Back in a big city, another one of the capitals of the world, wandering Rome was a different feeling than London or Paris. Less clean, crazier streets, and it felt so much older. With every turn you encountered something new: ancient Roman ruins, giant churches, scars from world wars, and another "country" aka the Vatican. It became a joke as we walked around, if we saw a big interesting building and wondered what it was: "Probably a church." We were almost always right. We had the opportunity to meet up with Raoul, a friend of Lórien's who has lived his entire life in Rome and kindly invited us to his birthday dinner. He supplied multiple English speakers for us, so we learned some Italian and what life is like growing up in Rome. New Years Eve had that spectacular big city feeling you always see on TV. Strangers crowded on the streets and we casually passed the Colosseum a few times, which was an odd and powerful feeling. On New Year's Day we happened upon an arts and music festival along the river Tiber. There were performances from every genre: jazz, classical, rock, indie, Italian folk, opera. Oh, the opera. Everything was in Italian so I'm not really clear on the plot, but it was one of the best things I've ever seen. The people in Rome are kind of a combination of the traditional "rude" city people and the loud Italian stereotype. Combined, they possess a type of exaggerated energy that is wonderfully terrifying. Along with that, they enjoy messing with you- we had multiple waiters make fun of our attempts at Italian. Maybe it was the company, maybe it was the fact that I am enchanted by big cities, maybe it was simply the fact that I get to say that I spent New Year's Eve in Rome, but there was something special about the place. I'll definitely be back one day.
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The next segment of my trip has a very obvious pun in the name, so we will move past that as we made the joke at least five times a day. The coast was bright blue water splashing against smooth rocks to make a unique song. The buildings were happy shades of yellow and red and orange and in the old city where we stayed, all the shingles matched with the same shade of orange. We took a day trip to another country (though it has about the same population as a large university) and checked out Monte Carlo, Monaco. It was a lovely way to spend time between Christmas and New Years.
Christmas Eve Eve (the 23rd in other words) was spent traveling across France toward the town of Vichy. A French friend of Lórien's, Justin, invited us to his home for Christmas. The day before was his cousin's birthday dinner, which we were also invited to, and that was hosted at a mansion-like castle. If you ever find yourself eating traditional meals in France, there are a couple things you learn very quickly: 1) Dinner doesn't start until around nine. (Yes, 9 p.m.) 2) Meals last around three hours (Yes, 3 hours). 3) Before you eat, you stand around with pre-dinner drinks and snacks. 4) There are multiple courses and you eat them all with wine. 5) Every meal ends with cheese ("fromage" in French). 6) And the French really like their desserts. The meal at the castle was fancy and delicious. The best part wasn't the food though. This was a French family that mostly spoke French, believe it or not. I do not speak French. This barrier led to a beautiful linguistic dance between my many new acquaintances in Justin's family. Most older people know one or two English words, so conversations are mostly gesturing. The younger French people usually know more, but they don't seem very confident when they speak and struggle to find the right words. However, many of the French people I spoke to spoke Spanish better. So for many of my conversations French people spoke Spanish at me and I responded in English. It was a fairly effective system. On Christmas Eve, Justin's family drove us through the French countryside to their delightful house in a teeny-tiny town. Every fifteen minutes on the drive we would see another castle or another church, and we made multiple stops that let us really explore a much more "real" part of France. Everything is so much older in France; the original part of Justin's parents' house was completed around the 1750s, making it older than the United States. We arrived in fog, which made everything look like a fairy tale, and there were sheep and more traditional meals and lots of wine. Everything I ate was amazing and I was blown away by the hospitality I received from Justin's family. It was difficult to spend Christmas away from my own family, but being with someone else's family was the next best thing. It was a one of a kind cultural experience that was truly incredible. I picked up a few new French words as well. So from France I wish you all a Joyeux Noël!
Barcelona was a special city to visit with Lórien. Earlier this year, she and I went to the Grand Canyon together and I forced her to listen to my obsession of the time: the album Divide by Ed Sheeran. We had memorised it by the end of the journey, and one of our favorite songs was called "Barcelona." The city was as carefree as the song suggested, especially in comparison to the hustle and bustle of London and Paris. The metro itself moved slower at stops. The buildings were still European in architecture, but places like Sagrada Familia and Parc Güell could only be described as jazzy. The food and drinks were wonderfully inexpensive, but absolutely delicious. We were able to explore a Picasso museum and a museum on the history of Catalonia (as that was a very topical issue as we went through the city). And the sea was breathtaking. We were treated to a stunning sunset the last night, the perfect ending to a lovely sample of Spain.
I've surprised myself in Paris: I think I actually like big cities. The public transportation is simple enough to figure out, there are ten million different things to do and there's always a crowd of people to see. Paris was as lovely as you could expect and I was able to do all I wanted and more. We did around 8 miles of walking each day, so my legs have been perpetually tired but happy all the same. Then, of course, the Eiffel Tower.Our second day in Paris was a bit more morbid: we went underground to the Catacombs.Our third day in Paris we spent wandering around.I began my Winter European Tour in the shiny city of London. I think I may have fallen in love with the city. It was crazy, busy and oh-so-exciting. We rode the Tube and walked so much. In my 24 hours there I saw so much, and there was so much more I didn't see. It was such an adventure though.
Lórien and I started the night at high tea as a birthday celebration- it was so fancy. Champagne and a live piano player and silver foil on desserts. Then we wandered a bit, saw some of the classic London sights, though Big Ben is under renovation right now so it was more scaffolding than clock. The lights reflecting off the Thames was beautiful. We went to a couple pubs and I had my first pint of Guinness. The next day we wandered through Hyde Park, the Winter Wonder Land, and by Buckingham Palace. After that we spent some time at the Camden Markets, which were huge and colorful. We went into some lovely and interesting shops. We went to Paris that, which was a difficult travel to say the least. But we made it and will be exploring this next capital of the world in full force tomorrow. When you are living the school year on a countdown, the moments are a lot more special. Each day pulls me a little closer to the end of my trip and so it reminds me to live in the moment. To capture the moment as well. In a way, it's nice. I unapologetically take a million photos of everything, even of things others might think are mundane. At about one third of the way through my time abroad, I only have six more months here. Six months seems like a lot, but the past three have flown by in an absolute blur. So much happens every week and I want it all captured for the rest of my life. So I journal, I blog, and I take as many photos as I please. I think selfies are some of the most valuable pictures to take because they pull you right into the moment. You put out your arm and it's like you're taking it again. And the silly faces, the unflattering angle, it turns into a memory. A moment of a hundred emotions and words. For just a second, it all freezes and I can forever look back at this moment taken with someone who meant enough to me to take the picture for. Other photos are important, too. Maybe it's just the walk up the hill to the bus stop that I've walked a hundred times at least, but I still want it because there's only so many times I'm going to make that trek and one day I'm going to miss it so much. Maybe it's a traffic cone decorated with tinsel to resemble what I would argue to be the best Christmas tree of all time. Maybe it's a family portrait taken via Facebook messenger when we were in four separate places physically but all together for a few minutes digitally. Everyone always says to take pictures, because you'll appreciate them when you're older. I believe that. So really my obsessive photo taking is a nod towards future Amy, giving her what she'll definitely need one day when she sits back in the US knowing a part of her heart has been left in another country.
And if you're not taking at least one photo a day, even of something you see every day, try taking some. One day you might be glad to have it. I'm pretty busy this week with deadlines as it's my last week of the semester. Stay tuned for my winter break though- I'll be running around Europe and taking tons of photos to share with you all. Until then, here are some silly pictures from a casual visit to the local Sunderland Museum this weekend.
Today I turned 20 years old.
I’m writing this when I should be either sleeping or doing university work. I’ve got two articles as assignments, two articles for the websites I write for, a radio package to edit, a video package to create, a questionnaire to distribute, and an essay to write before I set out on my European tour during the winter break. And don’t even get me started on the number of Christmas gifts I have to buy. But I’m floating. I’ve had the best birthday. There is a familiar frustration to me when writing about happy things. I feel exasperated at the English language, which does not provide me with the proper words to describe my joy without sounding cheesy or cliche. I’ll try, just please know that every word I write is genuine. I started the day with my first ever traditional English breakfast with one of my lovely flatmates. Then I went to do the final two shows of The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe (in which I played the role of Susan, the older sister). Immediately, everyone in the theatre company started wishing me happy birthday. I was given Reese’s, which I’m told was the most American gift they could think of. I also received a balloon and a card signed by everyone in the play, which was incredibly sweet and unexpected. We put on two amazing shows. I felt so proud to be part of the company and so happy to have found my place with these delightful people. For the final show, I had eight friends in the crowd. All my flatmates and a few other friends. Everyone had said their happy birthdays at this point (I thought) and things were going well. The show was in the second act when something happened. Santa Claus had come on stage and was doing a hilarious job, as usual. I was standing in the background trying to keep my composure as he improved and gave out gifts (which I had been trying to do every show somewhat successfully, as long as I covered my mouth to hide my laughter). Santa is supposed to give Susan two gifts and he does just that. I step back as Susan, ready to move on to the next scene. “Oh, and I have a third gift for you, Susan,” said Santa. I faltered. This wasn’t in the script. What could he possibly be doing? “I hear it’s your birthday. So we have a choir here for you,” -he gestures to the audience- “bet you weren’t expecting that. If you’ll all join me in singing Happy Birthday.” Then the whole company and the whole crowd (including all my friends!) sang to me, wishing it to “Dear Susan.” And here’s where the cheesy words come out: in that moment, I felt completely submerged in love and joy. It was wholly unexpected and so nice- but so much more than nice. The words are failing me here. It was the sweetest thing I could’ve imagined. Throughout the day, I received so many messages from friends and family back home. My heart ached with how much I missed everyone and the amount of love I also felt from a thousand miles away. I feel immersed, engulfed in the love of all the people in my life. From every place, no matter how far or near, people care about me and I care about them. It was the best birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you to everyone who made it special. I love you all. It's far north here. I didn't realize how north- even with all the warnings my dad gave me.
Colorado is not a warm state. At all. It's not like Wisconsin or anything, but we have our share of snow and cold days. But it seems like a tropical vacation compared to Northeast England! The other issue is that because of the tilt of the Earth and my geographic location, there are simply fewer hours of daylight. If I finish class at five, I'll walk outside and the moon is shining bright. It's dark or getting dark most of the time so the ground never has a chance to warm up in the sun. And the sun isn't out super often either. But then you get days like Thursday. I was getting conflicting reports about snow in Sunderland. There was nothing I wanted more than a true winter day in England. And that's what we got that day. When I woke up, the outside window looked like a snow globe. I had to look twice to make sure, but yes. Outside was a winter wonderland. And the snow was sticking. When I walked outside, my boots crunched the snow. The sky was English grey (Is that a color? I'm making it a color.) and heavy with more precipitation to come. The air was /freezing/. Two degrees Celsius- or 36 Fahrenheit, but felt like 26 according to my phone. So freezing but still comparitively warm for frozen water, which meant the snow fell in giant fluffy flakes that stuck in everyone's hair. It also meant perfect snowball and snowman making weather. Throughout the day, snowmen popped up everywhere. Every hour or so, you could hear someone screaming in a snowball assault. I kept humming Frozen songs throughout the day, and when I got back to my flat I was knocking on everyone's doors: "Do you want to build a snowman?" Five minutes later, we were running around in the snow like children. My socks were soaked and my hair a curly mess. My skin had that wonderfully cold feeling you get when your heart is pumping like crazy but the air is too chilly to ignore. We ended the snow day with hot chocolate and holiday biscuits (cookies). It was a wonderful way to start December. |
Amy Golden
Amy will be spending the academic year at the University of Sunderland in England studying journalism. Archives
February 2018
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