Yet another random burst of my wonderfulness!

I just changed the weather location on my computer to Utrecht--I didn't know you could do that!

It's Halloween for me before it is for you!

Happy Halloween! It's Halloween here already, so I can start acting like a maniac and blaming it on the day before anyone else! Oh wait, I already do that! And how will I be celebrating? A full day of lectures and a tour of the Red Light district in Amsterdam--ooh, scary...
I can go trick or treating before anyone else can--haha!!! Except I don't have a costume, and few people celebrate it here. Except for the little girl I heard screaming at her mom last week "Mommy, Halloween costume, I want a Halloween costume!" in Dutch, so I don't know how I picked it up, but I did. Iveta has promised that we can trick or treat her room, and she will have candy for us, but that is just to make sure we don't get bored and "trick" her. I have plans for the evening (not Halloween) but otherwise I would "trick" regardless of the "treat." It had better be a good treat, that's all I have to say. I miss the wonderful commercialism of Halloween, because I really want some Pillsbury Halloween cookies with the pumpkins or bats on them! Just give me a pumpkin cookie cutter and some cookie dough, and I'll be a happy camper! I already have the chocolate sprinkles for decoration--the Dutch seem to be obsessed with them! And I desperately want to carve a pumpkin! If I didn't have plans for Wednesday, I would hunt down a pumpkin and carve it in the hostel, and make pumpkin soup with the insides, and put the jack-o-lantern in the window of the hostel. Or if I couldn't do it in the hostel, I would carve it on a street corner. In a country that has legalized marijuana, I figure I wouldn't be any further out there if I carved a pumpkin on the a street corner!

People

I've finally met up with cool people! (Molly, thanks for the cool vocabulary!) Oh I have been looking forward to this since NOISE! Wonderful people were at NOISE, and now many of them are here in Utrecht! Before I left Berlin, I emailed Katha and Stephanie, and I heard back from them right away! When I got to Utrecht Sunday night, it was an amazing feeling to know that I was in the same town as lovely people!--I am a little starved for stress-free companionship at this point.
Then on Monday morning, I was eating breakfast when I heard someone call my name, and Elaine is standing at the front door of the hostel, just having got in from her flight from the U.S., here to spend a day with the program. A nice person! The world was made right when Iris (van der Tuin) and Marta (Zarzycka) walked into our room at Drift 23. Next Domitilla and two other Utrecht gender studies students talked with us about their experiences as Utrecht gender studies students and their involvement with the student organization Ask Annabel. Then we had a lecture by the one and only Rosi (Braidotti) on her article "Identity, Subjectivity, and Difference." I never thought I could actually understand psychoanalysis, and apply it to issues of class! Rosi just talked, and knowledge flowed out of her very being, infecting us like wonderful feminist viruses (seriously, that is a legitimate simile from NOISE).
Then on Tuesday we met Gloria Wekker, who gave us an amazing lecture on the construction of Dutch identity and multiculturalism, followed by the always lovely Rosemarie (Buikema) who gave us an amazing and incredibly enlightening lecture about Dutch migrant art during the 20th century.
Wednesday evening, I was in the grocery store, trying to figure out how to weigh my carrots on the scales, when I was going to stop and watch a girl weigh her produce on the scale. She turned around, and it was Katha! I just had this feeling that I would meet up with her at some random place rather than the two of us planning on getting together! So we had this giant hugging scene in the middle of the produce section at the Plus store and we talked in English probably too loudly for too long, but neither one of us cared. And she did show me how to weigh my carrots on the scale, and we made plans for this Saturday night.
Then on Thursday, Iveta tells us that we are required to go to two of the three Bienalle lecture focusing on Dutch identity while we are here. So Martha, Ashley, Leah and I go, and while we are waiting in line to get in, we see Katha, along with Somaye from NOISE and several other MA students. It was so lovely to see them once again, and be with nice, "cool" people.

If you have a ticket to A-dam...

If it's Wednesday, it must be A-dam. My life changed a little bit when I looked at the train schedule at the station and saw "A-dam" used as an abbreviation for Amsterdam, and "R-dam" for Rotterdam. What can I say, I'm easily amused and it made me happy early in the morning. Amsterdam is less than 30 minutes away from Utrecht by train. On Wednesdays we go into A-dam for lectures with NGOs, and yesterday we were at the IIAV, the International Information Center and Archives for the Women's Movement. It is housed in a former church, and it can be a borderline religious experience stepping into the place, as it has nearly everything about the Dutch and international women's movements. We had a lecture about the European Feminist Forum, which is a network of feminist affinity groups that advocate for social change at national, regional, and international levels. In the afternoon we had a lecture about masculinity and violence, which is always a welcome change for me in women's studies. I always like discussing masculinity because I spend so much time deconstructing the concept of "woman" and femininity, and also because I think the group as a whole needed a little bit of male energy and a lot of male perspective--just to counterbalance all the estrogen in the air.

For lunch we went to a neat little Turkish restaurant, where we sampled their assortment of pita concoctions; I had the one with feta cheese and spinach. We all had baklava, and then while everyone was having their tea chasers, I tried two of the cookies from the bakery case, which, despite being bright yellow and pale brown, were actually fairly good. All this and a drink for less than five Euros!

Iveta got us train tickets all the way to Amsterdam Centraal (our stop was one stop before Centraal) in case we wanted to go into A-dam. Surprisingly, I was the only one who wanted to take advantage of it! Which of course was fine with me. I realized that in all of this traveling, this was my first time entirely on my own since Bologna, and the first time trying to figure out trains on my own--sheer bliss! I didn't really know what I wanted to do, except just to take advantage of my ticket to Amsterdam and walk around to try and get a feel for the city. I did find the map that I wanted to get, but "feel for the city" part was a little bit more complicated. First of all, the weather yesterday was cold, wet, and dreary--typical October Dutch weather. I had to be realistic with myself that I would not see the A-dam of a postcard, which was probably the most important part. Secondly, I did not venture far beyond the train station, just walking down the main street, past the royal palace (I think), and back up to the train station. I only spent about 45 minutes or so there, but it was enough time for me to get a picture in my head of how the streets run and to find out that despite its size, shops and businesses in A-dam are just like those in any other Dutch city and close around 6:00. I was so proud of myself when I went back to the train station and got right onto a train headed to Utrecht Centraal--I'm a pro at this! It felt unbelievably good to be traveling alone, on my own terms, without other people stressing me out, and discovering Amsterdam and the Netherlands for myself. And discovering, for instance, that I don't think you really need a ticket for the commuter trains in the Netherlands, because I never saw a conductor or any sort of authority on any of the trains I took. My next scheme is to test this hypothesis perhaps head to Belgium next weekend, without a train ticket to Rotterdam--I know, it's crazy, but I think it just might work! Or maybe I'll just take advantage of the 30 Euro student fare that Ashley found on the internet.

A block away from "the end of the world"

Only a few bits of the Berlin Wall are still standing. The only way you can really see how the Berlin Wall split the city in half is on certain tourist maps. As I was looking at one the other day, I noticed that the red line that marked where the Mauer once was seemed to be only a block or two away from my apartment on the map.
Then Tuesday evening I had a great conversation with Sabine about the neighborhood. It seems she has lived in this part of Kreuzberg since she came to Berlin about twenty years ago and has seen so much of the neighborhood change. She enjoys living in this part of Kreuzberg, with its eclectic mix of everyone from traditional Turkish immigrants to hippy artists and everyone else in between. She told me that her building, which once was part of social housing, was sold in July to a private owner, and that now she expects her rent to triple. The building next door was sold a little before Sabine's, and the landlord drove the previous tenants out, changed a few windows, and charged high rents to "yuppie" students--or rather the yuppie students' parents. Twenty-four buildings were sold along with Sabine's, and she said that if what happened next door happens in all twenty-four of these buildings, Kreuzberg will change forever, and not for the good in the eyes of Sabine and many of her neighbors. Don't you just love gentrification? The residents have formed a type of housing union, and have been fighting the city and the landlords, which is really inspiring.
But all of this still somewhat shocks Sabine, because she lived here before the Mauer came down. She told me, "You could go for a block in two directions, and there was the wall. No one wanted to live here; it was really the end of the world. Now everyone wants to live here." I learned so much during the conversation, about the Berlin, the neighborhood, and Sabine.
So after we talked, I naturally set off to see the Mauer--or where it once was--for myself. I walked down Adalbertstrasse in the opposite direction of the U-Bahn station. Along the way, I literally stumbled upon a "stumbling block." Carolyn pointed them out to us on our tour of Berlin on Saturday. Stumbling blocks are little gold plaques that are about the size of any other stone in the street, but they small memorials to Jews who were killed in the Holocaust. They are outside homes and other buildings, and they basically say that a victim of the Holocaust lived here when they got their deportation papers, where they were deported two, and when and where they died. They are meant for everyone to stop and remember that a person from the Holocaust actually lived here, and that now we live in the same place. This stumbling block was only about 100 meters from my apartment. I definitely mentally stumbled upon it, and I was so surprised when I saw it that I think I actually stumbled across the stones. It's language is simple but straight to the point: "Here lived Klara Winkler, born 1887, deported in 1943, killed at Auschwitz."
I walked a little further down Adalbertstrasse, remembering that Sabine said that although the Mauer doesn't stand there anymore, there is a park where it once ran. I came to the corner of Adalbertstrasse and there it was, a park the ran straight down the middle of the street. If I didn't know any better, I might have thought that it was just a neighborhood jogging path down the middle of the boulevard. There are few signs actually saying what the park signifies, just a few inconspicuous blue street signs that say "Berliner Mauerweg." As I stood on the corner of Adalbertstrasse, I realized that I was doing something that was not possible twenty years ago--I looked east down Adalbertstrasse. Then, I crossed Bethaniandamm to the park. There are no traces of the Mauer left, the park is even slightly below street level, below the foundations of the Wall. It was an intense, almost eerie feeling. But actually, I think it goes beyond using the noun "feeling." I was standing where the Berliner Mauer once stood, and for me, words can't even begin to describe what was going through my head. I tried to picture the scene twenty years ago, with the Mauer winding its way like a snake through the scene, with barbed wire and armed guards with machine guns along the top, but I really couldn't grasp it. When I crossed Adalbertstrasse into the former East Berlin, I realized that even though I did something that was impossible twenty years ago, today it is very unremarkable. If I stopped in the middle of the street trying to take it all in, I would end up as a hood ornament on one of the cars careening down Adalbertstrasse and turning onto Engeldamm! Crazy Berlin drivers! The park is now an absolutely beautiful neighborhood space, with benches hidden in small groves of trees and bushes, and jogging paths run along each side. That's what it is now, a jogging path.
There are two churches, one on either side of the park. Thomaskirche is in the former West, Michaelskirche in the former East. Both are large red brick Evangelical/Lutheran churches with large grassy parks surrounding them, but their present states are testament to the two very different histories they have, just a few hundred meters apart. I first went to Thomaskirche which is an absolutely lovely neighborhood church. There are services at 10.00 each Sunday, and on Thursdays a theater group meets that is devoted to giving voice to women's experiences. The inside is a mix of old and new, the original dome, above the new chairs and alter. It is a very welcoming space, and there are several binders near the door that have very detailed histories of the division of Berlin. Even though I had studied the building of the Mauer and the Berlin airlift in German class, it was completely different to be in Berlin, less than fifty meters from the Mauer, reading about this as local history, and although it a significant period in world history, I was reading the account of a neighborhood, of people who had experienced this; my new neighborhood, my new neighbors.
After I left Thomaskirche, I walked to Michaelskirche. When I got to the front, I was frozen in my tracks. I looked up at the facade of Michaelskirche, first at the gates that prevent anyone from entering the front, then at the mural above the doors and then through a circle where a window once was. There was nothing there. The light of day shone to the opposite side of the church, revealing only a hollow shell where the nave once stood. The church looked to have received a direct hit by a bomb, and because it was on the east side of the Mauer, it had not been restored or demolished. Just left there. On the right of the facade is a small playground. At first glance, it may seem like a ghost, a testament to the horrors of war and then a totalitarian state, but as I walked around, I found a different history being written. The back part of the church is being restored, probably so it does not collapse, people walk their dogs around the church, and small children were learning how to ride bikes across the street. Michaelskirche still looks out over its neighborhood, and is still part of the residents lives. As I was walking around, the clock struck six o'clock--the clock in the bell tower of Michaelskirche. Even though it stands on the edge of ruin, remarkably the bells still chime the hour, just as they have since the nineteenth century.
I can only imagine and begin to understand what it was like to live on Waldemarstrasse twenty years ago. It must have been rather unnerving to live so close to "enemy territory." It really was the end of the world. Life continued on both sides of the Mauer; people lived in their apartments, children played, church bells chimed--parallel lives, only audible to each other, with governments, ideologies, and fears embodied in the Mauer that separated them. Today there is no Mauer through Kreuzberg, no separation between east and west, just Berliners, their neighborhood, and their memories.

I finally found it!

Ever since I got past immigration at Heathrow, I have been on a quest for the little pink bars of scrumptious heaven, so much better than the holy grail--Yogurette chocolate bars. The size of Kit-Kats, filled with strawberry yogurt goodness. It has been a heart-wrenching love affair for too many years to count. OK, so they are probably ordinary chocolate bars, but I happen to absolutely love them! It was the first thing I bought the last time I came to Germany. I had hoped beyond hope that their reach extended beyond the borders of Germany, but they weren't in any duty-free shops in Heathrow or Gatwick. Nor were they in anywhere in Bologna, Krakow, or Prague. I had just about given up ever finding them again, when I ventured into a Lidl for the first time in Europe. I know, Lidl's are nothing special--a grocery store where you can buy many things in bulk quantities--but I had seen them everywhere else I'd been, but had never gone inside. Actually, I thought the one down the street from Alma Mater in Bologna was a big laundromat, and even though I eventually figured out that it was a grocery store, I could never get away from it being a laundromat. Anyway... So I was in the Lidl, not really finding anything resembling the macaroni and cheese that I was craving, when I saw them! Yogurette bars, there in their pink strawberry goodness. It was better than finding the holy grail! I proudly walked to the cash register, bought my Yogurette bars, and barely made it home and made myself finish my Chinese take-out before I dove into them, because I knew that after eating a Yogurette bar, nothing else could possibly measure up. Last night as I was scouting another local grocery store, I found more of them--a bulk package with 30 strawberry Yogurette bars and another kind of Yogurette that has mixed berries and is in a lavender package! I didn't get them last night, but when I go grocery shopping today, you can believe those are at the top of my list! I absolutely love this--rediscovering things that I love about Germany and finding even more things to love!

Think local, eat global!

On the last day of NOISE, Katharina said to make sure to go to Kreuzberg when I made it to Berlin. I even wrote it down in my planner so I wouldn't forget. Well, Katharina, I did a little better than that--I live in Kreuzberg! Kreuzberg is amazing, and huge! Kreuzberg is one of the especially alternative areas in Berlin, and I have spent days wandering around, and still there seems to be more! My U-Bahn stop is Kottbusser Tor, which connects to the U-1 (which goes to the East Side Gallery on one end to the Kufuerstendamm on the other) and the U-8 (which has so many neat neighborhoods, including Mehringdamm, along it). Kreuzberg is also home to a large immigrant community from all over the world, but we have mostly Turkish immigrants and their families in our neighborhood. At first I was a little hesitant to use my German, because most of the time I have (what sounds to me like) a pronounced American accent, but Sabine said not to worry, because there are so many people from different countries that I would fit right in. I'm just adding to the linguistic diversity in the neighborhood--how amazing! I live near Oranienstrasse and Adalbertstrasse, which have so many great clubs, restaurants, and cafes, as well as little alternative shops that you really can't find anywhere else. There is even a random Italian bookshop on Oranienstrasse that really has more books in German than in Italian, but nonetheless has many books in Italian and some great feminist postcards. I haven't been into the African store yet, but that will change. Along Mehringdamm and Bergmannstrasse there are a neverending supply of awesome second-hand clothing shops and eclectic shops selling all sorts of things from around the world. My favorites are Checkpoint (second-hand clothes) and Alt-I can never remember its name but it's on Bergmannstrasse (for everything from Indian hammocks to scarves to pillows and chairs and so many other things I could go for broke on. Then there are the endless parties within a ten minute walk from my house--amazing! But probably my favorite thing about living in Kreuzberg is the seemingly infinite amount of ethnic restaurants--Turkish, Lebanese, Syrian, Chinese, Thai, Italian, Vietnamese, Indian, and I know I am forgetting so many more! I literally can't stop eating! And it is all sooo good! When I told Kellie about what I had eaten in my first three days alone, she couldn't believe that I hadn't eaten any "German" food, and I told her that I can't do that because if I want to eat what is in my neighborhood, I can have Thai for lunch and Lebanese for dinner (which is a terrific combination, might I add). I love it! I have yet to get around to sampling Turkish food, but considering the fact that my cousin Kriss lived in Turkey for two years and now considers Cajun food to be blah and mild, I might hold off for a few more days if I want any tastebuds left. I love that I live in a place where if I want to "think local," I automatically "think global!" Amazing!

Find, Stalk, Buy!+Real Freedom=AMAZING!

I have finally found good tofu! I went to a great little Thai restaurant (where the waiter spoke German to me and scared me!), where I actually found tofu that tasted amazing and not disgusting! It was "ein schoenes Tag" (a beautiful day), as the waiter said. Actually I mentally freaked out when he started speaking to me in German, but when I realized that all he was saying was that the weather was nice and that he wasn't trying to talk about politics with me, I calmed down, and said that I would rather speak German than English.
After an amazing lunch, I hopped the U-1 to one of the many great flea markets in Berlin. I ran into Olivia and Stephanie, who had just been there, and said that it was amazing, which it was! I had to repeatedly ask myself how many bags I really need (but those purses were so cute!), how many jackets I have room for in my suitcase (none), and on and on! I knew if I started buying things right away, I would have easily blown 100 Euros in twenty minutes! Of course, I have been saving my money for Berlin because I knew that the shopping is amazing and there is so much to do, but I could not imagine how awesome Berlin is!
After I got through there, I went to the opposite extreme on the other end of the U-1--the Kufuerstendamm! Another thing I was brainwashed into absolutely wanting to go to! As we were pulling out of the station at Warschauer Strasse, a German tourist who was sitting across the aisle from me got really excited. "Is that the Berliner Mauer/Berlin Wall?" Her companion, obviously a Berliner, nonchalantly replied in the affirmative, which got this woman so excited. I turned around and looked out of the window, and sure enough, there is was, the East Side Gallery.
A short 15 minutes later, I was ascending the steps out of the Kudamm U-Bahn station. The first thing I saw was the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedaechnis Kirche (Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church). It was bombed during the war, leaving only the facade and bell tower standing in ruin. The spire pierces the sky in a broken edge that stands as a stark reminder to the devastation of war amid the bustling street filled with high-end stores and die-hard shoppers. On either side of the original church are blue-glass buildings, one is the new church, and the other the new bell tower. The ground floor of the bell tower is a fair-trade shop featuring handmade items from all over the world, as if to say that given the site's history, it was taking a step forward to rebuilding a more peaceful and just world. All in the name of tourism.
I went up and down the Kudamm, knowing that I wanted to be back at the church by 6:00 for Gottesdienst (Sunday services). The Kudamm is to Berlin what Michigan Street is to Chicago--many amazing stores to keep my shopaholic heart content and high prices to break my bank account. I had to employ my shopping strategy to keep me from buying everything in sight--find something I really like, think about it, maybe go back to the store just to make sure I really want it, and then go back a few days later if I actually plan on buying it. I wanted to find the KaDeWe, or the Kaufhaus des Westens, which is the largest department store in continental Europe. When the store has to have its own information desk at the entrance, with maps in twelve different languages, you know it's big! I didn't have much time before church, so I headed for the food floor. I need two hours for the food floor alone! It has everything imaginable, including a selection of American food like Betty Crocker cake mix and Kraft Mac and Cheese. I can make God's cookies if I wanted! There are so many types of meat, and if you wanted you can choose which swimming thing you want to take home and cook, but obviously that didn't interest me. I was in love with the chocolate cases, the pasta case, the bakery case. Oh my gosh! This was one floor! I have to go back, as cheesy and touristy as it sounds!
Then I went to church at the Gedaechtnis-Kirche. The new sanctuary is round and very modern with walls made of square of blue glass. I have been used to going to church in large, ornate Catholic churches, so to come into this one was a pleasant change--especially when the pastor processed down the aisle and I saw that it was a woman! Welcome to being back in a Lutheran/Evangelishe church! The church was obviously meant for tourists, as it did not have a congregation with the "regulars" and being right in the middle of the tourist and consumer heart of Berlin. The pastor was amazing--I love it when the pastor genuinely loves what she is doing, sharing the word of God with the congregation. For the first time, I could understand the readings, the prayers, and the sermon, and not simply because of the rituals of the service! The scripture reading was the one (which I can't remember to save my life) when Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment. Another Godspell scene! Of course, it is to "love the Lord your God" with all your heart, soul, and might. "And the second is like it, to love your neighbor as yourself." One of my favorite verses. Then the minister talked about freedom in her sermon; I really hope that it wasn't a service staged simply because of the church we were in. She said that we cannot truly be free when war and conflict are rampant in our world, and where people must stand on the streetcorners, begging for spare change. She referred to one person in particular on a specific corner of the Kudamm, and you could leave the church and find him exactly where she said. Freedom, she said, (and keep in mind this me translating from German) is a condition between God and man, and between man and man, and if we miss both of these crucial points, we can never be "free." A much better point than invading, "liberating," and killing. It was one of the best services I have been to in a long time. Despite the fact that there wasn't communion and I had a hard time paying attention after a certain point in the service (but I am so used to Father Randy's five-ten minute homilies at Loretto). I hadn't been to church since Krakow, and going to a Protestant service with a woman (for a refreshing change!) was amazing! Another dream come true, another once in a lifetime opportunity! Another truly amazing day in Berlin!

I LOVE BERLIN!!!!!!!!!!

Guten morgen, Berlin! I stepped outside my building, threw my arms up in the air, took a deep breath, and did a little happy dance!
I was all excited to start massacre the German language! I went into a little store around the corner and asked for orange juice! I went down the street to a bakery and order two croissants! All in German! OK, so I only needed to know about ten words to do it, but let me live in my excited little world! And then I navigated the two U-Bahn trains to Mehringdamm perfectly! I was so proud of myself! I am so amazing!
We had an orientation meeting with our site coordinator, Ipek, who is a really famous German-Turkish lesbian DJ in Berlin. She was named one of the top 100 women in Germany, and after being with her for a couple of hours, I can see why--she is amazing!
We spent most of the day on an amazing tour with a Canadian expat, Carolyn, who will also do an anti-racism workshop with us later this week. If we only have one good tour besides Krakow on this trip, I am glad that it was Berlin--the guide in Prague really had no idea what she was doing, and we had a good tour guide at Auschwitz I, until we got to Auschwitz-Birkenau and she met us in tears because her daughter-in-law died while we were en route to Auschwitz II. Anyway.
We started off at Friedrichstrasse, and before we left the U-Bahn station, Carolyn told us how the U-Bahn ran when Berlin was divided. The line we took, U-6, started in West Berlin, went through East Berlin, and ended in the West. The trains still ran through East Berlin, but no one could get on or off, as they were technically going through a different country and "enemy territory." The stations in East Berlin were called ghost stations. Armed guards with machine guns would patrol the platform to make sure that no one got on or off. We got on the U-6 at Mehringdamm in the former West, and got off at Friedrichstrasse in the former East.
Friedrichstrasse was home to Berlin's cabaret scene during the 1920s, when the German economy was in shambles and money was spent as soon as it was earned because of constant currency devaluation. Another site the Carolyn pointed out to us was what was known as "The Palace of Tears" during the communist period. If someone wanted to leave East Berlin, they would have to go through a long, awful process of applying to leave, be harassed by the police for wanting to leave (including their family), and be turned down, repeatedly. If they were finally granted clearance to leave, they would have only 24 hours to pack their belongings, say goodbye to their friends and family, and get to the train at Friedrichstrasse, knowing they would never see their family again. As Carolyn told us this story, I actually cried.
We went to Alexanderplatz, which was the center of East Berlin, is one of the centers for Berlin today, and has a world clock (that is not on daylight savings time). The Fernsehturm (t.v. tower) towers over Alexanderplatz and Berlin. It was built as a show of the East's industrial and political superiority, but in the course of building it, they realized that they did not have the technical knowledge about how to build it and had to import it from outside the Soviet Union. In addition, it was supposed to answer back to the crosses on top of the churches in West Berlin, but when the sun shines on the ball, it shines in the shape of a cross. The joke was totally on them!
We went to Rosa-Luxembourg-Platz, which has a memorial (sculpted by a woman) dedicated to the 2000 women who protested their Jewish husbands being deported by the Nazis. After protesting outside the prison where their husbands held, the Nazi commissioner relented, never deporting the majority of the Jewish prisoners, and bringing back the 25 that had already been sent to concentration camps. It is the only known instance of civil disobedience against the Nazis working during the regime. Woman Power!
We walked through Museumsinsel (Museum Island), and Carolyn told us so many anecdotes about each of the places. About how the communists tore down the imperial palace, and put up a palace to communism on one part of the site and a parking lot on the other. Now the communist palace is being torn down, because it was built with asbestos. Go figure! But the princesses' palace is now home to the largest cake bar in the world, so I am going to have to take part in the German tradition of "cake time" an afternoon or two this week. I like "cake time" much better than "tea time"--I don't like tea but I love cake.
Then walked along Unter den Linden, which is like the Champs-Elysees of Berlin. Unter den Linden is another one of those places that we had learned about in German class, so to actually be walking down Unter den Linden was another dream come true! I was dancing with excitement! On Unter den Linden there is a memorial in front of the law school at Humboldt University dedicated to the book burnings that took place there. In the middle of the square there is a white glass square in the ground, where you can look down into a room that has empty bookshelves that can hold twenty thousand books, the number of books that were burned. When you stand on top of the glass, you can only see your feet, which the architect meant to ask "what would you have done if you had witnessed the book burnings?" A bit further away from the glass is a plaque with the famous Heinrich Heine quotation "Where they have burned books, they will end in burning human beings."
We took a bus down Unter den Linden (which is under massive construction right now, especially down by the Brandenburger Tor), on which I got my first glimpse of the Brandenburger Tor! I was so excited! I had stopped taking pictures because I didn't want my camera batteries to die before I could get a picture of myself in front of the Brandenburg Gate! Before we went to the Gate, we visited the Reichstag, which is the seat of the German Parliament. At this point, I had so many inappropriate lines from "The Producers" going through my head! We stopped in front of a line of jagged stones, which Carolyn said were a memorial to the government officials who spoke out against Hitler and had been killed. When I went over to look, the first one I put my hand on was a stone for an official named Ernst Grube. I completely froze, and I don't remember what Carolyn said after that. I know, there is no possible way that there is any strong familial connection after hundreds and hundreds of years, but I read "Grubb" when I looked at the name. (Grubb is my mom's last name.) Grube/Grubb. The resemblance, particularly when you (try) pronounce it correctly, is too frightening, He was killed in 1945 at Bergen-Belsen. I was not expecting it, and it obviously really shook me up. I definitely cried at this point, but I didn't want to try to explain it to anyone.
Oh, then the Brandenburger Tor! Actually, I thought it would be bigger than what it was. But nevertheless, I was at the Brandenburger Tor, I couldn't believe it! I was in Becki Roams travel heaven! As we were trying to get a group picture (the first one of the entire trip) we found ourselves surrounded by a completely random dog parade! Hundreds of dogs walking their humans, and some of the dogs and humans were dressed in matching sequined costumes. A dog parade at the Brandenburger Tor--amazing!
The rest of the day was just as amazing, and I felt like I sampled so much of Berlin in one day, but yet I hadn't even begun to scratch the surface! Leah, Leah's ex-boyfriend, Ashley, Martha and I got some Italian food on Mehringdamm for dinner. When we entered the restaurant, the owner asked us how many of us there were--in Italian! Without missing a beat, I automatically answered "cinque"--I knew I couldn't put that Italian away! Then that evening Teddy, Joanna, Mahina, Kristen and I went out a party on Oranienstrasse--I live in the neighborhood where everyone goes to party! Amazing! Amazing, amazing, amazing!!! I LOVE BERLIN!!!

Herr Langton said to go to Dresden and Leipzig...

Be excited, be very excited--a train directly from Prague to Berlin! Not like the three trains from Krakow to Prague! We could set our bags down on the train once, and we would be whisked away to Berlin. At least that's what we thought. It would not be a typical travel day for the Antioch group if something didn't go wrong.
Initially, our train to Berlin was half an hour late, but at least it came. I settled into my window seat, looking forward to five hours of pure relaxation and silence. Even though I had articles to read for Germany, the only thing I wanted to do was write. And so I wrote for an hour and a half straight, and if you want to read the scenery-fueled nostalgic mess, see the next post. Anyway.
As soon as our train crossed the border into Germany, I became so excited! I was back in Germany! I was back in Germany! My countdown to Berlin was nearly over! For those of you who I got to talk to online while I was in Prague, you also knew what the countdown was, because I told you each time I talked to you. That was also when they stopped having the announcements in Czech and English. Soon after we crossed the border, the conductor came over the loudspeaker and said (in German) that the train was stopping in Dresden and not continuing on to Berlin. I went to the next compartment and told Iveta what the conductor had said, and she would not believe me, "No, our tickets say that this train goes to Berlin, we are not stopping." After I tried to reiterate that I was not making this up and that the train really was ending in Dresden, she still would not believe me. Fast forward five minutes. The conductor comes on again and says "Deutsche Bahn is striking today, and therefore this train will be ending in Dresden and then going back to Prague." I translate again, and this time another girl goes and tells Iveta, and Iveta listens to her. Between Iveta and I talking to the conductor, we learn that lo and behold, the train is stopping in Dresden, but there may be a train to Leipzig, and from Leipzig we may be able to get to Berlin. I take the blame for the Deutsche Bahn strike and for our travel plans getting so screwed up, because whenever I travel, someone goes on strike. It happened with Aer Lingus, so it was no surprise that it happened with Deutsche Bahn! And I had been so excited to get to Germany and start trying out my German, but we hadn't been in Germany twenty minutes, and I was burned out from using my very rusty German to translate between conductors and the group. I was not ready for this! But of course I was still crazily excited, trying not to sing and dance in the train. I was in Germany, on a train that was going on strike, I could *somewhat* understand what people around me were saying, and I would eventually be in Berlin--what could be any better!?
Once we got to Dresden, we basically ran to a train that would take us to Leipzig. Once we got to Leipzig, we had no idea what to do next, but we would be in Leipzig, which was supposedly one step closer to Berlin. This train was a regional train from Dresden to Leipzig, and was not ready for the passengers of a large international train to come on at the last minute. So everyone going to Berlin piled onto it--baggage in the aisles, people on top of baggage, people on top of people, it was beautiful. We had about ten people plus our obscenely oversize luggage crammed into the entrance of the car. But as we were pulling away from the station in Dresden, we went passed the opera house in Dresden, which was all over our German textbooks. I got really excited, and people laughed at me. Once we left Dresden, the scenery was still rather beautiful, and I didn't have to look out the windows...I mean there was a gorgeous guy who was crammed into the entrance with us, and he spoke perfect English and was incredibly nice. The problem with being where we were was that anytime the train stopped, we prayed that no one would want to come on because that would mean we would have to rearrange all of our stuff and cram even more people into the already overcrowded space. I groaned whenever they said "Austieg rechts" (right, my side of the train) and breathed a temporary sigh of relief when it was "Austieg links" (the left side). After another part of the car cleared out, Joanna and Ashley took their stuff and ran to the other part when we pulled into a couple of stations. I eventually found myself holding some of Mahina and Ashley's stuff, as well as trying to corral my swivel suitcase, and I just jammed myself into the corner and put my sweatshirt against the wall and slept. I had not been able to eat anything since breakfast, I was on three hours of sleep, and I was tired of translating. Feed me and I'll translate, darn it!
Once at Leipzig, we ran to another train that would take us to Berlin, and we still haven't figured out why these last two trains were running if Deutsche Bahn was on strike. I don't remember much of the last train. I was tired, and the floor was the most comfortable train floor ever. I was a little irritated at this point, because I just wanted to relish being back in Germany and savor the moment, but instead I had to deal with grouchy train attendants and other grouchy people. We were all grouchy. But my mood soon changed...
Oh BERLIN!!!!!!!! I kind of like Berlin right away! Despite the fact that we had to take three more S-Bahn trains to get to the restaurant where we would have dinner and meet our host families. The restaurant was an Indian restaurant called Assam, and it is my new favorite Indian restaurant. I looked at the menu and realized that I could read it! And then I had no problem ordering in German! And they had Spezis! My first time having a real Spezi in Germany!!! Oh my gosh, what could be better?! Even more excitement! A Spezi is a German drink that is basically Coca-Cola and orange Fanta, and is the only way I will ever drink Coke. Danke, Herr Langton. The food was amazing, and even though I can't remember what was in it, go to Assam and ask for #17 and a Spezi, and you will have found happiness in Berlin!
On the other hand, I was rather nervous about the homestays; or rather, choosing my homestay. Our site coordinator, who is totally amazing and does things her way, has us choose our homestays. She has a list of families, their neighborhoods, how many students they take, and the vegetarian/pet/smoking situation. At this point in the trip, I kind of wanted to stay in one of the few one-student homestays, mostly so I could practice German and explore and experience Berlin entirely for myself. There was one homestay in particular that was in Kreuzberg, was a single woman, wanted one student, was a vegetarian, didn't smoke, and had a cat. Perfect. So I chose Sabine.
As I was getting my luggage together, the waiter randomly asked Sabine if I was American, when I shocked him (and Sabine too) by answering in German. He kept asking questions, and wouldn't let us leave until the general story had been established that yes, I was an American student, I was from Chicago, I speak a little German, and I will be in Berlin for two weeks.
Sabine had plans for the evening, so after she left I collapsed and had the apartment all to myself. I basically have the front of the flat to myself, with my room (which is her son's room) and the living room with the t.v. Oh the television! I have not watched t.v. since coming to Europe, so I just spread out on the couch and watched t.v. It felt so, so good just to sit in front of the one-eyed monster and let my brain... Zack, you can watch Nickelodeon here, but you might not like it because it is German and has SpongeBob. Everyone else: remember the awesomely bad '90s shows like "Pete and Pete" and "Clarissa Explains It All"...I never thought that my first night in Berlin would give me flashbacks...in German...

The last day in Prague

Thursday, my last day in Prague. Being in Prague was another dream come true. Sometimes I had to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. Prague is definitely a place I would love to come back to. Even though I really enjoyed it, I felt a little guilty that I wasn't feeling the same way about leaving Prague that I felt about leaving Bologna. In Bologna, I had to force myself to buy my postcards because I knew that it was inevitable that I would have to leave. In Krakow, I eagerly bought my postcards, ready to leave Krakow and go to Prague. But in Prague, I bought my postcards, knowing that I was another step closer to Berlin, and I would miss Prague more if I wasn't leaving Prague for Berlin. But I don't think I even scratched the surface of Prague, and there are so many things that I did not get the chance to do. Prague Castle, Astrological Clock, Wenceslas Square, the crazy dancing building, Mala Strana, Josefov, Alfons Mucha and Jan Saudek art exhibitions, all check. But there is so much more--to much to list and make myself sad that I didn't do! Naturally, I tried to pack everything into my last afternoon!
If there was one thing that I would be disappointed if I left Prague without doing, it was going to the World Press Photo Exhibition. I really enjoyed the lecture about the World Press Photo competition we had at NOISE. The exhibition doesn't come to the United States, and if I ever wanted to see it if I wasn't in Europe, the next closest place would be Toronto. So this was really a once in a lifetime opportunity! Student admission was 50 CZK, or less than $2.5. I had to do this! We saw some of these pictures at NOISE, but I enjoyed going through and analyzing the images for myself. I noticed nearly everything at the exhibition that Marta had said in her lecture! The "high standards of photography" that is constituted and reaffirmed by middle-class white men for middle-class white audiences. Women portrayed as highly sexual or as the epitome of vulnerability and victimization. "One person's trauma relates to another person's trauma." The "pornography of misery." The first pictures in the exhibit were pictures of animals and the environment (including series of a seal eating a penguin), followed by row after row of sports photos. I should probably interject here that at this point I had hardly seen a photo of a woman or a picture taken by a woman. The sports then gave way to the heavy, political photos. The first I saw was of a rescue effort in the Canary Islands, where relief workers and vacationers alike were rushing to help a boatload of African refugees that had washed up on shore. That part was profound, but the photo focused on women in bikinis bent over a male refugee, giving the dual image of the ever-nurturing women and the objectification of women's bodies. There was another image of (I remember correctly) a Guatemalan or Nicaraguan woman lying dead in the street, her body full of dozens of bullets. The female victim. I nearly missed the photo of the year--the one of the young Lebanese women in the convertible returning to their neighborhood at the beginning of the most recent Lebanese-Israeli conflict--because it was randomly stuck in with the other photos. I looked for "power relations, intersectionality, and cultural meanings" in the pictures, and was disturbed at what I saw. Naturally, I was disturbed by the images, how we live in a world with so much conflict, violence, and hate and order them as the least of our priorities (or make them priorities for the wrong reasons). It brought the rest of the world into my sheltered, educated, middle-class realm, so of course this images would shake my individual world. But I was also further disturbed by the choice of subjects and the photographers' motivations in taking the photos. Did they just sit idly by and watch these events happen, thinking that they were doing their part by bringing these events and issues to the rest of the world? I know that the photographer who took the photo of the African child and the vulture killed himself shortly after taking the photo. Did the photographer in the Canary Islands put down their camera and help? Did the photographer in Guatemala/Nicaragua cry after taking the photo of the woman lying in a pool of her own blood? I thought of my own reluctance to take pictures on the trip. There have been so many times that I have wanted to take pictures, to freeze a moment in time for me to remember the message or the scene in the picture. But that ruins the picture for me, it shatters the moment, and I am the only one benefiting from it--when you take a picture, you are literally "taking" something with nothing benefiting the subject of the picture. That is why I have so few pictures of people,
After I left the exhibition, it started raining, and I didn't have an umbrella. Instead of backtracking a few minutes to grab my umbrella from the apartment. I wanted to go back to the castle, just because I thought there was a 6:00 mass at St. Vitus at the castle. It was a big step for me, because it was my first time at the square or across the river since Saturday. I had my confidence and independence back, but I still looked over my shoulder every so often. As I crossed the Charles Bridge, I remembered that I had not made my wish at the statue of St. Wenceslas. So like every other good tourist, I stopped, in the yucky, drizzly rain to touch the statue and make my wish. I won't say what I wished for, because then it would come true, silly! I overheard a German tourist telling an Indian tourist "If you touch the statue, then you will come back to Prague," at which point the Indian tourist responded "Yeah, if you can afford the plane ticket!" It made me laugh and put a smile on my face! When I got to St. Vitus, I found out that mass wasn't until 7:00, and since it was not even 5:30 and I was hungry and still had a paper to write that evening, I decided to cut my loses, not go to church in the Czech Republic, buy some postcards, and head back to the apartment.
Coming full circle from our first night in Prague, Joanna, Mahina, Olivia and I went back to the same Thai restaurant where we had our first dinner in Prague. We downed amazing Thai food and mango juice, reminiscing about the last two weeks. A great day capped off with great food and great people--the perfect way to finish off an amazing two weeks in Prague.

So Vienna looks a lot like Prague Castle

Despite the early morning and slight disappointment about not being able to go to Vienna, I was determined that I was not going to waste the beautiful afternoon lying in bed, which seemed to be the order of the day at Soukenicka 28. I grabbed my purse, put up my "Roam" away message, and set off, camera in hand, ready to commit camera terrorism in Prague.
The day was so beautiful--blue sky, white puffy clouds, sunshine illuminating everything. I took a right from my house, passing the house of the ambassador of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and in hindsight we should have had some sort of message protesting the violence against women and girls that is epidemic there right now (among so many other human rights violations). Instead, I took the back way towards Old Town Square. I wound my way through the narrow medieval streets of Josefov, past St. Agnes Convent, the Spanish Synagogue, and numerous other places not being assaulted with tourists on a Saturday afternoon. I able to stay close to a tour in German, which is how I learned that the St. Agnes Convent was founded by a Czech king's sister in the 13th century. If I remember right.
When I made it to Old Town Square, there was a street performance of five older men, obviously a group of old musician friends who enjoyed playing jazz. I am always entertained by the proliferation of jazz on the tourist streets of Prague! I thought I would hear the same classical music that I did in Krakow, but instead Dixieland was juxtaposed on Prague! The group was pretty good, and I loved it when they imitated Louis Armstrong in Czech--some music truly is "world" music! I am not sure if anyone else in the crowd caught it, but the trumpeter had a blue Union Army cap on, very ironic as they were playing Dixieland! It was the absolute perfect way to enjoy my gelato-esque gelato in Prague!
Then I hit the tourist trap that is Karlova Street, which starts at the tourist trap of the Astrological Clock at Old Town Square and ends at the tourist trap of the Charles Bridge on the other side. The Charles Bridge is touristy for a reason, because not only is the bridge one of Prague's many architectural masterpieces, it offers great views of the city Stare Mesto (Old Town) on one side of the Vlatava River and the hills with Letna, Prague Castle, and the Eiffel/Prague Tower on the other. But I was on a mission--I was headed for the castle.
Prague Castle is one of my favorite places in Prague. There aren't too many places that I have been where 800 years of history is so accessible and absolutely beautiful. It is slightly surreal to me knowing that I am wondering through the national seat of government and passing through the president's residence as much as I want and totally without a security clearance! (Except for the armed guards posted around the grounds with their guns and bayonets--I found out that I am a little scared of them.) It is also a great place to come just for some peace and quiet, meandering through the gardens, sitting on the walls and letting the breeze and the view sweep me away. Some say that Prague is the Paris of Eastern Europe, I may be tempted to say there is some truth to that statement. Prague is an inspirational place, for literature, knowledge, activism, scenery. It is enchanting, whether I was looking down on it from one of the hills or looking up at the buildings as I walked to class. Prague does have a magical aura to it, similar to Paris, but uniquely Prague. There is even a miniature Eiffel Tower in the park across from the castle! I found myself comparing Prague Castle to Versailles, and I have to say that I like Prague Castle much better than Versailles. Versailles is basically a testament to the wealth and decadent desires a few kings, and while it is a beautiful place to visit to see beautiful art and architecture and learn about an important period in French history, Prague Castle has layer upon layer of history and experience, which makes it much more intriguing to me.
The climb up to the castle is a little steep, but once I got up to the castle, the city of Prague spread out below me. One of my goals was to take advantage of fresh batteries in my camera and snap as many pictures as possible at Prague Castle. And I reverted back to my Disney Princess/Feminist Queen fantasies. I realized (and you will probably disagree with me) is that the world needs a feminarchy, perhaps just to take care of the problems of patriarchy. Prague Castle would be a great seat for the feminarchy--it is in a castle, it already has the government offices, the castle has great views of the city...And of course I would live in the castle, but I wouldn't need the whole castle. I thought off all the amazing feminist transformation that the space could be used for: shelters, schools, job training programs, so many other programs needed to remedy the problems caused by patriarchy. And I would keep a small part for myself, which of course would be my rose garden. That would be mine and mine alone, where I would retreat to at the end of long days from saving the world. That was a lot of feminist language for me! All the while I snapped pictures, exploring each passageway or path that I came upon, and occasionally just sitting on the castle walls and trying to take everything in. My camera told me that it was time to head back with the batteries died, so I left the castle and walked to Mala Strana back the Charles Bridge.
That was when I saw him. I was about a third of the way between the castle and Charles Bridge, and surprisingly there weren't many people around. I noticed a creepy looking guy on the other side of the street, and when he crossed to my side of the street, I crossed to the opposite side and headed down a different street. I looked back and saw that he was staring me, watching me walk down the street, and not really bothering to hide it. I was being followed. I immediately grabbed my pepper spray and hid it under my shirt, ready to use it. There weren't many people on the street, so he would be able to see if I ducked into a store or restaurant. I kept heading for the Charles Bridge, thinking that I would be able to lose him in the crowds of tourists on the bridge. But once I got to the bridge, he was still following me. I had to stop at a crosswalk, when he caught up to me and was about twelve feet away from me. He knew that I knew he was following me. I was ready to turn around and use my pepper spray, and then run, but for some reason I don't know how I managed not to completely freak out and panic. I got back onto Karlova, which weaves and winds and has wall-to-wall tourists. It was hard to keep moving at a fast pace, but I could zig-zag in and out of crowds, trying to put as much space, crowds, and turns between the creeper and me as possible. I looked back when I got to Old Town Square, and took a different way back to Soukenicka, which was still through a touristy area, where I knew the side streets and could zig-zag back to Soukenicka. I think I lost the creeper around the square, but I was still scared. Fortunately, Leah, Ashley, and Martha were going to grab some dinner, so I was able to go out with them, but I kept looking over my shoulder. Rationality told me that I had lost the creeper, I handled it the best way that I could, and that it was a freak incident that could happen anywhere, but I was so shaken up. That was the scary part for me, not the incident itself, but that it shook my confidence so much. All the nights I was alone coming back from Notre Dame, the six weeks in Europe, the first Friday night in Bologna where I took the wrong bus and was stranded for half an hour (didn't tell you about that, did I?), the nights in Bologna and Krakow where I was out until ten or eleven at night by myself...the nights, and this was during the day in a crowded area. I had to work my confidence back up to step foot outside the apartment by myself, if nothing else to go to school.
As I looked at the pictures I took throughout Prague that day, I knew that I had an amazing day, and I wouldn't let one scary incident ruin my day, ruin my great time in Prague, and shake my independence.

I'm going to Vienna!!!--it's the brainwashing (updated)

I wrote this last post night, when Leah and I were planning on going to Vienna for the weekend. We got up at the obscene hour of 5:15 this morning, and went to the bus station to get a ticket to go Vienna. We could get a ticket to leave at 8:00 am, but then we would have to come back on the 8:00 bus from Vienna tomorrow morning! We wouldn't have anywhere near a full 24 hours in Vienna! In the early morning light, we decided to cut our loses, enjoy Prague and got back on the Metro to go back to the apartment. Everything always happens for a reason; I was on less than an hour and a half of sleep, I know better what to do the next time I want to day trip, tomorrow is supposed to be the only nice day in Prague for the rest of the week. Plus when I got back and went in the kitchen, my water bottle was still sitting on the table. Clearly, I was not supposed to go to Vienna!

So I am breaking my own rule of day tripping out of town when I only have one weekend in Prague. But it's not my fault, it's the brainwashing from five years of German class.
All that said, I'm going to Vienna!!!! Oh, Wien! I know, I haven't seen much of Prague at all, being sick this week. But I still have another week! I am this close to Vienna, and after five years of being brainwashed in my German classes, I can hear the call (or the sound of music) to go Vienna. Plus I am looking forward to *almost* understand what people are saying, and being able to read the street signs, and in general not feeling like such an idiot wandering the streets, not being able to decipher any local language. I know I will stumble, I know I will make mistakes, and I know that I have not really spoken any German in over a year, but it will be amazing!
I am staying at a hostel, and I splurged on a single room. The hostel seems to be the same deal as Alma Mater, so it should be okay. Apparently there are few hostels that are close to the center. Leah and I are going in on the bus (at an obscene hour) and coming back on the bus at 5:00 pm Sunday, but she is going to visit one of her good friends, so I will probably go around by myself, which is fine with me because that way no one can laugh at me when I horribly mess up my German! This is my first time in a German-speaking country since actually seriously studying German (when I went to Germany when I was 13, I only had the introductory middle school German). So this is a really big thing for me! I am really excited! This is going to be amazing! AMAZING!
P.S.: Thanks to you guys who have been especially cheering me on this week and whose voices I can hear in my head all the time (or maybe it's just the im-ing): Sarah, for being my lovely Austrian cheerleader and urging me to go; Kellie, for knowing exactly how I can be and reminding me that I should be safe every time she talks to me; Molly for just telling me to go for it and have a blast; and Mom, for doing all of the above! Love you all!

Ahoy from the Vagabond!

No, I am not trying to extend National Talk Like a Pirate Day! "Ahoy" and "Ano" are my two favorite words in Czech. It's pretty obvious why I think the "ahoy" (ah-hoy--"hello") is so cool--who wouldn't? "Ano" is awesome because, if you are an English speaker, it kind of messes with your head! Ano (pronounced ah-no) means "yes," and the equivalent of "yeah" is "yo" or, even better, "no." I would love to be able to hold a conversation in English with someone who did know what was going on and shake my head in agreement saying "yo, yo" or "no, no." Yo I would!

But I really don't get to say "ahoy" and "ano" that much. We live right in the touristy center of Prague, so everyone in any shop or cafe I have gone into speaks English, so I don't have a chance to horribly mess up trying to use my few Czech words and phrases. Good for integrity of the Czech language, frustrating for me to expand beyond my five word vocabulary. In addition, my host family is hardly around and we don't interact that much, so I can't practice Czech at home. But I think that whenever I am able to practice Czech in my homestay, coupled with my suspicion that Czech may be easier than Polish, contribute to me actually feeling almost comfortable throwing out a prosim (please) or dekuji (thank you). Except when I am ordering food, especially pasta and gelato, because I still automatically use Italian. It wasn't great in Bologna, but it's much better than my Czech! I think part of my problem with using English on this trip and wanting to use and pick up the languages on this trip is because English is my first and only language. I have never been able to use German outside of the classroom, and I don't speak any other languages. So my language complex comes from the fact that this is my one time (at least in the foreseeable future) that I will have the opportunity to communicate in a language other than English. But I have come to understand that English is necessary for many other travelers and Czech people, who also do not speak the same language, but both parties speak English. But I am looking forward to hopefully adding a few more words to my Czech vocabulary, and then testing my German in Berlin at the end of the week!

I really feel I must update on the posting from my the beginning of my second week in Krakow, where I said I was falling apart because my foot was killing me and I thought I was catching cold. First of all, my foot is much better, and only rarely hurts or feels weird; but we are going dancing tonight, so that will be the true test! And, long story short, I have spent most of the first week in Prague sick. I started feeling better throughout the week in Krakow, so I thought it was just allergies; but when I got to Prague, I started going downhill. Again, I though it was my allergies, because everything that I could be allergic to but can usually handle individually--dogs, cigarette smoke, down pillows, dust, really old buildings--are all in the apartment. But when I still had problems in class and going out to eat, I realized that I had a cold. I have felt ten times better each day (it doesn't hurt to breath anymore!), but it has been depriving me of being able to go out and explore the city and eat gelato. I can tap into a wireless signal while laying in my big comfy bed, so that has made my days, which have been split between class and bed, so much more tolerable and fun! But I am feeling better, so expect me to go out and cause trouble and explore Prague!

About that gelato. Yes there are plenty of ice cream stands for all the tourists to flock to while milling around the astrological clock at the top of every hour. But that is ice cream, not gelato. I discriminate--against fake gelato. I just wanted to put that out there.

Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go out and be even more of a vagabond!

My inner Disney princess--or should I say "queen"

Sunday we had a highly uneventful tour of Prague--but of course it was absolutely beautiful. We learned that the four of us live in the Jewish quarter, Josefov, and that we have the best location for the homestays because most of the tour was basically right in our neighborhood! After the tour, Iveta decided that we should go to Prague castle, which sits on a hill dominating the city. One of the sites on the tour was a church by the Charles Bridge that was founded by a Masonic order (I hope I am getting that right, because I can't remember the name of the church). This intrigued a few of us, including Iveta, who really could not stop talking about it. As we walked toward the castle, she told us that the Strahov monastery opposite the castle had underground tunnels that also had a Masonic past, and how when she and Betty tried to visit them, they were denied access. In all of this talk about secretiveness and the Masons, one of the other girls was prompted to voice her disgust with Masons because, as she said, besides being secretive, they were anti-Semitic, patriarchal, and only for wealthy white men. Saying this--not just what she said but the way she said it as well--really shocked and put another girl and I on the defensive, which we were totally unprepared for! I said that my understanding of the Masons were as a service and faith-based organization, which surprised many people in the group. My mom's family has a long history of being involved in the masons; her dad was a 32nd degree mason (the highest level of masonry), her mom in Eastern Star, her brothers in DeMolay (for boys), she and her sisters in Rainbow Girls (for girls, obviously!), and her parents led the Rainbow chapter for many years in the Elkhart area. Even though I was not raised in Rainbow or being active in masonry, I have very strong ties to it, particularly through my mom and grandmother, who tried to raise me with the supreme values of faith, hope, and charity. So when this girl (I do not want to use her name, because that would obviously disrespectful and wrong) attacked the Masons out of emotionally-driven and uninformed opinion, it did hurt me a bit, because that is a strong family tradition, a base for the values that I was brought up with, and a connection with my mom's family. I was not upset to the point of being completely crushed, but I did try to avoid the girl for the afternoon so I could get my emotions in order, because I haven't felt affronted like that in some time. As we were walking to the castle, Ashley and I started talking, and I found out that she too was trying to grapple with what had just been said. She has been active in the Rainbow and Masonic youth organizations nearly her entire life, and that is where many memories, values, and friends come from. We talked about our respective feelings and experiences; about the types of service and other activities she does in her organization, about my family's tradition, about how so many people have misconceptions of the Masons and what they do, particularly after the DaVinci Code, and how we are afraid we are seeing the decline in participation, particularly with people our age. I had never met someone my age who had been involved in Rainbow, and neither of us expected to come on the trip and meet another person who we could talk to about this. She got a kick out of the fact that my high school prom was at the former Masonic temple in Elkhart, and that my mom had as much fun (if not more) hearing me describe how it looked after the fire when I was six and after it had been turned into a dance club. In the end, the positive connections that came out of this outweighed the minor negative incident.

Can I say that one of my favorite things on trip thus far is Prague castle? Why did I even ask that? Prague castle is absolutely stunning. Again, Prague spreads out beneath you, and I could just sit for hours on one of the walls of the castle and take everything in! Prague castle is now the seat for the Czech government, and you can walk right under the Prime Minister's house without any snipers on the roof or gates meant to keep citizens--or non-citizens in this case--out, very opposite the White House. On the other side of the Prime Minister's house is St. Vitus Cathedral, a huge and spectacular Gothic cathedral, flying buttresses and gargoyles and all. I was a little disappointed, because I was totally expecting the gargoyles to come to life and start singing and dancing! I guess that only happens in Paris. Or in Disney movies. The castle is definitely something that I would take the good part of a day to explore. There are several museums and churches on the grounds. A must-see is Golden Lane, a very cute little street that reminds me of the Muppet Christmas Carol, and was where the castle's artisans and masons (the craft and guild kind) lived, as did Franz Kafka. The houses are the tiniest things I have ever seen! There is also a dungeon at the end of Golden Lane, and I kind of want to go in there, but I am not sure that they allow visitors, so I might just have to break in! And then the gardens--the labyrinth of gardens that winds through the castle are so magical! I found one small garden in particular that was walled in, had a line of pink rosebushes, ornate lamps, and a spiral staircase that led to a little turret, very a la "Romeo and Juliet" or "Beauty and the Beast." I am a hopeless romantic. It was the absolute most perfect place for me to get in touch with my inner Disney princess, particularly since I was wearing my pink swishy skirt, and for me to over come the many years I have spent in jealousy and rivalry with Belle from Beauty and the Beast, who lives in a castle in France that has an enormous library and in the end winds up with a cute guy who is also a fabulous dancer. Besides the fact that she started on this path as basically a sexual captive in the castle's dungeons. Now I had my own castle, my own garden with pink rosebushes, and my pink swishy shiny skirt--eat your heart out, Belle! The next step in the whole feminist princess process is to kick out the Czech government and all of the tourists from my castle! Then I would be queen, wouldn't I? I can do that!

I do not want to really go into what happened next. There were some group issues that had been boiling under the surface, and then boiled over while the group was at the castle. We had a long, emotional talk about class and privilege as the streetlights came on at the castle. I don't really want to discuss what was said, as this is not the place for specifics. I will say that it was enlightening to learn more about our group dynamics and the individual members of the group. I realized that although I can speak about "patriarchy" and "oppression" in an academic setting and apply it to other people and their situations, I have a much harder time positioning myself as being effected by these structures, although I know that I am. Everything that I have learned in the last two years in being involved with the Center for Women's Intercultural Leadership and in my outside activities and classes really helped me understand what happened.

The view only gets better as you get higher

If I had to characterize my explorations of Prague thus far, I would have to say as a general rule that the view only gets better as you get higher. And no, I am not making any references to the use of cannabis.

Saturday afternoon everyone split up; some people found their way to the Vodafone store, others went back to their apartments, and because neither one of those appealed to me, I had my first wandering through Prague. I think it is very appropriate that I live near a street named "Revolution"! I headed up Revolucni (I wish I could tell you that the stores and restaurants on the street live up to its totally cool name, but they really don't) and saw what look to be a park on the other side of the river that looked really cool. Of course I investigated. The climb up the hill from the river is very steep, and as I kept climbing higher, I would have to stop and marvel at the view--Prague is gorgeous! All of the buildings from various architectural styles make for one amazing architectural patchwork that is framed by the Vlata. Letna (the name of the park, which I found out later) is definitely a little off the tourist map, and is where families and friends come to meet and enjoy spending time with each other in the great outdoors. Since I was pretty much the only tourist taking in the views, I had to dodge dogs, couples on rollerblades, and little kids on their bikes. But it was totally worth it! Just when I thought the view could not get any better, I went further along the path and found another breathtaking vista! I made my way through Mala Praha ("Lesser Prague," which I think is my favorite part of Prague) to the Charles Bridge. Like in Krakow, the Charles Bridge had all of the great touristy music that I just can't help but love. Just off the bridge, there was a concert by a Roma family, with the most amazing, high-speed violin part I have ever heard! There was an accordion and a guitar as well, but the violin player really didn't need them and could have kept the crowd going by himself. People were dancing and clapping, and the atmosphere was electric! On the Charles Bridge itself, there were two men trying to play dixieland-style jazz, which took me away for a moment from the Charles Bridge and back to Louisiana. But then I came right back, listening to the toe-tapping rhythm, and taking in more of Prague in the yellow evening twilight. Great times!

After all of that walking, I had to drag myself back to the apartment. When I got in the door, Mahina and Joanna were leaving to go to a potluck dinner over at Stephanie and Kristin's apartment, but I knew that if I went to Steph and Kristin's, they would have to drag me back to Soukenica. So I stayed in, planning to relax for a little while and head then head over to the potluck. In the meantime, Betty came home while I was getting something to drink in the kitchen, so I helped put the groceries away; while I was putting the groceries away, Betty started making a big bowl of pasta and was chopping up garlic and scallions. Did I ever mention that I love pasta? She invited me to share the pasta with her and Mary (did I ever mention I know how to score a great pasta meal?), and for some reason it was amazing! After we were finished eating, Betty took two bowls of pasta she had set aside and told me that they were for the dogs. Motioning for me to watch, she held the two bowls up, said some type of command in Czech, and the dogs sat up on their hind legs with their paws in front of them. Betty stretched out the whole show, and when the proper comedic effect had been reached for the easy-to-please American, she put the bowls down on the ground and told me to watch the second half of the show. "It will take 60 seconds," she said, as the dogs devoured the pasta, which made me laugh uproariously. I obviously don't have dogs. As Betty, Mary, and I sat around the kitchen after dinner, I learned that Betty had trained the dogs to act like squirrels to ask for their food. I think what makes the show even better is that the dogs are nearly identical brothers, and they do this completely in synch! Yes, I know, I am easily amused! It was then that I learned how to say marijuana in Czech, because that is one of the dogs names (just because I can say it doesn't mean I can spell it!). I ended up by staying in that evening, but I am really glad that I did, because I was able to spend sometime with the my host family and learn more about them and become more comfortable living with them.

"I think you will enjoy many fun times here."

Our travel was definitely better going from Krakow to Prague than going from Bologna to Krakow. The only scary time was connecting to our second train in Katowice, Poland because it wasn't coming and wasn't showing up on arrivals board and we kind of thought we were going to be stuck in the middle-of-nowhere Poland. It was just a little late, and we made our connecting train in Ostrava to Prague without a problem.

Even though the train ride from Ostrava took three and a half hours (which for some reason was a really long time me to sit still, play sudoku, and begin to do homework), the Tatra mountains at twilight were beautiful. As we zoomed past picturesque little villages, I had the soundtrack from the Sound of Music in my head--the cheesy, musical, supposed-to-be-Austrian-but-really-Hollywood Sound of Music. I know. You don't have to say anything. I am sad and pathetic. But it is one of my favorite things!

We made it into Prague around 8:30 Friday night. Even from the trian, Prague is huge! Bologna and Krakow were both big cities, but they're not quite the sprawling metropolis that is Prague! We all were kind of plastered to the train windows looking at Prague's skyline at night. Strangely enough, when the train was entering Prague, and as we were disembarking from the train, I had this feeling of--I don't know how else to describe it--happiness. Of being almost contented. Even if I can't accurately describe it, I felt like I had in Bologna, happy to be where I was and happy to simply live in the moment. Maybe it was because I have been looking forward to seeing Prague, to be having a homestay, or whether it was just that the weather was nice Friday evening, but I got off the train with a genuine smile inside and out.

At the train our host families swept us up in a flurry of luggage and introductions in Czech. Iveta and the four of us in the big homestay were met by Betty, her partner Honsi, and Betty's sister. Picture this situation: eight people, five people's insane amount of luggage, and two compact cars. My luggage went in first. Honsi tried heave my luggage into the trunk, but I wouldn't let him do it. I have not been dragging my 32 kilo suitcase halfway around the world for nothing, and so instead of letting this tall muscular man lift the suitcase into the trunk, little me who doesn't weigh that much more than my luggage hoisted it into the trunk without a problem. Honsi was completely dumbfounded, and everyone totally cracked up laughing. I don't think I explained it very well but it was hilarious! Mahina said that she wasn't going to be that much of a feminist! The four us and Honsi piled into the taxi that only says its a taxi but is not a real taxi. Honsi speaks more English than Betty and was our translator for the evening, and wasted no time in breaking the awkward silence by asking the question; that if this women's studies major had a ten cents for each time someone had asked her the question she could pay off her student loans and work on paying for law school,

"So, you are all studying gender studies. What is this, gender studies?"

So of course with four women's studies majors in the car you can imagine what happened next...no one said anything, just a bunch of awkward giggles. It had been the first time on the trip anyone had been asked about her major, and it can be kind of difficult to explain women's studies to someone to someone who is not very familiar with feminism, particularly a man, that we'd just met, in the Czech Republic. Eventually one of us said something about women's studies and feminism and a women's perspective (obviously she wasn't me). Then Honsi, obviously intrigued, pressured us even further. This second question definitely pays for at least the first year of law school,

"So what can you do with this gender studies?"

Here I feel I should say that Honsi was not trying to be cynical or mean or anything, he was just genuinely curious and obviously had never had a car-full of American women's studies students before. Again, all the four of us managed to do was look at each other and giggle awkwardly some more. I didn't say anything because I figured my usual canned response of "anything I damn well want to" wouldn't exactly work in the situation. Instead I think I offered something like law. One of my more acceptable responses. But then,

"But how can you have this gender studies at your schools? Don't you have men at your schools?"

Oh yeah, this question fell right into my lap. I'm the only person from a women's college on the program. This one was all mine. And in a random situation like this I couldn't go into a spiel about the importance of being educated as a woman at a college entirely for women! So I think I said something along the lines of that my college was specifically founded to be a women's-only college, and that it wasn't going to change in the near future. The dichotomies of "man-hating" feminism and the preservation of age old tradition nearly choked me as I stumbled to find the right words. But it worked for Honsi.

As we were driving to the apartment, Honsi laughed with us and said "I think you will enjoy many fun times here." I think that was an understatement. The fun had already started in the car, and didn't stop when we reached the apartment. About the apartment. When we walked in, there were a ton of people! When we got there, we must have had at least 15 people in the apartment, including some random visitors from Canada that were apparently long lost relatives of Helena's (Betty's mother). It was loud and boisterous and totally chaotic! Introductions happened, but I can't really say who was who. All that I remember from the introductions was the crazy old Canadian man that came out of Helena's apartment waving his cane at us. And the dogs didn't particularly take to us either. In the middle of the madness Iveta was going around doing introductions. I do remember that we met Betty's older daughter Vicky and Vicky's boyfriend (Iveta: "And this is Vicky's new boyfriend; she must have gotten a new one." Right in front of the boyfriend; we hoped he didn't speak English.) Iveta has such a way with words. Back to the apartment. I feel like the only way to attempt to capture the eclectic character of the apartment is to say, well...I feel like I am living in a surrealist painting! Absolutely nothing goes together, with random paintings and magazines and pieces of furniture that really aren't supposed to make any sense to unenlightened outsider. Except for the references to cannabis throughout the apartment, including the hookah in the bedroom I share with Leah, which is the designated non-smoking room. The apartment is gigantic and is like a maze, with one room leading off of another. The four of us share the daughters' rooms at the front of the apartment, which are basically the size of a small apartment in itself. Leah and I have the small bedroom, but it is big enough that we each literally can take a side of the room. The apartment is so awesome! I have already begun thinking about how I would decorate it, and I totally want an apartment like this! In the whirlwind of introductions, Mahina whispered to us "I think these people are hippies!" I think that too is a little bit of an understatement, but I think I will be enjoying "many fun times here."

On to Prague

This is the last post *from* Cracovia, but like I did for Bologna, I have a bunch of stuff that I have written for the blog but have been too busy or too lazy to post. We are leaving on a train for Prague in five minutes, or should I say three trains! We won't get there until 8:30 tonight! I made the mistake of looking at my horoscope a couple days ago said that my present travel plans would be delayed, and knowing our group's crappy luck with traveling, all the Tauruses on the trip are to blame this time (and I think I'm the only taurus). We are staying in homestays in Prague, and there are four WMSE students staying in my homestay: Leah, Joanna, Mahina, and me. Plus the coordinator Betty, plus her husband (I think), plus her two daughters, one daughter's boyfriend, and perhaps Betty's mother. In an apartment. For two weeks. Plus at least two dogs. And apparently their English and German is questionable. And my Czech is totally nonexistent. Iveta got Mahina and I excited because apparently they live right across the street from a vegetarian/vegan restaurant, but then she said "But it's kind of expensive." OK down an excitement level. And then she said "And it's really not as good as Green Way." Thanks, Iveta! I don't know what the internet access is going to be like, but I will post more on Cracovia as soon as I can. I just want clean clothes because I haven't done a load of laundry since the first week in Bologna! Did I mention ten people in one apartment? Oh yeah, it'll be amazing!

Disturbed in Cracovia

I think this whole time in Poland, I have failed to mention the fact that currently there is no Polish government. Well, parliament, at least. Apparently the president and prime minister (who are the only head of states who are also twin brothers) are so impossible to work with that the parliament voted to dissolve itself. As an American, it is so hard to believe that a parliament or any governmental body could just vote to dissolve itself, and it is further unfathomable that this could happen and the nation not be in a complete state of uproar. If it were the United States, there would be total anarchy and chaos! I can't really talk, though, because I would be one of the feminists trying to establish the Feminist States of America! But it's another story in Poland, where the Poles merely say, "we'll have elections in October." Wow! I guess I am really impressed (should I be?) that people can take an event like this in stride and not go completely crazy; I don't think I am explaining this right, but I think there is a lesson in citizenship that Americans can learn from the Poles.

Some of my favorite performers on the square are the people who bring out their guitars and play random folk and rock rhythms amid all the accordions and violins playing their baroque and classical melodies. Yesterday I was walking down Grodska on my way to cause trouble at the castle when I walked past one such guitar player sitting near the gelato place. I picked up on the beat until the guy actually started singing. John Mellancamp's "Jack and Diane"--which is one of the songs that I absolutely can't stand--in Polish! I'm from Indiana, so of course I like John Mellancamp, but I very strongly dislike "Jack and Diane." A little part of me died inside when I heard it!

Then as I was walking back to hotel from the grocery store tonight, I followed two older men, in their sixties perhaps, merrily singing and dancing their way down the Westerplatte. Or maybe it was closer to skipping and hopping rather than random dancing. They were trying to do a hop step at the same time, and maybe it was my imagination, but they might have been skipping arm and arm. They were completely harmless, just two very merry and very drunk old men! I am not sure whether to laugh hysterically or to be traumatized from the experience!

"It's cold and rainy and we're standing in the middle of the square in Krakow eating gelato."

I just talked to my mom! And my brother, and my grandmother. We call at 5/11--five their time, eleven my time. I have talked to my family six times in the last month since I have come to Europe, four times in Bologna and twice in Cracovia. I love my family and I miss them, and I am always so happy after I talk to them. It is weird to talk to my family and friends back in Indiana. I love where I am and would not trade the people and the experiences for anything, but it is strange to be separated from everyone and everything, that I am not a part of what is going on. The Cubs and Colts are still winning, Notre Dame is still losing miserably (if that's what you call the utter disaster that has ensued the last three weekends), the Monologues workshops are starting, the Certificate people went on the retreat this weekend, Feminists United and the Women's Resource Center are doing amazing things, and everyone is back at SMC, and I am not a part of it. While on one hand it can be difficult at times, being here is a great thing, because I need this time to be on my own and learn more about myself and where I am supposed to go in the world. And I am having the time of my life doing it!!!

And I still haven't posted pictures. I am ashamed. The time that other people spend taking and uploading pictures I usually spend writing. Probably because I have so much to do and I know that if I put pics up, I will waste at least two more hours (as if I don't waste enough time already). You are probably getting really bored with just me rambling on, but seriously, the pictures aren't that great. I have had an ethical problem with taking pictures, because I see all of these great photo ops with people, but I feel wrong taking pictures of them without their permission and then putting them on my blog. Plus I feel that it ruins the moment that a picture is supposed to capture. Or my procrastination inclination kicks in and I think that I'll just take it later. I could keep pondering as to why I don't take more pictures and haven't loaded the ones that I already have taken, but I'll spare you anymore details.

It is so hard to believe that we only have two more days in Cracovia! I thought the time in Bologna went by quickly, but that was nothing compared to Cracovia; it seems like we got here two days ago, but it was actually something like ten days ago. I have to confess, I don't feel the same way about Cracovia that I felt/feel about Bologna. But with each passing day, I have found more things that I like about Cracovia and will always remember. Sitting by the river, hanging out at Massolit, meeting up at the end of a long day at Green Way, listening to the music in Rynek Glowny... The past few days have been absolutely gorgeous, so I have been outside as much as possible, which has helped this creature of the sun enjoy Cracovia even more. Each day I find a new place along the river, and take my little picnic lunch and become a part of the riverside culture. It was in Cracovia that I realized that I love being able to go outside and enjoy the public spaces such as the parks and squares in Europe, and being able to walk (or take public transportation) anywhere I want to go. It is a little sad to get to know a place and culture and then drop everything and leave after only two weeks, but I guess the beauty of the experience is that I will be able to do the same thing in four more places. Four more times to make these discoveries.

This evening we went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner (I went a whole day without going to Green Way), and it was amazing! I really have missed Chinese food, and especially Golden Dragon, so on the way to the restaurant Martha and I were reminiscing about how amazing Golden Dragon is and how much we love it. I had the sesame chicken that was served on a hot plate that was in the random shape of a cow. Chinese food is still my one weaknesses when it comes to eating meat, and even though I hadn't eaten meat in a month, it was delicious! I think I might just go back everyday--all of the two more days that we are in Cracovia! As we were finishing up eating, we looked at each other and simultaneously decided that we needed gelato. So like the crazy gelato-addicts we are, we went back out into the cold, rainy evening (the day started out beautiful again but turned gray and rainy again during our siesta this afternoon), and headed up Grodska to the gelato place. They had fraggola, frutto di bosco, menthe, cioccolatte, something that looked like it was similar to inferno, and even blueberry, but I don't know how to say that in Italian. I had my cioccolatto/menthe combination. This stuff was called gelato, but there was no way that it was real gelato. It's saving feature was that the cioccolatto was really chocolatey, so that kind of made the gelato world right. We walked through the square eating our gelato, when it hit us (yet again) that we only have two more days in Cracovia. That's when Ashley pointed out the total irony of the situation by saying, "It's cold and rainy and we're standing in the middle of the square in Krakow eating gelato." What could have been better? Great people, great chocolate, great place. Just then, the bell in the cathedral hit eight, and the trumpeter sounded his horn from atop one of the towers, sounding the call that the Tartars are invading (at least if this was the 13th century, and the trumpeter gets killed by an arrow to the throat after the fifth note). We looked at each other and smiled. Yes, it was cold and rainy and we were crazy fools eating gelato without any sort of jackets or umbrellas, but that was the beauty of our evening in Cracovia.

Standing in the middle of the Wisla

I wore sandals today! After we got out of our morning lecture, I discovered that I was crazy enough to wear a long-sleeve shirt and another flannel shirt, when the temperature was over 70! I headed straight back for the hotel, and changed into one of my Bologna outfits--my skirt, a my black t-shirt, my Kenyan scarf, and of course my sandals. I shed the heavy backpack and grabbed my Bologna bag and set off to bask in the sunshine. Each day seems to get sunnier and sunnier, and I just get happier and happier! There was no way that I could stay inside--can anyone say PICNIC!!!! I grabbed bread, raisins, and granola, and picked up some yogurt at the store, and while I know this sounds anticlimactic (especially compared with the lentil soup), let me tell you that it was absolutely scrumptious. I found a spot on a hill overlooking the Wisla river, with the castle behind me and a clear blue sky above me. I took my sandals and scarf off and sat in the grass trying to comprehend a Donna Haraway article. Although the setting made tacking the article much easier, I didn't exactly read the whole thing before the methodology seminar where we supposed to discuss the article. After I read most of it, I decided to join the couples and families and cyclists and walk along the river (boats and all). I had not had the chance to just simply walk along the water and soak up the sunshine since in Europe, and it reminded me of going to the beach with my family this summer. There was a sandbar on the other side of the river, and so my nature trail-loving, tree-jumping, trouble-maker self absolutely had to check it out. Don't worry, I didn't swim, I actually used the bridge (I guess that's what those sidewalks are for). Being on the sandbar was like being back on the beach--the waves gently meeting the sand, people talking in the distance, the sun beating down. I just stood in the sand, letting it come into my sandals as I tried to take the scene in--the castle, the city, the sky, the river, the hills, everything. There were even skipper-rocks, so I gathered as many as I could and skipped them across the water. I was so content and at peace, even though trying not to get all mushy (or slightly grossed out) as I stood there with all of these couples. The scene was so idyllic, and I tried to make it sink in: I am in eastern Europe, farther away from my family and friends than I ever have been before, this scene is amazing, and I am here experiencing it all!

J-Walking, Polish Style

I have concluded that you can learn quite a bit about the local culture simply by crossing the street, and that how well you can play in traffic by local rules and not become a hood ornament is one way to measure how well you've adjusted to the place. Here is an image for all of my Saint Mary's women. You want to cross 933 at the Avenue and continue down Saint Mary's Road to LaFortune to go to Starbucks. I will apply the various traffic rules and laws that I have experienced thus far to this scenario, but before I go any further, I must problematize this image. First, I know this image will only resonate with the people who are familiar with this particular intersection. The second reason why this image is problematic is because the intersection is not normally a four-way intersection, because the traffic flows mainly north-south on 933, the stoplight never changes if you are coming off the Avenue, and the light is usually only set off when the Jimmy John's person is pulling off of Saint Mary's Road. It is important to note here that there is a crosswalk across 933, with a button to push to get the signal to walk (but we all know how well that works). And this proves that I have been reading way too much feminist theory in the last several weeks because I just applied the framework of a feminist analysis to crossing the street. I just scared myself.

First I will apply Italian traffic laws and norms (because regulation and theory are not always applied) to the case of 933. In this case, of course you have to stop, because the drivers are crazily aggressive and they won't stop! Stepping out into the middle of the busy four-lane highway without a clear shot or a walking signal is nothing short of a death wish! Once you have the signal, you can cross at the crosswalk, but maybe the cars turned onto 933 will stop for you--only maybe. Crossing the street in Bologna was one adrenaline rush after another, because it was a constant power struggle for the road between drivers and pedestrians, and you could never really tell who would win.

The story is slightly different in Poland. Pedestrians nearly always have the right of way on Polish streets, except in the case of a crosswalk with a signal. Since there is a signal at the crosswalk on 933, you as the pedestrian have to yield to oncoming traffic. But for a moment, assume that you cross at the part of the intersection without the crosswalk. In this case, the cars have to stop for you, although it would be really stupid to step out into four lanes of oncoming traffic and assume that they'll stop for you. In theory, even the trains have to stop for you, but this theory doesn't usually carry over into practice and I don't really want to test that theory. But I have a slightly cruel, sadistic streak in me, and I love to play chicken with the car drivers, because I know that if I step out into the intersection without a light or crosswalk at just the right time, they have to stop for me. I love playing with Polish drivers. But on the other hand, Polish drivers are passive-aggressive, and as soon as you are two inches past their car, they will floor it (if that's possible in a stick-shift Fiat) and nip the back of your heels.

So after I have said all this, I, like all the other great feminist theorists, can't come to a clear conclusion as to whether I would rather play in Italian traffic or Polish traffic. In Italy I had an adrenaline rush every time I crossed the street because I didn't know if I was going to make it across, but in Poland I get the satisfaction of playing with the minds of the drivers as I j-walk in front of their cars. I am getting a little tired of waiting forever at the traffic light at 933, so when/if I decide to come back, I think I might change the traffic norms the first time I have a hot chocolate run to Starbucks.