August 2017 – Page 8 – SLA Profiles (2017)

Post-ICU Summer Course Reflection

Reflect on your language learning and acculturation during your SLA Grant experience.

Overall, this summer has been an overwhelming positive experience for me and I’m really glad I had the chance to engage in another culture and broaden my language skills. I think that the improvement in language acquisition would depend on the type of program and the environment/activities that the person partook in over the summer. For me, my ICU Summer Course class was heavily emphasized on reading and writing rather than speaking. For example, they enabled me to form opinions on more complicated topics, and introduced me to class presentations in Japanese. While I have improved in my language skills, it was not in a direction that I expected.

Reflect on your SLA Grant experience overall

It was interesting to note the differences and similarities between Japanese culture and American culture. Even doing something mundane and ordinary like taking the public transportation is an adventure in and of itself. There are so many subtle customs that is woven into the everyday life activities of the people there, as in a proper way to do things and the reasoning behind it that take foreigners a while to figure out. However, for all the differences that exists, I’m still very amazed at the similarities. While I did have some really interesting conversation with the locals, I wished I could have more. I think there are definitely language study opportunities in the daily life activities, and in local resources that are not as readily accessible elsewhere, such as a local bookstore with authentic materials.

How do you plan to use your language and intercultural competences in the future?

I plan to take the Japanese reading class this semester, and the translation class next semester. I’m very excited to apply what I learned in the reading class and broaden my vocabulary in the language. Through this summer experience, I renewed my love for Japanese and am very motivated to improve my language skills. I learned about the historical similarities between the Asian languages, and am considering exploring other Asian languages in addition to Japanese in the future. I really like Tokyo as a city overall, and would love to have the opportunity to live and work there for a period of time in my life.

Week 6: Un Sprint à la Fin

I hardly noticed my French improving this week. My weak point has been slowness of speech, which I couldn’t abide in the rush of my last days in Tours.

I either spoke quickly or in English. This became most pronounced Friday evening, when I wound up chatting with a French soldier in Place Plume–the common nickname for Place Plumereau in downtown Tours. I spoke mostly French to him and he spoke mostly English to me, but we didn’t slow down to think of words we didn’t know. I recognize that I have plenty to learn, but this encounter gave me confidence in my ability to communicate resourcefully. We were able to discuss his views on the French army, students abroad, and globalization without much complication. Most of it can be summarized with his declaration that students are “the ones doing the real good.”

That conversation, held just before I said all my goodbyes and walked wistfully home, capped off a weeklong embrace of the Loire Valley’s simple beauty.

Tuesday night, out at the Guingette, I decided to test in conversation two words I learned a few weeks ago–mec, and the verb kiffer. I had already asked the opinions of my host family, who said both are fairly innocuous. Kiffer could be translated as “to dig” in the beatnik sense, so I said je le kiffe in reference to rock music, and the guy I spoke with hardly noticed. I did not have the same luck with mec, which means something like “man” or “dude.”

Like “man,” one’s intonation decides whether the word is familiar or aggressive. The same guy had changed the topic to a recent breakup, something he only trusted me with because of the wine he’d been nursing. I’m used to hearing mec in French rap songs, so I said it with accidental force when I told him ah mec, c’est fou. If I understood correctly, he thought I found him stupid for something he told his ex, and he walked away.

Wednesday, I went on the Institute excursion to Amboise, a beautiful town with a château set prominently above everything. I could imagine riding a horse up the cobblestone ramps leading to the elevated château grounds. Before visiting the château however, we stopped at the château du Clos Lucé–the home of Leonardo da Vinci. Seeing his personal chapel, his workshop, his inventions exhibited throughout his basement and his gardens, made the visit to his grave at the château of Amboise especially impactful.

That night, a friend and I sat outside La Cathédrale Saint-Gatien de Tours to watch a light show put on almost every night between July and September. It loosely depicts the history of Tours, ranging back to western Europe during Ancient Grecian times. It’s an awesome spectacle to see the ancient cathedral colored in imaginative scenes.

Thursday, I joined a group of small students in making some Galettes des Rois–the traditional cake served at epiphany. I much prefer the flaky simplicity we made to the colorful, sugar-drenched cakes sold at grocery stores.

Friday, I took a tour of L’Abbaye de Marmoutier, one of a limited number of tours offered each year. The site is under excavation and a private school operates among the few of its buildings left standing. We saw archaeologists working in the heat while our guide took us to visit a room designated to St. Martin of Tours. In his later years, he lived as a hermit in this abbey, and prayed in this room. She then walked us along the excavation site to point out the several different styles of architecture used to construct the abbey’s chapels, still discernible in the underground foundations where great halls once stood.

By chance, I saw one more iconic sight before leaving Tours. Walking with the friendly German student I’ve mentioned before through parts of Tours I hardly frequented, I saw a goat. She told me this was the goat of Tours, walked through town almost nightly by its elderly owner. I hadn’t heard of it until just then, but it seemed believable to me. Through all the late-night revelers, along an alleyway, the goat and its owner disappeared.

Later, after my conversation with the French soldier, a friend and I walked another student home. This student recognized a form clopping ahead of us–the goat!–and then I knew the story must be true. That’s the closest I received to closure. I already want to be back in France.

Brunching, Shopping and Farming in Amman!

Ahlan!

This weekend we explored more more of the city around us as well as the Jordanian countryside. My flatmates and I decided to go to brunch in Abdoun, a more Western and wealthy neighborhood, to a restaurant called Blue Fig. It was delicious! We opened the menu and one of the first dishes was avocado toast, so naturally, since we are millenials, we HAD to order some. They made the toast with a layer of labneh, a local type of yoghurt and the sourness that it brought to the creamy avocado texture made it the BEST brunch I have had since being here. It was so interesting to be part of the different culture in Abdoun where dress and style is less conservative than the area of Sports City that we are accustomed to.

Afterwards we wandered over to TAJ Mall, where we found a roller rink at the front entrance! It was one of the largest malls I have ever seen. It was a very interesting experience to see the American stores such as H&M and American Eagle juxtaposed with Jordanian clothing stores. The mix of culture present in the physical stores was representative of the individuals themselves in Abdoun.

The following day we went on a farming tour of the Jordanian countryside. We spent the day traveling to different homes and experiencing life on a farm. At each home there was a specific activity. At the first home, the woman of the house taught us how to make za’atar, a mixture of spices, including sumac, ground wheat, ground chickpeas, oregano, sesame seeds and olive oil. This spread is then put on bread and baked with more olive oil that acts as an adhesive. Za’atar is by far my favorite food in Jordan—its simplicity is delicious, and it’s savory and salty flavors are incredibly unique to the area.

Afterwards we moved to another farm where we learned about bees and got to try some honey. The beekeeper explained to us the process of beekeeping in Jordan and how in different seasons, you can have different flavored honey. He expressed that in April the bees feed off of a sweeter flower so the honey has a more sour and tangy flavor rather than a sweet taste. At first I thought that the honey would be overwhelming sweet but the freshness and gummy-ness of the wax inside the honey was beyond amazing. It was the best honey I have ever tasted. It was good enough to eat by the spoonfuls!

Our next stop was a larger farm where we milked goats, chased chickens, collected eggs, played marbles and are a delicious, farm-fresh meal. We also learned, or at least tried to learn, how to make the local large, thin bread favored here. The oven that you lay the dough on was a large round dome that allowed for the larger shape of the bread. The bread had a salty after-taste and the grain was a darker brownish hue. It was very hard to make the bread into a round circle as the woman of the house did and my bread ended up looking more like a thin breadstick that you find at a pastry shop rather than a larger circle of dough. After that, the woman of the house made us a delicious spread for lunch, including our just-picked eggs and fresh goat cheese. One of the local family members told me to take a chunk of the goat-milk butter with my bread and dunk it in the sugar. It was one of the most delicious desserts I have ever tasted. I have found here that they have simpler recipes and foods that are so enjoyable.

After finishing our meal, we hiked up a hill where we used a wood fire to make mint tea and a stew with lamb in a tomato base. It was a day full of eating and exploring the countryside of Jordan. It was interesting to be able to interact with and be accepted into the homes of so many different families.They were very willing to provide for us such a rich experience and share part of their livelihood with us. It makes me appreciate even more the food that I am able to buy here and the care with which it is prepared.

The Dead Sea is Dying!!

Ahlan!

At the start of this second week we were given a lengthy break because it was the end of Ramadan and the start of Eid al-Fitr, a three-day national holiday during which Muslims feast and celebrate with family and friends. On Friday (Friday and Saturday are the weekend days here) our institute went on a field trip to Ajloun Castle and had dinner in Jersah. The castle was built during the Crusades and was a peachy sand color that reminded me of the colors of sunsets at the New Jersey shore. We were able to climb all the way to the roof of the castle and have a 360 degree view of the neighboring towns and landscape. It was breathtaking! This area had the “forests” of Amman—the clusters of trees juxtaposed with the arid terrain of the valleys around Amman was incredible. Being able to see across the mountains to the Dead Sea, the beginnings of Damascus, and outskirts of Israel was unbelievable.

We then left and went to another Iftar at a nearby restaurant in Jersah where we broke the fast, in a traditional way, with a date. After that came plates of hummus, pita, tabbouleh and meats. It was the most colorful assortment of food! If that was not enough we were served kanafa, which looked similar to a bird’s nest with crushed pistachio on top. The nest was fried wheat congealed with a honey so sweet your teeth hurt.

Having six days off of class gave us ample time to go on multiple excursions, including to visit the Roman citadel. After so many years of Latin and Classical studies it was interesting to see the Roman influences in Amman. As we climbed to the top of the citadel, we were left with a beautiful view of Amman. It was surreal to see how the buildings are literally built into the mountains of Amman so that the city “moves” with the terrain.

The following day we left to go to the Dead Sea with our program, making stops at Mount Nebo along the way.We stopped at a scenic outlook to look out at the vast expanse. As we left the bus we saw colossal mounts at a depth indescribable and unable to be captured with a camera. It appeared as though the mountains stretched out for miles. Their striations were colors of burgundy, slate and deep browns that blended to make a picture of seemingly prehistoric times. The mountains surrounded us. Everywhere I turned I saw vast expanses of rust colored mountains and plateaus. The scene was broken up by the narrow winding roads and the scattered huts and tents of Bedouin, native Jordanian, families. As we continued to Mount Nebo we stepped out to a view of trees scattered in an arid landscape. Our guide pointed out the place where Moses struck a rock and out sprung twelve streams. Farther out, through the haze, we could see the Dead Sea and the outskirts of both Jerusalem and Damascus. It was surreal to see the country at peace from so far away when there is so much internal turmoil. We could even see the two tall towers at the center of Amman! Considering we were at least an hour away from Amman it was amazing to be able to see the city center so clearly. The desolate and quiet landscape mirrored the atmosphere of the Mount where we viewed ancient mosaics that displayed intricate designs of animals and wild flowers.

When we finally reached the Dead Sea, we were anxious to enter the water and coat ourselves with the famous Dead Sea mud all over our bodies. Walking into the water was surprisingly difficult as the salt made my body incredibly buoyant. As my legs floated up, I had to work hard to remain on my back and not get the salt in my eyes. I was surprised to find that after some time the salt stung! As we covered ourselves in mud and sat under the sun to let the mud dry, I could feel it adhering to my skin. As I entered the water once again and washed the mud off, I felt refreshed. My skin was incredibly smooth and fresh feeling. When we had had enough of the salty, hot Dead Seaair, we left to go to the pool. One of my friends described the difference between the Dead Sea and the pool as the difference between jumping on a trampoline and jumping on the hard ground—you fully realized the feeling of sinking into the pool after the buoyancy of the Dead Sea.

Catholic Churches in Tokyo

While Catholics are currently only a small percentage of the total population in Japan, there is a good number of vibrant Catholic communities in Japan. I love to attend masses in Japan for many reasons. On the one hand, I could admire the universality of the Church and notice all of the similarities in the liturgy. On a more practical matter, I could practice my listening skill by listening to the responses and the homily, and practice my reading skill by reading the responses.

While I loved all the churches I visited, the church that I went to the most often was St. Ignatius Catholic Church in Yotsuya. This church is attached to Sophia University, and is a large Catholic hub for many communities. They offered masses in English and Japanese masses every Sunday, and Vietnamese, Portuguese, and other languages on some Sundays. Conveniently placed next to the Yotsuya train station, many people gathered here on Sunday for mass, Bible study, and other activities.

The other churches that I was able to visit was Meguro Catholic Church, the Franciscan Chapel Center, and the Kichijoji Catholic Church. The Kichijoji Church is the nearest church to where I lived, being two train stations away, and is a local church.

It was interesting to see some cultural differences during the masses, such as no genuflection, but overall, it was inspiring to see the Catholic faith in a different environment.

Week 5: Le Conflit et La Paix

Guillame Vadot, a professor at Sorbonne, began to film police harassing a woman at a train station. He claims the police spotted him and assaulted him, purposefully breaking his phone in the process.

This happened last September, but since Vadot is appealing to have his case reviewed again after its dismissal in Spring, he appeared in Le Monde. It seemed a curiously small story next to pieces about the recent parliamentary elections and the Paris Accord meetings, so I brought it up in class and at dinner.

In class, many students voiced concern with police violence, particularly Americans. My professor mentioned that police violence has increased in France recently, making it a controversial topic almost to the degree that it is in America. There have already been several protests in 2017, and the swell of defensive sentiment is often attributed to tensions resultant from mass immigration and Marine Le Pen’s politics. Guillaume Vadot’s renewed appeal continues his ongoing fight to voice the concerns of protesters, so his story remains socially relevant.

Amidst all this, I couldn’t understand why Macron intends to order a temporary police state. His intention is contested on TV, in newspapers, even in Snapchat feeds. I asked my host family what such a state would mean.

Although there has been disquietude at the potentially unrestricted liberties of police in Macron’s police state, my host family only expects an increase in police presence. In response to the series of recent terrorist attacks and in defense of a spectacle like the Tour de France, granting more power to the police seems reasonable to them. They said it’s not unusual, just the way it has to be for awhile. I remembered seeing armed policemen outside the train station last week, where usually there were none.

Life in the Loire remains as peaceful as ever, however. Under an intermittently raining sky, I biked along a scenic path to the yet more picturesque gardens of château Villandry, where vegetables of all kinds grow to this day in the potager. Gardens of flowers and spices grow next to it on one side, and on the other, hedges are trimmed in patterns commemorating different kinds of romances (perhaps the most French thing I’ve ever seen). Villandry’s gardens draw more visitors than the château itself, and walking through them with fellow students makes for a wonderful Wednesday afternoon.

Une boule de glace avec menthe des jardins

The next day, a friend and I spent the afternoon visiting La Musée de Compagnonnage and watching a documentary at Cinéma Studios. The museum commemorates the many craftsmen of Tours throughout history, sitting just across from a basilica. The cinema has its own history, hosting one of the longest-running cinema clubs in France. We watched the documentary without subtitles, and I could understand most of it. This came as a pleasant surprise.

I’ve spoken mostly French this week. I moved up a level in class and many of my friends left. Having only two weeks left, I decided to spend my lunches at the Institute with a group of international students who speak French with each other, and in class I refuse to speak English. On one hand, it’s hard to readjust to the constant changes in students. On the other, I feel refocused. Having little interest in new friends, I study more and see the Loire as uncharted again.

I had planned to visit Chambord–the largest château in the Loire Valley–but it rained heavily this weekend. I would only have had a small window to visit due to bus schedules, and without a raincoat, staying home seemed wiser. I read Harry Potter, did my schoolwork, listened to French radio.

All the routine activities that comprise my French studies go significantly further in France. Spending a weekend getting some needed R&R felt just fine. I’ll make the last week count.

Post Program Reflection

First and second year undergraduate students across the United States will hear about all the benefits from studying abroad; you will not only explore a new culture, but you may also have the opportunity to develop your foreign language while studying abroad. I’m thankful that I was granted both these opportunities while abroad in Beijing, China; I learned to admire the unique Asian culture, and I received a myriad of opportunities that accelerated my Mandarin Chinese language learning level. The natives were so helpful to foreigners like myself; for example, when I interacted with them—with a taxi driver, at a market, or any of one hundred other scenarios—they would help me on my grammar or pronunciation.

Their kindness allowed me to understand that the only reason I’ve had the significant gains in the language is due to the fact that I took advantage of talking to foreigners whenever given the opportunity and no matter how embarrassed I was. These significant gains are the reasons why I would recommend anyone that is considering applying for a SLA Grant or preparing to start their own summer language study aboard to have an open mind and to set any fears aside, because there is a significant difference between learning a language in a classroom setting and learning a language in the country of origin.

The start of this upcoming semester will mark one year since I started Mandarin. With the completion of my 2nd year Chinese class this summer, I am now in a position to complete my 3rd year of Chinese this upcoming year, and I also plan to finish two years of Arabic my junior and senior year. This summer language school placed me in a special position in which I established a strong foundation and advanced knowledge in Chinese as well as a fresh foundation of Arabic coming out of Notre Dame. I am very blessed to receive the opportunity to go abroad this last summer because now I will gain above an intermediate level in two very difficult and practical languages from Notre Dame in just four years.

Biking on the City Wall

One of my favorite activities of my time in China was riding bikes on Xi An’s city wall. Xi An is one of the China’s oldest cities and is home to some of the most treasured artifacts from China’s long history. While we were in Xi An, we visited many historical sites including Emperor Qin’s Mausoleum, which is home to the famous Terracotta Warriors. We also visited Xi An’s Muslim Street, a street bustling with food vendors leading to a few beautiful Islamic mosques. Finally, we rented bikes and rode all the way around Xi An’s city wall. This wall no longer surrounds the perimeter of the city. However, the city decided to keep the wall while other cities, like Beijing, destroyed their city walls a long time ago.

Riding bikes on the wall was so much fun for me. For one, I love riding bikes. And two, we could see so many beautiful views of the city while exploring the city wall itself. At one point, I stopped to look down over the wall and saw a beautiful, green park. This is something I hadn’t seen much of in Beijing. There were old men going on walks, and people playing ping pong at the bottom of the wall. For me, this was a refreshing sight, and one that I will not soon forget from my time visiting Xi An.

Welcome to Italy!

The motto of my time so far in Italy has been: do it for the cultural experience. Before I arrived in Italy I promised myself I would never speak English when interacting with Italians, but that turned out to be more difficult than I realized. It wasn’t just a language barrier; everything was different, even if sometimes it was only slightly different. The first time I walked into a bar for coffee I immediately panicked. I had heard the horror stories of tourist asking for a latte and receiving a cup of milk, and I frankly couldn’t figure out how to go about ordering. Completely intimidated, I walked out of the bar and after a brief pep talk to myself walked half a block down the street and went into the next bar.

The only way to learn the language and learn the culture is through trying, even when it is awkward and uncomfortable. After my first couple experiences ordering myself un café and un cornetto I decided to try having a conversation, even a short one, every time I got coffee.

The image above is my favorite place to get coffee during my midday break from classes.

My favorite experience so far has been when I accidentally ordered a cappuccino at 1 pm. After I ordered, I remembered that you’re not supposed to order coffee with so much milk that late in the afternoon. So I decided to ask the barista if it was ok that I was having a cappuccino so late. Maybe she was just being nice, over the quick conversation I had standing at the bar, but I learned that it was totally fine for me to be drinking that cappuccino. Yes, most people tend to drink espresso in the afternoon, but every day around 4 pm, plenty of university students come into her shop to have their own afternoon cappuccino.

The best part about these little conversations is that even though they are about seemingly meaningless things, I can see myself improving each time I practice. I’ve perfected my “script” to explain that I’m learning Italian and I’m from the United States, but I’ll be studying abroad in Bologna in January. The real challenge is when the conversation evolves, and I stray from the comfort of the well-known phrases and the ease of the simple present and past tenses. The real trick is trying to remain active in these conversations. Instead of thinking about the next thing I’m going to say while the other person is speaking, I’ve been trying to really listen, understand, and ask a couple questions about a few critical words that I might not know. Instead of relying on asking questions so that the other person is almost always speaking, I’ve been trying to form my own opinions and actually participate in the discussion. Now I even start talking with someone I normally wouldn’t, such as the person eating her cornetto next to me at the bar, just for the “cultural experience.”

Week 4: Un Américain en France

The weather in Tours is usually temperate, but the temperature has rested between ninety and one-hundred degrees all week, which becomes bothersome in classrooms and houses without air conditioning.

L’Hôtel de Ville de Tours par nuit. Tours semble plus frais dans cette photo.

The greatest challenge I’m having in learning French is speaking English with other Institute students. We are supposed to speak only French, but English is the common language since most students speak it better than French. Perhaps if we didn’t want to know each other, following that rule would come easily, but most people here are vivacious and social and worth getting to know.

I learned on the riverbank that someone had drowned the day before, and I suddenly understood why my host family warned me against swimming near the Guinguette. Whirlpools form above large craters left by bombshells in the World Wars, they explained. They can pull you under. The tree from which our rope hung over the river was situated upstream of a small dam, where the water flows calmly and I could regard from afar the bridge where so many artillerists fought.

Constructed at the end of WWI and bombed by Allied soldiers in Tours during WWII to prevent German soldiers from crossing, the bridge currently connects Tours-Nord and Tours-Sud. Its namesake, Woodrow Wilson, acted instrumentally in creating the League of Nations. His vision for global betterment resonates with the predominantly liberal French outlook.

My host father is open with his opinions, particularly about nations. Proud of his country and the socialist, globally-minded policies which most often find traction here, he laments the U.S. election results. We share consternation towards the adverse environmental effects resultant from everyday American life. Yet, he loves American music and the beautiful landscapes we inhabit. To his mind, figures like Woodrow Wilson, Bob Dylan, Michael Moore, and Obama give America a redemptive quality. He is the person who invited me to visit the American war memorial near Le Pont Wilson, describing it as “incroyable.”

I hadn’t recognized the memorial for what it is when I first walked by it two weeks ago, on the way to Blanc Foussy. I and the German student with whom I conversed have become better friends, and she also freely expresses her thoughts on Americans. From her experience, she finds Americans loud and strange, but lovably optimistic. In the midst of applying for college herself, she has asked me about American colleges, which she associates with college-party movie scenes.

That association has also been made by some faculty at the Institute. Some of the younger professors have inquired of the many American college students whether those scenes represent reality, and have received differing responses. For my part, I go out more in Europe.

J’ai sorti vendredi soir à une boîte de nuit (ma première fois).

Most students come to L’Institut de Touraine for a month, since classes are oriented to teach a level of language per month. Friday consisted of several goodbyes. Saturday I only said one. A fellow ND student wanted help carrying his excess of baggage through Charles de Gaulle airport. Being a student from Africa, he told me, often entails taking other African students’ baggage home for them. I carried a suticase filled with other South African students’ belongings, and a guitar.

Despite the uncertainties caused for him by the derailment of his travel plans, he and I managed to enjoy a short day in Paris. He checked his baggage into a storage service, then we visited Notre-Dame de Paris and the Eiffel Tower, where we met with some friends for lunch on the Champ de Mars.

I hadn’t planned to visit Paris, particularly not the Eiffel Tower, which I had seen before, cheap trinket vendors and all, but I couldn’t help my awe at seeing the historic streets of Paris again, thrilled by the opportunity to study there in spring and see it more intimately.

My train back to Tours was delayed, meaning I would not likely catch the second leg. I sensed something strange in making a connection at Lilles to get to Tours, but boarded the first train anyways, too tired to correctly estimate the frequency of trains between Lilles and Tours.

I remembered the location of the city when I saw it. Far North from the Loire Valley, practically on the France-Luxembourg border, I lucked out. A train, a subway ride, another train, and a navette (town-to-town train) later, I returned at only 4 in the morning. My room in France felt like home.