Discover Your Wanderlust
Fall 2018
SOUVENIRS Fall
2018
STAFF Editors in Chief Sophia Dramm Ruth Brandt
Editors Megan Janssen Emma Liverseed Allison Streckenbach Paige Strigel
Art Director Mac Bryant Assistant Art Director Genevieve Vahl Digital Media Director Abbigail Friday Marketing Managers Amelia Matzke Ella Strazzanti On the Cover Adreena Burhanuddin, United States
Staff Writers Ana Demendoza Alecsandra Fitzwater Mason Hakes Chandler Maas Madeline Peterson Diana Powers Contributing Writers Charlotte Herbolsheimer Hilary Miller Eloisa Negrete
Contributing Photographers Yicong Chen Megan Feeley Saheen Feroz Morgan Jameson Claire Krieger Ellen Lee Natalia Lucero Aidan McClain Laura McGlynn Henry Michaels Caitlin Morris Susan Nitschke Alexandra Pleasant Liana Streckenbach Megan Wilson Moriah Ziman Christian Zimonick
WUD Publications Committee Director Fernanda Martinez
WUD Publications Committee Advisor Jen Farley
Wisconsin Union President Mills Botham
Creative Associate Director Sadeq Hashemi
Through the publishing of our seven student-run journals and magazines, the Publications Committee of the Wisconsin Union Directorate provides a creative outlet for UW-Madison students interested in creating poetry and prose, reporting on travel, music and fashion, or delving into research in science and public policy. We celebrate creativity on campus by providing hands-on experience in publishing, editing, writing and artmaking.
VBE
@SouvenirsMadison
VISIT SOUVENIRSMADISON.COM
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS
A
s travelers, we’re always on the move - catching a flight, checking into a hostel, boarding a bus, searching for the best local cuisine. We find ourselves in a constant state of wanting to be somewhere new. Rarely do we get a moment to pause, to take a break from the bustle that is travel, to stop and bask in the present instead of thinking ahead to the future.
ELLA GUO
The collection of stories and photos that make up Souvenirs Magazine is the beautiful result of what happens when busy travelers pause. It is the friends we make, the cities we fall in love with, the challenges we overcome, the risks we take and the rewards we reap.
1
SOUVENIRS
We hope Souvenirs inspires you to take a moment the next time you are experiencing something new. We promise you’ll see the world around you in a whole new perspective.
2
SOUVENIRS
CLAIRE KRIEGER, CROATIA
IN THIS ISSUE Fall 2018 4
Finding Love Among Strangers
6
On The Edge
8
The Power Of Vulnerability
12
What I Saw From The Windowsill
14
An Ode To The Goers
17
Conquering The Classic
18
A Tuesday Night In Berlin
SPONSORED BY FJALLRAVEN
20
Life In A National Park
24
The Guilt Of Not Being Homesick
26
When Dreams Come True
28
The Shores Of Loch Shiel
29
Find Your Way With Words
30
Mysterious Mongolia
31
Querido México
34
A Mosaic Of Faces
35
Two Years Later
SPONSORED BY UW-MADISON RUSSIAN FLAGSHIP PROGRAM
6 12 20 35 FALL 2018
3
FINDING LOVE AMONG STRANGERS ALECSANDRA FITZWATER
F
or me, there’s always been something riveting about Valentine’s Day. I don’t know if it’s the way my mom has always glitzed and glammed up the holiday, or if it’s because my love-obsessed self finds it an excuse to write sweet letters to my crushes and best friends and family members. But there was something extraordinary about my Valentine’s Day this past year. It wasn’t only because I was single - it was because I was in a country that didn’t celebrate it. In Barcelona, Spain, love is celebrated on April 23rd with the “rose and book” feast day known as Sant Jordi. This is a day of celebration for Catalunya’s patron saint, St. George, during which men give roses to women and women give books to men. It sounds a bit familiar to America’s Valentine’s Day traditions of gifting bouquets of roses and chocolates and fancy dinner dates. In Catalunya, though, love didn’t need to be expensive or extraordinary. Love was something sweet and simple - something that was celebrated and expressed every day.
This year, I didn’t raid the Target dollar section or stuff stickers in Valentine’s Day cards for my friends. Instead, I took to the streets of Eixample along with all the other study abroad students and Catalunya natives. I saw old men with canes walk down the street of Gran Via holding roses of red, yellow, pink or purple. I watched the faces of women and children as they read the back covers of books, deciding which would best suit their loved ones’ literary taste. I decided to participate - I picked up books with pride, even though I knew I would not understand more than three sentences. I paid euros upon euros for real roses. I felt a sense of belonging - I turned off my music, took out my earbuds and began to walk at the same, slow pace as all the rest of Catalunya. All the while, I learned that love can be celebrated beyond the close vicinity of friends and family. Love can be celebrated among strangers - people that don’t necessarily know you, but may understand you nonetheless.
Love was something
SUSAN NITSCHKE, SPAIN
sweet and simple
4
SOUVENIRS
FALL 2018
5
NATALIA LUCERO, PERU
NATALIA LUCERO, PERU
ON THE EDGE CHARLOTTE HERBOLSHEIMER
P
sychologists have proven that infants have innate depth perception by staging a visual experiment, where an optical illusion is created to make the baby believe that there is a cliff in front of them. In reality, it’s a piece of glass that would be perfectly safe to crawl onto, but the infant won’t crawl over the cliff. It’s an instinct in place to try to keep humans from completely destroying their own race. So I, being a completely logical human who is very consciously aware of her own fragility, am terrified of falling.
6
SOUVENIRS
Not of heights, per se; I’m afraid of falling from them. But despite the fear, there’s something alluring about a cliff’s edge: While sitting there you begin to think that the view will be better from a centimeter, a millimeter closer to the drop. You have a very real understanding that you could fall, and yet you are able to dismiss the risk and proceed towards the nothingness with no caution at all. Driven by curiosity, drunk on the risk factor and lack of oxygenation, and eager to defy… Defy what? When I went on an exchange in Germany during high school, I was defying my previous beliefs about who I was and what I was capable of. There, I visited the Five Fingers, an outlook point in the Dachstein Mountains of Upper Austria. The fingers themselves are very well-supported and safe, but we ate lunch on a bluff where the only boundary between life and a very certain
death was a swinging chain fence. The chain gently advised a safer course of action that most of the American guys on the trip chose not to take. There they went, climbing over the fence to take photos with their arms swinging in circles to give the illusion of imbalance, while I couldn’t even bring myself to step out onto the Fingers themselves. I was incapable of stepping onto the glass in the floor of the second finger, which allowed you to peer straight down into the abyss below. My best friend, squealing, jumped on it. Another friend came up behind me at a run, picked me up and faked that he was going to hurl me over the first Finger. Needless to say, I was choking on every breath, and it wasn’t because of the altitude. When it was time to leave, my classmates ran down the path hooting, screaming and disturbing the peace in typical “Americans abroad” fashion.
ty to just breathe. It was like the grass swished in sync with my heartbeat and the air swirled in time with my soul. Being on top of the mountain reminded me of the peace, freedom and utter bliss I felt growing up in Switzerland, where the mountain nearest to my apartment was my happy place, and taking a gondola into the clouds to ski, hike or just look and breathe was the only way that I could get away from overwhelming anxiety. Back then, going up was the only way for me to stop feeling down. An inexplicable feeling of calmness, distantly familiar as I looked back on my childhood, washed over me for the first time in years. I realized that the fears I had - such as my appearance and social status - were so insignificant, not only because I am one person in a world of billions, but because I have so much opportunity for growth. I understood
suddenly that I had so much I could change about myself, and I could do so without changing who I am at my core. Just like the mountains themselves, I could stand strong while the seasons and years changed who I appeared to be at the surface. I’m not going to say that I’m no longer afraid of change or instability. I’m still me. I’m still anxious, neurotic and utterly narcissistic when I lose sight of what’s really important. But I realized that day that I can find calm in a world that terrifies me, even if it takes me a while to zoom out and see the bigger picture, because I’m sitting on the edge of a cliff. Now, I stand as tall and as proudly as the Alps themselves.
I can f ind calm in a
world that terrifies me
FALL 2018
MADELYNNE DESHLER, GERMANY
Finally, a hush fell over the bluff, and I could hear my heartbeat slow down as the smell of lunch meat faded and was replaced by the smell of the crisp mountain air. It smelled like liberation. I boldly stepped over that chain fence and ventured out onto the ridge that overlooked the glassy lake and the rest of the Austrian Alps. The day was so clear that I could see the peaks of the Swiss Alps in the distance, and I felt like, even though I was all the way in Austria, there were whispers of Switzerland in the air. I had lived in Switzerland in middle school, and this was my first sighting of home in a couple years. I hollered at my friend to take a photo of me only to realize that she had been snapping photos the entire time. I scooted out to the edge, while she documented the unprecedented occasion of me being spontaneous, and I took the opportuni-
7
THE POWER OF VULNERABILITY GENEVIEVE VAHL
8
SOUVENIRS
were the only people at the event. Little did we know Glasgowegians do not make their way out for their evening activities until midnight at the earliest. But we didn’t let that postpone our fun - this gave Lily, Henry and me time to really open up to one another. We sat on old stools circled together sharing stories and becoming ever more comfortable. We engaged in conversation with people around us, a conglom-
ences being an international student. After struggling to connect with other students, she confessed how refreshing and thankful she was to have become such good friends with me. She let herself be vulnerable. She listened to me, I listened to her. We empathized with one another and we cheered each other on. Eventually, we went to dance in the warehouse where the DJs were playing. We twirled one another like a married couple, laughed at each other like babies and cared for each like best friends. In a setting neither of us had ever been in, an environment unfamiliar to both of us, we allowed ourselves to become vulnerable, quickly building comfort with one another. Lily and I, we formed this beautiful relationship that continued for the rest of our time together in Glasgow. Glasgow is known as a gritty city, and many people find it hard to see past its rough exterior. High crime rates and a dark past give it a bad rap. Yet, I have such fond memories in the city where an unexpected friendship began. Lily showed me the power of vulnerability and how it can foster a relationship, transforming it from nothing to something extraordinary. I have not seen Lily since, and I do not know the next time I will see her again, but I will never forget the friendship we had for those four days. GENEVIEVE VAHL, SCOTLAND
T
he most beautiful things come when you least expect them. Last spring, I traveled through Ireland and Scotland with my best friend, Henry. We went to to pubs and concerts. Drinking pints and smoking cigarettes became the European pastimes we inherited. For every city we visited, we left each one more in awe than the last. When we got to Glasgow, we reached out to Lily, Henry’s friend from home who attends Glasgow University, hoping for an insider’s look into the city. Little did I know she was going to have such a profound impact on me. The first night we connected with Lily, we met her at a popular student spot on campus. We sat in the grass on a hillside drinking beer, brushing through the standard small talk, “getting to know” one another, observing the dynamic of Glasgow uni life. She told us about an event the university radio station was hosting that night that she wanted to take us to. After walking under highways and through a water treatment facility, we approached our destination. It was a very inconspicuous spot in Glasgow, to say the least. We made our way down an alley behind a group of people seemingly going to the same place as us. They suddenly disappeared into an opening through some bushes. Intrigued, we followed them down a winding dirt path lit by candles hanging in mason jars on the canopy of bushes above us. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. The event turned out to be a variety of DJs performing in an empty warehouse in the boonies of Glasgow. At first we
erate of people from all over, some from the UK, others from around Europe. It was a bunch of students, friends and outcasts who found their way to Glasgow.
I will never f orget the
friendship we had Later on, Lily and I caught ourselves in deep conversation. We confided in one another. I found myself opening up to her in ways I do to my closest friends who I’ve known for years, even though I had known this girl for less than a day. She told me about her tough experi-
FALL 2018
9
GENEVIEVE VAHL, SCOTLAND
GENEVIEVE VAHL, SCOTLAND
NORTH AMERICA ON FILM ALEXANDRA PLEASANT CHRISTIAN ZIMONICK
10 SOUVENIRS
FALL 2018
11
WHAT I SAW FROM THE WINDOWSILL PAIGE STRIGEL
L
the day left my body, salty sweat dried on my freckled skin. Let me tell you about the people I sat there to watch. Let me tell you about the groups of friends I saw pass by, laughing, holding on to each other, speaking rapidly over one another in the intimacy of overlapped life. Let me tell you about the couples and the friends with a spark hinting of something more, who I watched strolling between the smooth yellow walls far below me. Let me tell you about distant snatches of music and laughter and the tales they told. Let me tell you about overeager voices and gently held hands. Let me tell you about a slow kiss in the glow of am-
ber lights, a shared moment that made me feel at once so connected and so far away from those below my window perch - those who wandered these same streets, who had their own lives, who I could only glimpse from three stories up. Let me tell you about the moments of magic, the moments of suspended reality, the moments in which nothing could be truly wrong in the world. Let me tell you about love and freedom and beauty in Florence’s early summer nights.
MEGAN WILSON, ITALY
et me tell you about eating oranges on the windowsill. Let me tell you about stacking their peels on the ledge in front of where I sat, straddling the line between the outside and inside world. Let me tell you about my feet, sore and chafed from miles of walking, but hanging relaxed on either side of the wall, half of my body touched by cooling night breezes. Let me tell you about the bright sweetness of those oranges, taken from the fruit bowl set out each morning by le suore - the religious sisters who ran the monastery - and stashed away to enjoy at this very moment; I had never tasted anything better than those oranges as the heat of
12
SOUVENIRS
Let me tell you
about the m oments
AIDAN MCCLAIN, ITALY
of magic
FALL 2018
13
AN ODE TO THE GOERS DIANA POWERS
14
SOUVENIRS
W
There is so much
out there and so little time
FALL 2018
YICONG CHEN, UNITED STATES
hen people ask what I like to do, the first thing that comes to mind is travel. However, rarely do I say actually that. There seems to be a connection with the word “travel” and reasons why people shy away from those who choose the world to be their backyard. If you are young and travel, you are reckless with money; if you are old, you cannot do all the activities you once could; if you post about your travels online, you are boastful; if you don’t talk about where you went, did you even go? I, on the other hand, don’t understand how anyone who knows the world exists can simply sit in one place. There are oceans and mountains and reefs and forest. There are giant cities and small towns. There is so much out there and so little time. There never seems to be the right age or the right time to go out and see the world without the judgement of others, so I say the best time to travel is the present. Those who travel are inspirations; they are the goers. They know what the world has to offer, and they get rewarded with experiences of a lifetime. I hope to someday just be able to say that I like to travel, too. Or better yet, that I like to go and see and do. I like to experience adventure as often as possible. I guess the point is go. Go out and see the world, make new experiences and do not allow others to impact your travels negatively. We only have so much time, and we must make the most of it.
15
16
SOUVENIRS
LAURA MCGLYNN, UNITED STATES
CONQUERING THE CLASSIC SPONSORED BY FJALLRAVEN AUNDREA DAWKINS
T
he Fjällräven Classic hike was in its third year in the United States, and I made it my mission to go on the threeday, 30-mile hike in the Colorado Rockies during my first year with the company. I had never done a backpacking trip before, but being born and raised in Colorado, I had done plenty of hiking and camping. Combining the two sounded like a great experience, as well as a challenge. In the two months leading up to Classic, my physical preparation was minimal; I only got in some squats and lunges to build leg strength. As I pieced together the gear that I needed, I kept in mind the importance of lightweight packing. I ended up with the basics: a tent, technical backpack, trekking poles, trekking tights and a small stove.
DAY 1
I was completely packed and had even taken a few items out of my pack that I didn’t feel were necessary. Looking back, there were a few other things I could have left behind, but this was all a learning experience for me. Food, additional snacks and a water filter were all given to participants at check-in. Even in the very early hours of the start of the Classic, everyone had a grin on their face. Day 1 was a simple 9.5 mile trek, mostly through shaded forest with very little elevation gain. Around mile three, I could feel a few hot spots starting to arise on my feet. I stopped to tape them and rearrange my socks a little. Blisters were already a foregone conclusion for me, but the fresh air and beautiful views served as the perfect distraction. At the end of the day, after making it to camp, I was tired but also felt really good about what I had achieved. A quick dip in the nearby river and some lunch revived my energy.
DAY 2
I knew that Day 2 would be the hardest of the trip with almost 14 miles and 3,000 feet of elevation gain. I packed up, got an early start and headed out on my own. We began the day at about 9,000 feet and hiked up Kokomo Pass which sits at 12,022 feet. Making it to the top of Kokomo Pass was a huge accomplishment for me. It was such a climb, and I was sore, but reaching the top was worth it all. The positivity radiated from everyone on the trail and spread from one hiker to the next. Even though some were struggling, there wasn’t one person who didn’t look like they weren’t having fun. I have heard others say that it’s the people you meet that are the best part of Classic. Until I experienced this for myself, I didn’t understand it - but it’s so true. One of the groups that I connected with on the trail included a man from the UK and a woman from Texas. They gave me some backpacking tips, and I shared some of my trail snacks with them.
FOR MORE INFORMATION, VISIT
Bedtime came early on Day 2, but we all stayed up long enough to watch the sunset. The camp sat on a lush, partly wooded hillside, and the sun set perfectly over the Rocky Mountains. It was a sight to behold!
DAY 3
The last day included a fun trek of just 5.5 miles downhill to the bottom of Copper Mountain. The feeling of finishing 30 miles of hiking was like nothing I had ever experienced. A party on Copper Mountain celebrating our completion of the Classic brought together all of the friends I’d made on the trail. We talked about our experiences, made some more memories and had a great time. Would I change anything? Not really, but I did learn a few things: Training is vital, and good shoes may be the most important item in your kit. But would I do it again? Absolutely! Classic 2019, here I come.
CLASSIC.FJALLRAVEN.COM FALL 2018
17
A TUESDAY NIGHT IN BERLIN HILARY MILLER
I
the very first time. I had learned of Jana only a month before my trip to Berlin, which made our get-together especially extraordinary. When she grabbed my shoulders and met my gaze, the dismembered branches of our family tree formed a perfect union on what felt like the most chaotic street in all of Berlin.
Jana is the granddaughter of Rosa Hirschman, the sister of my great-grandfather, Hyman Hirschman. Both siblings were born and raised in Kuldiga, Latvia. They were fortunate enough to not only survive the Holocaust, but also to have children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to honor their legacies and carry the Hirschman name. However, the war uprooted Rosa and Hyman and set each on a unique life course to different places. A confluence of factors led Hyman to find a new home in Wisconsin and Rosa in Germany. Their distance explains how Jana and I were unaware of the other’s existence until the summer of 2018. Before traveling to Europe, my grandmother, Hyman’s daughter, encouraged me to contact our relatives. They span the continent from London to Latvia. To my fortune, Jana lived in Munich, and I was headed for Germany on a 10-day immersive experience in Berlin. This trip came at the tail end of a summer internship at the American
MEGAN WILSON, HUNGARY
t was golden hour when I stood on the jagged brick road beside Hotel Hackescher Markt in Berlin’s Mitte metropolitan square. Bikers, trains and pedestrians competed amongst impatient drivers vying to park near the city center. It was the fourth day of my international adventure, and I had yet to feel adjusted. The surrounding pandemonium of Tuesday night in Berlin already put me on edge, and the unknown whereabouts of my suitcase, stored somewhere in the bowels of a Lufthansa terminal of the Frankfurt Airport, only served to amplify my unrest. My preoccupation with the hectic milieu and missing bag was interrupted by a woman yelling my name from across the street. “Hilary, darling!” she called for me in an impressive accent - a mix of German, English, Hebrew and Russian. All temporality was lost in the moment of that first encounter with Jana Goldschmid Rom, my dear but distant cousin whom I was meeting for
18
SOUVENIRS
I was grateful to discover new facets of my Jewish
MEGAN WILSON, ITALY
identity and my family
Jewish Committee, in which I learned about the ineffable legacy of the Holocaust and the nuances, complexities and haunted history that underpin modern Germany. I saw Berlin’s multifaceted and growing Jewish community, I visited Holocaust memorials and I was challenged emotionally, bound to internalize the ways that the darkest moment in modern history impacted the world, reoriented my Jewish self-consciousness and affected my family. Jana was my first point of contact with the arm of Hirschman cousins in Europe. Despite the chaos of the night, Jana’s warm embrace was enough to convince me that we were family. My first impression was that she too had “Hirschman cheekbones” - a trait that transcended generations of our family and crossed a transatlantic divide. My dear cousin laughed while frantically apologizing for her 45-minute delay. (Her tardiness was yet another indication of our familial bond.) She was not a stranger picking me up for dinner on a Tuesday night in Berlin, but the person with whom I would ensure that the Hirschman descendants of America and Europe
would stay connected, hopefully forever. Meeting Jana and her daughters, Natalie and Jacqueline, brought my trip to Germany to life. They transformed it from an educational tour of Berlin to a personal journey that enriched my Jewish identity and emboldened my Jewish pride. They made Germany more relatable and understandable to someone who had only considered its dark history rather than its current state. In Natalie and Jacqueline I saw so much of my sister Erin and myself. Our enduring, multilayered conversation, which became a cherished token of the trip that I will always remember, illuminated our disparate but connected lives. We learned that we are the same age and have similar tastes. We are products of Jewish day schools and summer camps. We are dedicated to our studies. We are maturing in an unusual time, trying to gauge and understand today’s social and political climate. We are engaged citizens of the world. We are proud of our respective national identities, and we are proud of our shared religious and ethnic heritage. We love our families and, to our delight, we embraced one another as
family on that Tuesday night in Berlin. It was half past midnight when Jana and I agreed it was time to return to Hotel Hackescher Markt. After an evening of bonding, we were reluctant to part ways. Golden hour had long passed, and our first encounter on the busy brick road felt like a lifetime ago. On the way back to the hotel, I looked to Jana with admiration. Our Tuesday night in Berlin initiated a treasured friendship which inspired in me a new conviction that I was connected to Germany. How I’ll be able to reconcile with its past is uncertain - I am still vexed by the history of the Holocaust and its mark on mankind. But in this most unexpected place, I was grateful to discover new facets of my Jewish identity and my family. Both will help me carry the Hirschman name.
FALL 2018
19
LIFE IN A NATIONAL PARK MADELINE PETERSON
20
SOUVENIRS
A
t the end of the spring semester, I aced my finals, packed my bags and moved to Maine. While this may seem like an abandonment of responsibility straight from the pages of a Kerouac novel, it was not. I’d taken a seasonal job working in a gift shop located just minutes outside of Acadia National Park, and I intended to spend my summer exploring one of the most beautiful places in the United States. Located on Mount Desert Island in coastal Maine, Acadia was established in 1916 and is the easternmost national park in the country. Each year, visitors flock by the millions to see the park’s ocean cliffs and mountain vistas, and to experience the seclusion that can only be found in tens of thousands of acres of woodland. Working in close proximity to such an amazing park allowed me to transcend the time constraints of tourism and get to know the area on a deeper level. Over the course
of my three months spent there, I saw places ranging from well-known attractions like the Bass Harbor Head Light to the often overlooked, unsurpassed beauty of the Schoodic Peninsula. This is not to say that the work is glamorous. Jobs in these parks are usually entry-level retail or food service positions, and the employee housing provided is certainly not the same as the hotels and cabins that the tourists stay in. Employees work a full-time schedule, which means long days spent interacting with customers. However, it’s much easier to deal with a hard day of work when you know that you have an evening climb up Precipice Trail or whale-watching in Canadian waters to look forward to. As much as I love my home state, working at Acadia National Park allowed me to have experiences that were very different from what Wisconsin has to offer.
In hindsight, my decision to spend a summer in Maine was a great one. I was fortunate to work for an altruistic company and meet many wonderful people during my time there. For students who wish to travel but feel like they can’t due to looming loans, rent and tuition bills - seasonal work might be an idea to consider. If you do your research and are willing to work hard, you’ll find there are numerous benefits to a job in a national park. In addition to the adventures you’ll have and the people you’ll meet, you will always be able say that for a short time you lived in one of the most amazing places in the world. I only spent three months working in Maine, but by the end of the summer it almost felt like home. When I returned to Wisconsin, I was afraid that my memories of Acadia National Park would fade with time. But I needn’t have worried; the experiences I had will always stay with me.
LAURA MCGLYNN, UNITED STATES
The experiences I had
will always stay with me
FALL 2018
21
HOW BIG, HOW BLUE, HOW BEAUTIFUL
SOPHIA DRAMM MEGAN JANSSEN CLAIRE KRIEGER LAURA MCGLYNN
CAITLIN MORRIS ALLISON STRECKENBACH LIANA STRECKENBACH
22
SOUVENIRS
FALL 2018
23
THE GUILT OF NOT BEING HOMESICK CHANDLER MAAS
New people, new places and new oddities appeal to our sense of curiosity
24
SOUVENIRS
I feel very unusual when I do not miss her as deeply as she misses me. A sense of guilt trails me while I am gone. Every adventurous moment makes me feel slightly ill knowing that I am not heeding her advice of staying safe, and at the end of the day she would be paying the price for my recklessness. To compensate for my absences, I swing violently between two ends of my personal pendulum: oversharing and undersharing. One day I document every minuscule moment for her, and the next week I am quite literally MIA. I have made bold, sometimes risky decisions to see the world, but I am grateful for them. I regret the moments
I missed at home, but not the experiences I have had abroad. Over time, I have realized that traveling is a form of growing up. Although it is challenging for my family, it is a process bound to happen eventually. Do not let anyone stop you from carving your own path in this world.
PAIGE STRIGEL, SCOTLAND
F
or some of us, being away from home is a welcome pleasure. New people, new places and new oddities appeal to our sense of curiosity. Taking advantage of this interest, I have traveled to a variety of locales, all of which put my mother on edge. Whenever I go, which is frequently, she tends to miss me more than I miss her. Most of this can be attributed to a mother’s protective nature - I will forever be one of the two lives besides her own for which she is responsible. It is not unnatural that she misses me, spends time in my room thinking of me while I am away or loses sleep over my absence from our home. But I don’t feel the same way.
FALL 2018
25
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE
SPONSORED BY UW-MADISON RUSSIAN FLAGSHIP PROGRAM
MEGAN FEELEY, KAZAKHSTAN
MEGAN FEELEY
S
ince my childhood, it had been my dream to study in a different country and become fluent in a foreign language. So when I came to the University of Wisconsin-Madison as a freshman, I made plans to study Russian and study abroad at some point in my college career. But undertaking that endeavor seemed like a literal and metaphorical world away. Despite my ambitions, I didn’t consider myself brave enough to leave everything I knew behind in order to immerse myself in another culture, language and lifestyle. When a representative from the UW-Madison Russian Flagship Program spoke in my freshman Russian course, the opportunities they presented to me were too good to be true: I could learn a language and study abroad - not once, but twice! Despite my nervousness about enrolling in such an intensive program so early on in my college career, the prospect of seeing my childhood dreams come true was so enticing. So I officially joined the Russian Flagship Program
that year. Little did I know how much this decision would impact my life in just a few short years. Since joining, I have progressed through my Russian courses at an astonishing rate, and after only two years of studying the language, I was ready to apply to study abroad in Kazakhstan. This was to be the fulfillment of the life-long wish I never expected to come true. I was so anxious as the application date drew nearer and the prospect of going abroad became more and more real and nerve-wracking. But, with guidance from faculty and staff of the Russian Flagship who offered me words of wisdom and kind support through every step of the process, I was accepted to study abroad for a summer in Almaty, Kazakhstan. Of course, my time spent in Kazakhstan was not solely for self-discovery and fun (after all, it is called study abroad). I took classes where I pursued the second part of my dream: to become fluent in a foreign language, something that I thought I would never achieve. I
FOR MORE INFORMATION, VISIT 26
SOUVENIRS
still have a long way to becoming truly fluent, but I’m shocked by how far I’ve come: I went from not knowing the alphabet to talking with native speakers on a wide variety of complicated issues in only two years. Now, after completing the study abroad program, I feel as if the whole thing was a dream, something so unbelievably perfect that my mind can’t conceive it as being real. Every day I think of my trip, the once-in-a-lifetime experiences I had, the unforgettable memories I made and the extraordinary people I befriended. It’s surreal to think about how much I’ve learned and experienced, and I certainly could not have been prepared to do it without help from the Russian Flagship Program. I am incredibly grateful for the program’s support and for the doors that the program has opened for me to help make my dreams come true.
RUSSIANFLAGSHIP.WISC.EDU
FALL 2018
27
MORGAN JAMESON, SWITZERLAND
THE SHORES OF LOCH SHIEL EMMA LIVERSEED in Glenfinnan, I made footprints along the muddy shore, examining the smooth gray pebbles as if I was admiring them under a microscope, thinking about how we long for places we’ve only just met, or maybe we did know them before, but it was too long ago, too buried in the peat— & yet a memory resurfaces from beneath the black loch, emerging like an echo, resonating through the tangle of plant carcasses while the shepherd whistles to his dogs who slink like wolves, snags of wool caught in their teeth; I am where thistles scrape my ankles & heather blankets the hillside in a purple daze, where red stags make beds in the heath— & I would join them, if the Highlands would have me.
we long for places
HENRY MICHAELS, IRELAND
we’ve only just met
28
SOUVENIRS
FIND YOUR WAY WITH WORDS MASON HAKES
cles, you won’t be violating any dietary restrictions and the waiter will appreciate your smooth ordering punctuated with an always appreciated “Please!” Then, when you try to replicate the recipe in You’ll be able to connect your hostel kitchen, at least you’ll know you failed because of your inability to with the people who tell what exactly medium-heat is rather color the soul of every than because you couldn’t understand what the ingredients were. You can then destination tell your friends that the carbon flavor is how it’s supposed to taste because they You’ll learn to swear. For some reason didn’t order it, and they don’t know how people get a good kick out of foreigners to say “light, flaky crust” in x-language. The most important reason, however, cursing in their language. As a bonus, it’s a nice survival mechanism to know when is that you’ll be able to connect with the the 200-pound guy at the club is swearing people who color the soul of every destination, which, without exception, is my at you for spilling his drink. favorite part of traveling. While abroad, After the haze clears the next I attended a documentary screening ormorning, you can go try out a cute café ganized by local leaders and talked about and understand what’s on the menu. the problems that mutually confront our You’ll feel more confident knowing that communities. I flipped a coin to see who what you are eating isn’t actually testi-
YICONG CHEN, UNITED STATES
T
here’s something about traveling that makes the landscapes more breathtaking, the cuisine more mouthwatering, the people more gorgeous and the nights you don’t remember more memorable. Yet, one factor always seems to arise to frustrate our best laid plans. It can make sex shops appear like grocery stores, well-meaning grandfathers seem like serial killers and ordering a McFlurry a veritable chore: the language barrier. Learning languages gives me pleasure akin to being proposed to with a puppy at sunset in my favorite restaurant, but it’s not that way for all people. That said, to avoid the situations above, learn at least some of the language of a place before you travel there. You can buy a phrasebook, use DuoLingo or spend three credits on an intro course if you have the time, but it’s an investment in yourself and your experience for the following reasons. You’ll learn slang. Billboards will be funnier, you’ll seem hip amongst the local populace and you’ll convey with laser-like precision your exact opinion on Donald Trump - which has always earned me a good conversation, if not a free drink.
would buy whom a drink and then was told that I must have cheated because the bar was wet when it landed. I met an adorable family that goes out for drinks every Saturday night to catch up and was told why their 13-year-old daughter will make a great wife in five years because of her skill at ballet. These experiences humbled me, made me laugh and made me slightly uncomfortable, respectively, but I never would have had any of them if I didn’t speak a little of the languages of these places. So please learn some of your destination’s language before you go. You’ll build deeper friendships, feel more confident, better understand the context of your adventures and misadventures and be able to order the Oreo McFlurry you crave. The machine will still be broken though. Some things are universal constants. FALL 2018
29
MYSTERIOUS MONGOLIA ANA DEMENDOZA
30 SOUVENIRS
MEGAN FEELEY, KAZAHKSTAN
U
ntouched Asian prairies stretch along a nation with deep historical roots. Yaks and horses run alongside nomads housed in gers who look forward to settling their next village. The sun sets, revealing twinkling starlit skies not yet reached by the pollution of modern-day civilization. Sounds of throat singers and morin khuurs surround the nomads as their minds relax after another day. Prior to my mission trip to Mongolia, my only knowledge of the country was through the brief Mongol history learned in AP World History class. Genghis Khan united northeastern Asian tribes and conquered as far as his brutal efforts could take him. Beyond these legends and stereotypes, the country was a mystery to me, and I had no context of its place in our contemporary global society. When I discovered I was going to Mongolia, I could not fathom what this enigmatic nation had in store for me and how meaningful my journey would be. Having previously traveled to Europe, the Caribbean and South America, the excitement of visiting a new continent hit me about a month before departing. A daunting 7,325 mile distance from my hometown of Miami, Florida, to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, was a fearful yet exciting trek to be taken, but I was ready. After two layovers, I was finally at my destination. At first glance, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s only major city, was largely sparse with small buildings and gers. The population was homogenous and seemingly unfriendly to foreigners like myself and my team. We, a group of Latinx high school students from the United States, were met with looks of confusion by Ulaanbaatar locals as we walked through the city. However, I soon found that the confusion was often followed by warmth and curiosity as we tried our best to communicate through pantomime. Soon after arriving, I began to feel the isolation that often defines Mongolia’s relationship with the rest of the world. My supposed cellular “world coverage” did not include Mongolia, and I
was extremely limited in my connection to the rest of the world. This feeling only grew as we traveled 16 hours by bus to the village of Khatgal in northern Mongolia. For a whole week, I became fully disconnected from the world save what I directly experienced in Khatgal.
I could not
fathom what
this enigmatic nation had in store for me
Waking up each day inside a ger made from yak skin sounds primitive to the average American, but this space became a sanctuary that filled me with peace. Without access to electricity, my phone simply became an overpriced brick that I kept in my suitcase. Everyday life was slow but filled with exploration and ease. I found myself more attuned with the people around me, while my mind acclimated to the lack of
constant noise and distraction ever-present in life in the States. I found the richness of Mongolian culture in every café, home and conversation. Unlike any other place I had traveled to, there seemed to be no trace of Western influence - just a strong sense of Mongolian pride and heritage. Genghis Khan’s legacy of strength reflects in each Mongol in every communal activity. From holding Mongol wrestling matches to living day-to-day life in traditional wear, Mongolians embrace their identity to the fullest and showed me the beauty of cultural preservation. A desire for the serenity I witnessed in Mongolians followed me back home to the U.S., where I find myself thinking of my ger sanctuary and the peaceful daily life I observed and experienced in Khatgal. In times of stress, I remind myself to live steadily and to take one thing at a time as I did once in Mongolia.
QUERIDO MÉXICO ELOISA NEGRETE GARCÍA
M
a un s e uev e m e T no d e l l nico u ú por o o t m s t i r ue comp y pasióon icioón d a r t CHANDLER MASS, MEXICO
CHANDLER MASS, MEXICO
CHANDLER MASS, UNITED STATES
e conmueve tu fuerza, el cariño de tu gente y la pasión con la que vives. Eres atrevido, te gusta arriesgarte, y con tu adrenalina cultivas guerreros y costumbres que le enseñan a tu gente, “Sí, se puede.” Sabes que la vida sabe mejor afuera y en compañía. Por eso nos pintas el paisaje con montañas, ríos, mares y bosques escondidos. Eres un fruto bendito. Te mueves a un ritmo único lleno de pasión y compuesto por tradición. Prósperas en una sociedad diversa, y te conformas con una manera simple de vivir. Creces de las conversaciones filosóficas y espirituales que suelen recorrer tus calles. Mi querido México, en ti la risa es larga y la tristeza un breve episodio.
FALL 2018
31
32
SOUVENIRS
LAURA MCGLYNN, UNITED STATES
FALL 2018
33
SAHEEN FEROZ, INDIA
A MOSAIC OF FACES ALLISON STRECKENBACH
34
SOUVENIRS
describe their products and were patient while we confusedly fumbled over our coins. I remember how they giggled at my mispronunciation of Portuguese words but gently corrected me each time. I remember the woman with the bright lipstick waving to me as I walked down the street to and from class, a bright and friendly smile I could always look forward to. I think of the lady from Bulgaria who had to run away from home in order to support her son and now lived in the UK, working in the dining hall at my university. I remember singing with her as she turned up the Amy Winehouse song she was listening to in her food cart and laughing with her when it was finished. I remember how she always recognized me and would smile and thank me, even sometimes slipping me extra french fries. All of these people and countless others are misty in my mind, their images fading. But I remember their words, their actions, their help. I remember their acts of decency, their moments of kindness. This growing mosaic of faces that have helped me along my path for no other reason than just from the goodness of their hearts. Thank you, my mosaic of faces. I may not know you now or ever; your faces may fade in my memory over time, but your actions will not.Perhaps it’s time we all give thanks to our own mosaic and strive to be a part of someone else’s. MORIAH ZIMAN, FRANCE
T
raveling can be a time when we life in France and moved to the United are at our most vulnerable. We Kingdom to learn English. He told me are restless, hastily and someabout what he will miss about his times greedily soaking in new experiences, hometown. He told me that the sky’s new places. We rush, we forget, we make the limit, and I should never let anymistakes and wrong turns. We get conthing keep me from my dreams, even if fused, we get lost. We are simultaneously getting there is frightening. I remember in and out of our element - we feel alive with adventure and thrill, yet we are in unknown territory in every meaning of the phrase. It is in this vulnerable place that magic can happen. At times, it is due to small actions of others - those people who aid you with a comforting smile, a helping hand, a piece of advice, a point in the right direction. I think of these people from time to time, the nameless and sometimes faceless forces that have helped me along the way. I don’t remember what they looked like, but I remember what they did. They have made an impact on me, but will only ever be fading faces in my memory. Yet these strangers are the ones that make me believe in humanity. I think of the teenager with a lip ring and thickYour faces rimmed glasses in the subway tunnels in Prague. I rememmay fade in my ber how she helped me navigate the underground memory over time, construction so that I could get to the airport in time. I but your actions remember how she traced will not her finger along a map to show me the detour. I think of the older woman with a juice stand in Montecristi, how he hugged me and thanked me Dominican Republic, who on a hot day for being the only one to take the time gave me some fresh juice when I was a to listen to him. I remember his wave number of centavos short. “Bebé, mija,” from the platform as the train rolled by she said as she poured me a glass and with me still inside. added extra ice cubes. I remember the I think of the young women who wrinkles by her eyes as she pushed the worked at the corner store on my street glass towards me. in Catete, Rio de Janeiro. They were alI think of the man I met on a train ways pleased to see us, despite language in Manchester who had packed up his barriers. They used body language to
TWO YEARS LATER ABBIGAIL FRIDAY walls I had set up for myself from before. But I had to change my path if I wanted to change my life, and in order to do that I had to believe in myself. In doing so, I started gaining a confidence that would not have been possible without leaving everything bad behind and starting anew. From this experience, my life began to fall into place. I made friends who inspired me to find my major and people who encouraged me to come out of my shell. I fell in love and met my second family. I got my first internship which gave me professional experience in a field that I plan to have a career in. I lived in the best city in the world and visited eight countries. It’s now been two years since I
received that acceptance email. As I look back on my time in London, I can’t help but think of how much it made an influence on me - one I didn’t expect. All of those experiences have molded me into the person I am now, and I still feel the impact today. If there is one thing that my experience abroad gave me, it was confidence - not only in navigating from tube station to tube station, city to city, and culture to culture. It gave me confidence in myself that I still carry with me two years later.
ADREENA BURHANUDDIN, FRANCE
I
remember when I got the email announcing I was accepted to a semester-long study abroad program in London. I was a sophomore, and I was sitting in my dorm room, contemplating dropping out of college just moments before. At that time, I was struggling to find my path in college. I couldn’t decide on a major, and I wasn’t part of any campus organizations. I felt like I was being chewed up and spit out, and it all made me feel extremely down. In that moment, I realized that acceptance email was my chance to turn my life around. When I arrived in London, I was first afraid to go anywhere unknown or try anything new because of invisible
My life began to fall into place
FALL 2018
35
36
SOUVENIRS
LAURA MCGLYNN, THAILAND
ELLEN LEE, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES
Souvenirs is a collection of travel and multicultural experiences from students at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Souvenirs’ mission is to provide a platform for students to share lessons they learned while traveling and to provide readers with quality information while inspiring wanderlust.
VBED @SouvenirsMadison
VISIT SOUVENIRSMADISON.COM