SLA – Page 15 – SLA Profiles (2018)

“Never again.”

1 hour away from Munich, there is a small medieval town called Dachau. Despite its peacefulness and beauty, shadows still shroud this town when we think about what happened here during Nazi Germany. In 1933, 8 weeks after Hitler became the Chancellor of Germany, the first concentration camp was built in Dachau. I visited there with two friends on May 31st.

On the bus to Dachau, our guide gave an introduction to the history behind it. On Feb 27th, 1933, Reichstag (German parliament building) was set on fire, which was later referred to as “Der Reichstagsbrand.” In order to destroy the German Communist Party, the second largest party in the parliament at that time, Hitler framed the case against the communists by saying that they were trying to rebel against the Weimar Republic. Soon he was able to disperse the party and Dachau was originally built to imprison the communists and socialists. Our guide emphasized that it took only 8 weeks for a democratic country to fall into dictatorship. Before then, the public considered Hitler as someone who loved children and had the ability to save Germany from the long-lasting economic crisis. A poster in the museum read, “Hitler, unsere letze Hoffnung! (Hitler, our last hope)”

From 1933 to 1945, this camp imprisoned people from 34 different countries and of various accusations: communists, liberals, monarchists, homosexuals, Gypsies, Jehovah’s witnesses, emigrants, asocials, and of course, the Jews. What those people share is that they lost all their human rights, properties, and human dignity when they stepped into this camp. On the gate of the entrance writes “Arbeit macht frei” (Work will set you free.), but the only way to be free from the torture here is actually through death. Today, it is hard for me to imagine that this large, empty ground was full of the imprisoned Jews and other criminals, standing there and waiting for a day of hard labor, torture or death.

The edge of the ground is the greenfield, and beyond the greenfield and the iron fence is the boundless sky. I could not help wonder, how many people glazed at this sky with hope and longing for freedom? Among them, how many survived the massacre of Nazi before the end of the war and walked out of the gate? According to our guide, many people who could not bear the sufferings and humiliation ran to the Greenfield, the forbidden ground. As soon as the Nazi noticed their misbehavior from the tower, they were shot to death.

We visited the gas chamber. It was simple—people were told they finally got the chance to shower. They were required to take off all the clothes, went into the chamber and came out to the incinerator. I was shocked by how humans were treated no other than the animals in the slaughterhouse.

Not only the photos of the bodies of the victims but also the humanity they mirror are terrifying. 800,000 SS-Mann actively participated in the concentration camps to kill their nationals. Why could the humanity reach this extreme evilness? I could not help asking after the visit. This could not be explained solely by Hitler’s power.

“Wie viel toleranz braucht die Intoleranz? (How much tolerance does the intolerance need?)” I saw this slogan on my way to school every day. Nowadays, we global citizens all have the responsibility to reflect on the question and ensure the words on the memorial of Dachau, “Never again.”

10 Helpful Tip and Tricks for Surviving the Palio

The Palio. The reason for the season. The culmination of weeks of preparation, bribery, collusion, and dumb luck. The 700-year-old tradition that only comes around twice every year and gives Sienese citizens an excuse to drink more wine than should be possible, brawl with their neighbors, and spend hundreds of Euro to sit in the blazing Tuscan sun for hours. Yes, the Palio is the life force for this small city, and it is daunting for the non-Sienese to understand the meaning behind the four-day event or the best way to become a part of it. Here is my personal guide for how to conquer the Palio.

1. Live in a Contrada with members of the Contrada. This will ensure that you get all the dirt on the other Contrade and have an idea of what is actually going on. Living with Flora, the most passionate member of the Giraffa (Giraffe) Contrada that I have seen so far, has instilled in me a loyalty to the Contrada after only two weeks here, and it also gives me something to root for. I was able to feel the emotion both in the house as the race got closer and in the streets when the citizens made their way to the Campo for the event. A crucial feeling if you want to make the most of your experience.

2. Do your research. This is important. The tradition of the Palio goes back to the 14th century, so there are a lot of customs that just seem weird if you don’t understand why they are happening. There are parades of people in funny costumes, they bring the horses inside their churches, and the cheers are just strange. Luckily for me, my school offered a lecture on the history, customs, and Do’s and Don’t’s of the event. His information was fairly biased, but what do you expect from a member of Torre (Tower), the natural enemy of the Oca (Goose), this year’s favorite. But knowing the general schedule of the festival days eliminated some of the confusion.

3. Go to a Prova, and be sure to get there early. There are six practice runs during the Palio days, so take advantage of this and get a good spot to watch at least one of them. These definitely aren’t as exciting as the actual even, but it gives you a chance to watch enemy Contrade sing/scream at each other and, for children under 10, this is the only opportunity to see the horses run. Not every jockey pushes their horses during the trials, but for the newer horses, these practices are critical for learning the tricky track. If you don’t want to wait in the Campo for an hour or two to get the best spot, try going to a morning Prova, which is generally less crowded, but there is much more sun.

4. Get yourself a ticket to a Contrada dinner in a racing Contrada. The night before the Palio, each Contrada puts on a huge dinner in the streets of the city. While the food isn’t great, there is unlimited wine (so be sure to keep your ears open at the end of the night to find out how the locals actually think their horse is going to do) and the atmosphere is incredible. The captain and jockey of the Contrada give speeches, so, if you understand Italian, you get a glimpse into the values of the Contrada. I ate with the Tartuca (Turtle) Contrada, and the locals were not optimistic. The energy was low and the crowd stayed fairly quiet. but it is still a must.

5. Get an uphill spot. This is important if you actually want to see the horses run. Assuming that you do not have the connections or the Euro to buy a seat in the bleachers encircling the track, you will have to go into the center of the Campo if you want to be at the race in person. This is an incredible experience, but beware. There are definite high points and low points, and if you are stuck in the pit of the Campo, there is no way you will see anything.

6. Listen to the locals. Whether you want to start a conversation with those around you during your hours long wait or you want to eavesdrop on those around you, the locals who choose to watch from inside the track often have interesting opinions about the race or funny comments about people of their enemy Contrada. They can guide you through the protocol for the parade and race if you can understand their words and body language. Also, the noises of the crowd as a whole are incredible to witness. The actual race isn’t like the practices. No one is singing, and there are times when the entire square goes quiet. Don’t be the one person who starts laughing at that time. Just don’t.

7. Be ready to wait. First, you have to get to the Campo hours early if you want a good spot and sit in the blazing sun. Next, a parade of the Contrade goes around the track. Very cool, but also very long. Don’t be afraid to sit down during this time for some sweet relief for your poor feet. Finally, the horses come out, but the race doesn’t actually start until the jockeys are done working their deals. the horses will line up, the jockeys will start gabbing, and the horses get so agitated that they have to exit the starting area and begin again. Then there are false starts. But you can’t take your eyes of the starting area lest you miss the start. For reference, it took an hour and a half for the race to start this time around after the jockeys entered the track.

8. Avoid fights. At all costs. Inevitably, one Contrada’s jockey will sabotage another’s. So, naturally, members of the two involved Contrade must engage in a fist fight to get payback for costing the race. Or, the star jockey on the star horse in the best starting position (Oca) will lose and will have to run away to avoid being killed by his own Contrada. So, stay away from that.

9. Put your phone down. This one is simple. Take one picture before the race to see the crowd and show how close you are to the track. Then put it away. The race is filmed by a camera way better than your phone, and it’s not worth the locals making fun of you in the background.

10. Speak Italian as much as possible, and ask locals about it. This is the best way to gauge what to do and who is slated to win. When getting a snack before entering the Campo, I asked the deli worker what Contrada she was part of. She was a member of Tartuca, and not optimistic of her chances. When I told her I lived in Giraffa, she told me about how good our jockey was and how we just had to get Oca out of the way and we were home free. Others in the Campo were explaining what each person in the parade was representing and coaching us through which Contrade were enemies. Very helpful.

Even though the mighty Giraffa fell to Drago (Dragon) this year, my experience with the Palio was incredible. It gave me a glimpse into the lives of a Sienese citizen and gave me an excuse to engage with the locals. Italian conversations at home and at school have gotten much more passionate, and I feel like I have hit my stride. All it took is 4 days of midieval mayhem.

First Month in Kanazawa

Time has passed in a blink of an eye, and before I knew it has been a month since I first met my host family, my teachers, and my classmates. I have learned and experienced so much, and yet I know there is so much more I need to learn.

My host family is a couple of slightly older age and have had a long history of hosting students just like me. More surprisingly, my host mum use to teach at the same place that I am taking lessons now. My host family has taken me in like family, which I am beyond grateful about and let me be participate in their everyday activities such as cooking and grocery shopping. They were also patient in teaching me everything I did not understand. My host father took me out to his garden and showed me the variety of different vegetables that he plants. He also let me harvest the zucchinis, cucumbers, tomatoes, green beans and potatoes. My host mother taught me how to make Japanese hand-rolled sushi, which I dearly hope I can remember by the time I return home.

Although there is barely any free time, I am glad that the program is keeping me busy. On a weekday, I am usually finishing up homework or studying for a quiz the next day. On a weekend, I am either meeting students from Kanazawa University, or participating in cultural activities that the program provides us. By far I have participated in the making of Wagashi (Japanese sweets), Shodo (the art of writing) and Kado (the art of flower arrangement), all of which were challenging but extremely interesting to do. These traditional arts are very intricate and bear with it a cultural significance that reflects Japanese traditional thought, which I found challenging to understand but very interesting to know. Here are pictures of my attempt at these traditional arts:

I just finished my first semester and took the final exam last week. The exam was quite challenging, but tight now, I am very excited about the next semester. Apparently we will be learning Japanese from a storybook called Spirited Away. As an avid reader of fictional novels, I am very glad to finally get to read one in Japanese.

Finding things to do

Last Friday my friends and I were faced with a dilemma. Dedicated SLA blog readers will remember from my last post that there is currently a worldwide football tournament going on that the residents of Munich—and by association I—have taken great interest in. However, between the group stage and the knockout stage of this tournament there is a one-day break, a sorrowful day on which there are no football matches. This day was last Friday. So, you see, this was the difficult situation we found ourselves in: we had to find something to do in Munich besides watch football.

Naturally it wasn’t easy for a group of 18-24-year-old international visitors to find something to do on a Friday in a major European city, but through luck alone and also the internet we did find something going on on this day: a music festival featuring names such as Earth, Wind, and Fire—a band known for noted dorm party song September—and Alanis Morissette—a singer known for not understanding what irony is.

(Myself and friends outside the festival; by the time of the second picture you can see that many of us are tired of taking pictures.)

This festival also included a large flee market. And I truly believe that the best way to gain an intimate understanding of the intricacies of a culture is to look through people of this culture’s old clothes and speak with the sellers. What I learned is twofold: Germans have some excellent headwear and most vendors prefer to speak English than broken German with foreigners. Nevertheless, after engaging a vendor in a German conversation, I came to the very difficult decision to not buy a hat.

What I instead bought was a train ticket to Salzburg, Austria to visit someone I would normally have to walk all the way down the hallway to see. I am speaking of a friend of mine from Notre Dame, who graciously offered for me to come visit him and stay with his family in Salzburg. Despite an early confidence drainer of speaking with his 13-year-old sister, whose English is already significantly better than my German, I had a wonderful trip. I climbed a mountain, had a 20-minute German conversation about nothing but small talk with a woman my friend knew, and spoke only German with his family at meals (or, more accurately, mostly listened to them speak really fast German at meals).

A video I took from the peak of the mountain in Salzburg

A personal favorite photo I took atop the mountain. Why is there only one tree in the middle of this field? Austrian tradition? Deranged farmer? Obstacle-ridden football field? Who could know?

In conclusion, this family told me that they noticed an improvement in my German, so if they are to be trusted (and I think they are; they’re a wonderful group of people), then I’m doing something right. If I had to guess the improvement is exclusively the result of hearing the German announcers of football games, but who knows. Until next time, dearest blog reader.

Talking Politics

This past Friday, I had the incredible opportunity to attend a lecture with the head of Oideas Gael, Liam Ó Cuinneagáin, and a few other students here. We traveled for about an hour and a half to a nearby town (and the largest Irish-speaking area in the county of Donegal) to attend a reception and a talk where the Minister of State at the Department of Culture, Joe McHugh, described the Irish government’s 20 year plan for the Irish language. Being asked to attend by Liam in the first place was an honor, but it was doubly exciting when we got to meet the Minister himself before his presentation.

Because the Minister is focused on the Gaeltacht and reviving the Irish language, being fluent in the language is a must for him. He knew we were learning Irish, so he actually initiated the conversation in Irish. In fact, the entire presentation was also in Irish and all the people at the reception were conversing in it. To be able to be immersed in that sort of atmosphere of 100% reverence and competence in the language was priceless. It was a different feel than school, because the language was being used to communicate important, governmental topics, and in some senses, I felt like I was in a completely different world. Trying to listen to and understand the Minister’s presentation as well as those speaking around me was exhausting but very fruitful.

After we returned back to Gleann Cholm Cille, the Minister actually was there at Oideas Gael, taking interest in one of the best places to learn the Irish language, and the place where he himself actually learned the language, too. He recognized us and we were able to speak to him once more in Irish. I was so happy to see that the Irish government is making active steps to reviving and maintaining this beautiful language and that the Minister himself is able to speak it. Places such as Oideas Gael deserve to be praised for their determination and dedication.

Above is the Minister with all of us at Oideas Gael, and below is the Minister with my individual class.

Above is the Minister talking with my classmates and me at his presentation.

My first Apfelstrudel and the quest for a typische bayerische Speise

“Grüß Gott!” her voice resounded from behind. I turned to find the waitress smiling a soft smile to me and wearing the traditional bayerische Dirndl with two menus in hand. “Grüß Gott!” I replied and, after a while looking at the menu and understanding only half the words contained in it, I asked her if there was any traditional dish she could suggest to me. In that Biergarten, there seemed to be nothing but traditional dishes, and yet she still pointed towards a Jägerschnitzel with Spätzle, Preiselbeeren, and Rahmchampignons. As she explained, that dish is found in Biergärten throughout the whole region of Bavaria and consists basically of pork with a mushroom cream sauce together with Spätzle and lingonberry. Since I had never tried any of the components of the dish before (although there is lingonberry in the U.S and even Spätzle in Notre Dame!), I just looked at my boyfriend with the question stamped upon my eyes: “So…?” and he answered the waitress with his beautiful and deutliches Deutsch: “We would like to try that!”

As a Vorspeise [starter], we went with Semmelknödel (bread dumpling), which we have already eaten 3 times: two times in Munich and one in Innsbruck. Knödel and Knödelsuppe are traditional Vorspeisen for a region extending beyond Germany (we ate it in Austria, for example!), but this name “Semmel” [little bread] makes it clear that we are in Bavaria, for everywhere else a little bread would be called a Brötchen in German.

For a Nachtisch [dessert], we had perhaps the most mainstream possibility: an Apfelstrudel with vanilla ice cream, and yet, I was happy that I got to eat my first Apfelstrudel in the most authentic place to eat it. I think it was one of the most delicious Nachtische I ate in my time here!

One more little story in another restaurant: at my first attempt to eat a traditional dish here in Munich, I asked a waiter for a traditional dessert and, finding only common types of ice cream in the menu, I pointed to an ice cream with Eierlikör (egg liquor) and asked: “Is that something unique or traditional from here?” and he, with a smile barely containing his laughter, just went away saying: “Eierlikör? Kann man sagen, kann man sagen…” [egg liquor? I guess one could say that…]

“Tschüss München, Hallo Nürnberg” （1）

(Unfortunately, since my computer has problems during the past few weeks, I was not able to publish my blogs over my stay in Munich. Now, I am happy to play the flashback of the past fantastic six weeks!)

Saying “Tschüss” (goodbye) to Munich, I started my journey again as a wanderer in Europe. I enjoyed my sixth weekend in Nürnberg, the city home to the painter Dürer, world-famous tin soldiers and also a witness of the important trials of Nazi after World War II. Though Nürnberg is known as the second largest city of Bayern, it took me less than an afternoon to visit every corner of the old town.

A step out of my hostel, I was attracted by the Way of Human Rights (Straße der Menschenrechte) which features 27 white, solemn pillars. Engraved in each white pillar is one article of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in German and another language. This symbolizes that the recognition and protection of human rights should be borderless. The monument is intended as both a repudiation of past crimes of Nazi (Nürnberg was once “City of the Party Rallies” in the Nazi-era) and a permanent reminder that human rights are still regularly violated. While trying to understand the German articles on the pillars, I was reminded of the miseries and anti-humanistic crimes that happened in the Dachau Concentration Camp I had visited. I felt heavy but also filled with the responsibility to safeguard the words on the monument of Dachau, “Never again.”

The Way of Human Rights: The Chinese words on this pillar read that everyone is entitled to display their creativity in economy, society, and culture.

Near the Hauptmarkt stands one of the most magnificent Gothic churches I’ve visited in Germany: St. Lorenz Church. The ceiling is star-shaped and in the middle of it hangs the giant wooden sculpture of Annunciation. From there leads to the Hauptmarkt where many shops sell fresh fruits, cheese and Düll (a specialty biscuit of Nuremberg). Though it is similar to markets in most German cities surrounded by joyful Bavarian music, beer, and fragrant food, I just love the atmosphere!

Abrecht Dürer is an inseparable part of the city of Nürnberg. This Renaissance painter, Da Vinci’s contemporary, is celebrated here as the name for streets, restaurants and the best artworks. I visited the old Dürer’s house and enjoyed his paintings and woodcuts which were dominated by religious stories and self-portraits. Famous ones include The Four Apostles, Adam and Eve, and Portrait of Maximilian I (his patron, a Bavarian King). I was fascinated particularly by his portrait of Adam and Eve in which the two figures look so tempted, yet the consequences of their fall still remain open to imagination. Undoubtedly, Dürer is a great painter and a pious Christian.

Then I visited the Toy Museum, climbed up to the Kaiserburg castle (beautiful but small), and had a wonderful meal at a beer garden. One thing I noticed in the Toy Museum is how the toys subtly mirror the “Zeitgeist” (A German word that means “spirit of the times”). For example, the picture below shows the tin soldiers whose production Nuremberg was famous for. Obviously, in the Nazi era, the fever for Hitler and the army spread to the children. Nowadays, those NS symbols are strictly forbidden in the public spheres. Sadly, war is always an important theme even for the toys for children.

Buenas de Toledo

¡Hola! I’ve been in Toledo for just over a week, but it feels like I’ve been here a lifetime. I have trouble even thinking about what to write in this blog since there’s so much to include. To start, let me share how I was thrown directly into Spanish culture. After arriving in Toledo, I was handed to my host family and sent home with them. After arriving home, we immediately sat down for dinner in front of Spain’s first game at the World Cup. My “padres”, Pilar and Salvador, are 73 and 75 years old but cheered like they were 25. This was a great introduction for me because I love “fútbol” and had a topic to discuss with my new parents. At first, I was terrified to talk to my padres and only responded in short, nervous answers. I quickly realized that this was ridiculous because my padres were willing to listen to me struggle and clarify things I didn’t understand. This helped me to trust myself to speak Spanish.

Over this week, the biggest improvement I’ve made in my speaking abilities is simply having the confidence to speak. I’ve learned that I’m going to make mistakes; I’m going to forget words, conjugate verbs wrong, and generally sound like an idiot on occasion. However, I know that this is the only way I am ever going to improve. I only speak Spanish when I go to stores and have found that most of the natives can understand me just fine. Even when they speak English to me because they can tell I’m American, I try to respond in Spanish anyway. My comprehension has also gotten much better. Even if I still have trouble speaking, I have almost no issue understanding people anymore. This is a product of being around Spanish all day. My friends, teachers, and padres are forcing me to assimilate. Finally, I’ve really enjoyed learning all the quirks of the Spanish tongue. In just a week, I’ve learned the regional words for “bathroom” and “team” while learning to add a lisp when I pronounce “c’s” and “z’s”.

The Cathedral rising above a Toledo street

During my first week, I’ve used my class breaks to explore Toledo with my friends. It truly is an amazing city. The streets and buildings have essentially not changed for over 400 years. As a history major, I feel like I’m in paradise. In one week I’ve been in a thousand-year-old mosque, seen world-class paintings, and gotten to know this incredible city. The food is delicious and the sangria isn’t too bad either.

This past weekend, my friends and I traveled to Madrid to see La Ciudad Real. This was a completely different experience from Toledo. Toledo is like living in a history museum. Madrid is more like living in New York. Still, it was a great experience to travel to a big Spanish city and get a taste of the more hectic urban life. We split up our time, going to historic sites like the Prado and El Palacio Real on some days and then heading to the Estadio Santiago Bernabeu another.

I can’t wait to keep learning, living, and falling in love with this country. ¡Hasta luego!

First week

Guten Tag. I am writing this after one full week of staying in München! It has been quite an interesting week, as I have had to adjust to many aspects of German and European life that are very different from what I am used to in the United States. For example, the locals and even many of the tourists greatly enjoy watching a foreign sport known as Fußball, which literally translates to “football.” However, this sport is played with the feet, unlike the football I am used to. I discovered the affinity for this game because there is evidently a tournament going on, wherein countries that participate in this sport compete against each other to be the champion of this “World Cup,” and the locals of this great city enjoy publicly watching the “matches” in Biergartens. Naturally, in order to fully experience the culture of my host city, I have joined the locals in Biergartens for this tradition during Germany’s first two games.

And this brings me to the next cultural adjustment about which I would like to write. The residents of Munich– more so than the average global citizens– enjoy Beer, which is generally consumed in Biergartens (“beer gardens”) and also on the subway. I have to say, it sure has been nice to be able to drink beer again for the first time since I visited Berlin last summer, since I am not yet 21; I forgot how tasty it can be!

(Myself and a friend getting to know the local cuisine)

The language learning itself has as much of a rollercoaster ride as watching Germany’s team play Fußball. I was originally placed in a B2 class because that is where I ended my program last summer. However, my teacher quickly realized that my wonderful German professors at Notre Dame had prepared me almost too well for the grammar lessons and vocabulary for this class level, and recommended that I move up to C1. It was naturally very sad saying goodbye to my fellow students from the week that I was in that class, but after a heartfelt “Auf Wiedersehen,” I entered into my new class today, Monday. This new class has allowed me to meet many interesting new people that I wouldn’t normally have the opportunity to meet, such as a man from Iran, a woman from Brazil, and two Notre Dame students who live all the way across campus from me.

Overall, it has been a wonderful first week, and I can’t wait to further my experiences with this city and its many Biergartens as well as my language skills, as I continue to try to communicate with the people therein.

Tea!

Every day at Oideas Gael, students have two tea breaks–ceann ar maidin agus ceann sa tráthnóna. This may seem excessive given that we are only in class for 5 hours a day, ach it is both a cultural custom and very much needed. In Ireland, everyone drinks tea no matter what time of day or what the weather. Deirdre, one of the women who works at Oideas Gael and serves us tea during breaks, was kind enough to sit down with me and answer some questions about tae (with a cup of tea in hand, of course). The first thing she told me was that tea is seen as a way of being friendly. When someone comes to your house, the first thing you offer them is tea (and then reluctantly offer coffee). Yea is a comfort and appeals to all ages, from the young to the old.

There are always debates about what constitutes “good” tea preparation. Deirdre things the best way to make it is in a pot on the stove, but others prefer a single tea bag in a cucuop. Then there is the problem of milk–how much, if any? These are the problems that tea drinkers debate, and while they may not seem to really matter, it is a way that Irish people connect. When Deirdre serves us tea every day, it is a time to not only drink the tea, but speak about our lives and things that happening in the world. Though this is one of the on!t times in the day that all levels come together, we usually try to have conversations in Irish, even if people are at varying levels. Tea brings everyone together, no matter proficiency or background or age.

Having all these tea breaks has been a huge change for me. I love tea, but when I’m at school, I don’t drink it too often. I was very worried that after two tea breaks and at least four more cups throughout the day, for five weeks, I would become dependent on caffeine or not be able to sleep. I have been pleasantly surprised and realized that, just as Deirdre said, tea is not consumed for the caffeine or even necessarily the taste. These breaks have become essential in my understanding of the language and culture here. It is a time to mingle with those not in my class and learn from them, and give myself a mental break. Tea also introduced me to Deirdre, and I’m thankful for the way our friendship has grown.
Continue reading Tea!