Regrets

When I look back on the 9 1/2 months I spent living in the south of France, I am filled with many emotions. Regret, however, is one that does not come to mind. My goal for my study abroad experience in Montpellier, France was to never look back and wish that I had done something differently. Life is short and studying abroad is even shorter, so it is important to not waste time saying, "I'll do that tomorrow." That particular experience may not be there tomorrow and you have lost a unique opportunity, whether it be taking a trip to a vineyard or learning how to salsa dance.
The whole purpose of study abroad is to take you out of your comfort zone and allow you to experience new things with an open mind and an adventurous spirit. Of course this means different things to each and every one of us, whether adventure to you is white water rafting or traveling alone or merely striking up a conversation with a stranger. Whatever adventure means to you: make sure to take advantage of this opportunity to have one!
Some of my best experiences happened when I stopped planning and started living. Throwing yourself wholeheartedly into a different culture can be an exhilarating and scary, but I promise you it is worth it.
If I had not allowed myself to be adventurous while abroad, then I never would have experienced Oktoberfest in Munich or swam in a hidden away lake in the south of France or seen Platform 9 3/4! (That one was for all you Harry Potter fans.)
Remember adventure doesn't have to be sky diving or swimming with sharks, but it should be something fun for you that lets you explore a new side of yourself. If you take this study abroad opportunity as a chance to be adventurous and not hold back, then you will have no regrets. I only have one: that my time there went by so fast.

Gurgling? What?

Sometimes when you are abroad you find yourself in strange predicaments, without understanding how you came to be in that situation. Well, this happened to me a couple times abroad, yet a single situation continues to prevail in my memories.

I was studying in Florence, Italy at the Institute at Palazzo Rucellai. There, I was taking a Roman Empire class, which I found fascinating, considering the historical geographic location of what we were learning was 1.5 hours away. For one of our class trips we had an overnight stay in Rome. The first day we went to the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Caesar's Amphitheatre, and a couple of museums, the Trevi Fountain, et cetera. It was wonderful. We stayed in a quaint hotel that was a favorite of my teacher. It seemed to be owned by one family and housed a small number of people, as it was squeezed into a narrow alleyway between two large buildings. However, everything appeared new and in good working condition. There was even a breakfast buffet to be offered the next morning!

Two girls and I shared the handicapped bedroom on the first floor. We had gotten the best deal out of all the rooms, for there were two double beds, a whole lot of space, and a massive bathroom (when in Italy you'll discover there is very little room for everything, though they do like high ceilings...). However, we began to doubt our the awesome situation we were in right away. One of us used the bathroom and discovered the toilet made strange noises after it flushed, the water in the sink was very very slow going down the drain. BUT, we were in ROME! Who cares? We had the whole day ahead of us and there was no time to care about such minuscule matters. So we went to all the great sites, had a wonderful time, learned a whole lot, took way too many pictures, and went back to the hotel. We were going out for dinner so we got changed and ready to go. We encountered a small piazza with several restaurants and did a "mini miny mo" to choose our next meal. After "paste" we went to an Irish bar (why I don't know) to listen to some live music. Around a decent hour we headed back to our hotel.

One of the girls I was staying with, Kyle, was adamant on taking a shower. The other girl, Julie, and I were too tired to care. We were almost asleep when Kyle came out and said something was terribly wrong with the shower. She had turned the shower on, and while a little water trickled out of the faucet (more than normal for Italy), more water was coming up out of the drain...and it was grayish black, AND it was gurgling...LOUDLY. So Julie and I told her to just turn the water off and take a shower tomorrow morning, and went back to bed. Kyle came back out into the room and pronounced another problem. She had turned the shower off...but the water was continuing to come out of the drain. Now THIS was a problem. Julie and I, both thinking, "you can't be serious," jump out of bed and run over to the bathroom. Sure enough water was beginning to spill over the indent of the shower floor to the rest of the bathroom floor. Being the genius I am, I suggested that it appeared to be coming out pretty slowly, and would probably cease soon. Therefore, I continued, we should just throw towels down and let them soak up the water to contain the water spillage. Julie agreed with me, as were both tired and knew we had another fatiguing day ahead of us. Kyle reluctantly agreed, though she felt she had to do something right at that moment. So she went out into the hall and told the guy on duty that our shower was spilling over with water, though the water was off. He told her it was okay, they knew there was some sort of problem, and some guys were coming in the morning to take care of it.

At this, Kyle felt a little more peaceful about the situation and could sleep on it. As she was walking around her side of the bed there was this, "um...guys...?" Okay, now Julie and I were really getting irritated. "WHAT???!" Basically, there was a small pool of water, about a foot square over by the window (which reached the floor). We had heard water rushing on that side before and figured the drainage pipe must be on that side of the building, near that particular window. Well, Julie and I didn't care much for this situation either. We told Kyle to forget it, as the pool seemed stagnant and was not growing. So we all went to bed...finally.

Several time during the night I woke up, mid-sleep, hearing this gurgling noise in the background. I was too sleepy to really care what was going on in the bathroom, but I couldn't help but feel some anxiety. Then sometime early in the morning, there was the loudest GURGLING noise, I had ever heard! It woke all three of us up. I was starting to get a little worried now, so Julie turned on the light. A quarter of the room was flooded in water, either from the bathroom or from the window. Well, at this point, we had no idea what to do...perhaps we thought we were dreaming it all. We ultimately decided to go back to bed. It was only a couple more hours until a decent time to actually get up, and the guy out in the hall had said they already knew about this problem. So we moved all our stuff up to the tables and made sure nothing was plugged into the sockets, and once again went back to bed.

At one point the gurgling got ferocious again, so we looked at the clock, 7 AM. Okay, we could get up now without being the only ones stalking the small hallway outside. We turned on the light... and the whole damn floor was flooded. Not only was it flooded, it was so deep my foot was completely submerged in it! The small hallway leading to our bedroom door was not flooded yet, so we jumped onto each bed to get to the dry area. Well, I guess we finally woke up then, because we all at once realized that all are stuff was across the room on the most flooded side. Thankfully, Julie was an adept and very talented dancer, meaning she was the most flexible and acrobatic out of all of us. She jumped from bed to bed. Then she leaped to a chair, and stretched her leg over to the table holding the TV. She threw our stuff to us across the room, as we watched the water creeping towards us much faster that it had moved when this whole debacle first began. Kyle and I yelled at her to hurry (we had this notion we couldn't touch water that was coming out of the shower, the sink, and the toilet, though it looked fairly clean), as we dressed in a three foot square area. Julie was a little behind but just got dressed enough for us to basically fall over ourselves into the hallway as the water was almost at the door.

We spilled out into the hotel lobby, just as the owner of the hotel was walking by. Now, I have heard some Italians yell, and though they were screaming, because they were screaming Italian, it still sounded so beautiful. This man did NOT sound beautiful. He was FURIOUS! I'm pretty sure he heard a lot of Italian words that were not productive for me to know (yet who doesn't want to know these words?). My teacher, who was eating breakfast in the lounge area, rushed over and got an earful of whatever I did not want to know. He was pointing, screaming, pointing, pacing, pointing, screaming, etc! So the three of us did the only thing we knew to do. We hid. We sat in the corner of the lounge and as the students began to fill into the breakfast area gave us the looks of "what the hell did you do?!"

Our teacher came over and asked us the serious questions of: what did you do?, the owner says this but you did not do this?, are you telling me the truth?, et cetera. She also told us the owner was claiming we had stuffed toilet paper down all the drains for fun and had flooded the room purposefully. He was also demanding that we, the three students and the school were going to pay the thousands of dollars of damage that we caused. Well we were scared.

After an hour or so, a few people calmed down, minus the owner. We did not have to pay for anything, but my teacher could never come back there again. We had obviously not caused the problem, as the guy before had mentioned, they knew about the problem. We still don't know what caused the flooding or why it had to happen right then, when we three idiotic students were staying in that specific hotel in that specific room. We still had a day of touring ahead of us, so we were going to store our luggage and bags in a storage room, then come back for it all. However, now our teacher was very nervous and was uncertain of what to do. There was a slight possibility the owner would rummage through all of our stuff, for things he could sell, and money he could steal, to pay for the damage. But, after we got a reality check, she decided to just risk it.

We had a peaceful day, and when we came back our belongings were still intact. The owner was also still ranting back and forth down the hallway. We waited out in the street for the bus... We thought all the excitement for the weekend was over, yet on the drive back to Florence we witnessed a car slam into the car in front of it, causing it to flip in the air, and... Well, that's a story for another time.

Orange Juice

I'm not sure, but I think it's fair to say that i have always disliked orange juice. I mean, I'll drink it if I have to, but as far as my choice of breakfast beverage goes, orange juice is not a contender. So now I bet you're wondering exactly what this has to do with anything related to study abroad. It does, I promise.
I went to Egypt this summer with two Penn State professors and a group of 12 students. It took an eight hour flight from Philly to Paris, a six hour layover, and another five hour flight from Paris to Cairo to get there, and needless to say, jet lag was in full-bloom. Even though I was excited to be in Egypt I was fore-square against getting on another plain the next day to fly from Cairo down to Luxor. So the second night in Egypt I am in Luxor, completely wrung out from a solid 48 hours of non-stop motion and not exactly sure what I just ate for dinner. This is the point where i start to wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into, or at least I would have wondered had i not completely passed out on my bed.
Breakfast came too soon. We had a lot to do that third day so by default the call to breakfast was ungodly early. I am by no means a morning person, walking dead might be pushing my level of enthusiasm for the morning hours. But I was in EGYPT! I was going to do my best to be alive, awake, alert, and enthusiastic in these wee early hours.
Breakfast looked really good: Rolls and pastries, fresh fruit, a man would gladly cook you an omelet for a smile. But then there was the orange juice; orange juice and nothing but orange juice.
So I got some. I had to! Breakfast requires some form of liquid to go down properly! So yes i got some, but I was not going to be happy about it.
I'd eaten almost the entire bagel and couldn't hold off on the orange juice any longer, i raised the glass, took a swig, and BAAM! Heaven in a glass! It was amazing, magical, spectacular, and so much more.
The oranges in Egypt don't receive as much water as they do in the States, a side effect other than being smaller is that they have a more concentrated taste.
Even though this fresh squeezed pulpy juice is generally not to my liking, i have tried every orange juice i have found since hoping to find something even remotely close to that wonderful breakfasting experience in Luxor when i sat with a glass full of amazingness and watched hot air balloons gently drift over the mountains and disappear into the Valley of the Kings. Egypt and I were going to be friends.

Posted by: Maura Denny, Egypt

Want to Intern Abroad??

For students interested in foreign affairs, the government, and gaining more international experience, the U.S. State Department has many opportunities. The internships are available either in the spring or fall semester or for 10 weeks over the summer. Students can choose between working in D.C. or one the hundreds of embassy posts internationally. The student intern brochure says that of the many possibilities "interns may write reports on human rights issues, assist with trade negotiations, assist with citizen’s services or visa work, help Americans in distress abroad, or organize conferences or visits of high-level officials. Others may research economic or environmental issues, write news stories, work on web pages or help produce electronic journals." The deadlines end fairly early and along with an electronic application students submit a personal statement explaining any experience abroad, why they are interested in the internship and the post they requested. This summer I'm going to be interning in the U.S. Consulate in Tijuana, Mexico. I'm interested in checking out the immigration issues there first hand and seeing how the U.S. government functions abroad. Without a doubt it should be an incredible learning experience. For more information visit the U.S. Department of State Student Opportunities Page.



Posted by: Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

This time last year...

In April of last year, I was just returning to Brussels from my three-week long spring break travels. To start off, I spent a week in Geneva, Switzerland for the Harvard World Model United Nations Conference with some local students at my college. We were there as delegates, but we had a lot of fun exploring the city when we weren't in committee. There were eleven of us.. We stayed in a twelve-person hostel room, where we all got really close. It was definitely a bonding experience. After Geneva, we headed back to Brussels to regroup, and then my roommate and I spent nine days traveling to Budapest, Prague, and Vienna. It was the trip of a lifetime!



Le printemps en Genève (Spring in Geneva)



View from Várhegy (Castle Hill) in Budapest, Hungary

We were very tired by the end of our trip, but it was worth it. We met lots of different people.. other American college students, a British guy our age who was spending some time traveling after university, a lady in her sixties who always wanted to see Vienna... just to name a few. I can't wait to go back to Europe and travel to all the places I didn't make it to while abroad.

Posted by: Jen, Brussels, Spring 2007

La Feria de Sevilla

Two weeks after Easter starts the week of "Feria" in Sevilla. During this week long celebration Sevillanos and people from all over Spain come together to party and socialize. The camp ground for the event is filled with little tents which are nicely decorated and turned into mini restaurants / bars. They serve food and the alcohol specialty of the week rebujitos - part sherry, part 7 up. It sounds weird, but it's pretty good. The Spanish people love to dress up and they spare no expense for Feria, with women dressed in incredible flamenco dresses and men in fancy suits. For these 7 days the whole city spends the day and night dancing, drinking, and socializing. Sevillanas is a flamenco inspired dance that everyone does all week and all of the people of Seville grow up learning it. To fit in a little more and not be bored when everyone was showing off their dance moves my friends and I took Sevillanas classes in the weeks leading up the Feria. Just picture us 21 year old Americans in dance classes with 7 year old Spanish girls! It was definitely worth it when I was able to take part in the festivities!! Here is a youtube video of a couple dancing Sevillanas - it's a bit amateur but it's closer to the real thing than a professional stage performance.


Poster by: Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

Vive la grève!!!

In the total year-and-semester I have spent in La Belle France, there is one undeniable inconvenience to everyday life - they like to go on strike. Announced, unannounced, for a few hours or a few weeks, it is the weapon of choice for social movements. For those on strike, it becomes a wonderful holiday of protesting and chatting with friends about whatever political issue du jour. However, for the rest of us who would like to ride that tram rather than blocking it, life becomes unnecessarily yet substantially more difficult, involving sometimes hour long walks to classes only to find out the other students are on strike as well.
During my time in Montpellier, I had the (good?) fortune of experiencing more than my share of strikes. The tram would stop running for a few hours a week due to protestors of (fill in the blank issue). I was even present during Student Strikes of Spring 2006, which lasted from about the last week in February until mid-April. During that time, the tables and chairs from the classrooms were stacked in front of the main gates to the university and all the building doors. Spray paint lined the walls, with various slogans and many choice words about the governments plans for the CPE. Students, every Tuesday starting at 1pm, would march down the tramway line holding placards and banners, all the way to the center square called La Place de la Comédie, where music played and people danced to their general enjoyment of halting all life for those few hours. On those days, I would stand in the sunny Esplanade playing chess with the law students (who were - of course - also on strike), watching the hordes of chanting protesters go by.
While to some this may seem like a horrible waste of precious study-abroad time, I thought of it as an exciting and insightful experience. Being an American student, I could never have fathomed actually going on strike from classes (no matter how many times I wish I could), and here I had the chance to be a part of it. Granted, the whole 'no class' bit certainly helped, but I knew this was history in the making. The last time the students were able to create mass strike of that nature was in 1968, and no one could imagine it happening again anytime soon. I took advantage, taking those sunny Tuesday afternoons to chat with students, find out what and why they were protesting, giving me an in-depth view of the workings of the French mind.
Since then, I have actually returned to France as an intern in Strasbourg. During that time, I became friends with some of the medical students who were - again - on strike. All the same actions, many of the same conversations, only this time I more quickly discovered the walking routes to my office rather then depending on the very undependable tram service.
Don't get me wrong, it is certainly not easy living amongst such dissatisfaction and turmoil. However, that's what makes study abroad worthwhile - the chance to face challenges we would never dream of just sitting here in Happy Valley. I do believe my friend who is currently teaching in Orléans says it best;

"Just thought I'd let you know that I'm having on those great French days. You know, when you go to the bus stop and find out the buses are on strike. So you walk, then when you get to school you find out your students are on strike too...are you sure you're willing to sign up for more of this?

I know the answer to that. Of course you are! we all are. Even though I was being sarcastic when I said it was a 'great' day, it still makes me just smile and shake my head."


On the 2 year anniversary of the end of the student strikes in my city, all I can still do is smile and shake my head.

- Danielle Kukwa
Montpellier Fall '05 - Spring '06
Strasbourg Fall '07

Beer in Freiburg

I believe it was Ben Franklin who once said, “beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy.” Now, Ben was a man who looked like he could knock back quite a few pints, so I trust his judgment, and fully agree with his statement.

I, too, love beer, so studying in Germany was a logical choice. Of course, I took the actual program into consideration when making my decision, but I knew the beer culture would be a nice perk.

Freiburg im Breisgau has several breweries of the macro- and micro- variety. The main brewery in town was called Ganter, a privately owned and operated brewery.

Their standard session beer was Ganter Pils, a nice light pilsner which was clear yellow in color, and to be honest, tasted like soap. The locals downed it by the liter, but I wanted something a bit more crisp and with more of a hop character. Thankfully, Ganter made another pilsner, the aptly-named Freiburger Pils. It had a taste that matured as the bottle went down, a quality of excellent beers. Much to my deligh, Ganter had a promotion at the local university one day with free bottles of Freiburger. We were also given a Christmas present by the Ganter Brewery: buy-one-get-one-free coupons for cases…yes, cases…of Freiburger! So one day, a friend and I walked to the local grocery store, and walked out with four cases of Freiburger. We walked happily down the street, with 96 bottles of glorious beer clinking against each other. Ganter also makes Wodan, which according to ratebeer.com is one of the best doppelbocks one can find. Doppelbock is a variety of heavy beer that was originally brewed by monks to keep their stomachs full during times of fasting. In the process, they made a darn tasty beer. Wodan was among the better doppelbocks I've ever had, right up there with Ayinger Celebrator and Spaten Optimator.

Another local favorite was Rothaus Tannenzapfel, a beer made by Badische-Staatsbrauerei (The Baden State Brewery). It was among the cheapest beer one could find, yet there was no drop in quality.

Mad props to Ganter and Rothaus, but I fell in love with a microbrewery in town called Feierling, named after the family which owns it. The beer selection was somewhat limited, but what they lacked in quantity they made up for in quality. My two favorites were Brünnhilde (a doppelbock named after the mythical Germanic queen) and Inselhopf (a crisp, cloudly, unfiltered, tasty, glorious, refreshing, smooth pilsner). The beer selection was complemented by a menu of great German food. One could find anything from pretzels to Müchner Weißwurst (a sausage platter traditionally served at Oktoberfest).

Various other breweries from Freiburg and the surrounding region offered a wonderful selection of other beers, some of the more interesting ones being Colaweizen (wheat beer mixed with cola), Bananenweizen (wheat beer brewed with bananas).

Sure, America makes some great beer (and some awful beer…Budweiser “lager” for example). Sure, the Belgians make some stellar beer (the Chimay line, Gulden Draak, Babãr being some of my favorites). But I’m of the opinion that the Germans are the best beer-makers in the world.

So now dear friends, raise your pint glasses, liter mugs, beer boots, beer steins, tulip glasses, snifters and dimple mugs to the sky. As Homer Simpson once said, “to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.”

-- Posted by Dave, IES EU Program, Fall 2007

Semana Santa

Last week Christians celebrated Holy Week and no country celebrates this event quite like Spain. In particular, Sevilla is known for its Holy Week events that draw around 100,000 visitors during the week. Starting the Sunday before Easter many processions pass through the streets of Sevilla, each devoted to a scene in the life of either Jesus or his mother, Mary. This float, or paso, is carried by costaleros, who use their lower neck and back to withstand the heavy weight and usher the float through the tiny, zigzagging streets. Two of my friends in Sevilla were costaleros and their preparation for the processions was rigorous. Their necks were red for months! Accompanying the float are penitents wearing long robes and tall, narrow, cone-shaped hoods to mask their identity. The image is very moving and they symbolize the act of penitence for sins committed. The processions occur across the city, night and day, all week long and throughout the country, but with the largest and most elaborate celebration in Sevilla. Holy Week is a time for Sevillanos to be with their families, in the streets of their beloved city. Even those not particularly religious take part in the action of Holy Week, or Semana Santa, because it is as much of a tradition and community event as religious act.

It's a pretty complicated scene to explain and it's something that's very different in person but hopefully this youtube clip helps give you an idea: Semana Santa, Sevila


Posted by: Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

Amazing Pictures Follow....

It seems that a lot of the peer advisers have recently gone on spring break. Their stories and pictures are amazing. I wish I could have gone with them! However, not to toot my own horn, but, I must say that no one had a more outrageously awesome spring break than I did. Did I go to the pyramids of Egypt?


Did I see the Statue of Liberty in New York City?


Did I see the Eiffel Tower in Paris?


Yes. Yes. Yes. Now, before you start thinking I have my own plane that takes me around the world, let me tell you where I actually went. Las Vegas. Even though "technically" the pyramid is fake, the Statue of Liberty is fake, and the Eiffel Tower is a fake 1/2 size model of the original, they are all surprisingly realistic. I went to Las Vegas as a little kid with my family when I was only seven years old, and after turning 21 this year, I knew what my spring break destination would be. I was lucky enough to travel with my older sister, which made my experience even more unforgettable. Vegas is the ultimate playground for adults. The energy was so high, the lights were so shiny, some of the hotels were so... tacky, but that is what gives Las Vegas its charm. The weather was wonderful, it was in the high 70s every day, the food was great, I wish I had stayed there longer! On our last night, we saw "Mystere" a Cirque du Soleil show at Treasure Island and that was amazing too. All in all, I even won $100 playing blackjack, so I probably did better than most people when it comes time to leave Vegas. I had a 5-Star time and I can't wait to go back sometime in the near future. So... if you want to see Egypt, Paris, and New York all in one trip, the choice is easy. (They also have indoor and outdoor gondola canals at the Venetian if anyone wants to get a little Italian culture as well.) You know what they say, "What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

Posted by Matt: University of New South Wales: Sydney, Australia Fall 2007

Honduras: Spring Break 08

This time last week I was in a pickup truck traveling through beautiful Honduras during a 6 hour ride to the airport for my departing flight. Penn State's first trip to Honduras with Global Medical Brigade was incredibly successful: we treated approximately 1300 villagers, who would otherwise have no access to basic health care. I'm so proud of my group for all their hard work! We performed 3 different "brigades" in 3 different rural locations outside the capital of Tegucigalpa. We set up these makeshift clinics in schools, using the different classrooms for the examination rooms, pharmacy, etc. Each morning when our bus arrived at the site there would be a huge line of people already waiting, many having walked hours for this opportunity to receive medical attention.

These rural villagers are basically untouched by the modern world - living in small shacks, on dirt roads, and forced to consume water riddled with parasites. Living in unthinkable conditions, these people maintained an incredibly happiness. Their spirit and gratefulness was truly inspiring. Beyond some additional Spanish vocab and conversation practice, I learned alot on this Spring Break trip. By interacting with the villagers and our Honduran trip leaders I was able to have an inside view of the country. For example, I learned about "Honduras time", in which everything usually runs 20 mins late and strict schedule, like those in the U.S., don't exist.

Penn State's Global Medical Brigade club hopes to continue trips to Honduras in subsequent years so to get involved look for information at activity fairs and around campus!

Posted By: Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

Spring Breakin' it on the West Coast

I will admit that coming back home after being abroad for a year was a tough transition for me, as it might be for anyone who has spent a significant time away from things that are so near and dear to them. I think that one reason why my transition was so difficult was because my life in Japan was so interesting. There was always something new happening; something unfamiliar, extraordinary, to learn more about. Returning to, what some may call a "super-normal" life really did have its challenges, such as facing boredom.
This year's spring break was spent at home, in Pittsburgh. Little to no use of an automobile, and little contact with friends from home, since their spring breaks unfortunately did not happen to coincide with Penn State's. In the midst of my complete and utter boredom, I could not help but recall the fantastic adventure that my friend and I embarked upon this time last year.
Many students at Gaidai were planning trips to Tokyo via night bus, booking hostels in Hokkaido, and even buying Shinkansen (bullet train) tickets to go to Kyushu. A friend and I decided to instead, head toward the West Coast. Why? Because nobody was going there for Spring Break.
We booked our bus tickets for a small town called Amanohashidate (the bridge to heaven), named for the sandbar that divides Miyazu bay from the Sea of Japan. The bridge to heaven is traditionally viewed upside-down, so there are viewing platforms that are frequented by tourists bending over backwards to get their glimpse of the road to paradise.
Our second stop was a small fishing village on the coast called Moroyose. A sleepy little town, Moroyose had a fish market, great seafood, and not much else. It was very refreshing to see small town life after being in the big city of Osaka for 6 months. People in Moroyose were really curious as to why two foreign visitors would be in their hamlet on the Sea of Japan, and they approached us with just as much curiosity as we approached their town.
Our final destination before returning to Amanohashidate for another night was the small city of Tottori. Tottori is famous for its massive sand dunes, the result of winds of dust storms on the Gobi desert. My companion and I decided to only spend the day on the dunes before boarding the Kita-Kinki-Tango railway to head back toward Amanohashidate.
The West coast of Japan was a joy to visit. Its beautiful scenery is some of Japan that most foreign tourists will never see. I will always remember my incredibly unconventional spring break on the West Coast.

State Pattys Day

This past weekend was Penn State's newest official holiday... State Patty's Day. Studying abroad in London last semester I missed the first annual holiday. I definitely made up for it this year, green beer and all. Nevertheless, the whole day I could not stop feeling somewhat nostalgic and even made a few phone calls to friends I met while abroad.

Last March I was lucky enough to spend St. Patrick's Day in Dublin, Ireland. I took the Sail-Rail from London to Wolverhampton to Dublin. The day long, freezing journey was well worth the experience. I definitely recommend everyone who studies in the UK use the National Rail and have the opportunity travel on Titanic like ferries.

We stayed in a hostel right in downtown Dublin and spent the whole weekend exploring the city. We went to Dublin Castle, Dublin University, the oldest pub in Dublin, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and got lost down every street we could. As well, we hit up the Guinness Factory. We sampled as much Guinness as we could, learned about the process of making Guinness, and finally learned the science of pouring the perfect pint!

On March 17th, we woke up and went to the famous St. Patrick's Day Parade. Standing in a crowd of thousands we found the only bar serving pints of Guinness. It was a breakfast for champions!! We spent the day traveling to and from bars and meeting as many local Irish people as we could. Of course we had a pint at the famous Temple Bar (I even bought a shirt). Those two days in Dublin were some of the best times I had while abroad!!


Dublin, Ireland 2007


State College, Pa 2008


Much like my Saturday in State College, Dublin is filled with amazing memories and drunken moments with my best friends. I tell everyone I know to try to make it to Dublin, especially for St Patrick's Day!!! Just don't forget to book your hostel well ahead of time.

Posted by Alison M., London, Spring 2007

Volunteering Abroad

A great way to go abroad is through volunteering: its provides an opportunity to see the world and help out at the same time. When I received an email earlier this academic year about an Alternative Spring Break trip to Honduras I was immediately interested. The organization is called Global Medical Brigade for Honduras and this is the first year for the club at Penn State. Groups from universities across the U.S. organize student groups to spend a week in Honduras operating a free clinic under the supervision of medical professionals. The different areas the Penn State volunteers could work in are: in-take, triage, medical consultation, the pharmacy, the dental station, or data input. While I have no medical practice I'm looking forward to practicing my Spanish!

My group leaves Friday and we are all extremely excited. We have spent the past months working hard in preparation to make our brigade as successful as possible. Fundraising events have helped us raise money for the trip costs and through donations we have gathered medical supplies and medicine to bring to Honduras. As I prepare for my trip I expect to see much poverty and a completely different way of living than I am used to, but I am also confident in the progress of such grassroots organizations, such as Global Medical Brigade for Honduras. As a doctor's visit is as convenient as a trip to Ritenour, it is hard to imagine living without access to medical care.

Here some statistics about Honduras:
-80% of the population lives in poverty
-35% unemployment
-22% of the population is undernourished
-GMB provides health care to more than 70 villages
-30,00 patients were treated in 2006

Posted by: Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

Freiburg Dancing

After viewing Brad's post of the "Where is Matt?" video, I knew I had seen something similar somewhere before. As it turns out, the employees of a magazine local to Freiburg im Breisgau made a tribute video with scenes from around Freiburg, instead of scenes from around the world. We were shown this video clip at our first orientation meeting.

Around 1:53, you'll see a guy dancing in a little steam called "Bächle." These are Freiburg's medieval drainage system, and the local legend is that if you ever step in one, you'll marry a Freiburger. Apparently this guy is either already married to one, or really, really wants to!


Now, where can I learn them dance moves?

-- Posted by Dave, IES EU Program, Fall 2007

For all the Beer Connoisseurs

While I was out to dinner with my friends this weekend, I looked down at my icy cold glass of Miller Lite. I do enjoy Miller Lite, "old faithful" as I like to call it, however I couldn't help but miss the wide variety of great Belgian beers I sampled while living in Brussels. Since Belgium is known for its beer, and the locals take the subject very seriously, one of the first things I learned when I arrived is that every Belgian beer is served in its own special glass.

My personal favorite of all the Belgian beers was the golden ale Duvel:



A close second was Leffe Blonde:



Followed by Chimay:



During my first week in Brussels, our group was taken on a tour of the last operating brewery in Brussels, the Cantillon Brasserie. It is a family-owned brewery, opened in 1900, that brews lambic beers such as kriek (cherry-flavored beer) and gueuze (a more acidic beer). We got to see the entire brewing process, from the storage of wheat, barley, and hops, to the brew kettle, to the cooling tun, to the barrels used for aging, and finally to the store shelf. My tour guide at the Cantillon Brasserie described the process as if it were an art form. During my five month stay in Brussels, I learned that beer is an integral part of Belgian culture, and it was also an important part of my experience in Belgium.

Posted by: Jen, Brussels , Spring 2007

Super Cool Youtube Vid

This is a really neat video I found awhile ago...

Apparently the guy in the video was tired of his job as a software engineer and decided to use some of the money he saved up to travel the world. He states on his website that he is not rich and has travelled cheaply everywhere he has gone. After his first video (this one), stride gum decided to sponsor him on another trip around the world and another video

I'm jealous.

The Story of the Art Monster

It was the last week of our program in Todi, Italy, and we were going to have an art exhibition for our art class. We had been asked to invite our local friends and (host) family members to it. So the day before the exhibition, I decided to remind my host mom about it. But, since my host mom didn’t speak any English and my Italian was really bad, too, I asked my Italian teacher to teach me how to say it. Now, art exhibition in Italian is mostra (with an "a") de arte, but by the time I got home, I had already forgotten half of the sentence. So I went up to my host mom and I said, in my broken Italian, “Don’t forget, mostro (with an "o") de arte tomorrow.” Even before I could finish my sentence, my host mom was laughing hysterically. I knew I had said something wrong, but I didn’t know what. So she quickly ran to the other room, got a dictionary and showed me the meaning of mostro...and, honestly, I couldn’t help laughing either. Mostro in Italian means monster, and what I had been saying was, “Don’t forget, Art Monster tomorrow!”

Posted by Vrinda, Todi, Italy

Euro Techno...Music

While in Dublin, Ireland this past fall semester, I developed a fondness for European techno-esque music. I know what you're thinking: how could I?! Well, I could, and I did, but it was a slow, sneaky, and gradual process. It started when I purchased my "mobile" at the Vodafone store on Grafton Street. I walked in and asked for the least expensive phone available, much to the chagrin of the salesman helping. He indicated a mobile on the wall, and explained that it's only defining feature were the ten AM/FM radio presets. I said I'd take it.

My mobile FM radio presets became my constant companion (seeing as I am probably one of the last students in existence without an ipod): I listened to the local Dublin stations on my way to class (a 20 minute walk from my host family's house), I listened to the radio while riding the Dublin Bus into the city centre, and I listened to the radio while I jumped on my 9-year old host brother's monster trampoline. So, while I had always claimed an aversion to techno music, I found myself rather enjoying some of the Top 40 techno singles; many of them were perfect for setting a brisk walking pace, which in turn ensured that I arrived at class in time. Below I have listed a few of my favorite songs to walk to, sing to, and (sort of) move to. Along with addictive beats, these techno singles have some entertaining music videos...

"Let me think about it," by Fedde Le Grand and Ida Corr


"Freaks," by The Creeps


"Like this like that," by SE:SA


"Love is gone," by David Guetta


"San Diego Song," by The Coronas (this one is not so much techno, but it is a local Dublin band's first single, and it was just getting air-time while I was in Dublin, and it grew on me)


I hope you enjoy these songs/music videos as much as I do!

~Jessie, Dublin, Ireland, Fall 2007

English Weather: Upliftingly Dreary

As I look out the window of the office today in State College, PA, to the freezing almost-sleet, almost-rain, sort-of-snow, I am immediately transported back to the University of Kent in Canterbury, England. For all the negative images that the word “stereotypes” bring up, I discovered that some of them are really and truly based in reality; England’s weather is one of these. To be frank, it really is dismal.

But I don’t mean dismal in a negative way at all. I spent 6 months on the wonderful island that is England, and I loved every freezing, rainy, cloudy-skied second of it. It took many months before I even realized that I could count on one hand the days that I had seen the sun. The people, pubs, cities, restaurants, accents, and coach bus trips into London took my attention far and away from the weather – but, upon noticing it, I really couldn’t look away.

It snowed once, overnight, leaving about 6 inches of slushy snow in the morning. By late afternoon it had nearly all melted, leaving me freezing, soaking wet, and coming down with the flu. English weather is one of stark contrasts: one second it was raining, the next it was snow, and the next it was mild and, if you were lucky, even a touch sunny. Spring came like a bullet train in March – temperatures rocketed to 50 degrees Fahrenheit and even a little above, the rain and breeze turned warm, and there was a veritable explosion of baby animals all over the rural little Kent Uni campus.

While I was never lucky enough to have beach weather, and while I found myself still wearing my winter coat in May from time to time, it was almost comforting to find at least one thing in England exactly as I had expected it. Predictably and comfortingly dreary, a little bipolar, and in beautiful contrast to a very jolly culture – that’s what the English weather said to me.

Posted By: Marian Hamilton, University of Kent in Canterbury, England in Spring 2007

Breakfast in Germany

I love cereal. I really love it. I’ve had cereal for breakfast almost every day for my entire life. So when I went to the Lebensmittelgeschaft (grocery store) for the first time, I was excited to scope out the cereal stock. I went through quite a few boxes, but here are some of my favorites. Unfortunately I couldn’t find pictures for each of them.

Nougat Bits – the greatest cereal ever. Better than Cap’n Crunch with Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms marshmallows. The cereal pieces are chocolate flavored, but each one has an air pocket inside filled with hazelnut nougat. It’s kind of like eating chunks of chocolate infused with Nutella. I killed about 12 boxes of this stuff during the semester. The grocery store was out of stock of it for about 2 weeks at one point, and I felt as if I were dying inside a little more each day that I was without Nougat Bits.

Mini-Zimtos – The German word for “cinnamon” is “Zimt.” These were kind of like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, only they seemed to have found a way to get more cinnamon sugar to stick to the cereal pieces. Although trumped by Nougat Bits, Mini Zimtos held a close second in my book.

Fruchte-Müsli – Müsli is a mix of oats and other stuff (in this case, fruit pieces). While it isn’t loaded with sugar like Nougat Bits and Mini-Zimtos, Müsli is really tasty, and is even better for you.

Schoko-Müsli – Same concept as the previous one, but replace the fruit with chocolate pieces.

There also were equivalents of American cereals, such as Frosted Flakes and Smacks knockoffs. They weren’t too bad.

That’s mostly what I ate for breakfast. Europeans don’t value breakfast as much as Americans do, so while I was having my cereal-fest, my roommates would usually have cold cuts on a few pieces of bread.

Weekends meant no class, and thus sleeping in and having the time to make a big breakfast. If I was feeling particularly cereal’d out, I’d make eggs, sausage and cheese. The Germans make great sausage (Bratwurst, Bockwurst, Weisswurst, Würstchen, Currywurst…and the list goes on).

Now I’ve gone and make myself hungry…bah…

--Posted by Dave Hardison, IES EU Program, Fall 2007

The Furthest East I've Ever Been

During my semester abroad, we traveled to many places. We hiked in the Swiss Alps, sampled wine in Alsace, ate waffles in Brussels. However, I was a little taken aback by a little country called Estonia.

Estonia’s capital city, Tallinn, is about 3 hours away by car from the border with Russia and about 2 hours away by boat from Helsinki, Finland. I was expecting a cold, barren place (think Bratislava as depicted in “EuroTrip”) when we traveled to Tallinn, Estonia, but what I found a neat, quirky little city.


I was very impressed with Tallinn. We stayed in the “up-town,” the older section. The city’s medieval walls and town hall still stand. There is a town square with neat little alleyways and streets jutting off of it. The downtown area was just as modern as any other major city though. Sure enough, there were McDonalds’ and 5-story shopping malls. What impressed me most about Tallinn, however, was how many people spoke English and how well they spoke it. I was quite glad that they did, because I could not understand Estonian at all. Imagine a few common English words, then double up on the vowels and add a few extra syllables, and you’ve got something that resembles Estonian. For example, a souvenir store is called “suuveniiridid.” Streets bore names such as “Toompea” and “Rahukohtu,” while signs advertised things such as “Kohvik-Restoran Merevaikus Patkuli Vaateplats.” Don’t ask me what it means. You’d think “Pood” would mean “food,” but it doesn’t.

The country made the news most recently when it knocked down a Soviet memorial from one of Tallinn’s parks. There’s also a museum of communism, featuring lots of memorabilia from the Soviet era. Some friends and I went to a palace that formerly belonged to Peter the Great. What was once one of his summer palaces was turned into an art museum. Right next door, however, we discovered the official residence of the Estonian president. On account of the building’s color scheme, we named it the Pink House. Oh, those wacky Estonians...

Estonia is not a backwards country. Their foreign ministry is housed in an ultra-modern building, and the club scene is comparable to those of other European countries (complete with lasers and smoke machines). However, the country maintains a certain degree of charm.

So, taenan for stopping by!

- Posted by Dave Hardison, IES EU Program, Fall 2007

Todo bom

While studying in Salvador, Brazil, my favorite hangout was a place called Mercado do Peixe; or in English, the Fish Market. It is a very cheap outdoor collection of bars and restaurants that fills a parking lot with plastic tables and chairs. It sits next to the beach, and when cars aren't blasting Brazilian music from their stereos, you can hear the waves crashing against the rocks that separate the market from the sand. Almost every night ended at the Fish Market, and because of our constant presence, our group of American students and Brazilian locals became close with our favorite waiter, DC. When I think back about Brazil, I always wind up reminiscing about the Fish Market, and all the great memories that were made there.

American-style football club

Among the many popular cultural exports of America in Japan, which are so vast and include things from Pizza Hut to Mustang convertibles, I found it odd that American Football hadn't quite been popularized yet. The differences between a big 10 school to a private foreign language university are stark and revealing when it comes to intercollegiate athletics.
At school, I would see the "American Football Club" practicing on the dirt field behind the student services center almost every day after class, but I never once heard if or when they were playing a game.
So I asked my host mother, seemingly unaware of Kansai Gaidai's football club, who speculated that maybe they weren't very good and they didn't want anyone coming to their games.
This puzzled me. Who wouldn't want to go and cheer on their school's football team? Maybe Penn State Football culture and being at a division 1 school had made me unwaware to the fact that there are some people in this world to whom football is not life.
So, I never did find out if the Kansai Gaidai American Football Club ever played games with other schools. Being a "club" I assumed that they did compete, but on their own time and money. It was refreshing to be at a school that actually had a non-existent athletic program, but instead, a large body of self-supporting student organized clubs and circles, that benefited the students academically and socially.
I really kind of ended up enjoying life minus big-time collegiate athletics, and I learned way more Japanese without football hoopla getting in the way.

Bruxelles.. Tu me manques!

Being a peer adviser for the Office of International Programs has enabled me to share my life-changing study abroad experience with other Penn-Staters. Sometimes, when I’m talking with another student, I get nostalgic for Brussels… I wish I could snap my fingers and be back in my apartment on Rue Veydt! I wish I could walk around the corner and browse for breakfast at Delhaize (our neighborhood grocery store), shop on the trendy Avenue Louise, have a beer at Café Belga… I could go on and on.

Even though my study abroad experience in Brussels ended in May of 2007, a part of my heart will always be there. Every time I look at pictures of the magnificent Grand Place (arguably the most beautiful square in Europe), the Manneken Pis, or the Atomium (Brussels’ version of the Eiffel Tower), I think of all the great memories I have and I feel like I’m there again.

Studying abroad is an experience that you will always carry with you... as cliché as it sounds. Never in my life would I have expected to fall in love with a city like I did with Bruxelles.

Posted by: Jen, Brussels , Spring 2007

colectivos

Buses are the most popular way to get around Buenos Aires. You can get virtually anywhere in the entire city for around 25 cents. The bus drivers are mad men-they zip and speed along in these huge buses, halting to a stop whenever they see someone waiting at one of the bus stops along the route.

Finding these stops can sometimes be a hassle. Some stops have well marked poles that clearly list what buses come to that spot, others have random stickers that can be tacked onto a pole or somewhere on the outside of the building where the bus stops, and then there are others that you somehow have to just intuitively know stop in that place.

Riding the buses in Argentina was a lot different than riding the buses here. People are not afraid to cram onto the bus in order to make room for as many other passengers as possible. It's kind of like a no man left behind mentality-during rush hour, you can bet that you'll be getting to know the people around you quite intimately. Whereas here, sometimes I think people want to maintain there own personal bubble at the expense of a few other students that in my mind, would be able to fit on the bus if everyone would just occupy the little nooks and crannies. Some days, I just want to show the other people on the white loop where they should stand for optimal occupancy.

The best way to look like a native porteño is to break out your Guía-T, the bus bible that breaks the entire city down into a grid and has all the routes in the back telling you what streets the bus travels on. To use the guide, you find where you are on one page and grid, you look up where you want to go on another page and grid, and then you try to match up a bus that travels to both places. Once you learn how to use the Guía-T, you start walking a lot less.

Posted by: Jamie, Buenos Aires, Spring 2007

Sydney- I LOVE this city!

It's a little over two months since I was in Sydney and I am definitely missing it.  Sydney had so many amazing things that Penn State doesn't have, I am finding it is the small things that I am missing most.  After a night out with friends I always took time to walk barefoot across the beach back to my apartment.  I miss people telling me that I'm Canadian, or, at least that I have a "very strong Canadian accent" which I always gave me a good laugh.  I also miss trivia night.  Every Wednesday, my friends and I visited the Randwick Rugby Club for weekly trivia.  The first week we were there, it was a little funny that we were the only team under the age of forty.  We were loud, we laughed, we asked all the teams next to us for help when there was some question about Australian history that we were clueless about.  Before I knew it, our team became a regular fixture of trivia night and the host always came over to us as soon as we entered.  He helped get tables for us to push together or extra chairs.  I truly felt like a local and no longer an international student.  The host and the other teams always looked forward to our team name of the week, with my personal favorite being "Hillary Clinton '08"  (As if they couldn't tell that we were Americans before that, haha.)  Now back at Penn State, I have to say, that is one of the things I miss most.  Wednesday night trivia at the Randwick Rugby Club.  Our team even won a few times, but it was the time spent together with my friends that was truly the best.

Matt Shiskowski, Fall 2007, University of New South Wales: Sydney, Australia

1 Month Retrospective

It has been about a month since I returned from my semester abroad in Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany. Looking back, I really learned a lot. Not just in the academic sense (I could tell you that Croatia is likely to join the European Union in 2009 or that Leonard Orban from Romania is the European Commissioner for Multilingualism, but who wants the hear that?), but I learned a lot about interaction with other cultures.

There are quite a few stereotypes about Germans: beer-guzzling, super-physically fit, insular, efficient, fun-hating, industrious workers. Well, there is some truth to some of those (try drinking three liters of beer and eating an entire chicken in the span of 4 hours). However, I found the Germans to be some of the most interesting and welcoming people I’ve ever encountered. For example, at dinner my first night in Freiburg, a friend’s mother commented on my poor table manners by German standards. However, she laughed it off, stating that she understood the same manners were acceptable in America, and handed me another serving of lasagna.

I lived with 5 Germans in a Wohnheimsgemeinschaft (literally “living community,” but “dormitory” is easier). I admit I was a little concerned about my ability to speak German, their ability to speak English, and any lost-in-translation moments that might occur as a result. As it turns out, they spoke nothing but German with me, which really helped my language-speaking ability. As we sat in the kitchen together and joked around, I learned about regional differences, and they taught me some local slang (some of my favorite insults: Beckenrandschwimmer: “swimming pool edge swimmer,” colloquially a wuss. Festnetztelefonierer: “land-line caller,” someone who isn’t up to date technologically). In doing so, I really came to embrace the German culture. They have a real respect for nature, as evidenced by the success of Green environmental policies. They have a passion for travel, and as such, an appreciation for world cultures. The local Canyon Pizza equivalent, a meat sandwich with yogurt sauce called Döner kebap, was invented by a Turkish-German immigrant. They take pride in what they do; the German Reinheitsgebot, a law enacted in the 16^th century and still enforced, upholds the quality of German beer (fans of Natty Light need not apply).

It’s not that I was culturally insensitive at the get-go. My semester abroad really taught me some lessons that are not easily learned in a traditional classroom setting. So, wherever you go, bask in the local culture!

-- David Hardison

Freiburg Stadtmitte: Bertoldsbrunnen

Fiori di Zucca

Last summer, I studied abroad in Todi, Italy, with 22 other Penn State students. Todi is a picturesque Umbrian town in the heart of Italy, only about 2 hours from Rome and Perugia. For the entire length of the program, we lived with local host families in Todi. My host family's house was situated on a farm surrounded by vineyards, sunflower fields and hills covered with pine trees; and living there was truly amazing!
One of the best things about living with a host family in Italy was getting to eat AUTHENTIC Italian food. My host mom, Gabriella, was one of the best cooks on the program and the great thing was that she would even teach us how to make those dishes. Whenever she was preparing a new dish or a dish she knew we particularly liked, she would call us into the kitchen so that we could see how she was doing it.
One of my favorite recipes from the trip was Fried Zucchini Flowers. Now, I didn't even know that a zucchini plant had flowers, least of all that they were edible. Fiori di Zucca or Zucchini flowers are these bright yellow, almost golden, blossoms that grow on the end of baby zucchinis. They are very perishable and have to be used fresh, the day they are bought. These blossoms, when dipped in a batter and fried, make delicious crispy appetizers. People in Italy eat them in other ways also, like stuffed with ricotta cheese or even as pizza topping.
It's hard to find zucchini flowers at grocery stores here. So when I came back home, after the program, I planted some zucchini in my garden. But I knew that even if I did manage to grow them at home, I wouldn't be able to repeat the experience; and that's something I really miss from my summer study abroad in Italy!
Posted by Vrinda, Todi, Italy

The Bus That Got Away

This is a story about the promptness of the British public transportation system.

It was a fine idea, at the onset, to spend a day in London as soon as possible after arriving at the University of Kent in Canterbury, in the southeast of England and a mere 2 hours from one of the most famous capitals in the world. It seemed an equally fine idea to save money by not spending the night, and rather book the first bus in that morning and the last bus out that night. Isn’t it funny how things always sound better on paper?

That morning of January 20th, five bubbling American students trundled down the long hill from the University into downtown Canterbury. We watched the sun rise against a dusty blue sky as we walked, and smiled, imagining it was a good omen.

We rounded the last corner on High Street to see the bus roaring to life. As we broke into sprints and toppled on, now a panting early morning heap of limps and coats, I looked at my watch: 6:05 AM on the dot. Never in my life had I been on a bus that left at exactly the minute listed on the ticket. Something to remember, I thought groggily, and spent the rest of the bus ride recuperating.

Our time in London was idyllic. We saw everything from Big Ben to the Tower of London, zipped about on the tube and giggled each time we heard, “Mind the gap.” We ate lunch in Hyde Park despite the less-than-ideal picnicking temperature, and shared pints of cider at a pub with old bearded men after dinner.

Our bus left the London Victoria coach station at 11:45 PM, so we decided it would be best to return absurdly early, just in case, the memory of our morning sprint still fresh in our minds.
All day, we had been riding the yellow Circle line around to everywhere we needed to go - it was quite convenient. So we hopped on it again and settled in.

“This is great,” one of our party said happily. “All day in London, and we haven’t gotten lost or anything!”

“I know,” I agreed happily. “We’ve done really well!”

2 stops pass, and with a sinking stomach I realized we were on the wrong subway train. We had somehow gotten on the Pink line, which paralleled the Yellow for quite a while, and must have shared a track. The trains were not marked except at the front, so by following the signs for Yellow we had assumed it was, well, the Yellow. We had only sidetracked by one stop, so it wasn’t that big of a deal - we got off, reversed, and switched platforms to the Yellow.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Apparently, Saturday nights were prime time for underground construction. It took a solid 15 minutes for our train to arrive, and when it did, it crawled. And I mean crawled. Anxiously, we watched the time - 20 minutes till bus blast-off.

“How do you leave an hour early for a 20 minute tube ride and wind up pushing the clock so much?” one of the girls moaned under her breath.

You use under construction public transportation, that’s how. I signed and shifted my weight anxiously.

10 minutes. 2 stops away. 5 minutes. Victoria train station – 3 blocks away from the coach station where we needed to be.

We literally sprinted off of the train. There were two ways out; we burst up the first to find nothing familiar. We darted back down, I almost ran over a small child, and finally we found ourselves on a familiar street.

Three of the others vanished in the bustle of London. Behind me, I heard the fourth girl cry out. Turning, I see her limping on a freshly twisted ankle.

First casualty, I thought grimly, and we staggered forward.

We rounded the bend by the Starbucks to see the other three standing, confused. With a sinking stomach, I realized none of them knew the way back.

“Down that street!” I screamed, and they bolted.

This is absurd, I thought as I gave her directions. This is absolutely out of control.

Finally, heart pounding, I rounded the last bend to the station - and see a coach pulling away with “Dover, Canterbury” on the front. My watch said 11:45 on the dot.

“That’s… that’s our bus. Oh God. Yup, yeah, that was ours.”

We stormed into the station anyway and begged the attendant to ask the bus to wait. It was all of a block away, but she said she wasn’t allowed. She told us it had one more stop in the city, but when we asked her for directions there, she said that if we didn’t know, we would never find it.
Deflated, we plopped down in the metal seats of the station. The next bus wasn’t until 7 the next morning. Some of the group began to curse the system, but really it was an extraordinary bout of bad luck. It felt wrong to be mad at the bus for leaving on time - we knew it did from the morning. Our only fault had been ignoring the signs about tube construction, and assuming an hour was long enough to get anywhere in London.

Lesson learned? Don’t ever - EVER - book the last bus out of London. Or anywhere, for that matter.

So I started mentally preparing myself for a night in the bus station, when a burly security guard come up to us.

“Station’s closing. You’ll have to leave,” he grunted. We stared open-mouthed as he walked away.

Stunned silence captured us for a moment, until one boy through back his hands. “And the bottom drops out,” he groans.

Now, me in a bad situation typically means uncontrolled laughter. This was no different. I was rather useless as we began our hunt for a night’s lodging, consumed by the absurdity of the situation and already appreciating what a fantastic story it was going to make.

We walked around the general area, looking for a bar or pub or anything open at night - let me tell you, the area around Victoria train station closes down at midnight. They won’t let you in the train or bus station unless you have a ticket for something in the next half hour, and the underground shuts down at 12. There aren’t any 24-hour Wal-Marts here, folks.

So, we bought tea and spent the night in the drop off point out front of the train station. In all honesty, it wasn’t that bad — a little cold, but we were surrounded by other travelers, security guards, taxi drivers, etc, plus we had each other and a vendor selling pastries, coffee, and tea all night. The sidewalk was cold, but it was never cold to the point of feeling as though staying outside would be a dangerous thing. Uncomfortable, nothing more.

Around 5 AM, the coach station opened up again. We had to pay another 11 pounds ($22) for a new bus ticket, which left on the dot at 7 AM, getting us home by 8:30. I slept from 9 until 2:30 in the afternoon, through what turned out to be the first sunny day since I had arrived in England.

Of course.

The experience taught me something invaluable about studying abroad, and about travel in general: along with your passport and visa, the most crucial thing to carry with you is a sense of humor. Write this down: things will go wrong. It’s inevitable and unavoidable. All the best laid plans are bound to fall off the track at least once, and the best thing you can be armed with (along with hot tea and pastries, of course) are good friends to rely on, and laughter at the situation. Learn, adapt, and roll with the punches – and come back with stories and experiences that make your friends and family say, “I can’t imagine…”

They can’t. You can. And boy, is that an empowering feeling.


Posted by Marian, Canterbury, England Spring 2007

Two Universities Worlds Apart

While studying in Spain I took three univeristy classes at the Universidad de Sevilla with Spanish students, Spanish professors, and a few other American or international students mixed in. In general, everything in Sevilla was much more laid back and this included the univeristy system. There was no registering for classes online or a strict seating capacity. In fact, we were given the first two weeks of classes to "try out" a bunch of classes and see which ones we preferred. The Univeristy was home to many international students, largely from America and Europe, so professors and students were used to interacting with other students still learning the language. Located in an urban setting, the different colleges were housed in separate buildings spread throughout the city, typically only a bus ride away. The location I studied at was known as the Tabacalera because the building used to function as a tobacco factory. With lecture halls around the outside of the building there were plenty of open plazas in the interior, adding a decidedly Spanish style and a fun place for students to hang out. In many ways Penn State was the complete opposite experience than the Universidad de Sevilla. As a typical American college town Happy Valley is dorms, no parents, school spirit. While in Sevilla, the University was one aspect of the students' lives but did not create their entire identity. Every day spent at the University I was able to learn through observing and interacting with my peers, quickly finding out about everything from the latest fashion to the most popoular slang.

Posted by Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007

Independence day in Mallorca

The 4th of July in Palma de Mallorca (a small island of the coast of Spain) was definitely the most interesting one that I’ve ever celebrated. All eleven students on the program crowded onto the roof of one of the apartment buildings we were staying in, and the Madre’s (host mothers) threw us their version of a 4th of July barbecue complete with red, white and blue streamers (I have no idea where they found these) hotdogs, pizza, and champagne. Then after dinner and some festivities, they passed out copies of the Declaration of Independence to everyone… in Spanish. We took terms reading aloud fumbling through all the Spanish words we had never heard of, much to the delight of all of the madres. We ended the evening at an American themed bar called Hogan’s, where I think heard the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s song Dani California at least 5 times.

Los Simpson

In Buenos Aires, Los Simpson are everywhere. Posters, t-shirts, magnets, notebooks. My host mom's grandsons loved watching the show when they would come over to her house after school and it was really interesting to hear the show in another language. Since I was used to hearing Homer and Bart's English voices, it was strange to hear their banter in Spanish for the first time. Honestly, as much as I love the language, the Spanish voices were kind of high pitched and obnoxious and not Simpson-esque.

Posted by: Jamie, Buenos Aires, Spring 2007

Our First Excursion: Madrid!

After about our first month in Seville, Spain my friends and I decided it was time to plan our first overnight visit to another city. We decided on Madrid, as it is a must see in Spain and a relatively easy trip to plan on the four days of preparation we allowed ourselves. We chose the cheapest mode of transportation to reach our northern neighbor, the bus. We scheduled the midnight bus and arrived in Madrid at 6am, with our excitement temporarily clouded by our sleep-deprived status. Feeling both adventurous and also skeptical about booking our first hostel on the internet, we figured since we knew a good deal of spanish at that time we would find a hostel once we arrived. And so, 3 American girls began strolling up and down Gran Via in Madrid looking for lodging in the early morning hours. We settled on the first place we found with a vacancy: Hostel Acapulco, a nice place, but a bit expensive. We did not yet know the ins-and-outs hostel living: good rates, the best websites, the different room options. The little, old madrileño working at the front desk let us know it would be a few hours until the room was ready, so with no other option we hit the streets. After a brief stop for a cafe con leche we got out our trusty map and began whizzing through the city. As the Spanish are known for their late nights and late mornings, we had much of Madrid to ourselves during our first hours of sight-seeing. We were so excited to explore the city and just see a new city for a change, as we had been itching to travel. Ever since high school Spanish classes I had learned about the great paintings of Velazquez, Goya, el Greco, and Picasso housed in Madrid museums. Seeing the paintings in person was like coming full circles as I could remember sitting in Spanish classes looking at these paintings in textbooks and dreaming of studying abroad in Spain one day. It was hard to believe the day had come. Throughout the trip we made near constant comparisons to Sevilla, as we had become so acquainted with it. We noticed similarities and differences in the food, the accent, the character of the people. Maybe it took out first trip away to see how connected we had gotten to the city, our new friends, and our host families. The weekend helped us see another side of the country of Spain, another aspect of its personality.

Posted by Clare, Seville, Spain, Spring 2007