To counter-balance any lounging by canals in warm sunlight, I crashed my bike on Monday morning. I literally fell back to reality. The reality that I needed a new wheel and some actual tread on my back tire so I could, well, stop. It sucked, but the only real damage was to my ego, the skin on my knee, and the wheel.
I obviously walked into class with a less-than-sunny outlook on life. Nothing like starting off your morning by falling off your bike, damaging it and having to walk the rest of the way. We got our tests and papers back, and I did well. Thank god I did, because if I hadn't I'm pretty sure I would have got up, left, and shut myself in the bathroom for a few hours until I was ready to face the day again.
Now, Barney is fine. He is as mobile and squeaky as ever. I am hoping I am not jinxing myself by saying that. And honestly, I'm just glad I still have him. Two people from my program have had their bikes stolen.
Coming back from class, I bought a pack of stroopwaffels and found a place to watch The West Wing online. Nothing is a better cure than cookies and witty repartee. This needed to happen before I went and got my bike fixed.
I've been incredibly busy. I don't think I've really mentioned this before, but I have ridiculous amounts of work. I know way more about the law of the sea and maritime jurisdiction than I ever wanted to. I also know a lot of statutes regarding self-defense and dog restrictions under California state law thanks to the most random assignment ever (thanks, comparative law seminar! You're the best!). I'm also spending a lot of time at the boathouse, whether rowing or completing our off-water workouts. Seeing as spending time there takes about 40 minutes of bike ride each way, it eats up a lot of time.
Things are good. They really are. I mean, honestly, this is the experience of a lifetime. But that in itself can't stave off all flickers of homesickness. And today, on a cloudy, chilly day in Amsterdam in which I'm supposed to read a case entitled the Fisheries Jurisdiction Case (UK v. Iceland), I would much rather be at home next to a wood stove with my family or having brunch with my Maryland girls or running around with the team and roommates in Ithaca.
And I don't care if I sound like a tea-party member when I say it, but I would just like to go one single day in which I understand every word spoken to me. Or around me. I am just tired.
I realize that in light of my last post, this may seem sudden. But it's just normal. You have your days, and take the good where you find it, shrug the bad off your shoulders, and mark on your calendar the day you'll see the people you so dearly miss.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Lazy Sunday
The weather was so nice today. The nicest it has been since we all got here. It was 70 degrees, sunny, with a nice breeze.
I almost just slipped into radio mode there. "It is 39 degrees on Ithaca's South Hill. With ICB News..."
Anyway, I woke up in the morning to sun (I know! Revolutionary!) and headed out for a run. I decided to forgo my usual route and just went and went and went. I ran over and under bridges, around churches, on winding roads and under the cover of trees (trees! In the city!). Then, without really planning it, I stopped.
I found my bench and laid next to a canal that is just lower than the road and blocked from the hustle of the city. Boats would putter by occasionally, but mostly it was just the swans, ducks, and me. Laying there with my eyes closed, I could have tricked myself into believing I was at the lake back home. But then I realized--it doesn't have to be the lake back home to be good. It's worthy of its own moment and beauty and doesn't need nostalgia to be great.
So I just took it all in. I later headed out to a waterfront cafe with a few friends and we sat outside, splurging on lattes and time without work. Now, I've got a paper to finish about the ICC's role in "enforcement" of the convention with respect to the treatment of prisoners of war. It really is the best conclusion to a nearly idyllic Sunday.
In other news, I just booked my last trip...Barcelona in December! (Thanks to Uncle Judd and Aunt Michelle, my birthday gift just got me a flight to SPAIN!)
I almost just slipped into radio mode there. "It is 39 degrees on Ithaca's South Hill. With ICB News..."
Anyway, I woke up in the morning to sun (I know! Revolutionary!) and headed out for a run. I decided to forgo my usual route and just went and went and went. I ran over and under bridges, around churches, on winding roads and under the cover of trees (trees! In the city!). Then, without really planning it, I stopped.
I found my bench and laid next to a canal that is just lower than the road and blocked from the hustle of the city. Boats would putter by occasionally, but mostly it was just the swans, ducks, and me. Laying there with my eyes closed, I could have tricked myself into believing I was at the lake back home. But then I realized--it doesn't have to be the lake back home to be good. It's worthy of its own moment and beauty and doesn't need nostalgia to be great.
So I just took it all in. I later headed out to a waterfront cafe with a few friends and we sat outside, splurging on lattes and time without work. Now, I've got a paper to finish about the ICC's role in "enforcement" of the convention with respect to the treatment of prisoners of war. It really is the best conclusion to a nearly idyllic Sunday.
In other news, I just booked my last trip...Barcelona in December! (Thanks to Uncle Judd and Aunt Michelle, my birthday gift just got me a flight to SPAIN!)
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Revelations to and from the Boathouse
I just did not feel up for it. I did not want to go. You kind of have to get yourself prepped for spending a few hours having no idea what anyone is saying. I did not want to go to practice today. It's really cool and everything, but it can be tough being only one of two things: a novelty or a burden. "An American! Oh! That is so cool!" or "You don't speak...oh...hokay..."
But I got my butt out the door, onto my bike, and biked all the way to the boathouse.
I waited for awhile, and my coach, a grad student, came and joined me. She was excited to talk with me, and we compared our rowing experiences and she regaled me with tales of a ridiculous crew party she went to on Tuesday. It was really cool finally talking to a Dutch person...normally.
None of the other girls in my four showed up.
I would have been sad, but this turned into the coolest thing ever.
She took me down to the tanks they have in the boathouse. (I know, I'm seriously making a list for Becky to include in the new Ithaca boathouse. First, a bar. Second, TANKS.)
And that is how I got a private technique lesson from a World Championship rower.
My brain almost exploded. Becky has tried over and over to fix my body position, and I think I finally understood it today.
But still. I don't even know how to tell this story without repeating the words "cool" and "awesome" an absurd number of times. When I was going to row the first time here I actually got mad at myself. Mad that I always had to do something more, and make it harder for myself. Why couldn't I have just been normal and not rowed for a semester? Why couldn't I be like everything else? This is awkward and stressful and geez I do not like being totally informed all the time and knowing exactly how things are going to work and I like being comfortable and here I am in some sketchy part of Amsterdam heck I don't think I'm in the city anymore for all I know I'm in Belgium I COULD have been taking a stroll somewhere nice but no, I would never do that, so man up, and figure this out.
Biking back, I realized that the bike is what really sums it up. Out of all the things and problems and challenges in Amsterdam, I was MOST worried about the bike. I think I got stomach pains whenever someone mentioned it. "Why the heck," I thought, "didn't I go to a city where they really like public transportation? WHY BIKES?"
To start off I white knuckled it everywhere, flinching constantly, terrified. Today, riding home, I felt comfortable. I passed people, merged into crowds of moving metal, and got home fast. I knew exactly where I was going. And I knew exactly how to do it.
I guess I'm finally accepting that a little discomfort comes along with anything worth doing. Amsterdam's helping me stop calculating risks, planning every last detail, fretting over any unknown or could-be.
Quite literally, I'm loosening my grip. And it's a way better ride.
But I got my butt out the door, onto my bike, and biked all the way to the boathouse.
I waited for awhile, and my coach, a grad student, came and joined me. She was excited to talk with me, and we compared our rowing experiences and she regaled me with tales of a ridiculous crew party she went to on Tuesday. It was really cool finally talking to a Dutch person...normally.
None of the other girls in my four showed up.
I would have been sad, but this turned into the coolest thing ever.
She took me down to the tanks they have in the boathouse. (I know, I'm seriously making a list for Becky to include in the new Ithaca boathouse. First, a bar. Second, TANKS.)
And that is how I got a private technique lesson from a World Championship rower.
My brain almost exploded. Becky has tried over and over to fix my body position, and I think I finally understood it today.
But still. I don't even know how to tell this story without repeating the words "cool" and "awesome" an absurd number of times. When I was going to row the first time here I actually got mad at myself. Mad that I always had to do something more, and make it harder for myself. Why couldn't I have just been normal and not rowed for a semester? Why couldn't I be like everything else? This is awkward and stressful and geez I do not like being totally informed all the time and knowing exactly how things are going to work and I like being comfortable and here I am in some sketchy part of Amsterdam heck I don't think I'm in the city anymore for all I know I'm in Belgium I COULD have been taking a stroll somewhere nice but no, I would never do that, so man up, and figure this out.
Biking back, I realized that the bike is what really sums it up. Out of all the things and problems and challenges in Amsterdam, I was MOST worried about the bike. I think I got stomach pains whenever someone mentioned it. "Why the heck," I thought, "didn't I go to a city where they really like public transportation? WHY BIKES?"
To start off I white knuckled it everywhere, flinching constantly, terrified. Today, riding home, I felt comfortable. I passed people, merged into crowds of moving metal, and got home fast. I knew exactly where I was going. And I knew exactly how to do it.
I guess I'm finally accepting that a little discomfort comes along with anything worth doing. Amsterdam's helping me stop calculating risks, planning every last detail, fretting over any unknown or could-be.
Quite literally, I'm loosening my grip. And it's a way better ride.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
OHMIGOD YOU GUYS
Today I rowed with the Dutch. Our coxswain was also our coach, and she was pretty game for explaining everything in very broken english. But it didn't really matter, because I was SO EXCITED ABOUT EVERYTHING. She also stood up in the boat to demonstrate things, which was mildly terrifying.
I was kind of upset that the outboard arm rowing drill followed me all the way to the Netherlands.
There are a few differences, though.
1. I rowed in the 2 seat for the first time, which I never thought would be possible. Well, there you go. Everyone here's a giant.
2. Everything is in Dutch. In the very beginning she tried to use both languages, but I caught on to the general terms, like stop and go. Which are kind of key. I also learned what backing and sitting at the catch are. I'm not going to mangle the spelling here for you, but if I hear them, I understand them.
3. They do not have shoes in the boat. There are straps just like on an erg.
4. They never go to shoulders. I was kind of sad, because I wanted to experience the magic of being a short person carrying a boat.
5. I biked and took a tram to practice. The boathouse is right outside of the city, which is a pain but also really cool because we actually row past fields with cows and sheep and windmills. WINDMILLS. There are also house boats, and in the distance at one part you can see some stadium of some kind. I'll get back to you on what it actually is.
Can you tell I kept my head in the boat? But I rowed really well, I promise!
6. They do power 7s instead of power 10s. I do not understand this, but whatever.
7. It's a good workout but the atmosphere is way more relaxed. It's all student run, and they want you to do well, but there's not such a feeling of competition.
8. They wash the boat every time they take it out, because the Amstel is super dirty.
9. Everything is in Dutch, and 90 percent of the time I have no idea what is happening. I think I'm getting pretty good at faking it, though.
10. After our row, we were waiting around for some final words from our coach. One of the girls turns to me and says:
"We're talking about what hurts on us."
And then another adds:
"And how excited we are for dinner."
Oh, wait, did I say things were different? It turns out they're all the same.
I was kind of upset that the outboard arm rowing drill followed me all the way to the Netherlands.
There are a few differences, though.
1. I rowed in the 2 seat for the first time, which I never thought would be possible. Well, there you go. Everyone here's a giant.
2. Everything is in Dutch. In the very beginning she tried to use both languages, but I caught on to the general terms, like stop and go. Which are kind of key. I also learned what backing and sitting at the catch are. I'm not going to mangle the spelling here for you, but if I hear them, I understand them.
3. They do not have shoes in the boat. There are straps just like on an erg.
4. They never go to shoulders. I was kind of sad, because I wanted to experience the magic of being a short person carrying a boat.
5. I biked and took a tram to practice. The boathouse is right outside of the city, which is a pain but also really cool because we actually row past fields with cows and sheep and windmills. WINDMILLS. There are also house boats, and in the distance at one part you can see some stadium of some kind. I'll get back to you on what it actually is.
Can you tell I kept my head in the boat? But I rowed really well, I promise!
6. They do power 7s instead of power 10s. I do not understand this, but whatever.
7. It's a good workout but the atmosphere is way more relaxed. It's all student run, and they want you to do well, but there's not such a feeling of competition.
8. They wash the boat every time they take it out, because the Amstel is super dirty.
9. Everything is in Dutch, and 90 percent of the time I have no idea what is happening. I think I'm getting pretty good at faking it, though.
10. After our row, we were waiting around for some final words from our coach. One of the girls turns to me and says:
"We're talking about what hurts on us."
And then another adds:
"And how excited we are for dinner."
Oh, wait, did I say things were different? It turns out they're all the same.
Rotterdam!
On Friday IES sponsored a day trip to Rotterdam, another city in the Netherlands. I had a lot of fun despite the on and off rain.
Here's the thing about Rotterdam. It doesn't look like Amsterdam, even though it's only about an hour and a half train ride away. See, during the Second World War, Germany sent a message to the Netherlands, demanding surrender. If the Netherlands did not surrender immediately, Germany would bomb the nation's most prosperous port city, Rotterdam. The Netherlands quickly surrendered. The thing is, Germany didn't get it until after they'd wiped the entire city center off the map through bombs and the subsequent fire.
That's why what used to look like this:
The whole city is completely devoted to modern architecture. My favorite was the cube houses. Yeah, people actually live here:
Here's the thing about Rotterdam. It doesn't look like Amsterdam, even though it's only about an hour and a half train ride away. See, during the Second World War, Germany sent a message to the Netherlands, demanding surrender. If the Netherlands did not surrender immediately, Germany would bomb the nation's most prosperous port city, Rotterdam. The Netherlands quickly surrendered. The thing is, Germany didn't get it until after they'd wiped the entire city center off the map through bombs and the subsequent fire.
That's why what used to look like this:
Now looks like this:
The whole city is completely devoted to modern architecture. My favorite was the cube houses. Yeah, people actually live here:
The whole city is under construction. There are still a few parts that were amazingly spared from the fires, solely because of how the winds were blowing that day. So there's some interesting contrast.
That white building was the tallest building in Europe for about 50 years. You wouldn't think so. Now it's not even the tallest in Rotterdam.
Someone asked our tour guide, who was an architect who grew up and worked in Rotterdam his whole life, if people were bothered by the constant, overwhelming construction.
He said they loved the sight of construction, because it meant growth and life as opposed to destruction. The whole atmosphere of the city is still directed by the bombing, and it's constantly remembered in artwork throughout the city, like this statue:
See how his heart is missing?
So, a trip to Rotterdam. A typical Friday in my life now, I guess.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Brussels
There was a little planning. Not much. We started the trip on the bus asking, "So...anyone know where our hostel is?" No one did.
But we obviously found it.
But we obviously found it.
I look very dramatic in this picture. But I was actually very excited.
And we had waffles.
NOM NOM NOM
And we went to the folk life festival. Which involved dancing and beer in the gorgeous, totally ornate city center.
So much fun.
We sampled chocolates in front of the national opera house.
MORE NOMS. I would be obese if I lived here.
We saw amazing sights.
Not from a movie. Real.
We even danced upon rooftops.
We had an amazing adventure in Brussels.
And I'll remember it forever.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Pieces of Home
It's funny how you start to romanticize everything.
I mean, really. You spend a few weeks in another country, even if it is western Europe, and part of you seriously starts to believe that the United States of America burps daisies and rainbows.
There are parts of the Dutch culture I love. The waffles. The height. The open air markets. The relaxed and yet intellectual culture. There are parts that I was skeptical about, but am slowly coming to accept. I've been riding my bike everywhere, and today I even bought a pair of leggings.
But then there are the moments where you go completely go insane. There is no Mexican or any Latin American food here. There is literally every other kind of ethnic food you could ever dream of, but forget Mexican. One of my friends made guacamole yesterday, and I nearly died of happiness. I found a random American dollar the other day and literally acted like I'd seen a cute baby. "Awwww! Americaaaa! Coinage that makes logical sennssseee!"
In the main shopping district there is literally a place called "The American Book Store." We went in the other day and almost lost it. They had every magazine ever. The NFL Season Preview. Entertainment Weekly. It was weirdly comforting to see all the trashy publications that you usually see lining the grocery store check-outs. "Oh my God! Maci!" shrieked one of my friends. "She's my favorite Teen Mom!"
"Uh...you have a favorite?"
I also started listening to VIC radio, Ithaca's internet radio station. Did I EVER listen to it while at Ithaca or in the United States? No. The only time I heard it was when I myself was speaking into the microphone doing the news. Now, I throw it on when I'm hanging around or doing the dishes. And I act like a jerk and critique the newscasters to myself. "Why would you lead with that story? That was awkward phrasing." And whenever there's dead air or the news or sports bed is too loud, which, well, happens, I instinctually cringe inside.
Tomorrow, I'm heading out to check out some even newer culture, as I take a trek with a few people down to Belgium! I'll keep you updated and maybe even take some pictures. For once.
I mean, really. You spend a few weeks in another country, even if it is western Europe, and part of you seriously starts to believe that the United States of America burps daisies and rainbows.
There are parts of the Dutch culture I love. The waffles. The height. The open air markets. The relaxed and yet intellectual culture. There are parts that I was skeptical about, but am slowly coming to accept. I've been riding my bike everywhere, and today I even bought a pair of leggings.
But then there are the moments where you go completely go insane. There is no Mexican or any Latin American food here. There is literally every other kind of ethnic food you could ever dream of, but forget Mexican. One of my friends made guacamole yesterday, and I nearly died of happiness. I found a random American dollar the other day and literally acted like I'd seen a cute baby. "Awwww! Americaaaa! Coinage that makes logical sennssseee!"
In the main shopping district there is literally a place called "The American Book Store." We went in the other day and almost lost it. They had every magazine ever. The NFL Season Preview. Entertainment Weekly. It was weirdly comforting to see all the trashy publications that you usually see lining the grocery store check-outs. "Oh my God! Maci!" shrieked one of my friends. "She's my favorite Teen Mom!"
"Uh...you have a favorite?"
I also started listening to VIC radio, Ithaca's internet radio station. Did I EVER listen to it while at Ithaca or in the United States? No. The only time I heard it was when I myself was speaking into the microphone doing the news. Now, I throw it on when I'm hanging around or doing the dishes. And I act like a jerk and critique the newscasters to myself. "Why would you lead with that story? That was awkward phrasing." And whenever there's dead air or the news or sports bed is too loud, which, well, happens, I instinctually cringe inside.
Tomorrow, I'm heading out to check out some even newer culture, as I take a trek with a few people down to Belgium! I'll keep you updated and maybe even take some pictures. For once.
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