Souvenirs 2012

SOUVENIRS

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a collection of international 1 experiences 2012

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Editor’s Note The journal you are holding right now is the culmination of plane tickets, layovers, culture shock, and daring to seek out the unknown. Souvenirs is a journal that has the ability to give you brief glimpses of life beyond one’s comfort zone, beyond the borders of one’s home country or home language. As a student who has recently spent a semester abroad, I truly believe that opening your eyes to a once “foreign” place is one of the most rewarding things a person can do. I’ve always been struck by the word “foreign” and its subjectiveness. By opening yourself up to new places, languages, foods, norms, and people, terms that are often thrown around like “foreign country” or “foreign language” start to lose their meaning, and the prospect of going abroad is suddenly less daunting. In a recent conversation with a friend, I heard my host country, Spain, be referred to as a “foreign country”. I did not expect to be so thrown by this. How could this place be foreign? It was my home for four months! I realized, then, that while we all don’t have the chance to hop onto a plane and create new homes for ourselves outside of the US borders, we do have the capability to learn more about “foreign” places and be more open to them, to try on a new language or sample a different-tasting dish. Most importantly, we can learn from those who have traveled before us, and have a view into what life was like for them whilst abroad.

This year, I invite you to use Souvenirs as your outlet for doing just that.

Editor-in-Chief Lauren Hodkiewicz

Marketing Manager Amie Kjellstrom

Assistant Marketing Manager Mai Shoua Vang

Layout Editors Michael Crump, Molly Hayman

Copy Editors Molly Hayman, Allison Kucek, Emily Rappleye, Jeremy Parker, Megan Michel, Christian Beltz, Mary Kate McBride Photography Reviewers Amie Kjellstrom, Katie Heinrich, Arielle Choyce, Haley Christensen, Mary Kate McBride

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Submission Reviewers Katie Heinrich, Erica Buege, Kelsey Scherer, Alyssa Sands, Christian Beltz, Danielle Kutka Webmaster Seth Huiras

WUD Directors Publications Committee: Gayle Cottrill Global Connections Committee: Isabel Jilk Advisors Jim Rogers, Robin Senmoldt Contact uwsouvenirs@gmail.com

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Contents

Lake Luis, Canada Photo by Connor Wild

A Moment in Istanbul

3

A Soccer Game in Sesto Fiorentino

6

Lucas Runge

Born in Air

9

Carolyn Nave

Tips to Travel Alone

11

KT Howard

Bienes RaĂ­ces

19

Taylor Nye

Dancing to My Own Music in the United States

21

Sofiya Wan Mohd Nor

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Christin Whitener

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A Moment In Istanbul

by Christin Whitener

The day was almost over. Sitting alone in Taskim Square, I admitted to myself that I had been really scared; that was my reaction when I saw the piercing. Part of me felt as if I’d just crossed a line to some other side, a side where people would look at me and think “no” to themselves, as if I’d just closed 500 doors. I thought of the scar I would always have now, the way I’d just slashed my body as if by accident, a knife flying to the face.

Suddenly I wanted it to go away. I wanted to be innocent again, to be the one that conservative Christian elders can look at and love, the flower still fresh, delicate, and unimposing. It felt as if I’d just forfeited that naiveté forever. Yet that’s why I chose it, and choose it still. That little metal bar lodged into the skin above my eyebrow was my next stroke on the canvas. Call it dramatic; call it trivial.

Call it ugly or cool or strange when you pass me on the street, and see the mark of an eight-month freefall to the bottom of life, its sights and sounds: the view of the Aegean Sea from the back of a pickup truck, the taste of fresh-squeezed orange juice in the Moroccan heat, the feeling of finishing a 90-kilometer day of biking the

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Spanish countryside, Irish castles on hilltops, the energy in Madrid’s Gran Via at 5 A.M., a sky bursting with stars over a Greek island, Turkish circle dancing, sweat, tongue, cries of frustration and laughter, disaster, and surprise. Eight months of shedding timidity and diving in; Eight months of learning how to live.

And now what? I thought as the daylight began to fade. There was only one more stop before the dreaded return, that day I’d hoped life would never get around to. Stripped of the people I’d met and the many lives I’d lived, I’d go back with nothing left but memories, a tan and a piercing. Nothing to do to avoid it.

Nothing to do but to walk on. Get up from this fountain ledge in Taskim Square, have some drinks and let the hours carry me slowly to the Nordic mountains and back to the hills of the American Midwest.

There’s nothing like the sound of the prayer call in Istanbul as evening sets in. Sunset colors lean into richness and away again, and a voice lingers through its last few notes as if to say, “Feel, my friend, for dusk is falling.”

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Laundry Day in Burano Photo by Hope Carmichael

Marcahuasi, Peru Photo by Emily Welch

Christin is a senior majoring in English and Sociology with a certificate in Global Cultures. She has been lucky enough to visit various European countries, Morocco, Jamaica and Peru, and hopes to continue chasing life around the globe.

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Cheers to...

“Cheers to Gwo ka music on the

island of Guadeloupe for being an improvisational, carnival-enriching tradition that keeps the inner beat alive in all of us! I loved hearing the different rhythms and watching the dances that lead them.”

–Seth Huiras, Webmaster

“Cheers to

forgetting the pub fare and eating the best sushi of my life at Koi in London. I’m salivating just thinking about those perfectly crafted dragon rolls. Mmmm.”

–Amie Kjellstrom, Marketing Manager and Photography Reviewer

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“Cheers to

eating four coursetribunal meals in Ho Chi Minh City for only $3 per meal. Plus, delicious tropical fruits at my fingertips 24/7!

Hmmm, rambutan.”

–Mai Vang, Assistant Marketing Manager

“Cheers to

getting lost in Paris searching for the Catacombs and getting funny directions from nice French ladies, ‘marchez jusqu’à ce que vous voyez la statue de lion et tournez à gauche’ (Walk until you see the lion statue and turn left.)”

–Mary Kate McBride, Photography Reviewer and Copy Editor

Man Views Rome Photo by Christin Whitener 05/01/2012 19:23

A Soccer Game in

Venice Photo by Allie Brown

Sesto Fiorentino

by Luke Runge

T

he bar in which I sit is known as Bar Chiarlitti, or for locals, “Jolly Cafe.” Forty black chairs form an impressive line up before a 37” plasma screen hung up on the wall. Tonight, on said screen, Inter Milan is playing AC Milan in what is possibly the biggest game of the year for this boot-shaped nation. The contest boasts a PackersBears degree of rivalry, but on an

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international scale. These teams are top dogs in their realm of expertise, feared and admired by contenders and enthusiasts alike. The significance of this game can be felt in the buzz running like an electric field through the air of the bar— there is no question that soccer is the dominant sport here. Italian children grow up wanting to be astronauts, rock stars, but most of all, soccer gods.

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The clock reads 8 P.M. (which is 1 P.M. Madison time: a calculation I routinely make due to the long distance girlfriend). Only a few chairs remain empty. Most of the men are drinking Dos Equis, Corona, or Heineken; some absently lick ice cream cones, others suck on Chupa Chup lollipops (top shelf bar snacks, to be sure). There are no women in this audience. The gentlemen’s ages range from what looks to be about eleven, to the upper sixties. All, including me, enjoy a childlike, borderline Christmas sort of excitement.

Past the sports shrine consisting of plasma screen and black chairs is the bar, behind which a handsome man by the name of Angelo chats with customers and pops off beer tops. His English is eloquent, fluid, and unlike many of the

gesticulating Italians I’ve endured, he knows when a conversation should naturally end. He has a serious air about him, a sort of ‘business first’ exterior, and although some patrons throw a wary glance in his direction now and then, he demands a quiet, unquestioned respect. It doesn’t hurt that he makes good coffee. Some of my best Italian conversations have been with Angelo. Tonight, he tells me that AC Milan is going to win.

The game begins at nine.

Talking is frowned upon in two Italian situations: during Sunday mass, and during soccer. Truthfully, I’m not sure which event the Italian people consider more sacred.

So when do you ask for another beer?

Well, the spectators can resume conversations and drink orders during stoppages and at half, which

Bruges Photo by Brian Stum

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they do—loudly. These gentlemen are so familiar with the silence rule that it is practically second nature: at one point, I saw two guys abruptly end a particularly heated exchange as the game started, even though neither of them were looking at the screen. Late in the second half, however, the hallowed hush is violently broken.

Most of the audience is no longer watching the game, as their attention has been refocused on two tense gentlemen turned face to face in the standing area between the chairs and the bar, each wearing their team’s respective colors. The enemies converse in a manner more likely to be described as American than Italian: little if any arm movement, very few facial expressions, and their words lack the typical Italian vitality. Clearly, this is serious. A man’s arm limply hovers between them, timidly attempting to avert the mounting situation. The soccer announcers, bubbling with Italian animation and excitement, get louder, and it feels as if their volume increase is a response to what is going on in the bar. The bystanders absorb and amplify the tension building between these rigid opponents. A frozen moment overtakes the room. Neither

man moves. Without warning—no shouts, no shoves—the man on the left forcefully launches his right hand, and in a single instant, shatters his Heineken on the other man’s skull.

The firework of alcohol explodes, covering the nearest bystanders with a multitude of fizzy beer sprinkles.

Luckily, I escape the shrapnel at ten feet away; three rows closer, two sixth graders witness the outburst up close.

Fists are thrown. A few men attempt to restrain the pugilists as Angelo slides lithely over the bar, as if he’s done it a hundred times. Although his shouts do not silence the crowd, they somehow subdue the fighters into a reprimanded lull, which is rather impressive considering the visceral effects of multiple beers and quick coursing adrenaline. The perpetrator, fuming but forcibly disengaged, power walks out—probably to avoid the cops; the victim exits a few minutes later, probably to go to the hospital. Almost as an afterthought, the game ends 3-0, AC Milan. I amble back to the villa and lay down on a wooden bench as my own epinephrine begins to dissipate. I fall asleep under the stars, and sleepwalk up to my bedroom at some point during the night.

Lucas Runge is a senior English Literature major and a former soccer player who greatly enjoyed his time in Europe.

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Carolyn Nave is a sophomore from Appleton, Wisconsin currently majoring in pre-business. Carolyn discovered her love of poetry at her college preparatory high school in northern Arizona, where she placed second in a Slam poetry competition in 2009. She has traveled to a number of different countries including France, Italy, Switzerland and Australia, and hopes to explore more of the world after graduating.

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Note from the Author: At the time, I had been on a flight from Phoenix, Arizona to Milan, Italy. It was a lengthy period of time to be stuck in a chair, so I contented myself with listening to my mp3 player and watching the world go by. I had already been writing, making observations about desert scenery when a song by a band called ‘Rage Against the Machine’ came

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Born In Air An army of small clouds to the left like pissed-off Pomeranians on parade beer froth on the horizon dripping over a maze of mountains as smoke bubbles from below a dragon of the earth taking sides and fighting someone else’s political battles reading blood-soaked words off a prompter and the guy behind me keeps kicking my chair like he’s got some sick vendetta against green-eyed little girls but these giant yellow sand-serpents travel onward leaving wobbly trails behind them, filling steadily with the dismembered parts of watery revolutionaries fists full of silver and steel mouths dead, dripping disdain.

Carolyn Nave

Into The Unknown Photo by Melissa Gilmore

on. That’s where the references to rebellion came from. There really was a guy kicking the chair behind me, and with no sign of his stopping, I figured I would write about it. After some thought, though, I realized how insignificant that was compared to the unaffected sands we flew over. It resonated with me. Things like that can really make you think, so I did. I thought, and I wrote.

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TIPS TO TRAVEL

ALONE

A series of mostly true anecdotes

by

KT Howard

Odense, Denmark • It doesn’t matter where in the world you are, milk and cookies is the best afternoon snack ever.

• Drunk Danish men on New Year’s Eve are not the best dancers, but they are still gentlemanly. Dance and have fun.

• Knowledge of Hans Christian Anderson and his fairy tales is not required when visiting his museum.

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Lillehammer, Norway • Justify spending a fortune for pizza by only eating half and saving the rest.

• The emergency credit card is not always Just-for-Emergencies. Feel free to use for expensive pizza, ski equipment, and hot chocolate in the chalet.

• It’s really hard to back out of a steep ski hill if you’re already halfway down it. Stay the course, you’ll get through it. Alive.

• Just because the sun sets at three in the afternoon doesn’t mean that the town is dangerous. Wander about. Walk into a store and don’t buy anything. Explore!

• Despite the resemblances, Lillehammer is NOT northern Wisconsin.

• Stay in the hostel above the train station. The front desk is friendly, the guests’ kitchen is decently sized, and you get to fall asleep to the sound of passing trains.

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Stockholm, Sweden • Take pictures. Of everything. EVERYTHING. • Befriend the tour boat’s guide.

They have been places and have the best stories, not necessarily of the local area.

• Take advantage of the lowest prices. You counted fifty souvenir stores on one street alone. Shop around, you’re not in a hurry

• It’s always nice to

befriend fellow solo travelers, no matter where they are from.

• Just because you look Swedish doesn’t mean you speak it. Speak up if • Don’t be limited by the fact that it’s winter. All you don’t understand, and the animals in the zoo are don’t forget to apologize. winter animals anyway.

• Pig’s Knuckle tastes like pork. Turn the hoof away from you and be glad you didn’t order oddly-cooked fish.

If KT Howard had come across a certain blue box during her life, you will never know it. If she hiked across imaginary worlds for the thrill of it, you will sometimes know it. But if you were to discover that she prefers to travel to real countries on her own, she will never deny it. KT is also a senior majoring in Creative Writing.

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Helsinki, Finland • It’s okay to be bored.

• It’s also okay to complain about not seeing the open air museum. After all, it is closed in the winter, while the one in Stockholm was not.

• The last piece of pecan pie is for people like you.

Eat it.

• When in doubt, eat frozen pizza or pseudoChinese food for dinner.

Remember what happened in Stockholm?

• If you’re going to take over the world, • When exploring, check out a good start would be the shopping centers. You Soumenlinna. never have enough hats, or gloves, or scarves, and • Following a single pair those earrings look amazof footprints up the ing under your hair. fortress wall in front of the obvious “Do Not Climb” • If you can’t find a sign is not a valid excuse store selling Nightwish to a security officer. Do T-shirts, find a store so anyway. geekier than you instead.

• Spend time looking for the cutest cafes. And then spend time reveling in the character.

• Realize the guy in the geeky store was hitting on you ten minutes after leaving.

Justify not going back by thinking you’re only here for another night.

Title Photo: Broken Ice Taken in Stockholm, Sweden Photo by KT Howard

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Samburu Girl

Lion with Fresh Antelope Kill

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Three Giraffes Walking All photos taken in Masaai Mara, Kenya by Megan Arzbaecher

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Bayeux, France – Profane Transformed Photo by Melissa Gilmore

Cheers to...

“Cheers to losing myself, finding “Cheers to myself, and leaving a small part of myself behind in London.”

–Amie Kjellstrom, Marketing Manager and Photography Reviewer

“Cheers to

Esmeralda, my host mom. You truly made Granada, España my home through your accepting nature, late-night talks during sobremesa, and delicious andalusian cooking. Living with you was the most simplistic and fulfilling semester I’ve ever had.”

–Lauren Hodkiewicz, Editor-In-Chief

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the Plaza Mayor in Salamanca for being the highlight of my days and nights in Spain. The vibrant energy and excitement there kept me from missing Madison too much – can’t wait to jump around under those colorful flags and lights again!”

–Erica Buege, Submission Reviewer

“Cheers to

fish and chips on Dame Street in Dublin, Ireland. My late nights would have been nothing without your greasy involvement.”

–Alyssa Sands, Submission Reviewer

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“Cheers to

the people in the ancient town of Hoi An in Vietnam for NOT targeting me as an American tourist because I “look Vietnamese.”

It was an ironic break from the “Are you Chinese or Japanese?” question in America.”

–Mai Vang, Assistant Marketing Manager

“Cheers to

the Toronto Gas Station Attendant who said, “Yes” when I asked him if he took American money, but then refused it, saying only and repeatedly “No! Very low value!” and made me walk three blocks to a Dunkin Donuts where I had to buy a creme-filled long john to get my American currency exchanged for Canadian.”

–Jeremy Parker, Copy Editor

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“Cheers to biking, hiking, Irish trad music and dancing, and Baby Guinness with Irishmen in Killarney.

What an unforgettable trip.”

–Mary Kate McBride, Photography Reviewer and Copy Editor

“Cheers to

living in the cobble-stoned and extremely hilly old Arabic neighborhood, the Albaicín of Granada, España. Not only did I spend my semester in the tranquility of postcard-like, cascading views, but my legs and butt had never been so toned. Climbing up the beginnings of a mountain really made me ready for siesta time each afternoon!”

– Lauren Hodkiewicz, Editor-In-Chief

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Bienes Raíces

by Taylor Nye

I’ve traveled a lot of places, but I don’t feel at home in many places. I’ve always known, though, that I have a place in Hispanic culture. I peeked over the counter to watch my childhood babysitter make tamales and showed off my pronunciation of Quetzacoatl to anyone in my third grade class who would listen. When I was in middle school, I begged to take high school Spanish, and for every school-wide cultural day I brought in homemade tortillas and little powdery wedding cakes.

Right now, I sit on my porch as the whole town of Jarabacoa readies itself for the Festival de los Flores. All week long we have been celebrating the Corpus Christi. The window of the town bakery is filled with pastel colored sugar flowers, and people are coming from the hills two or three to a motorcycle to take part in the dancing and fireworks. Vendors are setting up stalls in the town square, and the nuns who wrap bouquets of roses in old newspaper and sell them on the street corner have been doing more business than ever.

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It’s early evening, and my host mom and I are sitting on rocking chairs in the fading light as we sing old folk songs together. One of the lyrics says, “The rooster sings, the hens cluck, and the little chicks say peep, peep.” It’s fitting, because next door to our house, my father keeps a coop of prized roosters that crow all hours of the day and night. We’re drinking tamarind juice, and across the street the neighbor women are doing their hair in the courtyard. The music of bright bachata trumpets carries over the coffee plantations. A stray cat curls up in my lap, and I savor the feeling of being at home.

Taylor Nye is a junior majoring in human evolutionary biology, Latin American studies and archaeology. She is the opinion editor at the Badger Herald and a contributor to The Dish, MODA and the blog Next Gen Journal.

She most often finds herself in France, Italy and Latin American countries, including last summer when she lived in the rural Dominican Republic for 8 weeks.

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Sunrise Tai Chi in Hangzhou, China Photo by Megan Arzbaecher

Dancing to My Own Music in the United States

by Sofiya Wan Mohd Nor

Before studying in the United States, the images I had of America and its people were strictly based on what the media presented to the world. I read a lot of novels, watched a lot of movies and of course— reality tv. Let’s not forget that another important medium is international news.

You could probably imagine what I initially thought about America. Being a Muslim Malaysian girl who not only practices her faith but also wears the headscarf, I was very nervous thinking about whether or not I could ever feel safe or even happy in America. Thanks to the news, after the September 11th attacks, I was worried that people would equate Muslims to terrorists.

But to my own amazement, when I arrived in Madison, the experiences I have had are very 20

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different -- far different from what I had anticipated.

The first time I walked down State Street, I was expecting people to look at me as if I had a second nose or a third eye, but to my surprise things turned out to be normal.

Actually, normal isn’t the right word to describe Madison. I noticed that the people here are extremely nice.

They are warm, friendly and very accepting—something which the international news did not emphasize.

I’m not trying to say that my experience in Madison has been smooth sailing—that’s totally far from the truth. Growing up in Kuala Lumpur, I was exposed to life that is rich with diversity. I may be a practicing Muslim but that does not mean I do not hang out with people of different faiths. But I have to admit, it took me some time to get used to America.

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Culture shock comes in many shapes and sizes. Most people think that an example of culture shock is feeling depressed and unmotivated because they miss home too much.

I thought it was nearly impossible for me to experience culture shock.

Little did I know, feeling overwhelmed due to the workload is one of the many forms of culture shock. Coming from a background where homework was to figure out mathematical and scientific equations, I felt as though I had a big rock pressed against my chest when I had to complete three papers in one week. In Malaysia, we did not do much writing, so it explains the reason I had a difficult time adjusting. I remember I used to cry a lot, not because I missed home, but because I could not deal with the stress that I was experiencing.

Putting aside academics, like everyone else, I wanted to fit into American culture. I never lived in the residence halls because I felt it would be easier to live among Malaysians. Since I have been separated from family members, it’s better to live with people who understand where I’m coming from, people who most likely will end up being my backbone while I’m here. Unfortunately I was not able to assimilate into the culture as easily as I thought.

Currently I have made good American friends and I am very confident that the friendships will be long lasting. However, I did notice that certain people took the time to appreciate diversity. Sometimes I tried to make conversations with the people next to me, but from their facial expression, you knew they

Communal Meal in Traditional Moroccan Style Photo by Megan Arzbaecher Compiled 2012.indd 21

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weren’t really interested. It took me awhile to know that if an international student wanted to make friends, they had to go through the right channels. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not blaming Americans, but the issue was probably also coming from me. I see myself as a pretty outgoing person but I will never be accustomed to certain things like parties.

I enjoy concerts, music, food, and good company, but going to a place where the room is crowded with people just makes me a little dizzy.

Regardless of how I longed to find a connection, I never felt pressured to enjoy myself the way others

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did. I somehow knew that there was a place for everyone in Madison, it was just a matter of time.

As time passed I had befriended many people from the most unexpected places. I’ve grown close to my friends that I’ve met through classes.

At times I think that we may be totally different people, but our shared interests create a strong bond. Ironically, the struggle that my friends and I in Arabic class experience together consist of fun and laughter. We’re so diverse in ethnicity, age and ideas that the diversity creates a very interesting environment to be in.

Indian Woman in Garden Photo by Megan Arzbaecher 05/01/2012 19:32

Love Preserved Taken in Cologne, Germany Photo by Melissa Gilmore

Sofiya Wan Mohd Nor is a senior studying International Studies and completing a Middle East Certificate. As a Malaysian student studying in the United States, she shares her experiences studying and living in a totally different place, especially the complications of forming her own identity.

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Thank You A warm and resounding thank you goes out to all who helped make this journal possible. Thank you to the Memorial Union’s Marketing and Graphics staff for helping get the journal into print. Thank you to the Wisconsin Union Directorate’s Publication and Global Connections Committees for their continued funding, support, and collaboration, to ISS (International Student Services) for their sponsorship, to Gayle Cottrill, the Publications Committee Director, for her patience and helpfulness (and for responding to my mountains of questions), and to my wonderful and attentive staff, who had to endure a succession of my sleepy (and sometimes bilingual) emails and my often verbose way of running meetings. None of this would have been possible without the help I’ve received from all of you!

Visit Our Website To see even more submissions from this year, take a look at our website, www.souvenirsmagazine.com. We’ll be updating our archives by May, and working one-on-one with contributors whose pieces will be featured online.

Be sure to check out the digital version of this year’s issue, along with articles from issues past!

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Resources for Traveling Abroad Studying Abroad

• International Academic Programs

www.studyabroad.wisc.edu • College of Agriculture and Life Sciences International Programs

http://www.cals.wisc.edu/ip/ • University of Wisconsin System International Programs

www.uwsa.edu/acss/abroad/index.htm

Working and Volunteering Abroad •

•

•

•

Global Studies http://global.wisc.edu/ Go Global! http://go.global.wisc.edu/ Morgridge Center for Public Service http://www.morgridge.wisc.edu AISEC http://www.aiesec.org/unitedstates/AIESEC%20MADISON

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Procida Photo by Christin Whitener

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