were not flat, but rounded and almost bowl like. As a chronic over thinker, my mind started buzzing. Could this even be safe? What if all these stairs came falling down all at once? If they aren't flat, I could fall on my face so easily. But soon, my mind drifted to why the stairs were so worn.
Built more than seven hundred years ago, Notre Dame de Paris has more history than one could fathom. It isn't the age, though, that weathered the stairs; it is the millions of feet that have stepped where mine do now. My patent leather flats kept up their slow pace, but my mind began racing.
It must have begun with a simple stone mason; just at another day on the job. Could he have imagined the impact his project would have on so many generations? Did he know that several decades later, people from around the world would line up around the block, just to climb the steps that he made? I don't think he could have comprehended the countless feet that would scale the simple stones he carved. He was probably a peasant, and this one staircase his life's work.
I tried to imagine who would've used these stairs before it was opened up to tourism. Maybe a bell boy, sent to ring the bells after evening mass. It would have been quiet then, with no laughing friends and crying children. Could he have dreamed of the tourists that would come and take their token picture of his home? He would've known a Notre Dame like very few have the opportunity to. In his spare time, I'm sure he would've explored every square inch, and found the best places to hide things.
Our little group reached the halfway point and had the opportunity to wander around the middle section, known as the parapet. There is so much to see, but I was entranced by the gargoyles. They are so close, one can reach out and touch them. They are just like I have seen in the movies, but even more than I expected. They are incredibly well done, I half expected them to turn their heads and talk to me. My staring contest with a gargoyle was broken by the toll of the bells, those famous bells of Notre Dame. They were exactly behind me, singing for the enjoyment of all that can hear them. They are like messengers from God, coming from high above the world, reminding us that there is still beauty and goodness.
This must have been how the author Victor Hugo felt. He saw the life that the Notre Dame held, even when others only saw a dilapidated old cathedral. In the face of talks of demolition, Hugo stepped up and brought romanticism to the landmark once again. I'm sure he spent many hours here, just soaking up the atmosphere and imagining his characters. With the toll of the bells, he envisioned a disfigured Quasimodo, shut out from the rest of the world, but still capable of love. Thanks to his writing, millions fell in love with the cathedral once again and they chose beautification and renovation instead of demolition.
After my exploration, we continued onward and upward. My legs were burning by now, I'm still not used to having to climb this amount of stairs. I started to think of how in shape the priests would have been. Who needs a Stairmaster, I thought, when you could climb these every day? Then when you are done, instead of being in the same smelly workout room, you would be rewarded with an amazing view of Paris! I think of how the priest must have loved to scale these stairs and take a break on top of the world. This would be an enviable escape from the dirt and disease of medieval Paris. In an age with no high rise buildings or airplanes, he must have felt so close to God. Here, I'm sure, many a prayer was offered. Though below held a holy sanctuary for all, above was a private place of worship for the people who dwelt inside.
As I looked over the streets of Paris, I felt inspired. Maybe a Crusader stood right where I am now. As his group met here before they left to conquer the Holy Land, I'm sure one would have slipped away for a private moment. Up here, the air is clear, which in turn helps to clear your mind. He must have been reminded of the reason he was leaving, and why it was important to him. This was his town, his God, his life.
Soon, the tour is over. It was time to leave the lofty haven and descend the stairs. My feet move a little more quickly going back, as I'm not longer fighting gravity. Going down the stairs, I felt as if I am escorted by those who have gone before me. They were my spiritual tour guides, giving me insight to another Notre Dame, their Notre Dame. As they walk me downstairs, I don't want the tour to be over. I don't want to leave, I beg. Their presence answers the question I didn't ask. If you love the Notre Dame, you leave a piece of yourself here, and in exchange, the cathedral never leaves you. I stepped into the summer sun and left them at the door, waiting for another to notice them.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Ooh la la!
Since I've been an awful blogger, here's an entire week of Paris sightseeing, in a slideshow... Enjoy!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The First Day in Paris!
When we landed in Charles de Gaulle airport, it seemed a lot smaller than the O'Hare airport, but that's just cause it is broken up differently. What was fun about landing at CDG was that we actually walked out onto the tarmac and then rode a little bus trolley to the airport. It was a neat thing to do. We found our luggage and our way to the train depot downstairs just fine, but we got into some confusion when trying to get our RER tickets. We waited in these lines for such a long time, just to look like the dumb american tourists that we were and not know how to work the machines. Turns out the cards are different there and some machines won't take our American ones. So we had to go wait in an even longer line full of stupid tourists. Good thing we didn't have anything else really to do that day. By the time we boarded the train it was about 11 am Paris time.
The train reminded me a lot of the ones in Chicago, except for the obvious thing: everything was in French. And a lot more colorful. Plus I love that in this picture it's a bunny. As if bunnies ride the metro. Nor does it make the picture less gruesome. What about animal cruelty people?
Anyway, so we got off on the St. Michel, Notre Dame stop and navigated the numerous escalators with our humongous luggage. Yes, we were four girls, but we had so many bags! We must have been a sight to see. Plus we were so nappy because of the traveling. I know I was. Then, when we got up to the street, which was right on the Seine, it was about 75 degrees and sunny. And guess what we did? Oui, we got lost. Ug. We didn't realize that we were on the wrong side of the Seine and that it splits right where we were. At least we were lost in the greatest city on earth! There we were, walking round and round with beaucoup de baggages, with our maps out. Finally we made it, and we crashed in the hotel for a little while. As I lay here on my bed, exhausted from my flights and jet lag, The big windows are open and the sounds of the city spill into my room.
We weren't in the hotel long, though. Who wants to hang around the hotel when there is Paris to be explored? So quite a few of us found each other and went for une promenade. Juliet needed a recharge card for her SFR sim card. Basically she got a french number for her phone and wanted to buy some more credit for it. So we wandered up the Boulevard St. Michel until we found one. By that time, it was time to eat, so when she was done, there happened to be a creperie around the corner. (By the way, that isn't anything special, il y a beaucoup de creperies dans Paris!)
Being my first experience in Paris, I was actually well satisfied! I didn't use any of my French, but the crepe was fantastic. It was buckwheat, square, and filled with cheesy goodness. I think there was bacon and tomatoes in it. I can almost remember what it was called, but not quite, so if I remember it later, I'll write it down.
We had to head back to the hotel after the creperie, as we had to meet Kathe, our group leader in the lobby at 5. Time for the all important meeting!
Except it wasn't that all important. Kathe was way tired from the trip, and kind of out of it. But what was important was that we were all there and ready for the next month! Very exciting!
After the meeting, it was back to the hotel room. We were all wiped out from the transantlantic flight and all that went along with it. I personally was extremely tired, but wanted to call everyone and let them know that I was ok. Skype is a wonderful thing. I wonder who invented it. They should be applauded. So if you're out there, hear this and know that I think you are fantastic. But anyway, we had some slow internet at the hotel, so I was able to get on and talk to people and change my facebook status. It's sad how that has taken over my life, but it really is a good way to keep in contact with people. Basically, it was a very uneventful night, but I was glad, and went to bed about nine while listening to the sounds of the city. The whole night we were serenaded by a high school marching band that were playing on the Place de St. Michel. They sounded great though! I totally loved it.
The hotel we stayed at is called Albe Hotel, at 1, rue de la Harpe. It was so quaint and french. I was excited because I really didn't want to stay at some lame Best Western or something like that. Instead we were right on the Seine down the street from the Notre Dame. I really enjoyed the location. One thing I had to get used to was the room key system. We didn't just get two copies of the key and we had to return them. The key just didn't leave the hotel.
If there was someone in the room, then the key usually stayed with them. If you were all leaving, then you left the key at the front desk and then got it from them when you returned. It was a bit of a hassle sometimes, but it wasn't a big deal. You just had to ask them everytime (“trois-cent-vingt?”) and they would give it to you or not. This picture was the view from our window. I totally loved where we were!
The train reminded me a lot of the ones in Chicago, except for the obvious thing: everything was in French. And a lot more colorful. Plus I love that in this picture it's a bunny. As if bunnies ride the metro. Nor does it make the picture less gruesome. What about animal cruelty people?
Anyway, so we got off on the St. Michel, Notre Dame stop and navigated the numerous escalators with our humongous luggage. Yes, we were four girls, but we had so many bags! We must have been a sight to see. Plus we were so nappy because of the traveling. I know I was. Then, when we got up to the street, which was right on the Seine, it was about 75 degrees and sunny. And guess what we did? Oui, we got lost. Ug. We didn't realize that we were on the wrong side of the Seine and that it splits right where we were. At least we were lost in the greatest city on earth! There we were, walking round and round with beaucoup de baggages, with our maps out. Finally we made it, and we crashed in the hotel for a little while. As I lay here on my bed, exhausted from my flights and jet lag, The big windows are open and the sounds of the city spill into my room.
We weren't in the hotel long, though. Who wants to hang around the hotel when there is Paris to be explored? So quite a few of us found each other and went for une promenade. Juliet needed a recharge card for her SFR sim card. Basically she got a french number for her phone and wanted to buy some more credit for it. So we wandered up the Boulevard St. Michel until we found one. By that time, it was time to eat, so when she was done, there happened to be a creperie around the corner. (By the way, that isn't anything special, il y a beaucoup de creperies dans Paris!)
Being my first experience in Paris, I was actually well satisfied! I didn't use any of my French, but the crepe was fantastic. It was buckwheat, square, and filled with cheesy goodness. I think there was bacon and tomatoes in it. I can almost remember what it was called, but not quite, so if I remember it later, I'll write it down.
We had to head back to the hotel after the creperie, as we had to meet Kathe, our group leader in the lobby at 5. Time for the all important meeting!
Except it wasn't that all important. Kathe was way tired from the trip, and kind of out of it. But what was important was that we were all there and ready for the next month! Very exciting!
After the meeting, it was back to the hotel room. We were all wiped out from the transantlantic flight and all that went along with it. I personally was extremely tired, but wanted to call everyone and let them know that I was ok. Skype is a wonderful thing. I wonder who invented it. They should be applauded. So if you're out there, hear this and know that I think you are fantastic. But anyway, we had some slow internet at the hotel, so I was able to get on and talk to people and change my facebook status. It's sad how that has taken over my life, but it really is a good way to keep in contact with people. Basically, it was a very uneventful night, but I was glad, and went to bed about nine while listening to the sounds of the city. The whole night we were serenaded by a high school marching band that were playing on the Place de St. Michel. They sounded great though! I totally loved it.
The hotel we stayed at is called Albe Hotel, at 1, rue de la Harpe. It was so quaint and french. I was excited because I really didn't want to stay at some lame Best Western or something like that. Instead we were right on the Seine down the street from the Notre Dame. I really enjoyed the location. One thing I had to get used to was the room key system. We didn't just get two copies of the key and we had to return them. The key just didn't leave the hotel.
If there was someone in the room, then the key usually stayed with them. If you were all leaving, then you left the key at the front desk and then got it from them when you returned. It was a bit of a hassle sometimes, but it wasn't a big deal. You just had to ask them everytime (“trois-cent-vingt?”) and they would give it to you or not. This picture was the view from our window. I totally loved where we were!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The Layover...
So between flights I had about a seven hour layover in Chicago. I met Scarlet and Janette on the plane coming over, so what were three girls going to do in the big O'Hare Airport for that long? Nothing it turns out, as we decided to get train passes and head downtown. It turned out to be a really fun time. Getting on was a breeze and then we were off!
My experience with public transportation thus far was the CVTD, and this was nothing like it. But totally fun. They were actually in the middle of construction for some parts, so after a while we had to get off and ride the busses the rest of the way to the city center. It was such a good way to see the city in a hurry. They definitely have to make use of all their space there. Everything was much taller than here.
After getting off at Lake and Park (I think) we strolled around downtown. It was fun to see the river and all the great buildings. We ate sandwiches at Joe's Deli and Juice Bar. I had fresh Cantaloupe and Honeydew juice. It was different, but cool. On our stroll, we encountered some interesting characters, including this guy, who was dressed in and painted bronze from head to toe. Then with your spare change as a donation, he would pose for a picture with you.
It was totally worth the 54 cents or whatever it was. Also, we saw some strange statues, like this fine couple here:
Don't ask me why, that's just the way Chicagans roll. I think the baseball goes to their brains. Speaking of, on the descent to land, I don't think I've ever seen so many baseball fields in my life. There would be at least one field about every two blocks! It was wild, and excessive if you ask me. But wahoo to America's hobby.
Then back we went to the airport. We retraced our steps to Lake Street and loaded back onto the buses then train. Back through security, where I got the look from a guard because I forgot to take some juice out from the first plane ride. Oops. Ah well, I hope he had it for his break.
My experience with public transportation thus far was the CVTD, and this was nothing like it. But totally fun. They were actually in the middle of construction for some parts, so after a while we had to get off and ride the busses the rest of the way to the city center. It was such a good way to see the city in a hurry. They definitely have to make use of all their space there. Everything was much taller than here.
After getting off at Lake and Park (I think) we strolled around downtown. It was fun to see the river and all the great buildings. We ate sandwiches at Joe's Deli and Juice Bar. I had fresh Cantaloupe and Honeydew juice. It was different, but cool. On our stroll, we encountered some interesting characters, including this guy, who was dressed in and painted bronze from head to toe. Then with your spare change as a donation, he would pose for a picture with you.
It was totally worth the 54 cents or whatever it was. Also, we saw some strange statues, like this fine couple here:
Don't ask me why, that's just the way Chicagans roll. I think the baseball goes to their brains. Speaking of, on the descent to land, I don't think I've ever seen so many baseball fields in my life. There would be at least one field about every two blocks! It was wild, and excessive if you ask me. But wahoo to America's hobby.
Then back we went to the airport. We retraced our steps to Lake Street and loaded back onto the buses then train. Back through security, where I got the look from a guard because I forgot to take some juice out from the first plane ride. Oops. Ah well, I hope he had it for his break.
Sorry All!
So basically I've been the worst blogger ever lately. I guess it's harder than I thought to find some reliable internet in this country. There had to be something wrong with it. Ah well, I'll try to sum stuff up the best I can and not overwhelm you with posts.
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