Marseille It Ain’t So

Four months ago, everyone in the Lausanne program got on a plane to go to Portugal for a week. The idea of an “Educational Field Trip” is brilliant, bringing all the students together to experience a city and country together. Four months ago, Europe was still fairly new to me, as were the people I lived with. But last week, we all went on the EFT to Marseille, France, and everything felt right.

We took a train early in the morning to get to Marseille by midday. Everyone sleepily boarded, but I was wide awake. Despite only getting four hours of sleep due to my procrastination on packing, I was excited and had quite a bit of energy. We arrived in Marseille to sunshine and congregated at a restaurant right next to the Old Harbor. Following that, we boarded buses and drove around the city. We drove up to a cathedral that was the highest point in Marseille. Looking over the city and the water was stunning, and it was fun to see from above all the things we would do later in the week.

We spent three nights in Marseille, although one day was spent in Aix-en-Provence. The towns in the South of France were relatively small, and easily explorable. Things were a little quieter since it’s technically off-season, but we still managed to find things to do. Groups of us went out at night, finding Irish pubs wherever we were. On Wednesday, we took a boat out to the Frioul archipelago, and docked at a tiny island off the coast of Marseille. The weather was warm and comfortable, but the water was freezing. I didn’t even bother getting in, especially after watching those who did emerge shaking and shivering. I picked up some pieces of seaglass, which was in abundance on the sand. My mom and I love to search for the smoothened, foggy glass remnants that have been weathered and resurfaced from the waves of the ocean. There were so many different colors, and I wondered where they all came from, what bottle they were once a part of, and how long the ocean had been churning it. Looking at these little jewels from the sea, I marveled at how such simple beauty could come from something that was once rough and overlooked.

We left Marseille to drive up to Avignon, making a couple stops along the way. The first was in Arles, which was once home to Vincent van Gogh. We walked along the same streets he did, and we stopped by a hospital he spent time at and painted. After seeing van Gogh’s works in Amsterdam and around the continent, it was fascinating to see where he spent his time. After, we carried on up north, stopping at a tiny cobblestone town called Beaux-en-Provence. There was one main road, and we followed it up to ruins of an old chateau. We climbed up to the top of it and looked over the beautiful French countryside. I could see for miles, and the sun shone brightly down on our place in the world.

We arrived in Avignon that evening, and were released to go get dinner and do as we please. We found a square lined with restaurants, and combined several tables in the middle to have dinner with a group. Our friends passed by the square, stopping to chat and make plans for later. When we were done, many of us congregated at the pub right across the street from our hotel. We piled into booths and shared stories and conversations, and I felt so grateful to be sharing this experience with these people. We have very little choice of the people we encounter in life. They come as a result of the choices we make for our location and residence and career path. But it is a special thing when the people we find ourselves surrounded by are the people we also want to be with. I’ve really come to love the group of people I’m surrounded by here in Lausanne, and that’s a cool thing to be able to say.

Friday was the end of the group trip, but we had the option to keep traveling through the weekend. We decided to go up to Paris, and make our way to Normandy. We got in late Friday night, and found our perfect AirBnB right on the Seine river. We could the Eiffel Tower from where we were staying, and my heart swelled with joy as we watched my favorite landmark sparkle against the night sky. Paris, even for a few hours, is always a good idea.

We spent Saturday out in Normandy. The train only went as far as Caen, a town about forty-five minutes away from the beaches. So we rented a car, since the bus schedule was limited due to it being winter. The car was a manual, and I was the one who knew how to operate it. It felt different than my Mini back home, but being behind a wheel again was so exciting. I figured out the clutch pretty quickly, and didn’t stall once. After many traffic laws ignored and broken, we made it onto the freeway, and drove through rain and sun to get to Point du Hoc. It was surreal to see the cliffs and the ocean that our soldiers approached from. The part that was most interesting, to me, was the American cemetery. Thousands of white-cross gravestones, each bearing a name of a lost soldier, stretched across as far as we could see. As hard as it was to see, and even more difficult to fathom, I kept thinking about my visit to Dachau. After seeing the atrocities brought about by Hitler, it was clear to me why America had to join this war. It breaks my heart to know that such evil is possible and present in the world, but it gave me a deep sense of pride to know we overcame it, to know that good won. I watched the American flag wave against the blue skies, and I felt proud of my homeland.

The next morning, we spent a few hours in Paris, and I finally got to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I said goodbye to one of my favorite places in the world, promising I would return as soon as I possibly could. We grabbed our stuff and jumped on the metro, later than we had planned. I watched the clock as we made stops, and calculated that we would have fifteen minutes to get from the metro stop to the train station, a little over half a mile. We walked quickly with our heavy backpacks, trying to figure out where exactly to go. The station came into sight, and our pace quickened. Unsurprisingly, we began to run. We got into the station and pushed through the crowds of people. A wrong turn down a hallway led to us doubling back, and sprinting as hard as we could. We saw our train, and boarded it with three seconds to spare. As we walked through the entire train (our seats were in the very last car), we heard an announcement saying there were technical problems with train. We ended up leaving an hour later on a different train, making us feel really glad we ran (just kidding). We made it though, and after the panting subsided, we laughed as we pictured ourselves running like idiots through everyone.

As I write this, I am looking ahead to the next forty-eight days I have here. Five more weekends trips, then finals, then home. It scares me a little, to think of everything changing again. I’m registering for classes and figuring out housing, and determining what I’ll be doing this summer for a job. I want to be present as much as possible, but the future demands some planning. Then again, it’s 45 degrees and sunny today, so maybe I’ll just sit outside and enjoy the view of the Alps while I can. The world can wait, right?

A Florentine Weekend

My mind is of the restless variety.

Sitting still does not come naturally, and keeping my thoughts focused takes more effort than it seems to be worth.

Yet riding trains is something I love, because despite the lack of space for my legs, my mind is freer than anywhere else. Being in school requires attention, and homework and reading can’t be sacrificed for daydreams. Day-to-day life calls for presence in the moment, and rarely allows for concern for any other space and time. But in those hours spent moving through the countryside, I have no commitments. On our way to Florence, we rode through mountains dusted with snow, and along Lake Maggiore, through the hills and finally to our destination. Being that it is early in the year, my homework load was light enough that I didn’t have to feel guilty about not reading and could soak up the world around me. I wish I could include all the small towns and regions I’ve trained through in the list of places I’ve been, because some of the most beautiful scenes I’ve witnessed have been fleeting in our passing through and my staring out the window.

We arrived to a drizzly Florence. The roads were entirely cobblestone, and I quickly realized I needed to look down at where I was stepping or I would trip. We made our way to the Pepperdine house in the city, where another International Program resides. It’s always nice to have some familiarity in a foreign place. We wasted no time making our way to the Duomo, but we couldn’t climb the giant dome without finding some pizza and gelato first. We were in Italy, after all. When we had some energy in us, we began the ascent. Drama is intended, this was no easy task. Many, many steps later, we came out at the top of the Duomo. The panoramic view was completely worth it, I’ll never turn down an opportunity for a bird’s eye rooftop view.

We went out for a later dinner, as the Italian culture operates on a different clock than what we’re used to. We had received numerous recommendations for restaurants and activities, so after sorting through those, we set out to obtain Florentine steak and chianti. We were not disappointed. It’s nice to stick with the traditions of the culture, and we were not going to object to the delicious assortment of food Italy has to offer.

However, that doesn’t always mean the local cuisine will taste good. The following day, we wandered through a leather market, and gazed at the beauty of the architecture around us. We saw a street cart selling paninos, which we had heard were really good. There was a line, so we figured it must be what we were looking for. We all ordered a “panino con lampredotto”, and received our sandwiches promptly. Upon sitting down, we examined the sandwiches more closely. It didn’t look like pork, or like any meat I had seen before. It smelled odd, and I hesitantly took a bite. We all shared a simultaneous reaction of confusion and repulsion as we tried to swallow the mysterious meat. There was no way the sandwiches could be finished, so we abandoned them and searched for something else. As we looked at a menu outside a sandwich shop, we saw an English translation of “lampredotto”: tripe. Our stomachs twisted as we realized there was animal stomach inside them. It was unpleasant, but I suppose these mistakes can’t be avoided sometimes. At least now we know!

We visited the Uffizi Gallery and walked across the Ponte Vecchio bridge. You know, tourist things. We found a nice, small restaurant for dinner with a nice, small price for some of the best gnocchi I’ve ever had and wine and meat to go with it. It’s a good thing I don’t live in Italy, otherwise I might overindulge on pasta and gelato, and it would be so sad if I ruined that for myself.

We made it back to Switzerland easily, no train delays or conflicts this time. It was interesting to compare Florence and Rome, because they felt different. Each was special in its own way. Italy is definitely a country worth exploring, and although I might not make it back this semester, I hope to return and see more of it a some point in my life.

My restless mind is already thinking about this next weekend, and the weekends after, even to my return back to the States. There is so much to do still, but each weekend, I come home satisfied with what I have done this far.

Wandering

Barcelona, Madrid, Seville, Tangier, Casablanca, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Munich, Lausanne, Heidelberg, Paris.

That’s what this past month looked like for me.

My mom asked if I felt like a vagabond, just roaming around Europe and not returning to a home. While by definition, I certainly seemed like one, it didn’t bother me. Although this was the busiest I’ve ever been, and I definitely got tired of living out of a backpack, I don’t know when else I would have the opportunity to do this.

When I was accepted to the Lausanne program last year, I began to think about my winter break plans. I had heard good things about staying, and good things about going home. I obviously knew nothing about how the year would progress, or if I would like it here, or if I would get homesick, but for some reason I just felt like I needed to stay. I felt like I needed to be in Europe for a full, continuous eight months, and not tease myself with going home for part of it. I told my mom early on, and she was able to bring my family over for part of break. Knowing I would see familiar faces made staying in an unfamiliar world a little less scary.

First semester was not an easy ride. It tested me in ways I never thought I would be tested and in ways I never wanted to be tested. Despite it all, I made it through healthy and with a decent GPA. I can look back on my first couple months here and find the good things, and see how the bad things changed me and me stronger. By the time finals were finally over, I was ready to take a break. Except I wasn’t really taking a break; in fact, it was going to be more work than my weekend trips that I was used to. Traveling in Europe is not a vacation, unless maybe you’re spending two weeks in the French Riviera. But I had chosen to do this, and I couldn’t back out now.

I began my break by heading to Spain with one of my best friends from back home. After giving Daniel a crash course in student traveling (walking everywhere, eating cheaply, early mornings and late nights), we found our rhythm and successfully enjoyed Barcelona, Madrid, and Seville. To tell everything we did, all the things we saw, and everyone we met would take pages.

 

Following Seville, which is near the southern edge of Spain, we made our way towards the coast to find a ferry to take us to Morocco. Perhaps the most risky part of our trip happened to be the part I planned the least. All of my winter break plans came together in the four days before we departed Lausanne, which left a lot up in the air. We arrived in Algeciras, Spain, and began wandering towards the port to find a boat. We met another human who was also in the same position as us. He was a backpacker, and for whatever reason, we followed him and got on the ferry. I seriously underestimated how long it takes to cross the Strait of Gibraltar, and soon it was dark. We then came to find we weren’t actually docking in Tangier, instead ending up about 50 km outside of town. As we disembarked, we met up with the backpacker again. After consulting all of our options, we eventually piled into a taxi and headed towards the city. We left the backpacker without knowing his name, or where he was going, but our mutual state of wandering the earth allowed us to trust each other and work together. And now we were in Africa.

We went to Tangier and Casablanca, and out of the two, I preferred Tangier. We did touristy things in both places, and also explored the city and markets. Morocco is a lot more impoverished than I expected, and seeing third-world countries up close and personal is always a humbling experience. It was almost uncomfortable to walking through the medinas and seeing people who are making a living from selling bread for less than a US nickel, and knowing that I live in places where I would never have to encounter that regularly. It reminded me that I need to be grateful for the things God has given me, and to make the most of my opportunities because there are so many people who will never get them.

By the time we got to the Casablanca airport to return to Europe, I was ready. I was ready to go back to a familiar place, and system of operation. It’s so crazy that I can consider Europe to be “normal” and “comfortable”. I flew up to Amsterdam, where I awaited my family’s arrival. I spent full day and night by myself in the city. Luckily, having already been to Amsterdam, I knew how to get around, and I recognized where I was and never felt lost. It was the first time I had been alone in a city here.

The next day, my mom, dad, and brother found me. It had been three and a half months since I had seen them in person. In between that time, emails and text were sent, a few facetime calls were attempted, and pictures were shared via Facebook and Instagram. Despite the jetlag, they were excited to be here and to travel with me. We had a busy week ahead of us, and it left them restless at times and exhausted at others, but all in all, we did something as a family that we had never done before.

We spent Christmas Eve in Berlin, and the Christmas day on a train. I didn’t mind. I had my family with me, and we could have been doing anything, I would have been happy. We got to walk around Prague on Christmas night, and found a Christmas Market which made the evening sparkle with that special winter magic.

From Prague, we carried on to Munich, where snow was falling and covered the entire city. I had been to Munich for Oktoberfest, but didn’t get to see any of the other parts of the city. It turned out to be my favorite place in Germany. We also got to go see Dachau, which is just outside of town. Obviously, World War II is something we all study, and I’ve seen countless movies and documentaries on the subject. But to actually visit a concentration camp brought about a whole new feeling. As we walked from building to building in the flurry of snowfall, trudging through several inches of white powder on the ground, I pictured the prisoners being here, walking in the snow beside me. As I looked into the sleeping chambers and peered out the same windows they looked through, as I passed through the gates so many of them only went through once, I was finally able to grasp the depth of this tragedy. It was a reminder of the cruelty humanity is capable of. But in that remembrance is also an inspiration to never let it happen again.

We returned to Munich and met up with my aunt who was going to travel with us. We went out to enjoy what Munich is known for: beer. We went to the Hofbrau Haus, which was the permanent location of the tent I had visited at Oktoberfest. We ordered our steins and ate sausage and potatoes (like good Germans), and listened to the oom pa pa band, and I loved it.

The next stop on our trip was Lausanne, and I could not wait to show my family where I live. We really only had one day, so I tried to think of what was most important. Luckily, despite the dusting of snow, the skies were clear, and the mountains looked beautiful across the lake. I brought them to my house and showed them around. They loved seeing it, and thought it was such a neat environment. After, we went up to the Lausanne Cathedral, which is a pretty big landmark of the city. We also ventured down to the lake, and picked up some Swiss Army knives. We wandered through the shops and I pointed out little places I know and go to, and told stories about all the things that happen here. We got kebabs at my favorite place, and went to go see The Hobbit that night. Seeing Lausanne made me excited to go back to school, and it was really nice to be somewhere familiar, even just for a day, after being so far from home for three weeks.

The next day, my dad and brother left to go back to Amsterdam and fly home. I was sad to see them go, but I was so happy they were able to come. They are both busy people, and I have a hard enough time seeing them at home, let alone talking to them when I’m across the world. So to spend a week with them here was absolutely wonderful. My mom and aunt were staying for another week. We left Lausanne for Heidelberg, where they studied for a summer when they attended Pepperdine. It’s a small town, like Lausanne, and there wasn’t much going on since it was New Years. But it was great to see the place where my family studied and shared similar experiences.

After Heidelberg, we went to Paris, which is easily one of my favorites places in the world. It’s so easy to fall in love with Paris, and being connected to the French culture and language makes it even easier to explore the city. Since we have all been to Paris before, we did new things, and some old things too. I took them to the Eiffel Tower at night, to see it sparkle and light up. We got crepes at what I’ve determined to be the best crepe stand in Paris, and breathed in the city.

The next day, we went out to Versailles to see the palace. I was in awe as we wandered through the extravagant grounds. We stood in King Louis’ bedroom, and I just couldn’t believe that a king lived here. I was walking the same halls as royalty. That’s crazy.

We also visited the Musee d’Orsay, which I liked better than the Louvre. It wasn’t quite as big, and featured more Impressionist art, which I enjoyed. We walked down the Champs-Elysee, and wandered around to find a cafe. The next day we went to Disneyland Paris. Even though it was 25 degrees, we still had fun seeing the park and getting a taste of the magical world of Disney. It was fun to have my mom there to do it with me, since Disneyland is usually a family thing. That was our last day together, and I couldn’t believe that my winter break was suddenly over. I was so excited to go back to Lausanne and see my friends, but I was going to miss traveling with my family too.

I took the train back to Lausanne by myself as my mom and aunt headed to Belgium and then onto Amsterdam. I was on the train alone for the first time in Europe. It was crowded now that I was sitting in second class. I wasn’t drinking wine with my parents anymore; instead, I listened to music and reflected on the past month. I got off the train in Lausanne, and felt like I was retuning home. As I lugged my many bags up the hill, I wondered if second semester would be as good as I imagined it to be. I finally found myself in my room, which would only be occupied by me this semester. It was clean and empty, but quickly looked more familiar as my things spread out on the desk and bed and floor. I began to hear other students arriving, and the noise escalated as friends were reunited and stories were shared. I went down into the stairwell and hugged my fellow students and listened to everyone talk at once. I remembered how cool this community is, and how lucky I am to be a part of this house. Although I have absolutely no idea what the next four months hold, I have faith that something good will come of all of it.

We’ll Always Have Paris

Paris.

Perhaps the most romantic, iconic, enticing city in all of Europe.

For our last trip of the semester, we took ourselves to this magical place. Paris is just about three and a half hours away from Lausanne, making it easy to get there and maximize our time. With only three days, we knew it would be impossible to see it all,  but I will be returning with my mom and my aunt after New Years, so I didn’t feel rushed to get everything done.

We spent Friday in Disneyland. We went some of students from the London program, and it was nice to see different yet familiar faces. Hearing their stories and sharing our own made me grateful for Pepperdine and the opportunities it gives us. We got to Disneyland, and it was already decorated for Christmas. The lines were short, so we never had to wait longer than twenty minutes. It was set up the same way, with the different lands and themes, and some of the rides had the same names too. Paris embraces roller coasters and thrills a little more, which was fun. It felt like a little piece of home, a little reminder of the things we love. We ran around all day, and loved every minute of it.

That night, all the Pepperdine kids that were in Paris met up to go see the Eiffel Tower. We got off the Metro, and there it was, all lit up against the dark night sky. It took my breath away, to see it in person. It got bigger as we got closer, and I found myself looking straight up to find the top. We got some crepes and walked over the park behind it. Hundreds of pictures were taken, with different combinations of friends, different angles, all with smiling faces. The Eiffel Tower sparkled for five minutes every hour on the hour, and we all stopped what we were doing to just stare at it, and revel at the fact that we were in Paris.

The next day, we went to the Christmas Markets near the Champs-Elysee. Christmas Markets are quite the things in Europe. It’s like the Saturday market, but Christmas-themed. We wandered up and down the street, finding little souvenirs, and tasting the hot wine and roasted chestnuts. We saw some other famous sights that afternoon, like Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe, and went to the Louvre the next morning. Everything was so grand, and I know I say this about every city I go to, but it just keeps surprising me: every thing I’ve seen in pictures or movies has been put right in front of me, and it’s all so much better in person.

Finals start on Monday, and in just eleven days, winter break will commence. I will be staying in Europe for that month, which just recently I became very excited about. It’s been a wild three months, and yes, I miss home. It’s hard not to, when it’s all I’ve ever known, and it’s been so good to me. But I have the opportunity to see new places, and spend Christmas in Europe. I am fortunate enough to have friends and family that can come visit me, and I’m so excited for them to experience this adventure with me. Home will still be there when I go back in five months, but for now, I truly believe this is where I need to be. I can’t guarantee that I will be able to document all my travels considering I will be living out of a backpack and duffel bag for four weeks, and my laptop will not be coming with me, but I’m sure the stories will be shared in one way or another. Until then, wish me luck on these upcoming tests, and stay tuned for the next steps I take in my journey.

Roma in the Rain

We reached the point in the semester for our long weekend. Five days to get as far away as we could from Lausanne. We decided to journey to Rome, which seemed meek compared to where other students were headed. Hungary, Ireland, Greece, and Iceland made Italy look like an easy journey. I brushed it off and tried to get excited for our trip. I had done the planning, as usual, and everything was so simple on paper. The puzzle was going to come together nicely, and I was proud of myself for getting everything all worked out so quickly. Having just returned from a lengthy trip, we were exhausted of being on a train, and assignments were looming over us like the rain clouds that we were going to find in Rome. I did my best to keep spirits high as we got on our first train to Milan. We were faced with the biggest challenge of the trip on the first night. Our train trip required a change in Milan, but not just from one platform to another. We were going to have forty minutes to get from one train station to another a mile across town. It would have been fine. We would have made it. But our train arrived in Milano Centrale thirty minutes late. I looked at my watch and saw that we had seventeen minutes to make the change. I was so anxious, but swallowed my fear as the doors opened and we began to run. We exited the station and ran right into the stormy night. My shoes had holes in them, and were quickly filled with water. I was frantically reading the map on my phone as we searched for street signs. We alternated between jogging, speed-walking, and sprinting. Finally, the sign for Milano Porta Garibaldi appeared, and a spark of hope ignited. Could this actually work? I couldn’t breathe (running is something I save for emergencies only) but I pushed myself to go as fast as I could to get to the station. We stumbled indoors and looked up at the departure list, only to see our train wasn’t listed. We were five minutes too late.

My heart dropped as I regained my breath and took in the situation. We had missed our reserved train, and were soaking wet, without a backup plan. I was so mad at myself for not coming up with an alternative. We had never been on a late train before, so I didn’t even think we would be in this position. I did know that most trains departed from Milano Centrale, so we headed back. The rain had stopped, and I walked in front of my friends so they wouldn’t see how upset I was. They said they didn’t blame me, that it wasn’t my fault the train was late, but I blamed myself. The next train to Roma Termini was at 6am. It was midnight. I knew we wouldn’t be able to stay up all night. We went into the lower level of the train station where the marble floor wasn’t quite as freezing as the top. We curled up by a closed cafe, and took turns watching each other and our stuff. I could see the misery in my friends’ faces, and I felt like it was all my fault. I apologized as much as I could, but it wouldn’t fix the problem. I shivered all night, worried I might never stop shaking. The stress from all of this made my stomach twist and turn, but I suppressed every feeling of my own in order to keep things going. I tried my hardest to be strong and focused, otherwise the stress between the three of us would elevate. Morning came, and we made new reservations to Rome. Getting on that train was such a relief. We sat patiently in our chairs, and although we were starving and sick and tired, we stuck it out until we got there.

We arrived in Rome, but I couldn’t process anything. We walked just half a mile to our AirBnB, which felt like longer as my backpack weighed me down, and my body ached from everything I had put it through the night before. It was nice to be in an apartment by ourselves though, and to have clean towels and bathrooms and privacy. We were given a WiFi password, and naturally got out our phones to reconnect with the world. I opened up my Settings, only to see that the network didn’t appear. As my friends typed in the password, I just stared at my phone as I walked around the room and hallways, hoping for a signal. But none came. I sat on the bed while my friends sat by the door, busy typing away to their family. I wanted to talk to someone too. I wanted to tell someone what happened to us, and to receive some sort of comfort in the form of words from someone who loved me. But it seemed as though that wouldn’t be possible. My friends dealt with their pains, and I dealt with mine. I tried to act like I was okay, but didn’t really care if I fooled them or not. We finished the night with pizza and gelato, because we weren’t really sure what else to do.

The next day, after much needed sleep in a real bed, we got up and decided to take on the city. We made a plan to go to the Vatican and see what it had to offer. I could sense a difference in myself and my friends, although we were still apprehensive about the whole situation. We figured out the metro and headed out. The Vatican was really interesting to see. We wandered through the museums, and I tried to absorb all the history and art and sensory stimulation as possible. We stood in the Sistine Chapel, surrounded by other tourists, and stared up at the ceiling. It’s hard sometimes to process everything I see, and to comprehend that people were in this same exact spot thousands of years ago.

We left the Vatican and, since we were in Italy, got pasta and gelato for lunch. The skies had darkened tremendously, so we decided to make our way back to the metro. Lightening flashed, and all of a sudden, rain poured down on us. We started running, and I felt the rain sting me. I realized it wasn’t rain anymore, but hail. We ducked into a store to wait it out, but it was clear that the rain would not subside. We were drenched completely, but we kind of had to smile about it. We were caught in the rain, in Rome of all places. Water dries, and problems get solved. Things may not go as planned, but that doesn’t mean it will be all bad.

We continued our time in Rome doing touristy things, which is unavoidable in a city like this one. We went to the Pantheon, and as I stood there, staring up at the ceiling again, I said to Bri, “I remember studying this in 10th grade Art History, and now I’m actually here.” I can remember my teacher explaining how the roof had a hole but no rain ever got in, and being tested on it and learning all these things about history and art. Those things are my life now, and that’s so crazy to me. I’m in the real-life version of a textbook.

After a couple more meals of carbs and gelato, it was time for us to leave Rome. We got on another train that was late, and headed towards Riomaggiore of the Cinque Terre. We only had one night there, but it was worth the stop. The Italian Riviera is absolutely breathtaking, and it’s something I’ve wanted to see for a long time. Since most restaurants close during the off-season, we bought some pasta and locally-made pesto and cooked in our apartment.

We headed home the next day. Our trip home was lengthy, but it went by fast, and we were so relieved to board a Swiss train for our final leg of the journey. Although this weekend was no vacation, it was an experience I am grateful for. It tested us in ways I didn’t think and didn’t want to be tested in, but we survived. The lowest moments on this trip has their opposites, and there were plenty of smiles and laughs with my best friends to keep me going. Expecting the unexpected can be a good idea, and I have learned the value of having a plan B. Despite it all, we made it through yet another weekend, and after a week of rest, I think I’ll be ready for more.

Twenty

I didn’t blow out any candles on my twentieth birthday.

I didn’t make a wish, I didn’t listen to people sing me a song in terrible tune. I didn’t really do much at all. It was a low-key night. Which is fine, I’ve never really needed extravagance on my birthday, it’s honestly just another day. But on this day, I turned twenty. Two decades of life have passed me by, and here I am, with what to show for it? I certainly am not the girl I thought I’d be, and I’m not really sure who I am going to become.

What’s made me the most anxious about this birthday was not the number itself (although, I am halfway to forty), but more so what comes next. In just a couple years, I will graduate college. In a few more, I’ll need to have a career, and build a life, and make a bunch of decisions that I can’t even begin to think about right now. All of this is so close, and yet I feel ready for none of it. It’s a little ridiculous to fear the future, but I can’t but wonder what will happen. No matter how hard I try, I keep thinking about everything that has happened in my life so far, and compare it to what might happen down the road. Will I spend my life alone, or will I share it with someone? Will I get good enough grades to get into graduate school, or will I forego that route altogether? Will I live in California, or return home, or settle somewhere completely new? None of these questions pertain to my life right now, but I can’t help but concern myself with it. I only get one chance to live, and I hate the fact that I’ve already built up some regrets. Adding more to that pile would seem to mean that I learned nothing from my past.

All of these worries have been laid on top of the current stress of just being here and being lonely and scared. We are dealt so much, and it seems like it’s impossible to handle it. Like all of these difficult things will come our way and life can be so hard and unmanageable. There have been many times where I’ve questioned if I’ll make it through successfully, if even safe and still breathing. My mom likes to tell me that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, so I looked up where it says that in the Bible:

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful: He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

-1 Corinthians 10:13

I read that and felt comforted. It hasn’t always been easy or natural for me to put my trust in God, mainly because I have a hard enough time trusting tangible people that surrendering to something I can’t see doesn’t feel real. But I can look back on my life and clearly see where God has helped me and guided me, right to where I am now. That verse doesn’t mean to say that bad things won’t happen or that we won’t make mistakes, but that despite all of the imperfections on Earth, God will stay by us and pick us up when we fall. If we put our trust in Him, then we will have way to get through the hard times. In Him is the way to handle everything, and with His love and strength we can bear what life throws at us. Heading into my twenties, I need to remember this more than ever. I believe it to be true, and somehow reading that makes me feel more secure about the time ahead of me.

Since my birthday fell on a Tuesday, it didn’t make a lot of sense to go out and do something, especially considering I had a midterm the next day. We decided to wait for the weekend, and chose to go to Amsterdam to “celebrate”. Granted, I still didn’t blow out any candles or make any wishes, but I suppose it was pretty cool to think that we could take a trip to another country in honor of my birthday. Regardless of the reason for our visit, Amsterdam provided us with a good time. It’s such an interesting city, which I wasn’t expecting. I realized I had never seen pictures of Amsterdam before, and I was surprised to find beauty in it. The calm canals we walked along provided a dynamic contrast with the bustling streets filled with bikes, buses, and people. The leaves are turning color as fall sweeps the continent, and the sun streamed through the cloud breaks. How this beautiful place is only associated with sex and drugs is curious, since there is so much more. We paid a visit to the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh museum, and there were so many other museums we didn’t have time or money for. Amsterdam seems to be a city of indulgence and appreciation, and it’s up to tourists to decide how they want to balance what is offered. I saw people who didn’t balance it well, and I saw people who did. Amsterdam has something for everyone, and I was glad to find the things that were there for me.

Opening The Door

“You got something to say? Why don’t you speak it out loud, instead of living in your head?”

-‘Settle Down’ by The 1975

We’ve hit the peak of the semester, meaning classes are in full swing and midterms are being dished out. Reading piles up, papers are assigned, and the weight of it all bears down on top of us. After a long week of tests and facing the consequences of procrastination, I was really looking forward to the weekend.

Instead of hopping on a late train to go far away, or cooking dinner and resting in the house, we went to a concert on Thursday night, then trained to Lyon, France the next morning. We saw a British band called The 1975, in a small venue just a mile away from the house. We were pressed up against each other, trying to peer through the heads in front of us to see the show onstage. And it was indeed a show. The lighting paired with the foggy atmosphere added drama and flare, and the excitement from the crowd was easy to feel pulsing from wall to wall. But the lead singer was in his own league. He whipped his shaggy hair around as he waltzed and pranced around the stage. He clutched a bottle of wine, but his intoxication only added to the spectacle and rock vibe. I was entranced as I watched the artist express himself and share with us part of him through music.

After the show finished, we crept around to the back to see if the band would come out. We stood in the 40 degree night, waiting excitedly. A few girls standing near us came over and asked where we were from. We began talking to them, and continued talking to them for the next hour. They were close in age, a little younger, and lived in Lausanne. They were similar to us in a lot of ways, and it was so cool to actually talk to people from here. We didn’t get to meet The 1975, but we made new friends, and that was almost better.

 

We packed up the next day and headed to the train. I wasn’t really sure what we were going to do in Lyon, all I knew was that I wanted to get out of the familiar. We walked to the city center where our AirBnB was. We crossed the Rhone river and strolled past old churches and other buildings. We wandered around until we found our place, and I realized how small the city was. But it was absolutely beautiful. Everywhere I looked I saw something aesthetically pleasing. The one thing I noticed the most were the doors. Not the doors to storefronts, but the doors that just led into buildings. They were wooden and carved uniquely, with age giving them a rustic and strong appearance. I wish I had more pictures to share of them. Amanda pointed out my obsession with doors, and I couldn’t deny it. How interesting that a piece of wood meant to separate the outside world from the inside could be made into something so beautiful? When you know nothing about what’s on the other side, simply walking through the door can be hard enough. We walk through doors everyday, and many of those doors contain unknown rooms behind them. Every week, I leave Lausanne to walk through the door to another city, and I never know what to expect. That risk of not liking what you find can be deterring. Those pretty doors give off a different feel; they are inviting and enticing. If I was always faced with the doors I saw in Lyon, I would never hesitate to go through.

I opened the door to a tattoo shop this weekend, and very quickly made the decision to get one. Now, I’ve been contemplating this for months, but never got around to it this summer nor fully committed to an image. But everything was falling into place so perfectly, so I decided to just go for it. I chose to get the phrase “Alis volat propriis”, which is Oregon’s state motto. It translates from Latin to “She flies with her own wings”. So not only was it tied to home, but the phrase itself speaks loudly to me. I think much of my life, and this year especially, has been teaching me independence and the value of self. Reminding myself that I am strong enough to handle life, successfully at that, is what keeps me going when I’m feeling inadequate or insufficient. I got the tattoo in my handwriting to further the idea of personal strength and power.

I was happy to spend this weekend enjoying French culture, and trying new things. It was low-key, but totally worth it. It was a livable city, full of children and families and people from all walks of life. It was vibrant yet subtle, and never once did I feel overwhelmed. I really fell in love with the charm of Lyon, and hope to go back sometime again in my life.

Places I Never Thought I’d Go

In fourth grade, I did a report on the country of Portugal. I’m not sure what exactly sparked my fascination for it, but my young mind was wrapped around the beauty and novelty of the foreign land. When I set foot in Lisbon on Monday, a wish that had been long forgotten finally came true.

Our program’s “Educational Field Trip” brought us to Lisbon, Portugal for five days. With a balance of planned sightseeing as a group and time to explore the city on our own, I saw Lisbon and it’s surrounding area as both a student and a traveler. We spent much of our time touring on a charter bus, which is plenty convenient, but equally as embarrassing. I’ve never liked appearing to be a tourist. I’d prefer to blend in as best as I can, because I want to feel like I’m a part of the city. When you ride around in a massive bus and unload at every picture-worthy point, the trip feels loses the spontaneity I have grown accustomed to. Granted, there isn’t really another option to showing seventy college kids around a foreign city. But we had these moments where we walked around (still in an overwhelmingly large group), through the side streets and in between buildings, past the locals and tourists alike. I’ve really come to appreciate walking through a city. I used to say that I hated walking, maybe more than anything else. And sure, it can be exhausting. But I love to walk along a street I’ve never been down and rub shoulders with people I’ve never met. I like to peer in to the windows of restaurants and see friends and families enjoying each other’s company. I like to look up and see the balconies and the clouds passing over the alleyways. Those moments, though much harder to capture on camera, are the ones I treasure, and it’s because I get to see the city as it truly is.

We went made our way to other areas nearby: Belem, Fatima, Obidos, Cascais. We saw churches in Belem and Fatima. We ran around castle walls in Obidos. We drove along the ocean to get to Cascais. All were locations I had never heard of, and I learned a tremendous amount about the history of Portugal. But the one place that caught me really off-guard was Cabo de Roca, the western-most point in continental Europe. Coming from the west coast of the United States, I know what it’s like to look out over the ocean and know that it’s the only thing separating you from another continent. We stood atop the windy cliff and gazed at the Atlantic Ocean. Even though I couldn’t see it, I was staring directly at America. The ocean is wide and deep, and it keeps me miles and hours away from my homeland. I’ve been missing the comfort and love I left behind at home, and I’ve been longing for the people I walked away from. It’s been hard to accept that I gave up everything that I know to come here. I thought it would be easy, yet I have been proven wrong. The ocean stared back at me, as though to say, why are you here? The answer to that question came in the form of a smile as I looked around at everyone running around, soaking up the beauty and thrill of being in this place. I could never have imagined my life as it has unfolded. I was in a place that I didn’t even know existed, a place that many people will never reach. No matter how lonely I get, the world is still here, waiting to be discovered.

If ever I should question why I am abroad, I will remember Portugal. I’ll remember the kind hearts and special community I traveled with. I’ll remember tapas and sangria two nights in a row. Most of all, I’ll remember the wonder I had when I was ten, and my dreams to explore the world. And when I feel lost or weary, I will dig deep to find that curious heart of mine, and let it consume me as I travel around this continent. I’m here because I’ve always wanted to be. I’m here to see my dreams materialize, to find myself in places I never thought I’d go.

Happy Monthiversary

As of this past weekend, I’ve been in Switzerland for a month.

One month down, seven months left. It’s kind of a glass half-empty/half-full situation.

My time here is much like an eight-month hourglass. Each day is like a grain of sand, falling away to place I can’t reach. And the days fall quicker than I expect, because each day seems to go on forever, but by the end of the week, so much sand is beneath me and I wonder how it is possible for time to move so fast. Now I only have seven months left. But when I think about how long this first month felt, I can’t even imagine the next seven. I constantly think about the things I miss, like ice in my water glass or New Seasons sandwiches or my car. And really, it does me no good because I won’t have any of those things for so long. That’s what makes this year so daunting. There’s still so much to do, so many places to go, and yes I’m excited, but also growing weary. My energy is running low as I’m faced with midterms, and the thought of planning trips is far from my mind. Some days I just don’t want to do anything, but that’s not an option when time escapes so suddenly.

On the other hand, I survived a month. I went to five countries, and took a train, a plane, a boat, a subway, a bus, and a taxi. I’ve experienced new cultures and languages, I’ve met new people, and I’ve seen things I never thought I’d see. I look to the months ahead and I know that even better adventures are coming. And in just two and a half months, I’m going to get to see one of my best friends and my family. And in just over half a year, I’ll set foot back in America. Yet I think I’ll be okay with the wait. It gets lonely from time to time, and there are nights where I feel so far away from any sort of comfort. But then there are nights where I laugh with my friends and smile for real, and those nights remind me that everything is okay. I’m here for a reason, more so than just my own choosing. I’ve always known I would leave home, it’s just the way I am. And how lucky I am to be in a place like Switzerland for my year of discovery. I don’t want to go home, not yet. For now, I am supposed to be here. It may have taken a month for me to accept that, but I see all the good things that come from being here, and I want all of that goodness to fill me up and teach me how to live in a new way.

I just kind of want it to start raining so it feels a little more like home.

Prost!

Last weekend, I went to the world’s biggest party.

Oktoberfest.

I had seen the pictures, I had heard the stories. And I was so excited.

But like all of our adventures, there is rarely just a destination; the journey never really ends until we get back to our beds in Lausanne.

We boarded our night train to Salzburg. We piled into compartments, like in Harry Potter, and waited to leave. Although I was mainly traveling with a small group, we looked out of compartment to see tons of familiar faces. The majority of our program attended Oktoberfest, and had all decided to stay in Salzburg, and also all ended up in the same car of the same train. You’d think that being in a foreign country, traveling all the time, we wouldn’t see our fellow students that often. But we run into each other all time. It’s crazy to be in Austria, and see your friends walking on the other side of the street. It’s comforting though, to occasionally see those familiar faces, and it makes the world seem a little smaller.

Upon arriving in Salzburg, I realized we had made the same plan we had made in London. I had the step-by-step directions to the hostel, and a picture of the Google Maps, but we walked out into the street at 4:30am, and didn’t know what to do next. We hesitantly followed what we thought was the right way, asked a taxi driver for confirmation, and looked for street names. Austria speaks German, which none of us are accustomed to. While some were a little scared, and apprehensive about wandering through a city so late a night, I surprisingly felt no fear. We went along our way, successfully finding the street names, and I knew we would be fine. Certainly, there are times to be afraid, or to not go out, but there are also times to simply be cautious and revel in the fact that you are somewhere you’ve never been before.

We dropped our things off at our hostel, and immediately headed back to the train to get to Munich. The whole German thing kind of threw us off, and we really had no idea where we were going. But despite some minor difficulties, we made it to the Oktoberfest grounds. We wandered a bit, until we saw those familiar faces again. We joined our Lausanners at the Hofbrau Haus, waiting to get in to secure a table in the tent. When the doors finally opened, the excitement could not be contained. Everyone rushed in, cheering, chasing each other to the tables. We were soon joined by other Pepperdine students from Heidelberg, and several tables were filled with kids who were being both reunited and introduced for the first time. And then everyone got their first stein of beer.

And then a second…

 

But like all parties, it gets tiring, and eventually you just want to go home and go bed. I left, and as I looked around at the wonderland of Oktoberfest, I pictured my dad walking around the same grounds, and it made me smile to think that I’m able to experience the things he’s told me about.

We stayed in Salzburg on Saturday. It’s a beautiful, small city, and it’s also where the Sound of Music is set. Naturally, we had to do tour of the filming locations. I think that’s one of the coolest parts of coming to Europe: seeing all the places that have only ever been on the TV screen. I was standing in front of the gazebo where “16, Going On 17” was filmed, and it didn’t feel real. We rode through the mountains of Austria, the perfect backdrop for a film.

 

We ended up downtown after the tour, and stumbled across a Love Lock Bridge. The idea behind these bridges is that lovers place a lock on the bridge, and throw the key into the river to symbolize unbreakable love. It was heartwarming to see so many locks on the bridge, and to think about all the people who were in love. I may not have “a special someone” in my life right now, but I have my friends, and I honestly cannot imagine my life without them. Coming abroad with my two best friends was such a blessing, and everyday I am so grateful that I get to all of this with them. Me, Amanda, and Brianna got a lock and put it on the bridge. I have faith that my love for them is unbreakable, and that this year will bring us even closer.

We returned the next morning, or rather, we started to. Not expecting the trains to be full, I didn’t even think about making a reservation. That resulted in me sitting on the floor across from the bathroom for a 5-hour train ride. Mind you, when I say “across”, I mean nine inches away from the door. It was rough, but I didn’t have any other choice. When we finally got on the last train towards home, and we saw Lac Leman come in to view, that wonderful feeling of returning home washed over me. That weekend was incredibly fun, but equally exhausting. But no matter how little sleep I get, how quick my showers were, or how sore my feet are, I wouldn’t trade these weekends for anything.

Also, check out this adorbz video Amanda made of our weekend!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHofQgvxl6Q&feature=youtu.be