Three Months

Three months.

It is a very long time, and yet it is no time at all. To think that I have been on the road of European backpacking and studying for three months seems just impossible. I feel as though I left yesterday and I simultaneously feel as though I have been here for ages. I can now check off one third of my trip, but it’s a third of my trip that I will sorely miss. I have fallen hard for the UK, and I think parts of it will forever feel like a bit of home. As of tomorrow, I will officially be on my own traveling to Ukraine. It is bittersweet to say goodbye to my travel partners, made sweet only because my heart longs to be in Ukraine. I will arrive in Kiev on Monday and swiftly make my way to Bogodukhiv…the orphanage I first worked at two years ago. Knowing that I will be in Bogodukhiv with the children that changed my life is simply surreal. I’m not even sure I fully comprehend it yet. I am ecstatic to say the least.

This month of travel post-study abroad has flown by, and it has also been a huge time of learning. I’ve experienced so many new situations, met so many new people from all over the world, and enjoyed such beautiful cities. From the mayhem of Paris, the rejuvenation of Cessy and my immense love of Italy, it has been a glorious month. This term of Italian travel was split between Palermo in Sicily, Florence and Venice. Each of these cities is so different and our experiences in each were very different as well. I must say that Sicily is my new favorite location in Italy – it seems to have remained untouched by tourist culture, and the raw Mediterranean atmosphere that you find there is hard to resist.

Ciao Sicily.

Florence.

Going to Florence, where it seems that more people speak English than Italian was a bit of a shock after Palermo. While Florence holds such a wealth of art, history and architecture you can’t seem to escape the tourists that flood the streets.I was expecting much the same when we went to Venice a few days later, and while the main streets surrounding the Grand Canal and San Marco Square were filled with flashing cameras and rows of gaudy souvenirs and knock-off purses, once you meandered down the narrow alleys and bridges you found yourself in what is truly Venice. Small cafes lining the canals, locals conversing, and motorboats which have replaced the usual cars found in a city. We enjoyed many a morning sipping on cappuccinos, eating pastries, and reading as the city woke up and as canal traffic began. I think I could go on forever living such a life. Venice was the perfect end to our grand Italian tour and the perfect end to things resembling the west. So now, it is time for the east. Time for Ukraine.

This is Venice.

Venice.

Venice.

Meeting Bisacquino

Barely having time to scribble down the address I scramble out the door of my hostel to catch the 8.15 bus to Bisacquino. The hot sticky Sicilian air temptingly lulls me into a sleeping daze as our bus ride begins through what is some of the most breathtaking Mediterranean countryside. Two hours later our bus pulls over on the side of the highway and a small sign points down to the red roofed village below. It reads “Bisacquino”. Following the main road down I enter into a web of small homes and cobblestone streets. Lines of laundry rustle softly in the breeze making rainbows of fabric outside every window and terrace. The village is sleeping and there seems to be little activity other than the few cats who scurry across our paths and the grandmothers who peer at our unfamiliar presence. I carry only a slip of paper in my hand that reads “Santa Lucia 4. Near the small catholic church and city water trough.” This is the address of Gioacchino Magro – the address of my great grandfather.

I had imagined that I would simply stumble upon the stoop of my Magro ancestors, or that I would follow the sound of a single church bell that would lead me towards the home. Little did I know Bisacquino is sprinkled with about a dozen small churches and even more fountains, wells and troughs. My map-less quest would prove to be a bit more difficult that I had anticipated. What I did stumble upon after an hour of fruitless meandering was the Piazza Triona. A large church, a large fountain, rows of old men communing in the Sicilian sunshine, still no Santa Lucia 4. Naturally, when hope seemed lost, we turned to food as the answer. A cappuccino and a croissant was just the thing.

As the coffee was brewed and the pastries served, a small conversation between my little Italian and the baristas’ little English began. My family immigrated out of Bisacquino. I am here to see the home of my great grandfather. Their surname is Magro. “Magro, Magro, Magro”. The two baristas, smiling middle-aged women wearing brightly colored tops, wracked their brains for any knowledge of the Magros. No success. Bring in the old men communing in the Sicilian sunshine. “Magro, Magro, Magro”. They searched the recesses of their mind. No success. Gioacchino Magro, I said, my great grandfather. The crowd of Bisacquino citizens grew, phone calls were made, phone books were searched. They wanted me to meet my family, to meet any Magros that might be left in Bisacquino. They decided that the language barrier was just too much and so called in the only person in Bisacquino who could speak English well to act as our translator. Five minutes later she pulled up to the little café to offer her assistance. Some Magros were known of, but not in Bisacquino anymore, they lived in another village just five kilometers away. The historical office was closed, as were the churches, and all the people seemed a little disappointed that they couldn’t be of any greater assistance. Slowly the crowd dispersed, of course after paying for our lunch and pointing us in the direction of Santa Lucia, a small catholic church located a few blocks from the Piazza.

Surely I hadn’t meet any Magros, but I had met just about every citizen of the village and experienced a sort of Sicilian hospitality like I had never seen before. I didn’t just see Bisacquino, I experienced Bisacquino, I met Bisacquino. A short walk down Via Roma brought me to Santa Lucia. A small catholic church, a town water trough, and a number 4 above an old wooden door. I’d found home.

Paris: The City That Stole My Heart and My Wallet.

Paris.

The pitter-patter of cool rain is hitting my window creating a soft symphony of sound on this, my third evening at Le Rucher here in Cessy, France. The peace and nature I so needed while in Paris is found here. Being with Alberta, being in this breathtaking countryside, and transitioning into a new pace of travel is exactly what my soul needed. I feel myself becoming human again. I feel myself thinking again. And while it may seem like my eagerness to escape the city limits of Paris implies a hatred of the city, that is not totally the case. True, I will not miss the pickpockets, who stole my wallet, the overly creepy Parisian men who stroked my face while uttering things in French I am so glad I do not understand, or the smell of urine which seems to permeate every inch of the city. What I will miss is the sound of street musicians playing soothing basso nova down by the Seine, the dozens of parks oozing with flora and fauna, and the art and architecture which makes this city like no other. After the first couple of days, which mostly consisted of two girls and their 40lbs. bags pitifully trying to find their way around, things got much better. We moved into a 5^th floor apartment right in the heart of Paris where we stayed with a friend of a friend, who happened to be the most lovely French girl and who become a great guide to the sights and to the finer cultural elements. During those days we took a trip to Versailles and saw the outrageously ornate chateau and walked the gardens of Marie Antoinette, we paid visits to the Louvre and the Musee D’Orsey, I must rave about the wealth of Impressionist art that the D’Orsey had…I was in heaven, and we saw the major sights: Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triumph, Notre Dame, etc.

Notre Dame.

Place' de Republique.

Evening at the Eiffel Tower.

The Louvre

I was also able to spend some time with my friend Alla, who has been studying in Paris for the last few months. Alla and I had not seen one another since we worked together in the Bogodukhiv orphanage two years ago. Such a surreal experience to see her and spend time with her in Paris. She took us to her favorite crepe stand, showed us around the Latin Quarter, and had us meet the Parisian host family that she has been staying with. Again, city insiders prove to be the best guides.

On our final night in Paris we enjoyed a picnic on the Seine with our professor and his wife who have been staying in Paris. Seeing them again, about a week after our program had ended, was simply magical. It was like seeing family. I must admit, I did shed a tear or two, which might have also been induced by the fact that my wallet had been stolen about two hours before, but even so. I am continually reminded of how traveling with people bonds them together. Everyone’s best and worst is revealed, and its hard not to fall for people when you begin to understand them in such real life contexts.

So, I’m learning how travel. How to really travel – independently. It’s a terrifying and confusing process, but the learning curve is exponential. Post-Paris I feel as if I could tackle the world. But I’ll stick to my plan and enjoy this beautiful time I have with Alberta somewhere between France and Switzerland.

Cessy. Perfection.

Second Star to the Right...and onto Paris.

Lovely London

Bonjour!

I am writing this amidst the whirlwind of the end of the quarter, saying goodbye to my fellow classmates and travelers, and my first few days in Paris! Whew! These past two weeks have been such a flurry, and yet they were quite a fantastic two weeks. Even while attempting to crack down on studying and pump out four essays for my classes, there was so much of London that I was able to see, and goodness, London has so much to see and do! Because I lack the time, accurate memory and space in which to write all that I did, I will attempt to simply portray some of the highlights.

As previously mentioned, the London Tube is simply a dream. You really can get anywhere in the city within a matter of minutes. Once you master the system, the city is at your disposal. Within the first few days we saw most of the major sights: Trafalgar Square, Big Ben and Parliament, The Tower Bridge, The London Tower, The British Library (home to the origonal Beowulf manuscrip!), Harrods, Hyde Park and Westminster. On Sunday we went to the evening Service and Westminster, which was a little disappointing in that it was really catered only to tourists and visitors…no permanent congregation to speak of. Even so, the cathedral and all of the graves and treasures it holds are simply breathtaking. As a class we also saw a production of MacBeth held at The Globe. While perhaps not the best production (especially in comparison to the phenomenal Shakespeare plays we saw in Stratford) it was really amazing to see Shakespeare in the original theatre!

Big Ben

Something else that London holds a wealth of is Musicals. I went to see two, Mamma Mia and Wicked. Let me just say that both were incredible! But Wicked, oh Wicked, this musical was on an entirely different level. For those of you who haven’t seen or heard of this musical, I insist you do!! (I hear its coming to Eugene this summer). Not only does it have a wonderful plot, but the music is just out of this world. I would wager to say that it was one of the better experiences of my life. The moment I got home I bought the soundtrack and haven’t stop listening to it.

While in London, I also took a few day trips out of the city. The first was during Bank Holiday when two friends and I took the train to Oxford. Our goal in this was not simply to see the beautiful colleges in Oxford, but also to pay homage to the greats: Tolkien and Lewis. Our day here consisted of lunch at the Eagle and Child (the pub frequented by the Inklings…writing group of which Tolkien and Lewis were apart of), visiting a few of the colleges, napping and reading in parks and perusing the city streets. It was fun to compare Cambridge and Oxford – although choosing between them might be impossible for me. Our second day trip was to Liverpool. This journey by train was mostly made so that we could again pay homage, this time to the Bealtes. Liverpool is really a fun city, and the Beatles Museum on the Albert Docks is simply amazing. More of an experience than a museum.

Outside the Eagle and Child - Pub of the Inklings

The Liverpool Docks

Other highlights of London included a visit to the Tate Modern. This art gallery is simply enormous, and to see works my Picasso, Dali, Monet, and so many others is mind-blowing. I could spend days there just exploring, sitting and observing. I also took a visit to the British Museum which houses a mass of wordly treasures. Precious artifacts fill the shelves, rooms and halls of the enormous building and seeing things that you have read about and seen only in textbooks is unreal. It’s hard to believe that you are seeing the physical object. Some highlights were the Elgin Marbles, the mummy of Cleopatra, The Rosetta Stone, and hundreds of Grecian Vases. Again, a place in which to endlessly explore and lose yourself in. We also went on a London-wide hunt to find art of the great graffiti artist Banksy. We were lucky enough to find some along the Camden locks…his is the kind of graffiti that doesn’t get washed away.

One of the Elgin Marbles - From which Keats was inspired to write Ode on a Grecian Urn

And so the quarter is over, and our traveling troop of students has dispersed over much of Europe and back into the States. I already miss seeing those who have become a kind of family over the past ten weeks, and I cannot help but long for each of the places we have visited, which hold such a dear place in my heart.

With summer officially here I am looking forward to this next leg of my journey in which I will move from Paris to visit Alberta in Cessy, something I am beyond excited for! Then to Italy with a friend from University. This is sure to prove an adventure, and I find myself falling further and further in love with Europe.