Valpo Voyager

Student Stories from Around the World

Author: davidcyze (page 1 of 2)

Differences (Wrapping up Pt. 1)

May 20, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Differences between the UK and Europe certainly exist. I can remember three occasions on my trip when people in Europe asked me what I thought of the English people – meaning, “What do you think about how different they are?” Being placed in the position of responsibility for representing all of the UK was difficult, because, with my little experience interacting with the English, I did not feel qualified to answer. Sometimes I said this, and other times I just put a stutter-filled answer together.

A funny sign I found in Wales which represents the way I feel when asked, "What do you think about England?"

The English are more reserved than the Europeans I ran into. Everyone I spoke with seems to have been aware of this, both the English and the Europeans joked about it. This mindset may not last long though. While in Poland, Alaina and I took a free walking tour that ended in a pub crawl where we talked with two English guys. One was extremely out-going, and the other told us how he was trying to break out of his Englishness and get up to date with the 21st century. He lamented the fact that, “most people in England seem like they stepped straight out of a Victorian novel.” The youth throughout the UK seem to be more outgoing than their parents, and with the advent of the internet, I do not see them being able to resist becoming a bit more outgoing.

Welcome to England!

The Europeans may have seemed extra stuffy in comparison to the people I met in Europe because most of the people I met were from the Mediterranean, an area known for its outgoing people. In Croatia, the woman we stayed with had her daughter bring us free wine after we arrived. In Italy, our host cooked us two very special pastas, and then his flatmate gave us two of his aunt’s homemade liqueurs. This type of behaviour seems to be rarer in England than in other parts of Europe, but things have to go on a case by case basis. One of the adult scholars in my course at Anglia Ruskin invited Alaina and me to dinner, and they were extremely hospitable. Germans are also known for their reserve, as are the Dutch. So, making a blanket statement about the differences between the UK and Europe as a whole is quite difficult. There are stuffy pockets of civilization throughout the world.

Beautiful Croatia, home to nice Mediterranean people.

One difference between the UK and Europe that I am comfortable making is that the UK seems to place more importance on pub culture than Europe. The number of pubs I can see anywhere in England vastly outweighs the number I found when I travelled through Europe. One similarity is the importance of football. Everywhere I went, football was one of the most important things on young men’s minds. Music in certain areas of Europe differs from the UK. Both places make heavy use of American music, but Europe differs from the UK in that they enjoy listening to electronica. Hostels in Germany, Poland, and the Netherlands all played a great deal of electronica. The style of dress appears to be similar throughout the UK and Europe when it is adjusted for income level. Rich cities in Italy featured people dressing like people in Cambridge, where poorer cities in Croatia featured people dressing like Norwich, England. All in all, this trip has showed me the similarities between people more so than the differences between them.

 

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Welcome to Budapest.

The Sound of Music

May 15, 2012 / / 0 Comments

I found this generic shop in Poland, where European music was most prevalent.

My two week break showed me how difficult it can be to escape American culture. Every place I have been throughout Europe has been awash with American popular music. Last year, a German exchange student at Valpo told me she liked American music because it had a lot more “oomph” than most German music. My trip through Germany literally featured zero German music, so I have little to judge her statement against. But, I have a lot of trouble believing what she said. Simplicity and predictability are hallmarks of pop music. Even if American pop music packs more of a punch than its German counterpart, what is stopping the Germans from copying our rhythms and grooves?

The first time I heard non-American music on the radio was in Krakow, Poland, and it was extremely refreshing. I had never heard Polish rap before, and the song was pretty catchy. But, after one song the radio quickly switched back to American tunes. The same thing occurred on a bus in Budapest which featured Hungarian rap sandwiched between Adelle and Wiz Khalifa. Poland does deserve more credit though. At night, the hostel I stayed in played non-stop electronica. The same went for my hostel in Amsterdam, and an American I met there informed me that electronica is huge throughout Europe. That still fails to explain why all of these places played American music throughout the day. It’s possible that they choose their music based on what they think tourists will appreciate, but I doubt it. When I stepped into a taxi on my way to a small town in Germany, the driver was playing classic rock before I had even opened my mouth. I talked with my German couch surfing host about this, and he told me that all Germans, especially older men, love classic rock even though they cannot understand it.

Schneeberg, Germany: they like classic rock here.

The American cultural presence in the world extends beyond music. Starbucks and Burger King were the first two buildings I saw after exiting a train station in Budapest, a country which was communist run only twenty years ago. In Slovenia, I went to an expensive restaurant that sold itself as the place to go for authentic Slovenian cuisine, and when I stepped through the door I heard Britney Spears on the radio. The inability to escape American culture has really cheapened my experience of traveling. I thought that each new country I visited would feel profoundly different from the last. I expected huge cultural divides, including but not limited to interesting food traditions in each new place. There haven’t been many options to be daring with new foods. I have seized what few opportunities I had, and I am proud to say that I can return home having tried horse meat, mead, and Italian hot wine. Maybe things would have been different if I visited the homes of locals from all the countries I visited, but there are only so many ways one can prepare a sandwich before ideas start repeating themselves and everything seems to blend together.

Welcome to Budapest.

These countries adoption of American food and music seems to have diminished their own cultures, and I cannot understand why a nation would want to do that to itself. Perhaps they value our ideology and want to become more like the stereotypically friendly and optimistic American. That’s flattering, and it may be fun for them to attempt to fit in with our culture. I just wish I had a chance to try to fit in with theirs.

 

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Collin's Coaches. The bus we rode while in Cambridge.

The Magic School Bus

May 14, 2012 / / 0 Comments

If you’ve never taken a group vacation on a bus, think back to the “The Magic School Bus.” It’s exactly like that, minus the science, light-speed traveling, and transformations of species and size. Before long, the fun of traveling rubs off on the bus until the sight of it is nearly enough to make travelers burst into their own theme-song. When one goes on their second bus trip, memories from the first trip return and the bus is infused with even more magic than before. This process continues until around the sixth bus trip, at which point the bus becomes Houdini incarnate and no further improvement is possible. All one can do is sit back and watch as the bus contributes to community in a way nothing else can.

Almost, but not quite.

Bus vacationing is a type of endurance training which inevitably begins too early in the morning. The first day starts with a stumbling out of bed that continues towards the bus as one struggles with their luggage. Next comes the seemingly important decision of picking a bus buddy. There’s a lot to consider, but in the end none of it matters. Before long, all the newly formed buddies engage in a short, excitement-infused chat before turning their attention to the rest of the bus. The chaperone has just finished counting off everyone’s heads, and someone cracks a joke that makes the whole bus laugh. Conversation then becomes an all-inclusive, bus-wide, adrenaline-fueled affair. Exhaustion sets in quick. In an hour, everyone but the driver has fallen asleep. Those who fell asleep early had the sound of intimate, communal laughter to lull them to sleep. When these same people wake up early, they find their companions sleeping in positions contortionists train years to achieve. The next bout of bus-wide laughter follows shortly after.

This would have been great... 10 miles ago.

Rest stops come half-an-hour after they’re needed, so there’s always someone who bumps their head on the overhead compartment as part of a mad dash to bladder relief. The rest of the group emerges unscathed, throws their hands in the air, and begins a much needed stretch that turns into something resembling a dance. Dreary-eyed and hungry, the group makes their way to the rest stop to buy some food. Healthy eaters make concessions for the sake of group cohesion and learn that there is a time for everything.

The excitement of entering a new place is universally shared throughout the bus. Beautiful sights appear at the same time for everyone and cause an awe-struck “ooh!” to spread throughout the bus. Going down a tight road sends shivers down everyone’s spine. As the bus hugs the edge of the road, everyone holds their breath simultaneously. Fearful together, the community grows closer. The groups which are lucky enough to make it out alive have a topic of conversation they can return to throughout the trip: “Remember when we almost fell off the road? That was crazy!”

The bus we rode while in Cambridge. Notice how we almost fell off the road. Crazy.

Everyone talks just loud enough so that other people can hear them, and they modify what they say so that everyone is entertained. Bus buddies soon become the best of friends, and if they ever feel the need to say something private, they can lower their voices. But, in the spirit of bus travel, most things are shared.

 

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A Modern Day Roman

May 8, 2012 / / 0 Comments

I feel like a modern day Roman. Despite following two weeks of deciphering Polish, Hungarian, Croatian, Slovenian, German, and Italian, being greeted with the English language was surprisingly underwhelming. Everywhere I travelled seemed to have, at minimum, one English speaking citizen every fifty feet. Ordering food in Poland is as simple as telling the waiter you speak English and waiting for her to bring the employee who does. Granted, many of the places I visited were tourist locations where English speakers make up the majority of visitors. Even still, I heard two French women use English to bridge the language gap between them and their Italian bus driver.

This is not the bus I rode - though, I wish it was.

Aside from exposing English’s status as the universal language, these past two weeks helped to give me a better understanding of the unappreciated privileges I have had as an American. The “American Dream” hardly exists outside of America. England has a population density of 397 people per/km compared to America’s 33, so most people live in apartments or small row homes. Many of these are old, and I’m sure home repair costs are through the roof. The same probably goes for Italy where every stereotypically beautiful, Italian apartment seemed to be in a state of disrepair. The Slovenian bed and breakfast I stayed in, situated directly next to the country’s beautiful national park, had to be rebuilt after it was occupied and destroyed eighteen years ago when the country was at war with the Yugoslav’s People’s Army. Dubrovnik, Croatia was bombed twenty-five years ago and had to be nearly entirely rebuilt. Aside from the civil war, America has not had to cope with fighting on its own soil; and its people have a lot of space to build their homes.

Believe it.

 

Capitalism originated in England, but it took a firmer hold in America where the economic system itself has become an export. In all the countries I visited, storefronts and advertisements seemed desperate to emulate the American way of doing things. Successful attempts were pleasing only in so far as advertising in America is, and unsuccessful attempts made clear the ways in which capitalism consumes culture, transforming tradition into no more than petty salesmanship. Thankfully, genuine Italian pizza still exists, and my Dubrovnik host gave me a free glass of homemade wine. Capitalism made my trip to Europe possible; I’m not about to start complaining. But, ever since I couch surfed in Budapest and my host explained to me how some of its people wish communism would return because then everyone had jobs, I have not stopped thinking about whether a complete laissez-faire attitude is the best way to treat people well.

A lot of good can and has come from the adoption of American value systems. But, I think it is important to keep in mind that responsibility for society as a whole is the modern day Roman’s double-edged sword. If dissent is similar to that in the following clip from Monty Python’s “The Life of Brian,” I think everything will turn out just fine.

 

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Random Reunions

May 4, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Throughout this trip I have kept running into and making new friends in the most unlikely of places. It began in Krakow, Poland where, during the “unofficial” pub visit, Alaina and I sat down to talk with a few other travellers. She made friends with a group of Americans at the left end of the table while I struck up a conversation with a few Mexicans directly across from us. After a heated discussion on the authenticity of Taco Bell’s Mexican food, we began to exchange travel information. A smile leapt onto my face when they told me Budapest was next on their itinerary. I tapped Alaina on the shoulder, told her what I had heard, and she exclaimed to my new friends, “We’re going there too!” We exchanged numbers and decided to give each other a call when we arrived in our new country.

The next day, after spending an hour and a half searching for our train station, Alaina and I sat down and prepared ourselves for a two hour wait before our departure. No more than thirty minutes later, we noticed our Mexican friends searching for some seats. We invited them to sit with us, and they explained how they were unable to get bus tickets so they were taking the train instead. At this point, Alaina and I decided to spend the rest of our Polish currency so as to avoid the currency exchange fee. When I heard the distinctive sound of American tourists discussing how they would manage acquiring another Zloty so they could afford some water, I offered them some of our money. They were trying to get rid of their money too, but they ran into the opposite problem as us – they had just a bit too little left. I invited them to sit with the four of us, and we soon discovered that they were also going to Budapest. One of the girls spoke Spanish, and in no time she was having a discussion with Bobi – the Mexican girl – in her native tongue. I’m sure she was relieved to find a fellow Spanish speaker.

One of many bridges in Budapest. I've heard this one is great for unexpected renunions.

 

My world shrank even further in Budapest. After snapping a few pictures of Budapest’s famous chain bridge, I decided to search for a better angle. I turned around to find a student from the Valpo Reutlingen program running across the street, likely also in search of a better camera angle. “Julia Trowbridge?” I asked her. With a look of shock, she replied, “David Cyze?!” and our unintended reunion was complete. She and the two friends she was traveling with gave Alaina and me the greatest advice I have ever received on where to go for dinner.

Just a "tipical" Hungarian restuarant.

 

The next day, on a train ride, Alaina and I learned the Reutlingen students were also traveling to Croatia after the surprising discovery that they were in the same sleeper cabinet as us. We arrived in Zagreb, an eerily clean town which should be a top travel destination for anyone who wishes to come across unexpected beauty, and three hours later ran into two more students from the Reutlingen program. At this point, the reunions were uncanny. We could never have planned this.

 

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This is the music collection of the flatmate. Ill be listening to it when I get home.

Italian Hospitality

April 29, 2012 / / 0 Comments

(This post was written immediately following my trip to Naples, Italy.)

We have had rain every day but two. The forecast predicts rain for the final two days of our trip. Yet, even with all this precipitation, our trip has felt sunny. Besides, the rain has not been constant. It’s sunny right now, and the rolling Italian hills along with the sheep that populate them perfectly match the feeling of this trip. I can see grape orchards throughout the landscape; some are big and some are small. The small ones are likely owned by families who continue the tradition of making their own wine. The large ones are likely owned by corporations that make wine for the millions of Italians who moved away from their fields but still value their culture.

Traditions, especially those revolving around food, seem to be alive and well in Italy. When we arrived in Italy, Alaina and I were greeted with a traditional chocolate treat which our couch surfing host assured us was “made by old ladies.” He walked us to the best pizza place in town before giving us the key to his flat and heading off to work. After cleansing ourselves from the effect of two days travel without a shower, Alaina and I ordered two traditional pizzas for a grand total of seven euro fifty. The pizza chef was stationed behind a translucent glass counter in the fluorescent lit, unassuming restaurant. Delivery boys came and went every few minutes or so, carrying with them five freshly made pizzas. The chef could always be seen grabbing flour from the corner of his counter and then beating, tossing, and spreading it into freshly formed dough. When our pizzas came to us straight from the hot brick oven, I was surprised to see no more than a small handful of cheese thrown on one quarter of my quattro stagioni (four seasons) pizza. That’s just how they do things in Italy.

In Italy, even Burger King has pizza.

Hospitality has followed us throughout this trip. While riding a train we thought was heading towards Pompeei, two middle-aged women who only spoke Italian had an Italian student translate directions for Alaina and me once they learned of our intentions and subsequently discovered we were lost. Our conversation was an enjoyable, awkward-laugh filled exercise in tone and body-language comprehension, because the student translated only when it was absolutely necessary for practicality or the sake of a punch-line. As one of the ladies left, she gave Alaina a friendly pat on the head and said something in Italian. It was apparently humorous, because her new Italian friends laughed. Without knowing what she said, Alaina and I laughed too. Somehow, it felt wrong not to join in.

We almost made it.

After a long day of travel, we made our way back to our host’s flat and prepared ourselves to relax. We originally meant for two more pizzas to cap off our night, but when our host came home and offered us spaghetti, we decided to modify our plans. The kitchen soon filled with the smell of home-made sauces, and, after discussing American slang, Italian schools, and middle-aged women on trains, our stomachs were too. I asked what made up each of the sauces, and our host informed me he could only be sure of the ingredients of the sauce he made. The other was made by his mother, and she had yet to give him the secret recipe. Shortly after dinner, just before I had closed my eyes for the night, our host’s flatmate came home. He rushed into my room and informed Alaina and me that we were going to try his aunt’s homemade limoncello and chocolate liqueur. Unable to refuse, we sat down at the kitchen table and gulped down another dose of Italian hospitality. Our day had been brightened ten times over. When we left the next morning, it was only fitting that we were greeted with the sun.

This is the music collection of the flatmate. Ill be listening to it when I get home.

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Two Week Break (Pt 2)

April 25, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Plitvice National Park, Slovenia:
This has undoubtedly been the most beautiful place I have ever seen. This type of natural beauty must be completely unique to this region. I didn’t even know lakes and waterfalls like this existed. We spent a day in the park, but probably only walked around half of it – and that’s with keeping to the trail 90% of the time. One of the themes of this trip seems to be, “Gee, it would have been nice to spend two or three days here.” The owner of our bed and breakfast took us to a small market where I got to buy some eggs. Great travel food. In fact, just a great food in general. Alaina and I went to a restaurant that was supposed to serve traditional Slovenian food. Britney Spears was playing on the radio.

Naples, Italy:
I was much more scared to arrive here than I should have been. Guide books made this place out to be the most uncivilized, dangerous, pickpocket haven on Earth. The town was a bit run down, but the people were extremely friendly. We couch surfed here and our host stopped to talk with at least three people on our short five minute walk to his flat. He directed us to an amazing pizza restaurant. Super cheap and super tasty. Our visit to Pompeii ended up not working out after we took the wrong train which then stalled on the tracks for an hour. Luckily, two older Italian women and a younger Italian student helped direct us to where we needed to go. That night we had more traditional food, and I began to really understand why Italians are known for being so familial.

Florence, Italy:
Bought an amazing leather jacket yesterday at the market. Apparently it’s one of the top ten things to do in Italy. It fits great and seems legitimate. I also bought two pairs of sunglasses. Those aren’t legitimate, but they are fun to have. When we first got here I bought a trolley to remedy my suitcase’s broken wheel. I had completely forgotten how nice it is to not have to carry a forty pound bag around when you’re in a hurry. Went on a pub crawl where we met some more Americans and got close with two girls from England. Had a bit of trouble getting home, but that’s half the fun. Woke up at seven today after getting less than four hours of sleep. Made it to the train. Somehow.

Venice, Italy:
Trip is drawing to a close, and I don’t think we could have picked a better place to end it. This city is beautiful. Hands-down, this is the place which most needs more than one day spent in it. We went to Murano, one of the cities many outlying islands, to look at the blown glass which it is famous for. We got there at six and most things close around seven or eight. This turned out to be bittersweet. There was so much to see that if we had gotten there earlier I’m sure we would have spent our entire day looking and the amazing blown glass and would have forgotten to visit the rest of the city. Street vendors are everywhere. It’s impossible to cross a bridge without being offered a counterfeit Gucci, Louis Vuitton, or Prada bag. The vendors seem to work together, because we saw a large group of them get on a bus boat together at the end of the day. Night-life here is non-existent. Probably because this place is the definition of a tourist town, and there aren’t enough locals to support any clubs.

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Recap of Two Week Break (Pt 1)

April 23, 2012 / / 0 Comments
This post is a collection of short journal entries I took throughout my two week break. I kept the writing informal because I thought it might help you get a feel for everything I did and saw. Hopefully that works!
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Krakow, Poland:
Snowing on Easter. Despite the cold, I really enjoy it. It adds so much to the beautiful city, and gives tourists on free walking tours a reason to stick together. There is so much in this city, we could have easily spent two more days here. During our walk home last night, we accidentally took a different route and saw buildings we would have never seen had we stuck to the guide book. The people in our hostel are extremely nice. A guy from Greece who was staying in the hostel for twenty days for vacation shared his water with Alaina and I when we went to fill up from the sink. Easter is huge for Poland, and nearly everything was closed today, and I’m told the same will be true for tomorrow. So long as there isn’t a strike, I think we’ll be okay.
Budapest, Hungary:
Both here and Poland have really fun exchange rates. I held my first thousand dollar bill here. Food is super cheap, even more so than Poland, which is supposed to be one of the cheapest places in Europe. After arriving, Alaina and I went to a Chinese restaurant and got two large meals and a drink for around $4. The “chef” kept three microwaves behind the buffet, and our food came in and out of one of them. I loved that. Ran into Julia Trowbridge, another Valpo student who is studying in the Reutlingen program, as I crossed a bridge. She and her Valpo friends directed Alaina and me to another restaurant for dinner and it too was cheap. The food I got was delicious, was presented as if it came from a four star restaurant, and only cost me $6. More happened here than just eating food, but this was too awesome to not talk about.
Zagreb, Croatia:
My small world just got smaller. Yesterday afternoon, Julia was in the same train car as Alaina and me. We talked during the eight hour ride to Zagreb, where, after exploring the breathtakingly clean city, we ran into even more Valpo students. The other Reutlingen group also happened to be in Zagreb. Just before we thought the coincidences would end, Julia’s group ended up accidentally reserving seats in the same compartment in our sleeper train that night.Thank god, because this allowed us to spread out the seats to make a huge bed. I tried sleeping on the floor, but eventually moved back onto the seats.

For me, the best part about Zagreb was all the cool logos.

Dubrovnik, Croatia:
Got a room from a woman at the bus station, and she gave us two free glasses of wine when we arrived at her home. The city was beautiful and was also my first taste of a tourist town. Alaina and I sat on the rock shelves and had wine and cheese next to the see. It didn’t rain until we left, and it was relaxing to eat and have the tide come up right next to our feet. The next day we went to a beach club which was abandoned because of the cold weather and rain. The water was incredibly, beautifully blue throughout the country. I didn’t realize how much cooking my own food meant to me until I had the chance to do it again. I’m looking forward to being able to do that again when I get back to Cambridge.

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An Overdue Overview

April 14, 2012 / / 0 Comments

With only six weeks remaining in the C-89 tour of Cambridge, I am long overdue to post a general overview of my time here.

This mess was specially arranged for the photo.

The three month mark has yet to pass, and the time I spend in my room is usually confined to mornings and evenings. As I look around this possibily neglected area of 26A Huntingdon Road, I am surprised to notice how deeply attached I grew to a place just slightly bigger than a freshman dorm. There is the endtable with the drawer I broke my first day here. There are two wine bottles from France. Here is a desk with an expired BritRail, coupons for double “nectar points” at Sainsbury’s, and folders from the classes I take in a classroom one story above my room. I am going to miss them all.

Downstairs and out the door is a bike. Two months ago, Nola Schmidt and I spent an hour figuring out which key from a cup of about fifty unlocked it. The joy of releasing the bike quickly gave way to fear. A hoarde of enormous buses that play chicken with any cycler who dares to get in their way as they travel through narrow streets designed before the creation of the car is one result of England’s excellent public transportation system. I took my chances and lived to tell the tale. After a few days I had even given a few buses a run for their money.

Somehow, I made it.

We changed the layout of the living room to make it more communal, took late night trips for chips at Trailer of Life, and started a quote wall. While here, I “got nutty,” discovered that “it’s easier if you run,” and learned why “you gotta flick your wrist!” One student from Anglia Ruskin became an interesting topic of conversation before we went our separate ways.

I climbed a mountain in Wales and finally made use of my water bottle. The entire journey took over seven hours, and out of six people we had brought only six bottles of water. About two hours in, most of the water bottles were empty and people were getting thirsty. Thankfully, the mountain had numerous streams flowing down its side. All I had to do was step into a gorge, unscrew the cap of my bottle, and dip it into a stream to provide enough water for our entire group. This happened at least three times. Had we not had my water bottle, I doubt we could have made it all the way up the mountain. We eventually did make it over, and as we traveled down the other side on our way to a new town, one of our group rolled an ankle. She was walking behind everyone else when it happened, so no one saw it happen. I hear her cry out in pain, and when I turned and saw her on the ground, clutching her ankle, my first thought was “Prepare yourself. You’re going to have to carry her the rest of the way down.” After resting a few minutes, she was fine to walk the rest of the way. When we reached the bottom of the mountain, we realized we had taken a wrong turn and that we were another hour’s walk away from our lodging. We found a group of English students who were visiting Wales to get an outdoor survival certification, and one of their chaperones was kind enough to drive us to where we belonged.

Winter break seems so far in the past, despite its being only two-and-a-half months ago. Oddly, it seems much further away than my eventual departure from Cambridge. There is only a month’s difference between the two, but it seems as if it is at least a year. This trip has already helped me grow into an entirely new person. With six weeks left, I have no idea who I’ll be when I leave.

 

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Let this one play through.

March 25, 2012 / / 0 Comments

One of the things I miss most about home is my computer. More specifically, I miss my computer because my computer is hooked up to a pair of high quality monitor speakers. The clarity of sound which these speakers create is unmatched by the headphones I brought along with me to Cambridge, and none of the speakers at the center come within a mile of their quality. At home, I like to spend a few hours browsing through blogs and discovering new music. It’s nice to discover a new band, and then find that you’ve stumbled onto a blog that posts music from tons of different artists who are extremely similar. Best of all, most of the music is independent and released for free. So, I can get loads of free music legally.

This is a stall in the Cambridge market which I frequent quite often. And, just to let you know, these pictures have little to do with this blog post other than the fact that they were taken in Cambridge.

The trouble with gathering a music collection in this way is that no one is likely to have heard of a band who has only six hundred views on YouTube and maybe a website. Combine this with the fact that I rarely decide to commit each artist’s name to memory, and when I’m asked, “What kind of music do you like?” I’m left stammering, “Well, electronic, but not techno. Kind of folk, but also jazz. Like – what’s the band’s name, I just found them today – like… Well, the songs use lush synths; echoey stuff.” I know how to find what I like, but I discard it all so easily that I have trouble sharing the music with anyone else. Add on top of this the fact that I’m one who enjoys little to no background music when I’m speaking with people – despite the fact that most of the music I enjoy fades easily into the background – and the opportunities for sharing music shrink even lower.

Parker's Piece is a large field near the city centre which I pass on the way to my once a week class at Anglia Ruskin University.

Enjoying music that fades into the background means that it can be hard to share my musical tastes with people because the best experience of this type of music comes when one allows oneself to be completely enveloped by it. For this to happen between multiple people, a large degree of intimacy has to have been already established, because the music, if focused on, requires the people to embark on a journey together in which they drop nearly everything but the raw emotions the music evokes. Depending on what each person is going through, the emotions that arise may be completely different for each person. Sharing this type of music feels akin to meeting someone for the first time and asking them to divulge their innermost thoughts and feelings.

After an intense staring contest, the wax man and I had a heart to heart.

I spoke with a friend from home last night. She wanted to know all about my trip and what had happened so far. Despite being here for a few months, I felt unable to explain to her what had been happening to me so far. Each time I recounted an event to her, I felt as if something was lacking behind what I said. I wasn’t able to completely capture the experience and the way it made me feel. Now I know why.

Studying abroad has been like living within one of those echoey, jazz-folk-electronic songs I enjoy so much. To get everything out of this experience, I’ve had to completely drop everything: culture, home turf, and friends – to name a few. So, when my friend from home asked me to describe my experience, I felt as if a song had been interrupted. The experience isn’t over yet. And, while I could put the song on pause to stop and recount the ways Europe has affected me so far, this is a song I’d rather listen to all the way through.

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