I have left Pompeii.
I left after a delightful and exciting trip to both the old Pompeii ruins and a climb up Mt. Vesuvius.
I have returned to Rome to spend a night at a friend's and to pick up my parents.
Who have booked a hotel that is impossibly far away from the center of Rome in a fit of frustration and now we will have to do a lot more traveling than actually being in some place.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
today I had a buon giorno
Which makes me laugh because I can just hear Brad Pitt in my mind, "Gratzi."
I found the mountains on the way to Pompeii.
Good thing, too, because I would have been headed in the wrong direction if I hadn't seen them.
I love the mountains.
I don't think I will ever go anywhere that will take over my fascination and adoration for a set of mountains.
Next to man, furry things, dancing, and trains, mountains amaze and entertain me to a never ending extent.
On that note, italian trains are 20x's more comfortable than Indian trains, the only thing I have to compare them to.
I've only been on IC (intercity trains), but I mean, each person has their own individual seat with a headrest and humongo windows on both sides to look out of. There are no transvestites, hawkers, beggar children, an entire family of 8 in your booth...
In fact, Italian trains are infinitely more boring than Indian trains for these reasons.
Except for all of the ugly feet.
I've yet to see pretty toes on any train in my entire life thus far.
This is more surprising in Italy than in India.
But comfiness is the price you pay in Europe.
Which is alot.
I traveled for 3 hours today - cost me 20 euros (approx. $25) as opposed to traveling 16 hours to Mumbai which cost, if I remember correctly, like rs. 800 ($16) which at the time, blew me away. Where I then survived, because I had enough money left over to buy myself food and shelter.
hm...
One thing that has yet to change - having to pay for your bodily functions. Which seriously sucks when you have to pee really badly, you can't find your change purse, you are lugging around luggage (traveling solo means you can't leave it with a friend) and the way into the bathroom requires you to push one of those bladder high bars around. I believe these are called turnstiles?
I declare war on these monstrosities.
Talk about torture.
That is just Italy's way of begging for people to start using the world as its bathroom.
What has changed - the level of cleanliness and bathroom standards.
Thanks, Europe, for always having a toilet and toilet paper.
You didn't provide me with a lifesaver, but they're pretty nice to have around.
Anyways, who was the deranged person who first thought that traveling around Europe after graduating from college was a smart thing?
There is absolutely no worst time to begin traveling and seeing the world and being financially strapped than when you are stuck between paying off student loans and having a real job with a real income.
But let's get this straight - this not so ground breaking revelation will not stop me.
What might stop me: my lack of pre-travel research.
So far, I've survived. I've yet to travel with any sort of travel guide or book.
I mean, I was in Rome for a day and just happened to walk up on the President's House and the Trevi Fountain. I didn't know.
I was hoping my parents would pick one up... (hinthint)
this place needs one, for sure.
So right. I am in Italy. I was in Rome. I took a train down the Amalfi Coast of Italy. I stood in Naples but got scared of all the scary things people say about Naples and went back in the train station.
I only had 45 minutes anyhow.
I'm now in Pompeii.
An attempt at specificity:
I am sitting on a roof overlooking the Pompeii scavi (ruins) listening to fireworks go off in the distance and listening to Jai Ho on my computer.
Until now, these places (mainly Rome and Pompeii) didn't exist. Kinda like Idaho, or Atlantis.
Myths.
When I was younger, I wanted to be a historian. I thought I would give tours in a museum or suffink.
When I was younger, I read a lot (A LOT) of books. A great number of them pertained to Greek/Roman mythology and natural disasters and life on the prairie and English royalty and pagan rituals.
Today, I read and looked at 3 of those things.
(I'm not going into detail about them because I looked at them from the gates - tomorrow is the big day!)
I remember being younger and stealing someone's book that were in my house on Pompeii, the great fire/earthquake of San Francisco, the Oregon Trail, the Dust Bowl, Egyptian pyramids, the Bubonic Plague, Mexican adobes, and then, oddly enough, Arabian Nights.
Which I don't think is historically significant for any reason outside of literature.
The point - I love this. Not just because it's cool, although it is. It is freaking awesome!
But I have an invested interest. This isn't just let's go look at the Pompeii ruins because they are world famous.
This takes me back. I can still see those early imagined images of what I thought the world looked like back then.
It reminds me of what is possible to achieve.
There was absolutely nothing more I desired than getting out of where I was.
Who thought I would be looking at the very things that I very seriously dreamed about seeing?
That I read about and thought about everyday?
I used to imagine these - now I am seeing them with my own two eyes and am just... I can't find a better term than "blown away" but that is what it is.
I am truly blown away by the sheer amazingness of everything the world has in it.
I mean, imagine growing up in the shadow of a volcano, then dying underneath all of the ask while performing paganish rituals to ward off the evil (in Pompeii, this sign was a phallic symbol...) only for people from THE FUTURE come and walk all over your home, up and down your walkway, peer into your doorways, listening to audio tapes of what has been deemed as the most important aspect of your community and way of life...
wow.
To end, sorry about the paragraphs. I'll cut up the space between them when I get some pics onto my computer.
And... some very important words I have learned out of survival:
treno = train
carrozza = car
posti = seat
ciao = hello/goodbye
Before I get ahead of myself, the world can also be a horrible horrible place.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-10799539
I found the mountains on the way to Pompeii.
Good thing, too, because I would have been headed in the wrong direction if I hadn't seen them.
I love the mountains.
I don't think I will ever go anywhere that will take over my fascination and adoration for a set of mountains.
Next to man, furry things, dancing, and trains, mountains amaze and entertain me to a never ending extent.
On that note, italian trains are 20x's more comfortable than Indian trains, the only thing I have to compare them to.
I've only been on IC (intercity trains), but I mean, each person has their own individual seat with a headrest and humongo windows on both sides to look out of. There are no transvestites, hawkers, beggar children, an entire family of 8 in your booth...
In fact, Italian trains are infinitely more boring than Indian trains for these reasons.
Except for all of the ugly feet.
I've yet to see pretty toes on any train in my entire life thus far.
This is more surprising in Italy than in India.
But comfiness is the price you pay in Europe.
Which is alot.
I traveled for 3 hours today - cost me 20 euros (approx. $25) as opposed to traveling 16 hours to Mumbai which cost, if I remember correctly, like rs. 800 ($16) which at the time, blew me away. Where I then survived, because I had enough money left over to buy myself food and shelter.
hm...
One thing that has yet to change - having to pay for your bodily functions. Which seriously sucks when you have to pee really badly, you can't find your change purse, you are lugging around luggage (traveling solo means you can't leave it with a friend) and the way into the bathroom requires you to push one of those bladder high bars around. I believe these are called turnstiles?
I declare war on these monstrosities.
Talk about torture.
That is just Italy's way of begging for people to start using the world as its bathroom.
What has changed - the level of cleanliness and bathroom standards.
Thanks, Europe, for always having a toilet and toilet paper.
You didn't provide me with a lifesaver, but they're pretty nice to have around.
Anyways, who was the deranged person who first thought that traveling around Europe after graduating from college was a smart thing?
There is absolutely no worst time to begin traveling and seeing the world and being financially strapped than when you are stuck between paying off student loans and having a real job with a real income.
But let's get this straight - this not so ground breaking revelation will not stop me.
What might stop me: my lack of pre-travel research.
So far, I've survived. I've yet to travel with any sort of travel guide or book.
I mean, I was in Rome for a day and just happened to walk up on the President's House and the Trevi Fountain. I didn't know.
I was hoping my parents would pick one up... (hinthint)
this place needs one, for sure.
So right. I am in Italy. I was in Rome. I took a train down the Amalfi Coast of Italy. I stood in Naples but got scared of all the scary things people say about Naples and went back in the train station.
I only had 45 minutes anyhow.
I'm now in Pompeii.
An attempt at specificity:
I am sitting on a roof overlooking the Pompeii scavi (ruins) listening to fireworks go off in the distance and listening to Jai Ho on my computer.
Until now, these places (mainly Rome and Pompeii) didn't exist. Kinda like Idaho, or Atlantis.
Myths.
When I was younger, I wanted to be a historian. I thought I would give tours in a museum or suffink.
When I was younger, I read a lot (A LOT) of books. A great number of them pertained to Greek/Roman mythology and natural disasters and life on the prairie and English royalty and pagan rituals.
Today, I read and looked at 3 of those things.
(I'm not going into detail about them because I looked at them from the gates - tomorrow is the big day!)
I remember being younger and stealing someone's book that were in my house on Pompeii, the great fire/earthquake of San Francisco, the Oregon Trail, the Dust Bowl, Egyptian pyramids, the Bubonic Plague, Mexican adobes, and then, oddly enough, Arabian Nights.
Which I don't think is historically significant for any reason outside of literature.
The point - I love this. Not just because it's cool, although it is. It is freaking awesome!
But I have an invested interest. This isn't just let's go look at the Pompeii ruins because they are world famous.
This takes me back. I can still see those early imagined images of what I thought the world looked like back then.
It reminds me of what is possible to achieve.
There was absolutely nothing more I desired than getting out of where I was.
Who thought I would be looking at the very things that I very seriously dreamed about seeing?
That I read about and thought about everyday?
I used to imagine these - now I am seeing them with my own two eyes and am just... I can't find a better term than "blown away" but that is what it is.
I am truly blown away by the sheer amazingness of everything the world has in it.
I mean, imagine growing up in the shadow of a volcano, then dying underneath all of the ask while performing paganish rituals to ward off the evil (in Pompeii, this sign was a phallic symbol...) only for people from THE FUTURE come and walk all over your home, up and down your walkway, peer into your doorways, listening to audio tapes of what has been deemed as the most important aspect of your community and way of life...
wow.
To end, sorry about the paragraphs. I'll cut up the space between them when I get some pics onto my computer.
And... some very important words I have learned out of survival:
treno = train
carrozza = car
posti = seat
ciao = hello/goodbye
Before I get ahead of myself, the world can also be a horrible horrible place.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-10799539
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
"Bella? You go to disco tonight? Give me number, I come get you."
"No."
2 hours and 47 minutes after I stepped off the Leonardo Express from the Rome airport, going up and down multiple staircases trying to find the deposito bagagli section without looking like a major tourist, found the Presiden't House, walked around the main shopping district just looking up and around like my head was bobble head toy and had an entire conversation with a Italian man who could only speak Italian (when I ended the convo with "Grazzi." small smile, shoulder duck, hand wave. "Ciao Ciao!" He just laughed laughed laughed while walking away) but really wanted to tell me all of the important places on the map to go, I encountered one of them.
A greasy Italian man, (actually, this one wasn't really greasy, but he did have pigeon feathers stuck to his head somehow) the kind you are always warned about, right after they tell you that in Rome, you will be pickpocketed because the thieves here are super clever, just accept it, approached me as I was trying to decide if I should take the sign to some building that took me through a dark tunnel, or continue to stay on the large populated road I was already on.
Dilemma, because he was going in the way of the populated... lucky for me, my shoot down of the day (laugh in his face) and then say "No, thank you though. I'm waiting for others." sent him away before me. And I was able to escape unscathed.
If he had asked if I wanted a coffee (which I did) or to sit by a fountain (I would have loved to) and talk and then go for a moped ride like all other Italian love stories go (If this doesn't happen soon, I will be hijacking one), I would have said "YES!"
No, he asked me in Italian (which I don't understand but pretend that I do), then in English if I wanted to give him my phone number so we could go to the disco.
Sigh.
Maybe when I come back on Sunday my Italian surprise lover will be waiting for me.
On that note, I recommend never going to the Trevi Fountain by yourself. Go with someone, anyone.
I'm at my hostel now, an all female hostel.
Hostel life requires all kinds of strange attention.
Unlike where I was in Malta where sometimes I just wanted to hop on my computer... but then this guy from Spain wants to chat, this girl from Italy wants to share a table, the shower just went off I MUST GO BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE DOES and where did my last fruit juice disappear to? Maybe it was the guy who never flushes the toilet and leaves the seat up... I wonder if I can pick out the guy who never flushes the toilet... You know what? I bet he has the bunk beneath mine.
AWESOME.
But I like it. Hostel life is pretty entertaining. And it is cheapish.
All you have to do is share a bathroom (ewww wet dirty bathroom floors are the absolute worstttt), kitchen, and interact with other people.
I think this is something my parents would hate.
Eating by yourself and figuring out a city by yourself are also interesting... mostly made up of the fact that while I sat eating dinner by myself, so were about 5 other people and because you end up taking a lot of pictures of yourself.
When you see something cool, if with a friend - "Hey, look at that! Woooooowwww." or "Ooo will you take a photo of me in front of that? No, actually, you get in here too."
Being with others doesn't result in Myspace photos.
Good thing my parents are coming!!
For other things too - like the fact that Europe ain't cheap.
And because this is their first time with passports and going international.
How exciting!! I'm so glad that they can share this with me this time!
Being on a the train today (just like anytime I'm doing something I can't imagine how/why doing) reminded me of how in absolute AWE I am over the world, and humanity.
Yes, humanity has its pitfalls - people can reallllly suck.
But sometimes, humanity has done great, amazing, mind blowing things that are just wow. Breathtaking.
I'm traveling without the cord to my camera.... therefor I cannot download the Rome pics from today and put them online.
But here is a picture from when I did have my cord and I took a trip to see an artist/sculpter who makes these out of clay, burlap, and chalk.
2 hours and 47 minutes after I stepped off the Leonardo Express from the Rome airport, going up and down multiple staircases trying to find the deposito bagagli section without looking like a major tourist, found the Presiden't House, walked around the main shopping district just looking up and around like my head was bobble head toy and had an entire conversation with a Italian man who could only speak Italian (when I ended the convo with "Grazzi." small smile, shoulder duck, hand wave. "Ciao Ciao!" He just laughed laughed laughed while walking away) but really wanted to tell me all of the important places on the map to go, I encountered one of them.
A greasy Italian man, (actually, this one wasn't really greasy, but he did have pigeon feathers stuck to his head somehow) the kind you are always warned about, right after they tell you that in Rome, you will be pickpocketed because the thieves here are super clever, just accept it, approached me as I was trying to decide if I should take the sign to some building that took me through a dark tunnel, or continue to stay on the large populated road I was already on.
Dilemma, because he was going in the way of the populated... lucky for me, my shoot down of the day (laugh in his face) and then say "No, thank you though. I'm waiting for others." sent him away before me. And I was able to escape unscathed.
If he had asked if I wanted a coffee (which I did) or to sit by a fountain (I would have loved to) and talk and then go for a moped ride like all other Italian love stories go (If this doesn't happen soon, I will be hijacking one), I would have said "YES!"
No, he asked me in Italian (which I don't understand but pretend that I do), then in English if I wanted to give him my phone number so we could go to the disco.
Sigh.
Maybe when I come back on Sunday my Italian surprise lover will be waiting for me.
On that note, I recommend never going to the Trevi Fountain by yourself. Go with someone, anyone.
I'm at my hostel now, an all female hostel.
Hostel life requires all kinds of strange attention.
Unlike where I was in Malta where sometimes I just wanted to hop on my computer... but then this guy from Spain wants to chat, this girl from Italy wants to share a table, the shower just went off I MUST GO BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE DOES and where did my last fruit juice disappear to? Maybe it was the guy who never flushes the toilet and leaves the seat up... I wonder if I can pick out the guy who never flushes the toilet... You know what? I bet he has the bunk beneath mine.
AWESOME.
But I like it. Hostel life is pretty entertaining. And it is cheapish.
All you have to do is share a bathroom (ewww wet dirty bathroom floors are the absolute worstttt), kitchen, and interact with other people.
I think this is something my parents would hate.
Eating by yourself and figuring out a city by yourself are also interesting... mostly made up of the fact that while I sat eating dinner by myself, so were about 5 other people and because you end up taking a lot of pictures of yourself.
When you see something cool, if with a friend - "Hey, look at that! Woooooowwww." or "Ooo will you take a photo of me in front of that? No, actually, you get in here too."
Being with others doesn't result in Myspace photos.
Good thing my parents are coming!!
For other things too - like the fact that Europe ain't cheap.
And because this is their first time with passports and going international.
How exciting!! I'm so glad that they can share this with me this time!
Being on a the train today (just like anytime I'm doing something I can't imagine how/why doing) reminded me of how in absolute AWE I am over the world, and humanity.
Yes, humanity has its pitfalls - people can reallllly suck.
But sometimes, humanity has done great, amazing, mind blowing things that are just wow. Breathtaking.
I'm traveling without the cord to my camera.... therefor I cannot download the Rome pics from today and put them online.
But here is a picture from when I did have my cord and I took a trip to see an artist/sculpter who makes these out of clay, burlap, and chalk.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Allyn Wong is happy, but she is ready to move on to the next thing.
She is also sad for Tibet. After the few days she spent in the Himalayas surrounded on 3 sides by Tibet and Nepal, she wants the area, the mountains (her future home, what calls to her on a fairly daily basis) to remain remote and most of all, she wants the area to remain free.
There are beautiful, wonderful things happening up there, with beautiful, wonderful people at work.
China, back off.
Thanks!
Love, Allyn Wong
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/25/world/asia/25tibet.html?_r=1&partner=rss&emc=rss&src=igw
She is also sad for Tibet. After the few days she spent in the Himalayas surrounded on 3 sides by Tibet and Nepal, she wants the area, the mountains (her future home, what calls to her on a fairly daily basis) to remain remote and most of all, she wants the area to remain free.
There are beautiful, wonderful things happening up there, with beautiful, wonderful people at work.
China, back off.
Thanks!
Love, Allyn Wong
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/25/world/asia/25tibet.html?_r=1&partner=rss&emc=rss&src=igw
Monday, July 19, 2010
Relativity?
There are a lot of thoughts that cross my mind during the day.
Most of them are taken seriously, some with a grain of salt.
Do I really need to put a headband on - I mean, really, who is seriously offended by someone else's bad hair? How far can I stretch this pair of underwear? If I can make it until the 26th, I have a washer and dryer that I can use to my heart's content. Speaking of heart's content, I could eat about 10 pastizzis right now, but I bet the bus man would jip me of my 3 cents just like he does every other day, so I'm not going to Victoria unless I really have to. And let's get this straight, a pastizzi/10 more lbs/new stain on my shirt is not a good enough solo reason to go to Victoria. Especially when I have so much trouble just getting the water to foam in the sink (or accepting that the powder in the Nutella jar is clothes detergent, not dish detergent). If I walk up that big hill to where the action is happening, how much booty am I gaining? As much as I lost in India? Only one way to find out... I have to go up there anyhow.
But no, seriously, better thoughts, other thoughts, more substantial thoughts cross my mind. These are either absorbed until I am glassy eyed and haven't left my chair for the last 2 hours. Or they are put on my checklist (that I make every single morning with many of the same topics as the day before) under either the "Short Term" section or the "Long Term" section and also deposited into the part of my brain that holds things until 1.) I have enough energy to go glassy eyed and push my little brain to its problem solving extreme or 2.) I make the time to actually do the important things on my list.
Either way, I bet my roomies think I'm the biggest junkie ever, because over the last few weeks, I've spent a lot of time sitting very still, but still probably sweating from the heat, and going glassy eyed while I mentally explore the ridiculous paths and avenues that my research might possibly take me and how I can prepare myself for that. And then I jump up like a crazy person who was just electrocuted and speed about because I had a brilliant idea that I desperately need to write down but I CANNOT FIND PAPER OR A PEN. But by this time I have made it through the front door and into the kitchen so I settle for a glass of apple juice and repeat the thought to myself for the next 20 minutes until I believe I can make it back to my room without forgetting my thought.
And then I check my emails for the 57th time that day to see if any of my informants have responded and make another list of appointments and sit down again to gather my thoughts on what I want to say to this or that person. All while secretly (maybe not so secretly) plotting on how to get into the church again to see that super cute guy whose name I forgot because, I suppose, I was lost in his eyes/curly hair/adorable smile when he told me his name. Or, maybe I forgot his name because I looked disgusting and I was cursing myself for not trying harder to look decent.
People ARE offended by bad hair and sweaty Americans, myself included.
Either way, this is not good.
But! Not all is lost!
Most of my informants are connected to the church - a trip to Victoria should be successful in many ways.
So! Some good has come out of my comatose junkie thinking ways - today I had a super cool session with my director and staff members who, even though I am terribly confused and have lots of questions and am not always sure where I am going with my research, were really supportive of what I had to say and what I was doing, gave me something concrete to think about, and some helpful suggestions. This is good. This I like. I don't feel as lost now, because if they say I am doing some of the right things, asking the right questions, experiencing real anthropologist things, being an anthropologist, and that they appreciate my work and progress and inquiries... then I must be doing ok. And I am not as bad off as I felt like I was.
I know there is definitely still stuff to do - interviews, academic journal readings and books to get, etc. etc. But it doesn't feel as daunting now.
I have realized that I like thinking outloud. I do like sitting very still and contemplating but I reallllllly like hashing things out with other people. Not like confrontation stuff, although I don't have a problem with it. No, I like opinions and suggestions and advice and I like when I can voice and share and learn from others. This makes me happy.
Yes. This I like.
So I didn't go anywhere today, but I was super productive in a way that I usually hate to be productive - by way of my computer. Sometimes my computer pulls me down into this weird cyber world where only 3 websites exist, yet they are the most entertaining to refreshrefreshrefresh and I don't get anywhere. And I have spent HOURS doing nothing that I wanted to do, yet just COULDN'T STOP doing.
Nope. Today, I sat down full of resolve to get this crap away from me and figured out my trip to Rome, before my family arrives.
It looks like this:
Leave Malta on the 28th
sleep overnight in Roma hostel
get train to Florence
stay for 2 days
come back to stay at hostel again
meet family on August 1st
have blastyblast!
Tomorrow I have lots of meetings and such in town and I will have a great time because today helped me figure out more directly where to go with my research instead of just doing research, which I think, is what I was doing.
Now, I have purpose.
I like having purpose.
Picture?
Success!!
Xlendi, my home away from home.
Most of them are taken seriously, some with a grain of salt.
Do I really need to put a headband on - I mean, really, who is seriously offended by someone else's bad hair? How far can I stretch this pair of underwear? If I can make it until the 26th, I have a washer and dryer that I can use to my heart's content. Speaking of heart's content, I could eat about 10 pastizzis right now, but I bet the bus man would jip me of my 3 cents just like he does every other day, so I'm not going to Victoria unless I really have to. And let's get this straight, a pastizzi/10 more lbs/new stain on my shirt is not a good enough solo reason to go to Victoria. Especially when I have so much trouble just getting the water to foam in the sink (or accepting that the powder in the Nutella jar is clothes detergent, not dish detergent). If I walk up that big hill to where the action is happening, how much booty am I gaining? As much as I lost in India? Only one way to find out... I have to go up there anyhow.
But no, seriously, better thoughts, other thoughts, more substantial thoughts cross my mind. These are either absorbed until I am glassy eyed and haven't left my chair for the last 2 hours. Or they are put on my checklist (that I make every single morning with many of the same topics as the day before) under either the "Short Term" section or the "Long Term" section and also deposited into the part of my brain that holds things until 1.) I have enough energy to go glassy eyed and push my little brain to its problem solving extreme or 2.) I make the time to actually do the important things on my list.
Either way, I bet my roomies think I'm the biggest junkie ever, because over the last few weeks, I've spent a lot of time sitting very still, but still probably sweating from the heat, and going glassy eyed while I mentally explore the ridiculous paths and avenues that my research might possibly take me and how I can prepare myself for that. And then I jump up like a crazy person who was just electrocuted and speed about because I had a brilliant idea that I desperately need to write down but I CANNOT FIND PAPER OR A PEN. But by this time I have made it through the front door and into the kitchen so I settle for a glass of apple juice and repeat the thought to myself for the next 20 minutes until I believe I can make it back to my room without forgetting my thought.
And then I check my emails for the 57th time that day to see if any of my informants have responded and make another list of appointments and sit down again to gather my thoughts on what I want to say to this or that person. All while secretly (maybe not so secretly) plotting on how to get into the church again to see that super cute guy whose name I forgot because, I suppose, I was lost in his eyes/curly hair/adorable smile when he told me his name. Or, maybe I forgot his name because I looked disgusting and I was cursing myself for not trying harder to look decent.
People ARE offended by bad hair and sweaty Americans, myself included.
Either way, this is not good.
But! Not all is lost!
Most of my informants are connected to the church - a trip to Victoria should be successful in many ways.
So! Some good has come out of my comatose junkie thinking ways - today I had a super cool session with my director and staff members who, even though I am terribly confused and have lots of questions and am not always sure where I am going with my research, were really supportive of what I had to say and what I was doing, gave me something concrete to think about, and some helpful suggestions. This is good. This I like. I don't feel as lost now, because if they say I am doing some of the right things, asking the right questions, experiencing real anthropologist things, being an anthropologist, and that they appreciate my work and progress and inquiries... then I must be doing ok. And I am not as bad off as I felt like I was.
I know there is definitely still stuff to do - interviews, academic journal readings and books to get, etc. etc. But it doesn't feel as daunting now.
I have realized that I like thinking outloud. I do like sitting very still and contemplating but I reallllllly like hashing things out with other people. Not like confrontation stuff, although I don't have a problem with it. No, I like opinions and suggestions and advice and I like when I can voice and share and learn from others. This makes me happy.
Yes. This I like.
So I didn't go anywhere today, but I was super productive in a way that I usually hate to be productive - by way of my computer. Sometimes my computer pulls me down into this weird cyber world where only 3 websites exist, yet they are the most entertaining to refreshrefreshrefresh and I don't get anywhere. And I have spent HOURS doing nothing that I wanted to do, yet just COULDN'T STOP doing.
Nope. Today, I sat down full of resolve to get this crap away from me and figured out my trip to Rome, before my family arrives.
It looks like this:
Leave Malta on the 28th
sleep overnight in Roma hostel
get train to Florence
stay for 2 days
come back to stay at hostel again
meet family on August 1st
have blastyblast!
Tomorrow I have lots of meetings and such in town and I will have a great time because today helped me figure out more directly where to go with my research instead of just doing research, which I think, is what I was doing.
Now, I have purpose.
I like having purpose.
Picture?
Xlendi, my home away from home.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
hold back the rushing minutes
Because you have no clue what I am doing here, I'm gonna catch you up to speed.
Prepare yourselves.
Living on a small island has sucked all of the Adventure Allyn self out of me, or so it seems.
My time is divided among reading on the porch, walking the Sanap Cliffs, cliff diving, going out to dinner and drinking wine of the Barroof until 2 in the morning. There is none of the Run Around Getting Everything in Sight Done Must Experience Everything Possible.
This isn't India. As an anthropologist, I wish I weren't so blunt about how everything is Not India.
But I can't help it.
India is my soft spot, and I want everything to be as amazing as India.
Alas, it is not.
There is no constant on the move, always traveling, always seeing, but more, always conversing. I am talking anthropology with everyone, at all times, and being surrounded by like minded nincompoops is entertaining. This is by far the nerdiest thing I might have ever done in my life, but I knew that before I got here, and I appreciate it for what it has presented itself to be.
I'm just glad I like having deep conversations. Not to say they don't get old, or that we don't have lots of fun. But if you want to sit around on a roof and drink bongo bongos and dance to music and take artsy fartsy photos and sit around and talk techniques and talk methodologies, tradition and modernization, and globalization, and a few things about our individual projects and even grad school - well, this is the place to do it.
The only thing about all of this is that it is so incredibly hands off. Sometimes the lack of instruction, structure, class, understanding of the need to get academic credits - it gets frustrating. I'm just glad that since I was thrown into ethnographic research with no instruction, insight, helping hand - I'm doing it here, on an island surrounded by cliffs and clear water and English speaking folks with festive evening celebrations. I certainly would not be happy if I had signed up for field school in Brazil just to be left in the middle of a jungle to do research.
Nope, I've got a single room, a kitchen and porch, a 3 minute walk to the water/restaurants/shops/friends. It's pretty cushy, and I appreciate the comforts, even though I am a bit disappointed in the structure of the program and the location.
Seriously, there is very little here that I am finding I want to research. 2 weeks later and there is nothing that surprises me, except the stunning scenery. This is island life with a decidedly tourist outlook.
But, I have found something, and I have found friends with similar interests and it is nice to work among those with similar interests.
So, those interests are diverse, and this being an incredibly Catholic island - diversity is not the norm.
Contemporary art is practically non-existence, there is no good dance happening, and the bit of traditional dance is super tourist oriented. And, they refuse to respond to my emails and phone calls.
Guess who isn't gonna get my business?
What I have decided on, and thankfully, have had a lot of luck with, would be the symbols and art behind a giant Maltese celebration, known as Festa.
Do you want to know what it is? Sure you do!
Festa is the annual celebration of each village and their patron saint, where, during the week of their saint, everyone goes nuts and does performances and makes crazy shirts and puts up decorations and eats lots of food and drinks in the streets and has parades and kinda makes it a competition between other churches in the area. Take for instand, Victoria, the capital of Gozo. I am concentrating on the Feast of St. George, who, according to Catholic religion (and is depicted as such) was a soldier in the Roman Army and fought, good vs. evil. In summary, Good = the catholic church, Evil = not the Catholic church. In pictures, a 21 yr. old solider slicing the head off of a dragon.
Which makes me depressed about my own life - I'm 21 and have yet to even find a dragon.
The week before the Sunday of St. whoever is a week full of festivities, ending in a giant street feast and the carrying of a solid wood statue of (in this case) St. George down all of the tiny winding European streets, the path marked by lights and people and confetti and decorated banners.
I like Festa because I like celebrations. I like Festa because I like religion. I like Festa because I like bands and balloons and fireworks and choirs and lights and decorations and symbols and myths and pastizzis and people.
I like people.
And I've met a lot of people, some of it through pure luck.
I've met Silvan, who traded me a Festa shirt for an egg who introduced me to George Cini who arranges all the activities of the St. George parish's Festa celebration who introduced me to Joseph, the man who puts up all of the banners and decorations who introduced me to band members/players James and Clint who gave me a tour of the island and the church and told me everything they could think about when it came to my research (everyone wants to be a part of it, thankfully) and they introduced me to Anthony, James and one other that I can't remember the name of that are in the internationally acclaimed choir at St. George's who introduced me to their choir director who took me to his home to meet the former Father of the church who is also the head of the Anthropology department at the University of Malta where he teaches classes on Anthropology and religion who shared his wealth of information on symbols/symbolism and folklore and history of Malta and the move from paganism to Catholicism and wants to introduce me to the US Ambassador to Malta tonight, during the feast.
So that is where I will be tonight. Sitting next to the ex-Father of the St. George's Parish and the US Ambassador at the annual feast of St. George in Victoria on the island of Gozo in the middle of the Mediterranean.
How ridiculous is that?!
Starting next week I am meeting with the man who creates all of the statues that grace the streets of the towns that host festas and his apprentice who does all of the painting of the statues and also the great religious scenes on all of the banners.
His name is Manuel and his is 21 and he gets commissions from all over the world for his original and detailed religious scenes.
I'm impressed.
So that is where my research stands. Somewhere between knowing lots of the hot shots on the island and about Festa and art and the meaning behind the celebrations and knowing nothing about how to write down my research, record and process what I have learned and where to take it from here.
Talking with my peers, they seem to be on the same page. It feels a bit... fruitless.
My biggest issues are
1.) I am too journalistic. This prompts people to merely answer questions instead of be my friend that happens to like sharing information with me. This is a problem. Even though I have made a couple of friends here and that makes me happy.
2.) Everyone here takes everything at face value. There has been no deep searching, looking, understanding - my questions come up empty sometimes because everyone on the island just takes their way of life, celebrations, beliefs because they have been given to them. The Maltese are very proud of their heritage - they are Maltese and nothing else (even though Malta has been overtaken multiple times by just every human group on the planet over the last 7000 years and the Maltese and very little of their own culture but a just a big conglomeration of everyone elses' traditions in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East.)
Getting information out of people that just accept and don't question anything themselves is a bit frustrating.
Dead End is my constant companion on Gozo.
So is bleach blond arm hair and a simply gorgeous golden brown tan with salt water tossed hair and an obscene intake of Gozo cheese (the only good food on the island).
Needless to say, I'm not lonely. Just bored and a little frustrated at the slowness of the project and daily life in general.
One event I did appreciate, although others did not (out of 25 people, 9 of us survived) was the 25 mile all day long hike we took. Which was beautiful and entertaining, but it was hard. Nobody warned us that we would need tennis shoes and the terrain here is rocky and dead. And the weather is around 95 everyday. We got lost, we didn't get lunch, we saw some beautiful sights, we sent people home on buses, we climbed cliffs, i watched as every European in the group would climb a hill and light a cigarette and was amazed at the sheer strength of their poor lungs, we danced and sang and some people cried and our feet bled and then we all jumped in the water.
And that was that. It was invigorating, trying, frustrating and I'm glad I made it to the end.
I'm a very capable person and I am proud of that.
And so, next time I will put pictures up:
horse races, Azure window, what is probably the best beer in the world, Festa, sculpters, religious nightlights, friends, Magnums (not what you think), surroundings and more information about Festa and daily activities. Sorry it took me so long to do this. But now it is pretty much, generally, caught up.
Pictures just take so long to put up - it's really ridiculous.
Prepare yourselves.
Living on a small island has sucked all of the Adventure Allyn self out of me, or so it seems.
My time is divided among reading on the porch, walking the Sanap Cliffs, cliff diving, going out to dinner and drinking wine of the Barroof until 2 in the morning. There is none of the Run Around Getting Everything in Sight Done Must Experience Everything Possible.
This isn't India. As an anthropologist, I wish I weren't so blunt about how everything is Not India.
But I can't help it.
India is my soft spot, and I want everything to be as amazing as India.
Alas, it is not.
There is no constant on the move, always traveling, always seeing, but more, always conversing. I am talking anthropology with everyone, at all times, and being surrounded by like minded nincompoops is entertaining. This is by far the nerdiest thing I might have ever done in my life, but I knew that before I got here, and I appreciate it for what it has presented itself to be.
I'm just glad I like having deep conversations. Not to say they don't get old, or that we don't have lots of fun. But if you want to sit around on a roof and drink bongo bongos and dance to music and take artsy fartsy photos and sit around and talk techniques and talk methodologies, tradition and modernization, and globalization, and a few things about our individual projects and even grad school - well, this is the place to do it.
The only thing about all of this is that it is so incredibly hands off. Sometimes the lack of instruction, structure, class, understanding of the need to get academic credits - it gets frustrating. I'm just glad that since I was thrown into ethnographic research with no instruction, insight, helping hand - I'm doing it here, on an island surrounded by cliffs and clear water and English speaking folks with festive evening celebrations. I certainly would not be happy if I had signed up for field school in Brazil just to be left in the middle of a jungle to do research.
Nope, I've got a single room, a kitchen and porch, a 3 minute walk to the water/restaurants/shops/friends. It's pretty cushy, and I appreciate the comforts, even though I am a bit disappointed in the structure of the program and the location.
Seriously, there is very little here that I am finding I want to research. 2 weeks later and there is nothing that surprises me, except the stunning scenery. This is island life with a decidedly tourist outlook.
But, I have found something, and I have found friends with similar interests and it is nice to work among those with similar interests.
So, those interests are diverse, and this being an incredibly Catholic island - diversity is not the norm.
Contemporary art is practically non-existence, there is no good dance happening, and the bit of traditional dance is super tourist oriented. And, they refuse to respond to my emails and phone calls.
Guess who isn't gonna get my business?
What I have decided on, and thankfully, have had a lot of luck with, would be the symbols and art behind a giant Maltese celebration, known as Festa.
Do you want to know what it is? Sure you do!
Festa is the annual celebration of each village and their patron saint, where, during the week of their saint, everyone goes nuts and does performances and makes crazy shirts and puts up decorations and eats lots of food and drinks in the streets and has parades and kinda makes it a competition between other churches in the area. Take for instand, Victoria, the capital of Gozo. I am concentrating on the Feast of St. George, who, according to Catholic religion (and is depicted as such) was a soldier in the Roman Army and fought, good vs. evil. In summary, Good = the catholic church, Evil = not the Catholic church. In pictures, a 21 yr. old solider slicing the head off of a dragon.
Which makes me depressed about my own life - I'm 21 and have yet to even find a dragon.
The week before the Sunday of St. whoever is a week full of festivities, ending in a giant street feast and the carrying of a solid wood statue of (in this case) St. George down all of the tiny winding European streets, the path marked by lights and people and confetti and decorated banners.
I like Festa because I like celebrations. I like Festa because I like religion. I like Festa because I like bands and balloons and fireworks and choirs and lights and decorations and symbols and myths and pastizzis and people.
I like people.
And I've met a lot of people, some of it through pure luck.
I've met Silvan, who traded me a Festa shirt for an egg who introduced me to George Cini who arranges all the activities of the St. George parish's Festa celebration who introduced me to Joseph, the man who puts up all of the banners and decorations who introduced me to band members/players James and Clint who gave me a tour of the island and the church and told me everything they could think about when it came to my research (everyone wants to be a part of it, thankfully) and they introduced me to Anthony, James and one other that I can't remember the name of that are in the internationally acclaimed choir at St. George's who introduced me to their choir director who took me to his home to meet the former Father of the church who is also the head of the Anthropology department at the University of Malta where he teaches classes on Anthropology and religion who shared his wealth of information on symbols/symbolism and folklore and history of Malta and the move from paganism to Catholicism and wants to introduce me to the US Ambassador to Malta tonight, during the feast.
So that is where I will be tonight. Sitting next to the ex-Father of the St. George's Parish and the US Ambassador at the annual feast of St. George in Victoria on the island of Gozo in the middle of the Mediterranean.
How ridiculous is that?!
Starting next week I am meeting with the man who creates all of the statues that grace the streets of the towns that host festas and his apprentice who does all of the painting of the statues and also the great religious scenes on all of the banners.
His name is Manuel and his is 21 and he gets commissions from all over the world for his original and detailed religious scenes.
I'm impressed.
So that is where my research stands. Somewhere between knowing lots of the hot shots on the island and about Festa and art and the meaning behind the celebrations and knowing nothing about how to write down my research, record and process what I have learned and where to take it from here.
Talking with my peers, they seem to be on the same page. It feels a bit... fruitless.
My biggest issues are
1.) I am too journalistic. This prompts people to merely answer questions instead of be my friend that happens to like sharing information with me. This is a problem. Even though I have made a couple of friends here and that makes me happy.
2.) Everyone here takes everything at face value. There has been no deep searching, looking, understanding - my questions come up empty sometimes because everyone on the island just takes their way of life, celebrations, beliefs because they have been given to them. The Maltese are very proud of their heritage - they are Maltese and nothing else (even though Malta has been overtaken multiple times by just every human group on the planet over the last 7000 years and the Maltese and very little of their own culture but a just a big conglomeration of everyone elses' traditions in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East.)
Getting information out of people that just accept and don't question anything themselves is a bit frustrating.
Dead End is my constant companion on Gozo.
So is bleach blond arm hair and a simply gorgeous golden brown tan with salt water tossed hair and an obscene intake of Gozo cheese (the only good food on the island).
Needless to say, I'm not lonely. Just bored and a little frustrated at the slowness of the project and daily life in general.
One event I did appreciate, although others did not (out of 25 people, 9 of us survived) was the 25 mile all day long hike we took. Which was beautiful and entertaining, but it was hard. Nobody warned us that we would need tennis shoes and the terrain here is rocky and dead. And the weather is around 95 everyday. We got lost, we didn't get lunch, we saw some beautiful sights, we sent people home on buses, we climbed cliffs, i watched as every European in the group would climb a hill and light a cigarette and was amazed at the sheer strength of their poor lungs, we danced and sang and some people cried and our feet bled and then we all jumped in the water.
And that was that. It was invigorating, trying, frustrating and I'm glad I made it to the end.
I'm a very capable person and I am proud of that.
And so, next time I will put pictures up:
horse races, Azure window, what is probably the best beer in the world, Festa, sculpters, religious nightlights, friends, Magnums (not what you think), surroundings and more information about Festa and daily activities. Sorry it took me so long to do this. But now it is pretty much, generally, caught up.
Pictures just take so long to put up - it's really ridiculous.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Europeans
Something I am missing desperately:
My little baby. It is things like actually being responsible for keeping another living being alive and loved and happy that makes me wonder how I plan on being a world traveler, when all I want to do is sleep with him wrapped around my head and not have to entrust his happiness and well being to others. I want him with me.
I am a very stingy mother.
Anywho, a little on the people I live with:
A lot of the people I am surrounded by are from Belgium - which means they can speak at least 4 different languages and they do, when they don't want you to understand.
Or they send you email attaches with words like "onderzoeksonderwerpen"
which means "research topics"
or "onderzoeksonderwerpenbespreking"
which means "research topic discussion"
I find this amusing on many levels.
Another funny incident that is hysterical to me and maybe not to some of my family members is when my favorite German (Jen, a married woman of 29) walks up to me and points to a man in a an American flag speedo and says
(sorry family)
"See that man? I saw his ****."
I am taken by surprise by this because the last woman I had spoken to was the town cat lady, who was feeding about 15 feral cats and so of course, I asked her why that happened.
"He decided to change his pants in front of me, and kept looking my way. So I walked away, but then he followed me up the stairs and asked me in 4 different languages, all of which I understood but pretended not to, what my name was and where I am from. I think in America you would call him... creepy, no?"
Europeans are hysterically blunt.
They also stay up very very late, drink a lot, and chain smoke.
I can't keep up with their wild ways.
So, while they chat on the roof eating Gozo cheese, drinking boxed wine, and blowing smoke rings in my face, I'm either battling the smoke rings with fidgeting around and blowing them away from me, or sleeping in some awkward broken neck position. For which I am made fun of considerably.
Which I don't think would bother me if it hadn't been such an issue in other situations.
It's a little bothersome to want to go out to the bars to hang out with them, but they just end up waking me up and sending me home because I fell asleep in my chair.
I mean, if we are on the beach and they walk somewhere, they make it a point to walk back by me to make sure I haven't fallen asleep and am being baked alive in the sun on a rock.
In this, they are very considerate, and many seem pretty jealous of my narcoleptic ways. They all say they wish they could do that.
But I wish I could stay up and hang out with them.
I am a very stingy mother.
Anywho, a little on the people I live with:
A lot of the people I am surrounded by are from Belgium - which means they can speak at least 4 different languages and they do, when they don't want you to understand.
Or they send you email attaches with words like "onderzoeksonderwerpen"
which means "research topics"
or "onderzoeksonderwerpenbespreking"
which means "research topic discussion"
I find this amusing on many levels.
Another funny incident that is hysterical to me and maybe not to some of my family members is when my favorite German (Jen, a married woman of 29) walks up to me and points to a man in a an American flag speedo and says
(sorry family)
"See that man? I saw his ****."
I am taken by surprise by this because the last woman I had spoken to was the town cat lady, who was feeding about 15 feral cats and so of course, I asked her why that happened.
"He decided to change his pants in front of me, and kept looking my way. So I walked away, but then he followed me up the stairs and asked me in 4 different languages, all of which I understood but pretended not to, what my name was and where I am from. I think in America you would call him... creepy, no?"
Europeans are hysterically blunt.
They also stay up very very late, drink a lot, and chain smoke.
I can't keep up with their wild ways.
So, while they chat on the roof eating Gozo cheese, drinking boxed wine, and blowing smoke rings in my face, I'm either battling the smoke rings with fidgeting around and blowing them away from me, or sleeping in some awkward broken neck position. For which I am made fun of considerably.
Which I don't think would bother me if it hadn't been such an issue in other situations.
It's a little bothersome to want to go out to the bars to hang out with them, but they just end up waking me up and sending me home because I fell asleep in my chair.
I mean, if we are on the beach and they walk somewhere, they make it a point to walk back by me to make sure I haven't fallen asleep and am being baked alive in the sun on a rock.
In this, they are very considerate, and many seem pretty jealous of my narcoleptic ways. They all say they wish they could do that.
But I wish I could stay up and hang out with them.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Jet lag day
I am in Gozo.
Spent an hour on a bus/ferry combo to get here, spent the last 2 days having "get over your jet lag day" for all of the students, etc.
One girl never made it and now we know why - on her way here from Valletta, she was in a car crash and broke her back. Her mom flew in sometime recently and filled the summer school in, because we couldn't get in touch with her.
This makes me so sad. But I am glad she is ok. Supposed to recover fully. I'm glad her mom came.
I have a new friend - his name is Max/Sid. He has a goat. It's name is:
Dick Versilles Demetri "Billy the Kid" Moutavelles Trickle
a.k.a Gruffy
His mom found out they had it, and he thinks his brother killed it. And ate it.
Ew.
We have yet to meet all of the staff, but tonight is a big let's all have dinner night, so maybe we might meet them then and figure out what the hell we are all doing here. We are all a bit worried about the structure and organization - my biggest issue, and i know everyone will roll their eyes and groan, but really, I'm not that interested in Malta. The only reason I am here is because Thailand fell through and I needed the credits in a different, cheaper way than spending another semester in college.
I hope I can figure out what I am doing here, and research something I like. I like the people a lot, and I like the place. But it was just never on my radar as someplace to go and research, etc.
On a few other funnier notes:
I am living with a bunch of Europeans who happen to be freakin hilarious, mainly due to the lack of filters they have. They can say whatever they want and refuse to believe that it offended anybody. I love it. Probably because I tend to not be the person that they are "burning". The best part, I think, however, is that it isn't just me laughing at their funny stories, words, accents, etc. Which makes me sound incredibly childish (Riane, I have been playing so much Name that Nationality... I missed one guy's... he's from Slovenia. hahahaha when he told me he was like yea, you know. Galaxy, universe, world, Europe, Slovenia. I was like oh, yea. Right.) No, the best part is that they laugh at me, too. So it is kinda mutual, which makes me happy.
Also, I have an intense affection for Gozitan cheese... which is strange, because there is a lot of cheese, but not a lot of goats, and it is a type of goat cheese. I was literally at dinner licking my fingers to pick the powdery cheese off of my plate. Kinda gross, but not really. Nobody seemed to mind. It was super tasty on my jellyfish shaped cheese and pear stuffed pasta.
I have spoken with my mother 2 times in the 2 days that I have been here. Which is totally fine with me, because they are short convos. and I love talking to her. But the best/worst part about being in touch with family members is when they don't hear from you during international flights and you finally get to Malta and you hear your name over the loudspeaker:
"KATHERINE WONG, PLEASE AKJDHFPIADFHEOKJH"
Ok, I wonder what that was, I thought, while walking to baggage claim.
"KATHERINE WONG, ALKJSDFOIENG"
To the man next to me that I sat with on the plane, do you know what they are saying?
No, but aren't they talking about you?
"KATHERINE WONG, PLEASE CONTACT YOUR PARENTS."
embarrassing. I might have found the love of my life, that man sitting next to me on the plane (that I fell asleep talking to 2 time in 3 hours, but he was nice enough to get me a Non EU citizen customs sheet anyhow.) And my parents have called the airport on the island of Malta to make sure I contact them, and gotten them to yell over the intercom system that I need to call my parents.
Lol.
Some pictures will come later, when my picture uploader is having a better day.
Spent an hour on a bus/ferry combo to get here, spent the last 2 days having "get over your jet lag day" for all of the students, etc.
One girl never made it and now we know why - on her way here from Valletta, she was in a car crash and broke her back. Her mom flew in sometime recently and filled the summer school in, because we couldn't get in touch with her.
This makes me so sad. But I am glad she is ok. Supposed to recover fully. I'm glad her mom came.
I have a new friend - his name is Max/Sid. He has a goat. It's name is:
Dick Versilles Demetri "Billy the Kid" Moutavelles Trickle
a.k.a Gruffy
His mom found out they had it, and he thinks his brother killed it. And ate it.
Ew.
We have yet to meet all of the staff, but tonight is a big let's all have dinner night, so maybe we might meet them then and figure out what the hell we are all doing here. We are all a bit worried about the structure and organization - my biggest issue, and i know everyone will roll their eyes and groan, but really, I'm not that interested in Malta. The only reason I am here is because Thailand fell through and I needed the credits in a different, cheaper way than spending another semester in college.
I hope I can figure out what I am doing here, and research something I like. I like the people a lot, and I like the place. But it was just never on my radar as someplace to go and research, etc.
On a few other funnier notes:
I am living with a bunch of Europeans who happen to be freakin hilarious, mainly due to the lack of filters they have. They can say whatever they want and refuse to believe that it offended anybody. I love it. Probably because I tend to not be the person that they are "burning". The best part, I think, however, is that it isn't just me laughing at their funny stories, words, accents, etc. Which makes me sound incredibly childish (Riane, I have been playing so much Name that Nationality... I missed one guy's... he's from Slovenia. hahahaha when he told me he was like yea, you know. Galaxy, universe, world, Europe, Slovenia. I was like oh, yea. Right.) No, the best part is that they laugh at me, too. So it is kinda mutual, which makes me happy.
Also, I have an intense affection for Gozitan cheese... which is strange, because there is a lot of cheese, but not a lot of goats, and it is a type of goat cheese. I was literally at dinner licking my fingers to pick the powdery cheese off of my plate. Kinda gross, but not really. Nobody seemed to mind. It was super tasty on my jellyfish shaped cheese and pear stuffed pasta.
I have spoken with my mother 2 times in the 2 days that I have been here. Which is totally fine with me, because they are short convos. and I love talking to her. But the best/worst part about being in touch with family members is when they don't hear from you during international flights and you finally get to Malta and you hear your name over the loudspeaker:
"KATHERINE WONG, PLEASE AKJDHFPIADFHEOKJH"
Ok, I wonder what that was, I thought, while walking to baggage claim.
"KATHERINE WONG, ALKJSDFOIENG"
To the man next to me that I sat with on the plane, do you know what they are saying?
No, but aren't they talking about you?
"KATHERINE WONG, PLEASE CONTACT YOUR PARENTS."
embarrassing. I might have found the love of my life, that man sitting next to me on the plane (that I fell asleep talking to 2 time in 3 hours, but he was nice enough to get me a Non EU citizen customs sheet anyhow.) And my parents have called the airport on the island of Malta to make sure I contact them, and gotten them to yell over the intercom system that I need to call my parents.
Lol.
Some pictures will come later, when my picture uploader is having a better day.
Monday, July 5, 2010
A solo adventure begins.
I'm here.
It was a little scary.
My second trip abroad and I'm all by myself.
So far I've managed just fine.
It did get a little frustrating. A nice young Korean man decided to help me with choosing the correct buses, etc. and got me hopelessly lost.
This city is all built on cliffs and hills and I had to climb 3 mountains while tugging a 50lb rolly suitcase after the bus driver wouldn't take me any closer to where I needed to me.
Anywho, I'm all settled for the most part. Got the phone figured out, fell asleep at dinner, but I was by myself anyways so the only person it bothered and should have bothered was me.
Have yet to take pictures of this bizarre, colorless yet fascinating place.
Tomorrow I meet the rest of the crew. I hope I'm smart enough to keep up with everyone.
It was a little scary.
My second trip abroad and I'm all by myself.
So far I've managed just fine.
It did get a little frustrating. A nice young Korean man decided to help me with choosing the correct buses, etc. and got me hopelessly lost.
This city is all built on cliffs and hills and I had to climb 3 mountains while tugging a 50lb rolly suitcase after the bus driver wouldn't take me any closer to where I needed to me.
Anywho, I'm all settled for the most part. Got the phone figured out, fell asleep at dinner, but I was by myself anyways so the only person it bothered and should have bothered was me.
Have yet to take pictures of this bizarre, colorless yet fascinating place.
Tomorrow I meet the rest of the crew. I hope I'm smart enough to keep up with everyone.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Buddhist monks and Civil War musicals
I remember when I was finally tall enough to lie back in the passenger's seat of the car and stick my baby feet out the window. Yea, it was a stretch, and yea, my seat belt was technically useless when I slid underneath it like, but it made me so awesome, being able to stick my feet out the window.
Big people had forearms that could reach from rested elbow on bottom of window to large hand grasping the top of the window, and in my mind, people that huge could do anything they ever wanted to do.
My solo venture out into the Med. and Italy starts soon and I have realized what scares me the most about it - In India, (here comes another sweeping generalization...) nobody knows what they are doing, where they are going, how they are getting there. It was easy to hop on that train, boat, plane, bus. It would take you somewhere and ta-da, you were good.
But now I am going to Europe, where people have agendas, and set destinations, and fixed prices. And I don't know how to navigate places and people that have their lives together.
I'm going to be floundering because it is what I know and how I know international living. I mean, I'm pretty sure being there will whip me into what I need to be to survive in Malta and Italy... but it is going to be weird. Because currently, I'm going without knowing anything. It worked for India.
I do not know if it will work for Italy.
Saw a musical tonight and the usual happened - internal dialogue went about like this:
Why am I not doing Musical Theater? I love singing and dancing and I love costumes and cool fashion - why didn't I go into fashion or costume design? I know French somewhat... Paris would be an awesome place to live and work!
Wait - how did they figure out the background information for all of this? Maybe I should go into History... be a historian. I could talk to Dr. Rashford and draw world maps and talk about how you don't know anything if you don't know how the world is all interconnected.
I should brush up on my geography...
That said, Dr. Rashford does everything and he is an anthropologist so... I'm pretty glad I'm an anthropologist because it isn't really stopping me from doing anything I want to do... I wish I had gone to Mexico with him... at the same time, I don't really know Spanish and I do prefer studying the Middle East and Asia better... but I really want to go to Africa next... yea, Sudan or Nigeria. Study the Lost Boys and see how Islam has affected their lives and do social work and dance with them and do tribal things, like go into trances and paint myself... I really enjoy having zero inhibitions... which is different than having cultural/religious barriers and traditions. Maybe I can do that while in the Peace Corps. But if I join the Peace Corps right out of school... how will I keep up my dance? How will I be prepared to go to grad school to get my masters/PHd in dance and anthropology?
I guess I'll do that in London, go to the Laban Contemp. Dance school.... I do love choreography so so so much... I hope RIB and Gretchen will let me do more choreography this year.
I have some great songs that I would love to work with.
Oh, ew. That scene just didn't work.
Ok. This musical has had 2 songs too many.
Ok, I am seriously the youngest person here by 30 years.
And yea, it just goes like that for awhile.
But I like the trend in my thinking that whatever happens to me will put me in a new place in the world. And for some reason, strangely enough, I don't feel like it can't happen. Even in this economy and given profession, I feel like I will always be able to manage.
I bet my mother is rolling her eyes right now.
Anyhow, I saw 2 Buddhist monks at Walmart today. In Spartanburg, SC.
I followed them through the facewash aisle.
Reminds me of the time I naively asked why a place would only have 200 female lamas, while internally thinking that lamas would go extinct if they keep that weird technique up.
I had forgotten we were talking about actual religious lamas, as in the Dalai Lama.
ah, Gangtok, Sikkim.
And I miss Samir, my little kitty baby.
I wish I could pick him up and hold him right now.
Big people had forearms that could reach from rested elbow on bottom of window to large hand grasping the top of the window, and in my mind, people that huge could do anything they ever wanted to do.
My solo venture out into the Med. and Italy starts soon and I have realized what scares me the most about it - In India, (here comes another sweeping generalization...) nobody knows what they are doing, where they are going, how they are getting there. It was easy to hop on that train, boat, plane, bus. It would take you somewhere and ta-da, you were good.
But now I am going to Europe, where people have agendas, and set destinations, and fixed prices. And I don't know how to navigate places and people that have their lives together.
I'm going to be floundering because it is what I know and how I know international living. I mean, I'm pretty sure being there will whip me into what I need to be to survive in Malta and Italy... but it is going to be weird. Because currently, I'm going without knowing anything. It worked for India.
I do not know if it will work for Italy.
Saw a musical tonight and the usual happened - internal dialogue went about like this:
Why am I not doing Musical Theater? I love singing and dancing and I love costumes and cool fashion - why didn't I go into fashion or costume design? I know French somewhat... Paris would be an awesome place to live and work!
Wait - how did they figure out the background information for all of this? Maybe I should go into History... be a historian. I could talk to Dr. Rashford and draw world maps and talk about how you don't know anything if you don't know how the world is all interconnected.
I should brush up on my geography...
That said, Dr. Rashford does everything and he is an anthropologist so... I'm pretty glad I'm an anthropologist because it isn't really stopping me from doing anything I want to do... I wish I had gone to Mexico with him... at the same time, I don't really know Spanish and I do prefer studying the Middle East and Asia better... but I really want to go to Africa next... yea, Sudan or Nigeria. Study the Lost Boys and see how Islam has affected their lives and do social work and dance with them and do tribal things, like go into trances and paint myself... I really enjoy having zero inhibitions... which is different than having cultural/religious barriers and traditions. Maybe I can do that while in the Peace Corps. But if I join the Peace Corps right out of school... how will I keep up my dance? How will I be prepared to go to grad school to get my masters/PHd in dance and anthropology?
I guess I'll do that in London, go to the Laban Contemp. Dance school.... I do love choreography so so so much... I hope RIB and Gretchen will let me do more choreography this year.
I have some great songs that I would love to work with.
Oh, ew. That scene just didn't work.
Ok. This musical has had 2 songs too many.
Ok, I am seriously the youngest person here by 30 years.
And yea, it just goes like that for awhile.
But I like the trend in my thinking that whatever happens to me will put me in a new place in the world. And for some reason, strangely enough, I don't feel like it can't happen. Even in this economy and given profession, I feel like I will always be able to manage.
I bet my mother is rolling her eyes right now.
Anyhow, I saw 2 Buddhist monks at Walmart today. In Spartanburg, SC.
I followed them through the facewash aisle.
Reminds me of the time I naively asked why a place would only have 200 female lamas, while internally thinking that lamas would go extinct if they keep that weird technique up.
I had forgotten we were talking about actual religious lamas, as in the Dalai Lama.
ah, Gangtok, Sikkim.
And I miss Samir, my little kitty baby.
I wish I could pick him up and hold him right now.
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