Taken from travel journal, 23/06/09:
On another, YES! another, EasyJet flight, flying home to Madrid today. A week from now I'll be leaving this chapter of teaching and adventures for the US of A. And tomorrow I'll be on my next EasyJet flight to Scotland, the last final hurray before starting LSAT studies and the law school application process. Still cannot believe that this year in Europe has finally come to an end. To think of all the trips I've made, all the visitors I've had, all of the great friends and the amazing people I've met and worked with ... literally with a *snap* of the fingers, I'm heading back to America on British Airways once again.
So many things have happened, so many mistakes made, but so much more learned and gained. I feel stronger than what I was last September 21st. Through my professional experiences both with nannying and teaching English, I have learned to always keep in mind that this culture is not my culture - if they do things a certain way (or not do things) it's because it's their way. Because I'm in their country, I need to be respectful and open to this way.
Te acuerdas, Katy ... no estás en América.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
My Favorite?
Taken from travel journal, 23/06/09:
While in Berlin two weekends ago, Denise, Elvia, and I were trying to figure out which trip within these past ten months has been the "best." I honestly could not come up with an answer, nor even pick the top three or rank the top ten. To choose would be like saying that all the other trips weren't great. Just think - thirteen countries (Spain, England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Morocco, Austria, Hungary, Germany, France, Italy, Portugal, Turkey, Scotland) in ten months - each trip with a different vibe, a different feeling and circumstance, different tastes and flavors, and sounds and music and language ...
How could one possibly choose? They're all worth writing about.
While in Berlin two weekends ago, Denise, Elvia, and I were trying to figure out which trip within these past ten months has been the "best." I honestly could not come up with an answer, nor even pick the top three or rank the top ten. To choose would be like saying that all the other trips weren't great. Just think - thirteen countries (Spain, England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Morocco, Austria, Hungary, Germany, France, Italy, Portugal, Turkey, Scotland) in ten months - each trip with a different vibe, a different feeling and circumstance, different tastes and flavors, and sounds and music and language ...
How could one possibly choose? They're all worth writing about.
Book Recommendations
Books Read While Traveling Around Europe:
- Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi (started and finished this book during my trip to Istanbul ... it is, by far, one of my all-time favorite books ... a must read!)
- Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe (how did I not read this in high school? Another favorite!)
- Eat. Pray. Love. by Elizabeth Gilbert
- The Shack by William P. Young
- Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
- A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
- Penal Colony by Franz Kafka
- Boy in the Stripped Pajamas by John Boyne
- Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton (again, another favorite ... classic American literature)
- Pillars of Hercules by Paul Theroux (this incited my interest in traveling to Turkey)
- A Year in the Life by Frances Mayes (my favorite travel author)
- The Soloist by Steve Lopez (because Strauss and Beethoven are fabulous)
- El laberinto de soledad by Octavio Paz
- Harvest of Empire: History of Latinos in America by Juan Gonzalez
- Men that God Made Mad by Derek Lundy (great historical insight into Northern Ireland)
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
SUSANA
While in Granada two weekends ago, I met Susana, a wonderful woman from Cuba. Though I´ve been in Spain for almost a year now, it was the friendliest encounter yet.
It was a Sunday, our last day in Granada. Though I had already traveled to Granada earlier last year, I wanted to take my mami to Andalucía, my favorite part of Spain. And what better place to go than to the last Moorish city of Spain, home of La Alhambra and Barrio Sacromonte´s flamenco? We had been shopping all morning, after starting off the day with typical tostada andaluza and café con leche. On our walk into downtown, we stopped by a scarf store that was, unfortuantely, closed. We were both disappointed about it, but continued on our way on a never-ending quest to find a Moroccan tetera and tea set - a purchase that should have happened while in Marrakesh a few weeks beforehand.
As we were on our way back to the hostel, content with our recent tea set purchase, rushing as our bus was leaving in forty-five minutes, we stopped in this scarf store that was now open. We entered and I immediately spotted a blue and red scarf I just had to buy. From the back of the shop, I heard ´puedes cogerla si quieres´ in a thick Caribbean accent. Not only was I initially excited at my first instinct that this woman could be Cuban, but someone was actually being helpful. FRIENDLY even. ¡Alá! When I walked up to the counter to give her my three euros, our nice store clerk told us tres pesos ... digo, euros. At the very moment, I knew it! There wasn´t a doubt in my mind that this woman was cubana, spotting her Cubanness from the moment we walked in. I asked her where she was from (La Habana) and told her all about my Cuban-American novio and his family. She shared with me that her husband was from Camagüey and expressed genuine concern at the distance betweeen me and my novio cubano, while I´ve been working in Madrid and he´s been studying hard to graduate and finally write about Cuba. She was excited about the buena mezcla between our Irish and Cuban roots.
Towards the end of our conversation, shortly after giving my mami kisses, she said to me, ¨Siempre tienes una amiga aquí. Me llamo Susana.¨ As we left the shop, my eyes filled with tears as I could not believe this beautiful, chance encounter and Susana´s friendliness. It was, and I´m sure will remain, my best experience with an individual here. Someone who actually takes the time to talk to you, introduce themselves, and ask questions about your life instead of rushing to take that one last smoke before break is over or pushing you and hurrying you along to catch the próxima llegada of the metro or cercanía. Perhaps I´ve been living in Madrid too long, where I, too, find myself living that survival-of-the-fittest mentality, especially on line 6 on my way to work each morning.
But perhaps it was a simple cultural and individual connection, brought together by a similar talking point: Cuba. Whatever it was about the meeting of my new friend, it filled me with joy, hope, and seemed to ignite once again that ¨buried by European travels¨ curiosity of going to the island, Susana´s patria to meet more people like her.
It was a Sunday, our last day in Granada. Though I had already traveled to Granada earlier last year, I wanted to take my mami to Andalucía, my favorite part of Spain. And what better place to go than to the last Moorish city of Spain, home of La Alhambra and Barrio Sacromonte´s flamenco? We had been shopping all morning, after starting off the day with typical tostada andaluza and café con leche. On our walk into downtown, we stopped by a scarf store that was, unfortuantely, closed. We were both disappointed about it, but continued on our way on a never-ending quest to find a Moroccan tetera and tea set - a purchase that should have happened while in Marrakesh a few weeks beforehand.
As we were on our way back to the hostel, content with our recent tea set purchase, rushing as our bus was leaving in forty-five minutes, we stopped in this scarf store that was now open. We entered and I immediately spotted a blue and red scarf I just had to buy. From the back of the shop, I heard ´puedes cogerla si quieres´ in a thick Caribbean accent. Not only was I initially excited at my first instinct that this woman could be Cuban, but someone was actually being helpful. FRIENDLY even. ¡Alá! When I walked up to the counter to give her my three euros, our nice store clerk told us tres pesos ... digo, euros. At the very moment, I knew it! There wasn´t a doubt in my mind that this woman was cubana, spotting her Cubanness from the moment we walked in. I asked her where she was from (La Habana) and told her all about my Cuban-American novio and his family. She shared with me that her husband was from Camagüey and expressed genuine concern at the distance betweeen me and my novio cubano, while I´ve been working in Madrid and he´s been studying hard to graduate and finally write about Cuba. She was excited about the buena mezcla between our Irish and Cuban roots.
Towards the end of our conversation, shortly after giving my mami kisses, she said to me, ¨Siempre tienes una amiga aquí. Me llamo Susana.¨ As we left the shop, my eyes filled with tears as I could not believe this beautiful, chance encounter and Susana´s friendliness. It was, and I´m sure will remain, my best experience with an individual here. Someone who actually takes the time to talk to you, introduce themselves, and ask questions about your life instead of rushing to take that one last smoke before break is over or pushing you and hurrying you along to catch the próxima llegada of the metro or cercanía. Perhaps I´ve been living in Madrid too long, where I, too, find myself living that survival-of-the-fittest mentality, especially on line 6 on my way to work each morning.
But perhaps it was a simple cultural and individual connection, brought together by a similar talking point: Cuba. Whatever it was about the meeting of my new friend, it filled me with joy, hope, and seemed to ignite once again that ¨buried by European travels¨ curiosity of going to the island, Susana´s patria to meet more people like her.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Unexpected Travels
Though I have always wanted to visit Vienna and the thought briefly passed my mind as I booked my May trip to Budapest, it didn't occur to me that I'd actually make the trip this time around. Yet the night before hopping on that Hungarian train to Austria, I made the decision, only after twenty-four hours of being in Budapest, to go to Vienna early the next morning. And what a sound decision I made! I loved every step of the city with so much classical music history and beauty. It's filled with such old world Austrian charm, and despite going through WWII, the city has managed to preserve its rich musical treasures, Habsburg traditions and palace, Stephansdom cathedral, and well-organized, quaint streets filled with bakeries and cafés on every corner. At every block there is another opportunity to take another photo, and with the black/white setting on my digital Canon, I hope I somehow managed to capture the unique charm of Eastern Austria before heading back to the train station for my three hour return trip to Budapest.
Going Somewhere: Hungary and Austria
"Yeah, but it's exciting to know that you're going somewhere, isn't it? You don't know where that somewhere is yet, but it's going to be great."
- Tawanna, co-worker and friend from Georgia
[taken from travel journal, May 15th, 2009]
What a beautiful day to be in Vienna. Am now on a three hour train ride to Vienna, Austria, the "big apple" of Europe, to the music capital of Mozart, Strauss, Chopin, and Beethoven. I am so glad that I'm on my way! Despite a stressful morning at Keleti Pályaudvar train station, trying my best to figure out my daytrip from Budapest, sans amigas, totally and completely on my own, I'd say I have managed quite well. How exciting and exhilarating at the same time to do this, to figure all of this out on my own, only on my second day in Hungary. 8,000 forints less on my credit card and in a land where I don't understand a single world of this language, I am itching to see the city that awaits me when I step off this train in two hours and fifty-two minutes.
And how wonderful a place I'm leaving for the day - BUDAPEST. A true fusion of East and West, a city divided by the Danube River making one side Buda, and the other side Pest. It's a city of different languages and cultures, great food consisting of goulash and rich pastries (always my favorite), but also of complicated history and political structures. What initially struck me about the city was that there are countless blocks of buildings literally divided into two different architectural styles and eras - one from the Soviet era (very linear, straight, and dull colors) and the other from a time long ago, before the Great World Wars, decorated beautifully with adornments and arches, painted in bright hues of yellow and green.
Yesterday I truly got a glimpse into the city's shockingly recent past when we toured the Dohány Street Synagogue, the second largest in the world (right behind New York's) and the largest in Europe. There was a museum filled with pictures of Budapest during the time of the Holocaust. I couldn't help but weep for all of these sad eyes of the Hungarian Jewish people. Children in work camps, frail mothers with sick babies, and the elderly - all in work camps, all being persecuting for their religion. And only sixty years ago did this happen. Nunca más.
- Tawanna, co-worker and friend from Georgia
[taken from travel journal, May 15th, 2009]
What a beautiful day to be in Vienna. Am now on a three hour train ride to Vienna, Austria, the "big apple" of Europe, to the music capital of Mozart, Strauss, Chopin, and Beethoven. I am so glad that I'm on my way! Despite a stressful morning at Keleti Pályaudvar train station, trying my best to figure out my daytrip from Budapest, sans amigas, totally and completely on my own, I'd say I have managed quite well. How exciting and exhilarating at the same time to do this, to figure all of this out on my own, only on my second day in Hungary. 8,000 forints less on my credit card and in a land where I don't understand a single world of this language, I am itching to see the city that awaits me when I step off this train in two hours and fifty-two minutes.
And how wonderful a place I'm leaving for the day - BUDAPEST. A true fusion of East and West, a city divided by the Danube River making one side Buda, and the other side Pest. It's a city of different languages and cultures, great food consisting of goulash and rich pastries (always my favorite), but also of complicated history and political structures. What initially struck me about the city was that there are countless blocks of buildings literally divided into two different architectural styles and eras - one from the Soviet era (very linear, straight, and dull colors) and the other from a time long ago, before the Great World Wars, decorated beautifully with adornments and arches, painted in bright hues of yellow and green.
Yesterday I truly got a glimpse into the city's shockingly recent past when we toured the Dohány Street Synagogue, the second largest in the world (right behind New York's) and the largest in Europe. There was a museum filled with pictures of Budapest during the time of the Holocaust. I couldn't help but weep for all of these sad eyes of the Hungarian Jewish people. Children in work camps, frail mothers with sick babies, and the elderly - all in work camps, all being persecuting for their religion. And only sixty years ago did this happen. Nunca más.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)