Spain | Studying Abroad

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BY CELIA CODY-CARRESE

Living in another country is a wonderful experience full of new friends, new experiences, and travelling to new places. It’s also challenging, and it requires you to adapt to new circumstances. Moving to a Spanish-speaking country to study the language is a lot different than taking a class at a UC. From an academic and immersive perspective, here’s what I’ve learned.

Attending university in Córdoba has been very different from my regular college life at UCLA. At UCLA I go to a large university where everything is located on one campus. The University of Córdoba has different buildings throughout Córdoba, which each serve different groups of students. I attend classes at University of Córdoba Idiomas (Languages), or UCO Idiomas. One of the biggest differences between UCLA and UCO is that classes are much smaller in Spain. My biggest class here, Spanish History, has all 27 students in my program; but my Spanish Language and Andalucían History classes both have 15 students or less. At UCLA, my smallest classes (not including discussions) have about 60 people. Having smaller classes is a nice change, and I really feel like I know my professors- they are all very kind and funny, and attentive to the needs of students.

(An average class at UCLA vs. UCO Idiomas)

Teachers here generally teach in a different style- only one of my professors uses a prepared Powerpoint for his lectures. Another professor uses maps and images sporadically, but he mainly just lectures and writes on the whiteboard. Additionally, all of my classes here are taught in Spanish! The Andalucían History class, which is an elective, was originally taught in English, but we opted to have our professor speak Spanish. It has been a good way to practice and fully immerse while at school, and he is able to get his lessons across easier by speaking in his native language. At first I was worried about having History classes in Spanish- I figured I would not be able to understand enough, and would be ill prepared for the test. However, understanding another language is one of the first steps of language acquisition (it comes easier than speaking), so within a few weeks I was understanding most of what my professors were saying!

My schedule here is also a big shift from university life. In a normal quarter I also take three classes, which are spread out throughout the week- so I might have two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and one on Mondays and Wednesdays. I often have days with big gaps in between classes, and my days can change a lot depending on my academic and extracurricular schedule. Here from from 9:30 to 11:30 I have Spanish class Monday through Thursday, and from 12 to 2 I have Andalucían History on Mondays and Tuesdays, and Spanish History on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Every day we have a half hour break between classes, which is much needed time to recharge with a snack! On Fridays, we go on trips to historical and cultural sites in Córdoba and around Andalucía. Having class at the same time everyday is a big adjustment- I haven’t had a schedule like that since high school! While part of me misses the flexibility of having days off or big gaps between classes, I also really like the routine of waking up at the same time everyday.

There’s a cafeteria right across the street from UCO Idiomas, and I often have café con leche y tostada con tomate (a latte and toast with a tomato spread) for a snack during our break.

Another big difference here is the way grades and classes are structured. There is less work consistently given out, and more of your grade depends on testing. I have daily homework for my Spanish class, which usually takes me about 30 minutes to an hour, and most days I study more Spanish on my own. For the history classes I don’t have homework, and pretty much my entire grade depends on testing. My program is divided into Spring Semester students (who are in Córdoba until May) and Winter Quarter students (that’s me) who are here until March, and then returning to our schools for Spring Quarter. When we take our finals, the Semester students are also testing, but for them it is their midterms. Besides my Spanish class which also incorporates written assignments, my grades are based solely on testing and participation. It’s a little nerve-wracking, having your grade centered on one test, but I’m not too worried about the tests. One advantage of being a Quarter student in my program is that all your tests (except for Spanish, of course) are in English!

Your brain, on language acquisition.

Studying abroad, especially when you are learning a new language, is a different type of learning because you are constantly absorbing new information and expanding your knowledge. You don’t just go to class, learn something, study it, and then go about your life. What you learn in class is reinforced by your life outside of university, and vice a versa. In my Spanish class we are encouraged to talk about what we did over the weekend and bring in new phrases we learned. In history we learn about Al-Andalus, the name of Andalucía when Muslims ruled and the European Caliphate was centered in Córdoba. We learn about the Catholic monarchy of Fernando and Isabel and how they expelled the Muslims from Spain. Walking through Córdoba or Granada, architectural examples of Muslim and Christian culture can be found everywhere. And most importantly, I am surrounded by Spanish all the time- in my homestay, in class, in the street. This makes understanding and practicing Spanish much more accessible, and it becomes part of your life faster than it would without immersion.

It takes years and years of practice to become fluent in another language. By living in another country for a few months, you will improve and learn a lot- but you won’t become fluent. However, by immersing yourself and making an effort to practice every day, you are bound to improve, and lay the groundwork for communicating in another language!

Celia Cody-Carrese studied abroad in Cordoba, Spain, in Winter 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/spain/Pages/exploring_andalucia.aspx

Italy | Shouting Sweet Nothings

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BY WILLA GIFFIN

“This is a cowslip,” I enunciated carefully, while pointing at a picture of a dainty yellow flower I’d never seen before. Muddled little third grade Italian voices attempted to repeat the new English word that I was asked to teach them. The intended response of “Cowslip” turned into a variety of similar sounding words amidst the chorus of kids (“gossip”, “colic”, “cowlick”, etc.).

“Almost!” I corrected with enthusiasm, “Cow, come una mucca” (Cow, like a cow) “e ummmmmm…. lip”.  I pointed to my mouth and resorted to my go-to: English with a poor imitation of an Italian accent.

“Ohhh!!! cowsleep” the eight year olds repeated with such pride in their newly acquired, yet severely infrequently used English word.

Close enough, I thought to myself, before moving onto the next flowers’ name that I’d never heard before. “This is a Caladium”…

…

It was my first day working at an Italian elementary school that my study abroad program put me in touch with. When the day started off, I had absolutely no idea as to the kind of crash course in Italian culture that was in store for me.

That morning I had my language class, and at 12:30, when it finished, I grabbed a cappuccino and panini from Ricchi, the beloved caffè in the building adjacent to school. My internship that afternoon didn’t start until 2, but the bus ride was supposed to be lengthy and I have a knack for somehow misunderstanding even the most fool-proof GPS systems; so I ate my lunch and headed to the bus stop early.

I walked with my friend/ bus-taking consultant, Lizzy, who was assigned to the same school as I was. Lizzy is living in a home-stay towards the outer edge of Florence, so she’s had plenty of practice navigating the different lines.

After a short, beautiful walk, we waited at our bus stop and stood amidst a group of ten chic Italians that made me ever aware of how American I looked in my scuffed up gray Chuck Taylor Converse.

All of a sudden, an authoritative, official-looking man walked up from around the corner. He announced something fast, loudly, and in Italian, to the crowd gathered at the stop. The group of bus-goers let out a collective sigh, and immediately started moving in response. Uh oh. What was happening?

Lizzy and I looked at each other, each hoping that the other had understood every other word of the man’s speedy Italian. But nope. Not a lick.

Not really knowing what else to do, we decided to follow the crowd, with the hope that maybe the man had announced that our stop had been relocated for the afternoon, and therefore all the bus-goers could migrate to the new stop together.

Our plan of playing tag-along failed almost immediately as the crowd started to dwindle and the bus-goers dispersed in every possible direction. However, Lizzy and I held out hope, and followed two older women who stuck together and looked like they were well-versed Italian travelers, with their heavy fur coats and practical, yet obviously classy, leather shoes. Like undercover cops, we covertly trailed the women, assuming that they knew where they were going, and therefore would somehow lead us to where we were going as well.

Only after the fur totting women stopped directly in the middle of a street with heavy traffic in order to study a giant map, did we realize that the women we had secretly assigned to be our fearless leaders, were just as foreign and confused as we were. Following- the- Italian-looking-women, mission aborted.

Lizzy and I ended up walking on our own to the train station where we got on line 21—not without complication—but we (mostly Lizzy) figured it out.

After a 45-minute ride, we got off at our bus stop. It was raining pretty heavily and we got a little lost (yes, even with Google maps open on two different phones) but we made it to the school with one minute to spare.

We entered the building and were immediately greeted by two warm women working the school’s front desk. In quasi-Italian, we said hello and attempted to explain that we were the volunteers who were there to teach English.

Lizzy and I parted almost immediately as she was sent off to her assigned classroom. Then one of the women looked at me and motioned down the hall, “lavorerai in terza elementare”. Oh shoot. This was a verb tense I had yet to learn. And what did “terza” mean?

I asked the woman to please repeat (“ripete per favore”—my most used Italian phrase). Hearing the reiteration of unfamiliar words didn’t clarify much, but I nodded convincingly, like it did.

Ok. I could figure this out.  “Terza”, probably like “terrace”… Ok. So I’ll just go upstairs whenever I find a staircase.

I went down an extremely long hallway that seemed to extend off into the abyss, but eventually I came across a staircase.

My out of shape, full-of-pasta body took me up the flight of stairs. I opened the door at the top of the staircase, only to see that I’d walked into a janitor’s closet. So nope. Terza does not mean terrace.

Still confused as to what to do next, I stood, staring into the closet at the assortment of brooms and mops and cleaning fluids. This was definitely not the classroom that I was supposed to be in.

“Ciao??” I heard from down the stairs.

I whipped around, “Ciao!” my head in a janitors closet sandwiched between two brooms, was not the way I’d expected to get introduced to the teacher I’d be working for.

Nevertheless the teacher greeted me kindly and with gratitude, and then led me into the gym where her 28 third graders were doing volleyball drills with a student teacher. Turns out “terza” means third.

She motioned for me to sit at the sidelines. I relaxed on a folding chair and observed the class dynamic.

I was immediately struck by the frequency and volume of the yells and hollers that bounced off the walls of the gym. To me, the tone of the two teachers’ scoldings sounded furious, especially when the smallest eight year old couldn’t get the ball over the net. Then again, I didn’t even know the words that were being yelled…. The teachers could have been shouting, “you, young man, are an incredible athlete!”, but maybe they were just screaming these positive affirmation very loudly and with significant aggression.

I also saw more classic Italian hand gestures, whipped out and flying around, in my first ten minutes in the gym, than during my entire month so far in Italy.

I guess I should have expected these sorts of impassioned outbursts, given the stereotypes I’ve seen in Italian movies from the yelling grandmother, stationed in the kitchen, going on fiercely about how her grandson needs to find a nice girl who can make him the lasagna he deserves.

Sitting there, thinking back to my own gangly, uncoordinated elementary school days, I couldn’t help but feel slightly rattled by these apparent scoldings. The Italian kids, however, didn’t seem to be phased even an iota. They were completely used to it, and even laughed it off.

After about a half an hour of observing surprisingly intense third grade volleyball drills and holding two tiny pairs of the students’ “occhiali” (reading glasses), the class finished their gym period. They began to line up and I joined them at the door.

A group of five girls giggled to each other, whispering behind their hands, and keeping their eyes fixated on me. With so much excitement about the new, tall, American in class, one girl, Marina, built up the courage and asked, “what is your name be?”

“My name is Willa, Mi chiamo Willa.”

“Wella” they all repeated in unison.

Asking me my name, with an extra verb at the end, seemed to be close to the only English the kids knew. My work was cut out for me, and I was excited.

Unlike most adults I’ve encountered, the kids didn’t dumb down their Italian for me, even though I clearly had a very minimal grasp on the language, but rather they spewed out Italian words at lightning speeds, erupting with rapid-fire questions.

“Sai di Hollywood?” (Are you from Hollywood), “Ti Piace i Lakers” (Do you like the Lakers?) “Hai incontrato Michael Jackson?” (Have you met Michael Jackson?) “Ti piace gelato alla vaniglia?” (Do you like vanilla ice cream?) etc.

One little girl asked me, “Da quanto tempo sei stato in un aereo dagli Stati Uniti a qui?” (How long were you in an airplane to go from America to here?)  Feeling an irrationally strong urge to fit in amongst the group of eight year olds, I got a little flustered and attempted to answer her question quickly, like it didn’t even take me any thought. I  rattled off, “14 anni”, to convey 14 hours. I felt cool, like I had carved out my spot in the in-crowd, until I noticed the completely appalled look on the little girl’s face. It then dawned on me that although I meant to say “14 ore” (hours), instead, I said 14 years! I had just convinced a little girl that I had spent more than half of my life on an airplane and she probably thought I was an alien.

After everyone changed out of their gym clothes, we walked to class, accompanied by more yelling. When we reached the room the kids took their seats, and there was some more yelling.

The teacher, who was very kind and gentle to me, explained that I would be going over English translations of flower names to half of the students at a time, while she took the other half outside to eat lunch, and then we would switch groups after an hour. (The school day here is from 8-4:30…).

I looked through the list of English flower names that I would be teaching and didn’t recognize half of the words. I felt slightly confused as to why I was teaching these kids who could just barely ask me my name, words such as “cowslip”, “cornflower”, and “larkspur, but I wasn’t about to suggest otherwise and risk getting yelled at.  I would cry.

We went down the list of flowers, projecting their images on the wall, and writing out the Italian names and their English equivalents. Each kid then decided which flower he or she liked the most, and made a labeled drawing of it.

I walked around the class and looked at their magnificent artwork. I alternated between saying “bravo” and “brava”, all the while wishing I had a wider repertoire of Italian compliments.

While maybe slightly frustrating at first, it was so nice trying to communicate with the kids, with only a few shared words, and many smiles.

When everyone finished their drawings, the other half of the class came in from lunch. I did the same floral exercise with the new group.

At 4:25 the teacher lead the remainder of the first group of students back inside the classroom. She carried a tub of apples and gave them out to each student. She hugged each kid goodbye and kissed them on the forehead.

Then, everyone lined up by the door in order to meet their parents at the school’s entrance and go home for the evening.

As we all walked out of the class, Marina grabbed hold of my hand, and held it tightly. She looked up at me with beaming eyes and an enormous smile, “Quando tornerai?” (When will you return).

I think I told her one week, but I might have said one century.

Willa Giffin studied abroad in Florence, Italy in Winter 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/italy/Pages/language_culture_florence_quarter.aspx

Ireland | A Day in the Life at UCD Summer Physics

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BY GRACE HEART

6:30AM – WAKE UP! I typically wake up around 6:30am and check social media for about ten minutes before rolling out of bed. It always seems like you miss a lot when you’re asleep for half of your friends’ days across the world.

6:45AM – RUN! By 6:45am, I’m ready to run. I love going for runs in the morning because it helps me wake up and it’s also just a really great way to explore the city. I typically run towards city centre and explore different neighborhoods along the way.

7:30AM – SHOWER! After I get back from my run and stretch, I’m shower and get ready for the day.

8:15AM – LEAVE ROOM! I leave my room around 8:15am every morning. It’s about a 10-15 minute leisurely walk to the science building from Merville (dorms) so you get to breakfast around 8:30am.

8:30AM – BREAKFAST! Breakfast is at the Pi Restaurant in the science building. There’s normally some sort of hot dish as well as fruit, oatmeal, croissants, yogurt, and granola to choose from.

9:00AM – LECTURE! We have lecture Monday-Friday from 9am to 11am. The professor usually gives us a short, ten-minute break around 10am so we can get water, go to the restroom, or take a quick power nap.

11:00AM – BREAK! After lecture, we have an hour long break until lunch. A lot of people study during this time, go to the gym, or just relax for a bit.

12:00PM – LUNCH! Lunch is served in the Pi Restaurant again (cafeteria-style). They normally have about three options for a hot dish and are very accommodating to different dietary needs. Salad and bread are available as well.

1:00PM – LAB/TUTORIAL! After lunch, you will either have lab or tutorial. My group has labs on Monday and Wednesday and tutorial on Tuesday and Thursday. Labs last about three hours and  tutorials last about two hours depending on the efficiency of your group. In lab, we do hands-on experiments that apply the information we have learned in lecture. In tutorial, we are given a set of five practice problems to work on in groups of three. Both labs and tutorials are turned in and make up about 40% of your grade together.

4:00PM – GYM TIME! After lab or tutorial, I’ll typically go to the gym and do strength or one of the workout classes. The gym is free to the physics students and there are several free workout classes. These classes last about an hour and are a great way to stay in shape while abroad!

5:00PM – DINNER! – After the gym, we head over to dinner back at the science building. Again, there are usually three options for hot dishes plus a dessert for dinner.

The rest of the evening usually consists of studying/taking notes/doing practice problems or exploring the city. It stays light until about 10:30pm so you’ll have plenty of daylight for exploring if you choose to do so during the week. I would recommend trying to do most of your Dublin adventures during the week so that you can take longer trips on the weekend!

Grace Heart studied abroad in Dublin, Ireland, in Summer 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/ireland/Pages/science_engineering_summer_uc_dublin.aspx

France | An Idiot Abroad: La Bise and the Geneve

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BY BARRY YANG

La Bise, that’s what the French call that whole kissing on the cheek greeting thing. Instead of going in for the hug, they pop two on your cheeks and call it a day. Although I first found this gesture a little awk- ward to initiate, this form of greeting has grown on me and become something incredibly endearing.

This past week has been a continuation of IEP language classes which essentially just translate to another week of me not understanding French and showing up solely for the experience. I was extremely fortu- nate to have amazing professors who found my lack of French endear- ing and comedic. The school even found me an aide (thank you Marisol) who attended every class with me and helped me through the language classes. Despite the aide, the level of French you need to un- derstand these classes is probably something I won’t achieve within the next decade. Thank the Lord we begin regular classes next week which will finally be in English. I can soon finally prove to the French people that I’m not completely useless.

Madame Santos and Christine Ebnother our favorite teachers.

While Lyon is renowned as the center of gastronomy, I will not lie and say that I am getting a little tired of French cuisine. It is not so much the food, as the food decorum. Let me explain. While the food is deli- cious and invigorating to the palate, the portion sizes are usually horri- bly small. As a growing young boy with the appetite of multiple French men, eating at French restaurants is not really conducive for the wallet or the health.

The boys Cian and Cameron enjoying a nice wine.

Bread and butter are literally the bread and butter of meals, and I’ve found myself eating a lot of carbohydrates to compensate for the small portion sizes. Albeit, the bread here is so delicious and baked fresh dai- ly. The butter is also derived from organic cows that have not been adulterated by hormones. The fresh bread and natural butter really is a killer combo and very good. Throw on one or two cheeses from literally

the hundreds of options and its very very c’est bon. Wine is also cheaper than the sparkling water they serve. You can get very nice bottles of red and white wines in supermarkets for literally 4–5 euros. Baguettes are about one euro. Pancetta another 2–3 euros. A nice block of cheese for 5–10 euros. Combine all of this and you can have wonderful lunches and dinners for multiple days.

The ethnic foods in Lyon (Indian, Chinese, Thai, etc.) are also moder- ately disappointing…It is amazing that these foods even exist in Lyon but their essence and soul have been diluted to appease the French palate and as a result become unauthentic. Ethnic foods are also quite expensive. A big plate of Pad Thai will run about 8–9 dollars in the US, but here in Lyon the price is more like 14–17 Euros. At almost double the price and half the flavor, I’ve committed myself to only eat French cuisine (we will see how long this holds out though given how many of the other Americans in the group enjoy and miss ethic foods).

Besides French food, the most commonplace cuisine is the Kebab. Be- cause of its large Middle Eastern population, Lyon is filled with Kebab shops. You can’t really walk 5 minutes without seeing a Kebab shop. Filled with meat, lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise and French fries, these Middle Eastern California burritos are very cheap and fairly tasty. Al- though probably not the healthiest, they’ve been a great food for when time is short or when the wine proves to be a little too strong.

This weekend I got the opportunity to go to Geneva, Switzerland. Boy oh boy do I NOT recommend going there. Firstly, they would not let me on the bus because I forgot my passport. I then had to book a different train ticket after getting my passport only to have no one check or ask for my passport. Upon arriving in Geneva, I couldn’t even tell that we were in a different county. I had to confirm with Google Maps to make sure that I had actually taken the correct train and left France. The city was incredibly cold and non-english speaking. I felt a strong sense of pompous superiority in the shops we went to and did not feel a lot of loving vibes. The lake in Geneva is fairly beautiful, but nothing spectac- ular. If you really want to see a lake, just drive up to Big Bear and you will have gotten essentially the same thing. Things are also incredibly expensive in Geneva. For dinner my friend and I shared some “buffalo chicken wings” and a pasta called the “San Diego.” These toddler sized dishes came out to more than 35 euros. The buffalo chicken wings came with 3 wings and some sauce that was everything but buffalo. The “San

Diego” pasta tasted just like Heinz ketchup mixed with undercooked pasta and zucchini. I could not have been more disappointed with Geneva. I do want to return to Switzerland in the future and see Lugano and other cities, but thus far, Geneva has been very very under- whelming 0.6/10 would not recommend.

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This past week I also attended a party my host family put together. There were oysters, Galette (a delicious French cake), lots of cham- pagne, French whiskey, and great times. They invited their friends from Interpol and we had some great conversations about how much travel intensive the job is and the different things they get to encounter on an international level. Definitely looking to potentially working there in the future.

I am thoroughly enjoying my host family. I had the pleasure of making them Peruvian food on Wednesday, and although it came out a little too spicy, they were very receptive and we all had an amazing time.

  • I love my host family (Lolita and friend are just visiting and not actually part of the family).

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Week two in France has been an absolute pleasure minus that one day in Geneva. Looking very much forward to when classes actually start and all the places I’ll get to see and learn about.

Barry Yang studied abroad in Lyon, France, in Spring 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/france/Pages/default.aspx

Spain | A Weekend in Cádiz

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BY CELIA CODY-CARRESE

On a narrow strip of land, connected to the Iberian peninsula by an even narrower strip of land, is Cádiz- one of the oldest cities in Europe. Last weekend I went to Cádiz with a group of friends in the Exploring Andalucía program, and we had an amazing time! Cádiz is full of history, delicious tapas, beautiful beaches, and lovely people. Here are some of my favorite memories from the trip.

The views. For me, the two best ways to experience a city are on foot and from above. We did plenty of walking, and we also went in two towers and saw beautiful views of the city. Cádiz is really small so you can see most of the city if you are high enough. In the center of Cádiz there is a building called Torre Tavira which costs a few euros to enter. Not only does it offer an amazing view of Cádiz, including the Cathedral, the building also has a camera obscura- which allows you to see a live, 360 view of Cádiz. We were able to see the entire city of Cádiz projected onto a large canvas disk, in real time. It was so cool to see the waves of the ocean, birds in flight, laundry drying on roofs, and even people walking around the city!

View from Torre Tavira, including the Cathedral of Cádiz

In the Cathedral of Cádiz you can walk up a narrow and steep spiral ramp that takes you up to one of the two bell towers. From here you have a beautiful view of the city and details of the roof of the church. The bells ring every 15 minutes though, and they are very loud!

Very steep and narrow stairs at the top of the Cathedral!

View from the Cathedral bell tower

Speaking of the Cathedral, it is one of the most interesting buildings I have seen in Spain (besides the Mezquita-Catedral of Córdoba, of course). Structurally the building has two main domed towers and a concave façade in the middle. The exterior is two different colors because the building took a long time to complete, and they used two different materials. Inside, there is large central altar and many smaller chapels all along the sides of the church, all boasting statues of biblical figures and paintings. The church also had a crypt below ground that was designed to produce echoes. In the crypt the air is cool and moist, since it is below sea level.

The exterior of the Cathedral

The central altar in the Cathedral, which is modeled after the two towers

Tapaaaaas. Spain is of course famous for tapas, and there are many typical tapas dishes in Spain. Many of these are meat based, and I am vegetarian, so often my options are limited. In Cádiz however, I had eggplant with goat cheese and honey, salmorejo (a tomato based dip eaten with bread), and sautéed veggies. Everything was delicious and really cheap! I also had my first Spanish paella in Cádiz! On our first night we actually had Italian food for dinner, which was really good, but the other two nights we just went to a few tapas places for food. Although they are small plates, if you get a few you have a substantial dinner for only a few euros!

Adrenaline. Cádiz is right on the water and has numerous beautiful beaches. In the summer it is a popular vacation spot for this reason, and the heat makes the ocean a great place to cool off. As we went in January, it was not nearly warm enough to justify swimming in the ocean, but my friends and I wanted to anyways. We looked pretty ridiculous running in, as no one else was swimming, but it felt great to jump in the Atlantic! There’s something about seeing the sun begin to set over the ocean that’s different when you’re in the ocean, when your senses are heightened from the cold water.

Sunset over the ocean in Cádiz

Vulnerability. When you are put in a new environment where you don’t know anyone, which is often what study abroad is like, you end up making friends really quickly. In my case, I travelled to Cádiz and shared a hostel with people I had known for two weeks-and it was amazing. Because you are sharing so many new experiences together, you bond really quickly and form friendships fast. In my experience, this has led me to be more open and willing to share things about myself. There are many ways this has manifested itself-including a few of my friends and I playing guitar and singing together in our hostel. We spontaneously shared our favorite songs and our voices with each other. That vulnerability and ability to connect through music formed our bond that much quicker.

Traveling also lends itself to making new friends quickly wherever you go. Staying in hostels is a great way to meet people, because many people are traveling alone or in small groups, and there are often common areas to hang out in. At our hostel in Cádiz we met a lot of really cool people and got to talk with people from many different places!

No schedule. One thing that is nice about traveling to smaller cities is that while there are some big tourist attractions, you don’t feel rushed to do everything possible in one weekend. My favorite thing to do when I go to new places is often just to walk around the city, to see what people are up to and to look at different buildings and apartments. We would start our day and have some idea of what we might do, but never any specific place to be at any specific time. And because of this we just wandered, and got to know Cádiz through it’s narrow streets and from the brightly painted buildings that stand out from a sea of crisp white exteriors. On Saturday we walked through a park and stumbled upon a man playing the recorder, while cats darted in and out of bushes. Sunday we took the long way back to our hostel and encountered a large plaza where young kids were learning to ride bikes and scooters while their parents chatted and enjoyed the sunshine. Later, in front of the Cathedral, a woman danced flamenco in the street as people ate in the plaza and watched her perform. We did some of the tourist attractions but we also just walked, listened, and let the day unfold.

Lazy cats in Parque Genovés

What made this trip really special, however, was the people I went with and the people I met. If you surround yourself with good people you’re bound to have fun anywhere! Till next week!

My buds and I in Cádiz!

Celia Cody-Carrese studied abroad in Cordoba, Spain, in Winter 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/spain/Pages/exploring_andalucia.aspx

Italy | Music to My Ears

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BY WILLA GIFFIN

If you know me, you most likely know that I am constantly singing and humming as I go about my day: in the shower, while I cook, walking to class, taking a hike, reading a book, and yes, I’ve even been known to sleep-sing.

I just can’t help it. A song (or 10) gets stuck in my head, and absolutely no amount of distraction methods or mechanisms can unstick the tune that has adhered itself to every nook and cranny of my brain.

The Italian language seems to have this same effect on me. The graceful words and their corresponding melodies swirl around, and resonate with me, worming their way into my mind. The words replay in my brain like a broken record and I can’t help but unleash them, saying them out loud, over, and over and over again.

Italians converse with a catchy, deliberate melody that swells and dips, with specific rhythm, dynamics, fierce passion, and not so subtle hand choreography.

Music fills the air in any place that there is speaking at all. The train station is operatic. The open markets are symphonic. Melodies spew from all directions, and are conducted by the vendors, who direct and control any discordant tunes of whining hagglers.

I guess it makes sense that the language gets stuck in my head in the same way that a good Adele jam does. Every Italian conversation is its own song; every sentence is a lyric; every word, a note.

Like the songs that so often overwhelm my thoughts, I find myself parroting Italian phrases that I’ve picked up in passing, throughout my day. Shampooing my hair, I mimic the pitch, tempo, and intonation, of “faccio la doccia” (I shower). Making my bed in the morning, I rehearse “Buongiorno, vorrei un cornetto” (Good morning, I would like a croissant.) Studying for my quiz, I hum “in bocca al lupo” (a phrase meaning good luck that literally translates to “in the mouth of the wolf,” which seemed strange, until I thought about what its must be like for a foreigner to learn “break a leg”).

It is all just so captivating and pleasing to the ear. Often times I am so fixated on the beautiful pitches of what is being performed in front of me, that I forget to listen and comprehend the words themselves.

Before I left for Italy, I, of course, had to read Eat, Pray, Love. I paid special attention to the portion Elizabeth Gilbert dedicated to her pilgrimage to Rome, which she entitled “Eat.” (I’m choosing to take “Eat” as a personal, authoritative command to me from the wise and experienced author herself, to eat eat eat! And I have intently obeyed.)

In “Eat…”, Gilbert refers often to her favorite Italian word: “attraversiamo” (we cross over).  She explains that she loved to stroll with friends along the streets of Rome, intentionally walking on the side of the street opposite of her destination, so as to give herself the excuse, when the time came, to suggest that the group “attraversiamo”.

Every time I cross a street in Italy, I think of Elizabeth Gilbert and her favorite word. As I cross each street in Florence, and “attraverso”, I also consider what my favorite, exquisite Italian words that I’ve learned, might be. After a lot of crossing streets and therefore a lot of thought, I have come to the conclusion that my favorite word changes by the day, as does the song that is stuck in my head.

Today my favorite word is “abbastanza”. Yesterday, I overheard a young woman on my train to the beautiful city of Verona, say “abbastanza” playfully over and over, to her boyfriend. While I had no clue as to its meaning, the fun multi-syllabic word filled with pleasing soft “a” sounds, very much became stuck in my head like a pop tune. It became my mantra for the day. I hummed it under my breath as the train rocked me into a deep, ugly, mouth-wide-open, kind of sleep.

**Turns out “abbastanza” means “enough”…. a word, and in fact a concept, that seems to be null and void for me over here. Phrases in America such as, “thank you that’s enough parmesan,” never ever seem applicable for me in Italy.**

Last week, my favorite thing to say was “Mi dispiace”. I couldn’t get the melancholic tune and slow lilt for “I’m sorry” out of my head—and for good reason.  I’m constantly needing to apologize for bumping into people and things and animals, so “mi dispiace” comes in handy, more than I’d like it to.

I was in a little grocery store when “mi dispiace” first cemented itself in my thoughts, after an instance when I’d forgotten it, causing me to swear it would never slip my mind again. A grocery store clerk was attempting to pass by me, pushing an enormous stock-cart full of produce and products in front of him. I initially didn’t realize that I was blocking his path, until he said “scusi” (excuse me—another snappy word that’s fun to rehearse, and always applicable). Desperately searching for the correct Italian response, and feeling excessively panicked that I was in the man’s way, my instincts took over. My mind clasped onto the only word within its grasp, and I said “sorry” in English! Given that probably 80% of Florentines speak English, and the other 20% would likely know the word for “sorry”, apologizing in English was really not a big deal… The problem was the way I said “sorry”—in a very, very, overly thick, exaggerated, Italian accent, that probably seemed like I was making a mockery of the kind grocery clerk, his family, his friends, and his entire culture, all in just a single word. I left the grocery store, with “mi dispiace” in my mind, on-loop.

Right now, as my dinner simmers on the stove, I hum my favorite word for the moment: “mangia.” Mangia mangia mangia mangia mangia mangia.

Willa Giffin studied abroad in Florence, Italy in Winter 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/italy/Pages/language_culture_florence_quarter.aspx

Ireland | Hiking Howth

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BY GRACE HEART

Last weekend, we made our way over to Howth, a village just outside Dublin. Most of the village lies on a peninsula. Its coastal feel reflects its history as a fishing village. The village is only about a 30 minute train ride from Dublin City Centre, making it very manageable as a weekend day trip!

GETTING THERE

It is a bit of a process to actually get to Howth, but I promise its so worth it. I would recommend taking the DART, the Irish train system, from Dublin City Centre to Howth. We left UCD at about 11:00am and took the 39A into town to get brunch in Dublin. At about 1:00pm, we made our way to the DART station in Dublin. A round trip ticket to Howth is only about €5. Buy your ticket just outside the station and make your way to the platform. The station is extremely easy to navigate so you should have no problem finding your way. Once you’re on the train, it takes about 30 minutes to get to Howth.

MARKET

Just across the street from the DART station is a small market with a few food stands and some souvenir stands as well. We picked up a few pastries from one of the stands and a Chow Mein from a noodle stand. Not kidding, the Chow Mein took about three hours for 3 of us to eat, so maybe get one to share with the group.

LOWER CLIFF LOOP

Once you’ve walked through the market, take your food and hike the Lower Cliff Loop and have a picnic on the cliffs! The hike was so incredibly beautiful and a must-do if you’re in Howth. The entire hike is about 4 miles and takes about 2 hours if you take it at a leisurely pace. The map below shows the path you will be taking, but it starts right in Howth Village and ends there as well. On the trail you’ll be able to see Ireland’s Eye, an island just off the coast of Howth. Baily Lighthouse and Howth Castle are a few other points on the trail to look out for. Our favorite part of the hike was just the beautiful scenery off the cliffs – one of the most incredible views I’ve seen while in Ireland. To end the hike, we walked down a sort of boardwalk/street with restaurants and docks along the side of the water. We were surprised to see seals and jellyfish swimming around in the water below us too!

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THE JOURNEY HOME

We didn’t go straight home, but instead stopped by Dun Laoghaire! Dun Laoghaire is on the opposite side of Dublin City Centre from Howth so it took about 45 minutes on the DART to get there. We had already been to Dun Laoghaire a few times, but it’s another beautiful coastal town. It is somewhat bigger than Howth with more restaurants, shopping, and activities than Howth. Maybe I’ll do another post just dedicated to Dun Laoghaire because it is very beautiful and much easier to get to than Howth, but Howth is definitely worth the journey and you do get more beautiful views than in Dun Laoghaire. Take the 46A home from Dun Laoghaire and your perfect “beach” day is complete!

Thanks for coming along on another day trip with me and stay tuned for a “Day in the Life” post next week that will give you an inside look into what a day at UCD Summer Physics is really like!

Grace Heart studied abroad in Dublin, Ireland, in Summer 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/ireland/Pages/science_engineering_summer_uc_dublin.aspx

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France | An Idiot Abroad: From Paris With Love

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By BARRY YANG

The French do really operate on a more relaxed pace than Americans.

My host dad gets 9 weeks of paid vacation a year and my host mom gets 18 weeks. This sense of relaxation is extended in many areas of French life. The waiter takes his/her time bringing you the bill, the cashiers rarely have the codes of fruits and vegetables memorized so you spend some time waiting for them to look up the numbers, and the dinners last a minimum of 2 hours. While at times this lack of a sense of expediency gets annoying, especially when time is short, I have grown to enjoy operating at a slower pace and taking the time to soak everything in. For example, our first week of official class was canceled and no one told us beforehand. We essentially had our whole week freed up to do whatever we wanted. This occasional French dillydally-ing is something I could get very use to.

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With the unexpected reprieve, my girlfriend and I took advantage of the time to plan our weekend trip to Paris. My host family was extremely helpful and offered us maps, guidebooks, and great tips for things to eat and see. We found some really cheap bus tickets that came out to only $30 roundtrip. Although the ride was close to 6 hours per way, we took advantage of the time to sleep and rest.

We arrived in Paris at 6:00 AM Friday morning and got to see Notre Dame and the Louvre before the waves of tourists. It was an incredibly sunny day and the sunrise hitting the stain glass church windows was a beautiful sight. We spent the rest of the day just wondering and walking around Paris. We did not really plan anything specific because when nothing is planned anything can happen. We ended up in the middle of a French protest (bucket list item check), wandered through the streets of Chinatown, and found a tiny French restaurant that had some of the best cheese and potatoes I have ever had.

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We arrived in Paris at 6:00 AM Friday morning and got to see Notre Dame and the Louvre before the waves of tourists. It was an incredibly sunny day and the sunrise hitting the stain glass church windows was a beautiful sight.

Barry YangUCEAP Global Community Blogger

Paris differed from Lyon in many ways. There are a ton more people in Paris, and a surprisingly large amount of immigrants. Due to recent events, security is also incredibly high and we had to pass through metal detectors and baggage checks at every tourist attraction and train/bus station. The Eiffel Tower was especially poignant. The tower itself is completely barricaded and one must pass through security to enter. Arm military guards also patrol the entire park space. Besides the heightened security, the capital is also much dirtier and brusk than Lyon. People are a little less friendly, and there is a definite want of that “small town charm.”

Barry Yang studied abroad in Lyon, France, in Spring 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/france/Pages/default.aspx

France | An Idiot Abroad: March to Marseille

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By BARRY YANG

A WEEK OF DELIGHTFUL LEARNING IN THE FRENCH STYLE

If you recall from last week, no delightful learning in the French style took place because all our classes were unexpectedly canceled (though some may say that was the French style in its truest form). This past week we had our very first taste of formal academia in the land of Francois Hollande.

A sunny day in Lyon. Auspicious sign of the great learnings to come.

Imagine an approximate 400 square feet room filled with 5 rows of long desks accompanied with your standard issue schooling chairs. At the front of said room appears a jolly English fellow approaching the ages of 60 or 65 undressing the various layers he had cocooned himself in to combat the Lyonnaise cold. As he hangs his colorful scarf and readjusts his endearing bowtie, one cannot help but see this professor as a harbinger for a grand old time. Professor Martin Porter is one hell of a man, and a great representative of Liverpool as well as England. His speech is the perfect amount of wit, charm, suave, sarcasm, and British accent. He understands the subject matter (Imperialism) masterfully and is a connoisseur at presenting his knowledge in a pithy and entertaining manner. Understanding perfectly well our penchant for travel and novelty of Europe, Porter does not try to make his class more serious than necessary. He avoids busy work and encourages us to live history by visiting various sights throughout Europe as much as read about them. A man who has no need to compensate for his knowledge or status by being pretentious or overtly domineering, Porter is simply a jolly man who has some serious chops and is incredibly fun to learn from. He earned everyone’s respect within the first 30 minutes of the 2 hour class, and is the clear and definite highlight of our weekly curriculum.

The rest of our professors were also overall great. Although some of them dragged on and were overtly biased in their lectures, they all introduced interesting ideas which piqued our attention. Almost none of the of professors had slides or lecture material prepared and simply just talked on and on for 2 to 3 hours. It’s puzzling why classes are not shortened, because no one has the attention span fit for a French lecture. I snuck a look inside some larger lectures with just French students and at least half of them were on Facebook or online shopping.

Morale of the story: no matter where you go, all students zone out the same way.

This past week was a lot of firsts. Besides attending formal French class for the first time, I also got sick for the first time in about a year. The trams get very crowded in the mornings and afternoons, and I have noticed many people coughing and sneezing. Such close quarters and nights at the friendly neighborhood discotheque prove unhelpful in warding off sickness. Thankfully I was only out for one day, and missed only one class. This class happened to be the French language class which is offered at only one level, and that level just happens to be 400 times higher than 0 (the level which I reside and belong).

Needless to say, my absence from that class was sorely missed by Professor Christophe as I’m sure he enjoys just as much not understanding what I’m saying as I do what he is saying.

Hard at work, or hardly working? Definitely hard at work as we search for relevant historical sights on Pinterest.

“Ahhh. Oui, oui c’est bon!”

– The words I use to respond to every question in French.

Barry Yang

A WEEKEND “GETAWAY” TO MARSEILLE

There are many beautiful and famous cities in France that are worthy of visiting, at least according to my girlfriend’s Pinterest. Thus, we have made it a goal of ours to travel to as many French cities as possible during our time abroad. This weekend we got the opportunity to visit the port city Marseille. Armed with knowledge from a French TV show on Netflix called Marseille and a travel video about the city made in the 1970s, we set off to the beach by the beloved FlixBus. The FlixBus is actually not so beloved as it has been late every time we have ridden it and also the French police once forbade me from boarding the bus because apparently you needed a passport to go to Geneva (a fact that I’m not so sure is a fact because I had to go to Geneva by train after the 5-0 kicked me off, and nobody asked for my passport on the train or in Geneva). The ride was only 4.5 hours, which is child’s play when compared to the almost 8 hours we endured for Paris.

The city of Marseille definitely has character. While not the richest nor most beautiful city by any means, there is a certain aura about the city that one can respect and find even faintly charming. Prior to departing, my host dad warned me that Marseille was a very dangerous city with many thieves and that we must not wear any jewelry or watches on the streets; the same general thing was said by my girlfriend’s host mom. After going to Marseille, I can definitely see why my host dad and my girlfriend’s host mom said the things they did. The streets are much dirtier than Lyon and even Paris, and the buildings extremely dilapidated. There were parts of the city that were literally falling apart or had already fallen apart. However, given the lack of economic diversity in Marseille it is understandable why the city is at a lower socioeconomic strata.

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For over 2000 years the city has been a trade port, and there is little other developed industry to this day. The city’s trade port history also partially explains the number of immigrants we encountered. During our stay we probably heard more Arabic than French, but that may have been due to the location of our AirBnB which felt very Moroccan.

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Marseille was an overall good experience that was greatly tempered by the fact that we got sick halfway through the trip. There were many sights that we did not get to see in the city, but all in all we still had a great time. Week 4 in France has been filled with long long hours in the classroom as well as long long hours traveling. Some would say I am getting a very good handle on this work-life balance thing, and some would say I’m not even really in school. Whatever they say, I’am very fortunate and happy to be in France and look towards week 5 with unencumbered enthusiasm.

Barry Yang studied abroad in Lyon, France, in Spring 2017: http://eap.ucop.edu/OurPrograms/france/Pages/default.asp