I can’t believe this semester has flown by so quickly and that I’ll find myself in what, to me, will feel like a very chilly Bay Area in one week. With seven days still remaining between me and my comfortable bed, I leave Mérida tomorrow to travel to Belize. For the first time in my life I will be visiting another English speaking country. While I know simple things like finding a hotel will be much easier, I will miss speaking Spanish everyday. Still, I am excited to relax on the beach, especially after the nonstop busyness of the last week.
These past few days have been a complete whirlwind. I had four final papers to finish while trying to make sure I got to spend sufficient time with everyone before I leave for the United States. (Advice for next semester: start final papers ASAP.) Luckily for me, I only had to really say goodbye to the people in the IFSA-Butler program rather than all the friends I have made here. Regardless, it has been difficult. My best friend here is Paige, and knowing she will not be apart of all my adventures next semester is hard to imagine. While I am anxious to meet the thirteen new students coming next semester, I am going to miss the long walks, movies, and dinners with the people who I have grown to love and admire within the program now.
In spite of all of that, this last week has been by far my favorite of the semester. On Monday I traveled with my friend Ezer to his pueblo where we took his motorcycle over to Itzamal, a small pueblo about an hour southeast of Mérida. Every 6th of December, Itzamal serenades la Virgen. We were only able to hear the last song, but hundreds of people had turned out to sing. Many of them had participated in peligrinos or privileges, often times running or biking for miles, to honor the Virgin.
It was also in Itzamal that I saw my first Corrida de torros (or bullfight), which is nothing like they are on TV. While I was not anticipating enjoying the fight, I firmly believe that one needs to witness one for themselves before judging it completely. I was expecting a single matador to spear a charging bull—blood dripping down its flank and the smell of sweat filling the stadium. Instead, six matadors stood in the ring none with spears. They would wave their dull pink capes and as soon as the bull got within 30 feet, they would drop their cape and run for cover. Most of the time the bull just stood there with an irritated look on his face. When the crowd grew tired of the bull, a group of ten cowboys would sprint out of the gate to try to lasso it. The bull would be dragged out of the stadium, put in a truck, and returned to its owner. Only the first bull is killed (behind closed doors) and its meat is sold to those in the town.
Motorcycling back to Mérida was beautiful. Thousands of stars lit up the sky and the Milky Way spilled overhead. It’s very surprising how fast the stars appear as soon as you leave the city limits. With few lights outside the cities, darkness takes over almost instantly. That night I slept in a hammock, and while I slept soundly, beds are much more comfortable for everyday sleep.
Yesterday Paige and I went to the beach at Progresso to meet up with two of our friends. There we went swimming in some Cenotes (waterholes) before we returned to eat fried Mera, a fish that comes bones, eyes, and skin still included. Delicious. Later that day, while we sat around, Manuel took out his guitar. We passed the evening singing a mixture of 70’s and 80’s rock songs in English and Spanish. Some of the favorites were Journey, Queen, and Pink Floyd. Yesterday was so special because it was so relaxing. There was no hurry nor any last minute Christmas stress. In fact, most people don’t even give gifts on Christmas. Through days like those, I have learned to just relax and roll with the punches. I never realized how stressed out day-to-day living in the United States can be until I came here, to such a relaxed environment. Although sometimes the slow nature of the city still boggles my mind, I sincerely hope I will be able to bring some of the relaxed culture back with me to America.

In the center of Belfast there is a huge shopping area where people come together to buy from all sects of sectarianism.  This has been a successful way of keeping downtown thriving, and shopping is something everyone does.  Suburbs and the malls that accompany them have done irreparable harm to tons of U.S. cities, and in Belfast malls of this nature would further segregation.

Note on Irish Cinema:  There is a whole subset devoted to “Peace-Process” films.  This isn’t what you’d think.  It delineates a time, rather than films about peace.  I read a small portion of “Film, Media and Popular Culture in Ireland,” by Martin McLoone that referred to the gentrification of downtown, and he explained:

“The continuing violence of working class Belfast and the sectarian nature of this conflict cannot be ignored politically and no amount of trendy urban regeneration will disguise the fact.”

I asked a friend I met, who is from Belfast, if he likes living here.  He told me he had left a few years ago to travel and write, and that Belfast was all he thought about it. “We are the generation our parents and grandparents always hoped for!” he said excitedly, pointing to the pub-goers around us.  “We are not defined by that anymore!”  I asked him about intolerance being handed down to new generations.  He agreed that it existed, but shook it off, “Everyone knows those guys are assholes.”

Another friend told me about the work he does with protestant youth groups, taking them down to Dublin to hang out with people their age.  I heard about this theater group who takes kids from east and west Belfast and puts on plays with them.  I read an article about a former IRA man turned yoga instructor, who helps former paramilitaries manage their anger.  I watched a few minutes of a documentary about how the punk movement brought people together.  A few months ago, I searched the internet for groups like these to get involved in, but couldn’t find any.  They exist, if you’re coming to Northern Ireland I suggest you try to find one.

Everyone you meet has a story about the Troubles or the legacy of the Troubles.  A man was beat up by soldiers on his way home from school. Rocks were thrown at a little girl’s school bus, she learned to duck because the windows broke all the time. My friends from “the south” (Republic of Ireland) feel unsafe going into certain pubs because of their accents. A police officer of 30 years never once hit anyone with his baton. Queen’s students for the first time are playing sports with people from the other side, and making friends.  A classmate told our tutorial without apprehension, “I’m an Irishman, I’m an Ulsterman, I’m a citizen of the United Kingdom…I’m Northern Irish.  It’s a thing all in itself.”

The past two weeks I have been thinking about what I wish I would have known before I came or when I arrived in Cardiff.
One thing I wished would have been stressed more before I came is the UK academic style compared to the U.S. school system. The transition def was not as easy as I assumed it would be. Course-work, language usage, along with the structure of the class are some of the main differences. Future students should be prepared to be frustrated at times, but please do not let your frustrations consume your study abroad. I’m not sure how many deep breaths I had to take or how many times I had to tell myself God did not bring me over here to fail, but to excel.

As it relates to the cultural sc1nce I wish I would have signed up for facebook notification of Cardiff events; as a resut of late sign-up I missed the performance of Kyla & the Funky Cousins (uk funky house music artist).

Though I have never been much of a jeans and tshirt girl, I decided to pack mostly jeans and tshirts, because they are easy to pack. In the UK, many universities are not fine with jeans and tshirt wearing female students. Most female students dress up for class. So future students do not be surprised.

Since most UK universities do not have student meal plans, most students cook thier own meals or order out. For the first month and a half I ordered out. Finally, I decided to go to the grocery store to save more money. The amount of money I saved from cooking my own meals is incredible. I wish I would have started earlier.

Lastly, if you are a minority student preparing to study abroad understand and expect race relations to be very simliar and different to those of America. If you bear that in mind and keep a positive attitude, open-mind you won’t have any problems that you can’t overcome.

Okay so here is a list I would have developed about must see or do in Cardiff:
Brandi’s Best of Cardiff List:
Best Night-Club: Glam
Best sandwiches: Cafe in the Park
Best Splurge Store: House of Fraser
Best Budget Dept. Store: Primark
Best Grocery Store: Tesco
Best Snack: Toffee Waffles, Welsh Cakes
Best Prepaid Phone Service: Orange
Best Value Store: Poundland
Best Candy Bar: Daim
Best Pizza: Pizza Express
Must-see: Cardiff Castle, Cardiff Bay, Welsh Life Museum

Cheers,
Brandi

I missed the pumpkin pie and the days off from class, but Thanksgiving weekend was full and enjoyable.  One might say I saved the best for last, only now seeing Northern Ireland’s most famous tourist attractions.  Our tour bus drove along the coast stopping first at the Carrick-A-Rede rope bridge.  Crossing the Bridge Fortunately, the weather was for the most part dry, and the bridge only shook from the clomping walk of the person in front of me.  It was made out to be scary, but I wasn’t scared.  While my friend was encouraging her bravery by saying to herself, “Don’t look down,” I attribute looking down to my calm.  It was so pretty that it distracted my fear.  (I also expected it to be longer.)

Our next stop was the ruins of the Dunluce Castle.  A romantic epic situated on the edge of a cliff.  A cave underneath the house served as a garage for ships.  The kitchen once collapsed in the late 17th century and the seven cooks were swallowed by the sea.  I was giddy to climb around the ruins. 

Our last stop was the Giant’s Causeway, a mysterious geological formation of basalt hexagons that fit together like the pattern of a soccer ball (excuse me, football). Legend has it that an Irish giant challenged a Scottish giant to a fight, and had built a bridge so that they could meet.  The Irish giant soon realized that the Scottish giant was significantly larger than him and ran to his “mammy” for advice.  She dressed him up like a baby.  When the Scottish giant came she told him that his opponent would soon be back from the fields.  While he was waiting the cooing babe bit his finger off.  He decided that if the baby was that large and fierce he didn’t want to fight the adult version.  So he ran away throwing the bridge behind him, piling the rocks as we see them today.

This Thanksgiving was my first thanksgiving away from my family. Initially I had planned to be in Cardiff and just go about it as a regular day. A few days before the holiday, my friend in London called me and said her and her flat mate were having a thanksgiving dinner. I decided to go since I did not have classes that day.

After a few hours of being in London with my friends, I begin to really miss my family. Though I was very thankful having people to share the holiday, it still could not replace the traditional thanksgiving we have at home. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the black Friday deals I would miss.

Once all the guests left, I was able to sort out my thoughts and realize I have so much to be thankful. Besides my family, friends, and good health I am very grateful for having the opportunity to study abroad.

Now I have about 13 days left before I head back to the U.S. I can’t believe it’s time to leave already. Studying abroad has help me to experience a taste of globalization and multiculturalism in a different way. I am also very much looking forward for my opportunities to go abroad, which is why I decided to apply to graduate school where I do one year in the states and another in Switzerland.

I refuse to spend my next two weeks counting the days, instead I want to enjoy my last outing with friends, finish up finals, and absorb my last breath in the UK for 2009.

Cheers,
Brandi

Its strange the things you take comfort in when you find yourself living in a culture and country different than your own. This Tuesday, one of my favorite Mexican bands, Reik, will perform here in Mérida. Today, my friend Ruthie and I decided we could no longer procrastinate and needed to finally go and purchase tickets. After waiting over 30 minutes for the bus to come, we arrived at the coffee shop where one can buy tickets (yes, here there is no such thing as Ticketmaster. Instead, tickets are purchased at random stores or restaurant such as Italian Coffee Shop or Burger King.). We asked for two general tickets and were told that the people who actually sell the tickets weren’t there. The employee had no idea when they would decide to come back. Frustrated we left the coffee shop only to hop on yet another bus to go to another ticket selling place. Everything that would normally take 20 minutes in the United States (or in this case two minutes) takes three hours here in Mexico. Anyway, to make a long story short, we arrived home with Reik tickets finally in our hands. However, the fact that people sold tickets without any form of schedule made me realize that while so much of Mexico is so familiar and comfortable, there are some things that are impossible to get used to.
Additionally, I have noticed that I take comfort in things that I never before realized where so important to me. While in the U.S., I am either blasting reggaeton or musica ranchera , here I find a strange comfort in country music. When I am upset I find myself turning to Brad Paisley or the Zac Brown Band instead of my typical Spanish music. The irony lies in the fact that while I did listen to country in the U.S., I never CHOSE to listen to it. Another weird comfort: mashed potatoes. I have never really been a potato person, and while at Thanksgiving my brother would always build giant dams with his mashed potatoes and gravy, I never really enjoyed the food. However, this week my host mom, Rebecca, made instant mashed potatoes and I was in heaven, not so much for the taste but because it reminded me of the comfort of home. It will be very interesting to see what other strange things I crave over the next six months that I am here in Mexico.

Wow. I can’t believe I only have one month left before I have to head back to the states. Lately, I have been thinking if I have done everything I set out or wanted to do while I was here. I have short list to dos before my flight on December 13. My list includes a few things I still want to capture pictures of and souvenirs I need to purchase for my family and friends.

Recently, I went to Dublin for a few days just to experience a new change in scenery from Cardiff and London. The people were really nice in Dublin. While I was there I thought that if I traveled by foot everywhere it would be more scenic journey than if caught a cab. Needless to say I was able to take lots of great pictures of the Dublin Castle, City Hall, the quay, and numerous other attractions. One thing I really liked about Dublin is that all of the attractions are rather close to each other. Even though I had known I was going to be visiting Dublin beforehand I still did not tell my mom till afterward, since I did not want them to worry about me.

Now I’m not encouraging anyone to go anywhere without your family. I decided to leave all my details with my cousin just in case something happened she would know where I was. I decided to mail my mom and granny a postcard from Dublin. I can’t wait to hear their reactions, when they get card in the mail.

On another note classes are getting better each week. It has been rather frustrating at times to adapt to UK academic standards of essay writing and test-taking. One the main differences are here the students are given more freedom in their essay structures to develop it however they want. In the American system many teachers think the more freedom you give students the more errors can occur. But I guess the key is just to keep a positive attitude and not to give up, because no one said studying abroad was going to be easy.

Though I am very anxious to get back home and see my family and friends, I realize that I will definitely miss Cardiff-the people, the atmosphere. I am already trying to figure out how and when I am going to come back. It looks like I could be back in the summer depending how a few things turn out. Well I have to run now.

Cheers,
Brandi

p.s. this week’s pictures are from Dublin

I normally frame a scene by what I’m eating and what music I’m listening to.  But this time it didn’t fit.  My sandwich wasn’t good, the music was normal for me; the two criterium separate, and not enhancing.  I was on the train to Derry for Halloween.  The sign that lists the stops calls it London Derry/Derry, the British name slash the Irish name, the Protestant name slash the Catholic name.  The only walled city in Ireland.  Out of the left side of the window are farm fields, on the right steel cold coastline.  And while the structure of my words matches, it’s an anti-symmetry.

While much of Europe is unimpressed with Halloween, Ireland celebrates Halloween.  A Celtic pagan holiday where the boundaries between the living and the dead fall for a night in autumn.  The lighter half of the year transitions to the darker half of the year.  People dress up all week.  I think about masks and the strangers sitting next to me.

We are led on a tour by a Buddhist.  From the walls I see that a cannon is pointing at a butterfly intended to symbolize peace.  Underneath us is the Bogside, a site of the Easter Uprising with a 1972 massacre bearing its name.  The murals embalm their past in black and white, glimpses of what has happened.  The present slash future is in color; rainbows, doves, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King.

This past week I traveled from Prague to Berlin to Amsterdam by train.  I got to Berlin on November 9^th the 20^th anniversary of the wall being torn down.  I step out of the metro down the street from Brandenburg Gate and hear Hillary Clinton’s voice.  There was a huge crowd standing in the steel cold rain watching the ceremony.  Giant dominoes that have been painted by people in places torn by walls line the street.  Mexican artists.  Palestinian artists. The Berliners knocked them down.  I will come back to Belfast when the Peace Line topples.

This past week my parents flew out to visit me during La semana de Antropología, which is the week that the foreign exchange students don’t have school. We decided to go to Oaxaca for El Día de los Muertos as there are still many traditional events that take place in the cemeteries throughout the city and the nearby towns.
I grew up on road trips and enjoyed the fact that I would get to go on another one. I really feel that road trips teaches and exposes you to much more of the country than flying ever can. When you drive, you get to see how the geography of the country changes, and in turn how it affects the way of life of the people. It’s beautiful.
Our trip was amazing. We ended up driving almost 2000 miles over six days. Somehow we survived without any hiccups stuffed together in a tiny Dodge Atos.
Leaving Mérida, we passed through the open, sprawling savannah of Yucatán and Campeche and into the jungly mountains of Chiapas. The weather shifted drastically from overbearing humidity to a fresh, crisp fall night.
While everything drawls on in Yucatán, there is a lively, upbeat pace to San Cristóbal, Chiapas. The vibrant colonial town is home to an enchanting mixture of Ladinos (people of Spanish decent), Mestizos (a mixture of Spanish and indigenous decent), and Mayans. There is an obvious separation between the groups, yet despite the division, there is a charm and comfort that envelops the region.
Before heading off to Oaxaca, we stopped in Chumula, a traditional pueblo where the Mayan culture is very much alive. While there, we entered their church – a captivating mix of Catholicism and their traditional religions. The church is open 24 hours and at any moment you may find Chamulans inside the church praying over candles to the saints of their choosing.
In Oaxaca, we discovered a dry region full of red rock, scrubby brush, and the occasional cactus. Huge mountain ranges surrounded all sides of the Oaxaca valley. For the first time since I arrived in Mexico, I saw people dressed in jeans, button-down plaid shirts, boots, and sombreros – my stereotype of everyday clothing. In the centro of Oaxaca, people were friendly, yet unlike Mérida, did not haggle tourists. However, because we only stayed downtown, I did not get a chance to get a very comprehensive understanding of the city.
Coming home we drove through Veracruz and Tabasco, both of which were being hit hard by a huge storm. Rivers overflowed in Tabasaco, leaving tens of thousands homeless. Cars crawled through the flooded streets spraying dirty water onto the sidewalks. Pemex is the main employer in the region, and in the mornings busloads of people wearing bright orange jumpsuits hurry off to the petroleum plants. Closer to the coast, the people in the little pueblitos weigh out the day’s catch of fish, shrimp, and octopus.
All in all, it was a wonderful trip that provided me with a wonderful opportunity to see the striking beauty of the Mexican countryside as well as the many cultures that make up this intricate country. The more I travel and see, the more I realize that Mexico has many faces and is impossible to stereotype. Each region has its own unique culture and it is useless to try to simplify its complexity into one national culture.

Church in Chamula

Looking back I realize I haven’t said anything about my actual classes.  I am taking “Contemporary Cinema,” “Current Irish Cinema: Debates and Contexts,” and “Deeply Divided Societies.”  My film classes take place in the “Queen’s Film Theater” or “QTF,” which is an actual theater playing regular features at night.  It is a full sized screen with plush red seats that have mini pull-out desk tops.  If only I had a light-up pen!  These classes combine a lecture, a screening, and a discussion once a week.  In “Contemporary Cinema” we just finished our unit on Asian cinema (Hong Kong, Thailand, and South Korea), discussing what is new, what makes the films contemporary.  In my Irish cinema class I’ve learned about Ireland’s economic history and we’ve discussed outside views of Ireland verses internal identity.

My politics course has two lectures a week plus a tutorial.  We have studied South Africa, Yugoslavia, Israel and Palestine, the nature of violence, and nonviolent activism. It is a large class and I have been disappointed in the loose communication between the three lecturers and my tutorial leader.  The reading, lectures, and discussion don’t overlap much, and I feel I haven’t gotten to “unpack” what I’ve learned.

The semester officially ends in January.  The spring semester at my home university starts in early January, so I will be completing “alternative assessment” before I leave.  For my politics course, instead of an exam I will be writing two essays, and for my film courses I have to turn in my papers early.  This worries me, for in the UK school system one exam or essay usually constitutes 90% of your grade.  In my program in the states I receive written evaluations instead of letter grades, so these three grades will be my entire GPA.  And not all learning is done in the classroom!

So I’m trying to balance school work, travel, and keeping in touch with home.  I read my homework on jolting trains and buses.  So it goes.