A Little Pocket of Fall in Ireland

     Being in Ireland feels a lot like stepping into a postcard. It's

absolutely amazing.

     Of the four days we were in Ireland, I spent two in Dublin, one on a

tour of the west of Ireland, and one in Howth. Dublin and the west of

Ireland, especially the Burren area, were fantastic. They reminded me of

why I fell in love with Ireland in the first place and I would have been

more than happy to have just gone to those two places.

     As usual, though, the best experience I had in Ireland was one that

wasn't entirely planned.

     On our last day, I wanted to go on a hike in Howth. I had read and heard

from others on the ship that it was the most beautiful place they had

ever seen. However, I had a bit of a hard time convincing any of my

friends to go with me. So I decided to go alone.

     That was probably the best decision that I made the whole time I was in

Ireland. The hike was peaceful and positively gorgeous. Every time I

rounded a corner on the path or came to the top of a hill, it got more

beautiful.

     I walked from a little fishing town, up the side of a mountain, down a

cliff to the beach, through a bog, and back. Most of the walk was wildly

different from anything that I'd ever seen. I had never seen something

so picturesque. This made it all the more surprising when I came across

a place that made me homesick.

     My favorite time of year back home is Fall, when all the leaves change

color and fall. I was a little bummed out that I was going to miss it

this year. This whole trip is sort of chasing summer and I thought I

would probably miss Fall altogether.

     Imagine how wonderful it was to find myself in a forest that looked

similar to the ones that I grew up with. The sun was filtering through

small golden leaves as they fluttered to the ground. The air was cool

and it smelled just like fall back home.

     I had never experienced homesickness before. It was kind of a

bittersweet feeling. Not for one second did I wish that I could go home,

but I missed it more sharply than I usually do.

     Things just worked out so perfectly. I could never have planned that. I

could have chosen not to go to Howth at all and I would have missed out

on Fall entirely. If I had gone on one of the shorter hikes because I

was alone, I wouldn't have gone through that part of the forest. Or I

could have gone with a friend and I wouldn't have been able to wander

silently through the trees thinking of home.

     Leave it to Ireland. I'm convinced that there can't be anywhere more

wonderful. What other place offers a little pocket of Fall to the

homesick traveler?

A Conversation in Hamburg

     I’m beginning to see that all of the best experiences are the ones that sneak up on you.

Hamburg is a cool city, but it wasn’t enough to keep most SASers from heading out to Berlin. I gave it some consideration myself, but I decided to save some money and explore Hamburg instead. I also never made it to a concentration camp, which is something that I fully intended to do in Germany. In the end, Hamburg was everything I needed.

     One afternoon, we came across a small antique shop while wandering through the city. Inside we met a very nice man who asked where we were from. My friend from California answered first and he assumed we were all from the same place. None of us bothered to correct him.

He chattered happily at us in heavily accented English for several minutes before announcing that he really had a lot of work to do. He encouraged us to come to an antique fair the next day. He would have a booth there and he would be happy to see us.

     The next morning we set out in search of this fair, which, when we found it, looked like a series of yard sales all cramped into a large square and overflowing into nearby streets. You could by nearly anything you could ever want at this fair, as long as it was at least twenty years old. We meandered through the stalls for the better part of a morning, picking up this or that, haggling, and taking photos.

When we found his stall, our German friend was very excited to see us.

     “California Princesses!” he yelled. Turning to his customers he said, almost proudly, “They are from California!”

     Oddly enough, our friend from California wasn’t even there.

     We talked for a while and he gave us a really good deal on some of his stuff.

     He talked to us about Syria. He said he sees a lot of people from many different countries, and he really enjoys it. Most people, he pointed out, don’t have anything to do with their government, so you can’t blame them for politics. He hoped America wouldn’t get involved in Syria.

     “As a German, I hate war,” he told us. “Germans hate war. People cannot always agree, but we have to try talking and understanding each other before we turn to war.”

     We couldn’t have met that man anywhere else and I certainly wouldn’t trade our conversation with him for a trip to Berlin. You can’t make things like this happen; you have to let them happen to you.

Some of my favorite pictures from exploring Hamburg:

Confused in St. Petersburg

     St. Petersburg is the most confusing city I have ever encountered. So much so, that I can’t even decide where to begin. With the strange architecture that looks half French, half Italian, and happens to be placed on a canal that would not be out of place in Amsterdam? Or with the language, which was more foreign to me than any I have ever encountered? What about navigating a city that makes use of two alphabets, with maps in one, but directions in another? Maybe the Russian people themselves, who refused to smile at you in passing, but were so friendly after a moments conversation?

     By the end of my time in St. Petersburg, I would understand this architecture and these people. I would also find my way around this seemingly impossible language barrier, not without struggle.
     The architecture, it turns out, can be explained with relative ease, though it fascinated me from day one. It is simply a result of Tsar Nicholas’ attempts to make Russia more European.

     The rest would come to me more slowly.

The language barrier in Russia was more challenging than any I have experienced. I have a miniscule knowledge of French and, thanks to my Spanish classes, no Romance language is completely foreign to me. None of this would be of any use to me in my attempts to communicate with Russian speakers.

In the end, I would learn a few key phrases and words. I would also learn that a smile and a faltering attempt at Russian would get me a long way. I would become comfortable with a map and both of their alphabets. It just took practice.

     What was truly interesting about Russia was the people. I only came to understand them through a series of conversations and questions.

     On the surface, the people I encountered on the streets of St. Petersburg seemed cold. Like many Americans, I tend to smile at the people I pass on the street. If we make eye contact, I’m likely to give you a small smile. That’s just how I am, how most Americans are. Naturally, I’m used to people smiling back most of the time.

When all else fails, ask a police officer.

 I never realized that this is not typical of most countries, and it’s certainly not typical of Russia. It’s not that these people were cold or unhappy, they just didn’t understand why some weirdo on the street was smiling at them. The people that I talked to in shops, restaurants, and on the streets were very friendly and helpful, even when we could barely communicate. They almost never seemed frustrated and were more than happy to help. They just don’t smile at strangers in passing. In fact, I learned from a Russian student named Dasha that Russians tend to see Americans as superficial and fake. She told me that they aren’t sure if our smiles are genuine because we smile so often, and for no apparent reason.

     My conversation with Dasha and other Russian students was unique because we all knew that we were there to learn from one another, so no question was really off limits and the subjects could change abruptly. We were bombarded with information and questions for most of the day. It was an amazing way to learn about St. Petersburg and its residents.

     Later, I had some very unlikely conversations, seemingly out of the blue. My favorite was a conversation that I had with a forty-something year old man who was selling souvenirs. My interest in his Soviet era pins earned me a half-hour of conversation about Communism, Captialism, Obama, and Putin.  

     It’s all of these strange little things that I had to overcome and conversations like these that made me love St. Petersburg.

Here are my favorite St. Petersburg pictures: 

Life on a Ship

Life on the MV Explorer is very unique.

It presents some challenges that I had never considered. For example, obviously the ship is constantly rocking and vibrating when we are at sea. I never realized how much that might affect me. I had thought of seasickness, which I experienced only briefly before I adjusted, but I never considered the other challenges it posed. Walking straight has never been so difficult and showering can be interesting, if the waves are big enough. The constant rocking is great for trying to sleep, but also makes it difficult to stay awake for long lectures. Mostly, though, these little difficulties just make day-to-day life more interesting.

Besides there are so many perks. I have the most amazing view all the time. I get to sit on the deck in the sun and watch the waves as I study. I get to see the most beautiful sunsets. I get to eat with professors, of my classes and others, and lifelong learners, non-students on the voyage. The dinner conversation is never boring since I’m always eating with someone new. Communication with family and friends back home is limited, to put it nicely, so we are becoming a pretty close community here on the ship. Overall, it’s a wonderful experience and none of us can wait to see what new experiences and amazing conversations we’ll have next.