Issue 8: Ritual

Dear Reader, What rituals have a special meaning for you?

When you hear the word “ritual,” what image comes to your mind -- a spiritual journey, a yearly meal or eating granola for breakfast? What makes one ritual more precious than another? Does it depend on its context, its frequency, on the others involved? In this issue, you will find some of our answers and musings.

If this is the first time you’ve picked up our publication -- welcome! These pages contain writing in a variety of languages, published alongside English translations. As the only multilingual publication at Yale, we provide a space for students to write about their experiences in languages they have mastered or are learning.

This issue contains articles in fourteen languages, including ones new to Accent, like Dutch, Greek and Ukranian. Our writers relate their journeys towards understanding rituals, as well as struggles to grasp their value in the present day. This semester we are lucky to have more than twenty new writers, a quarter of whom wrote in a non-native language they’ve learned at Yale. We are also lucky to feature two foreign exchange students, Susana Castillo and Yujing Liu, as well as two guest writers from foreign universities, Caroline Kulmhofer and Polina Puzacheva.

As you read, you will encounter questions like: how is a German Christmas different from an Italian one? How does a lack of celebratory meals impact the family dynamics of the American South? Is it important to preserve the historical meanings of rituals, like wearing a yukata in Japan or celebrating Constitution Day in Norway? Or must they be modified according to changes in modern values?

As Accent’s new Editor-in-Chief, I am truly honored to lead such a brilliant group of thinkers, writers, editors, and designers. Their ideas, questions and thoughts challenge and inspire me every time we meet. Thanks to their work and dedication, we are able to craft a space at Yale where students can share their unique stories, transcending the language barrier. This space is a deeply meaningful one to each one of us, and we are committed to continue fostering it.

In addition to the Accent team, I would like to extend special thanks to our donors, whose support, enthusiasm, generosity and trust in our mission has truly been invaluable for Accent’s work. And thank you, the reader, for giving your attention and interest to this volume! As we approach our fifth anniversary, I look forward to hearing and including more of your stories on these pages.

Irina Gavrilova

Letter from

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Запах воспо

by Natalia Titenkova & Yulia

浴衣

by

México: el ritual como ex

by Sus

Las Nieves d

by Se

‫ألخبار االمرميية و األخبار العربية‬

by No

‫سف يف تشكيل الوطنية األردنية‬

by Alejandra Pa

Dans l

by D

Un chemin nourr

by Lau

Tou

by Charlo

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b by

Weihnachten

by C

3 в деревне 4 оминаний 6 衣を着ること 8 10 de Antaño 13 ‫االختالفات الثقافية بني األ‬ 15 ‫ دور املنس‬:‫األرز والبدوي‬ 17 la cuisine 18 ri par le rituel 20 us à bord 22 出POOL饭 24 阅兵 26 韭菜盒子 28 n zu Hause 30

m the Editor-in-Chief

by Polina Puzacheva

a Vozzhaeva SM ’16

y Ring Wang, PC ’17

xpresión cultural sana Castillo, JE ’16

ergio Infante, CC ’18

olan Phillips, TC ’18

adin-Dujon, DC ’18

Dasia Moore, PC ’18

ura Fridman, BR ’16

otte Desprat, BR ’18

by Yujing Liu, PC ’17

by Yifu Dong, BR ’17 Xinyu Guan, PC ’18

32 33 35 36 38 40 42 44 45 47 49 51 53 55

Was ist Martinmas?

by Marie Freudenburg, BR ’19

‫קצב השלום‬

by Talia Katz, ES ’17

‫טקסים‬

by Anna Brundtland

그들의 편지들

by Jennifer Ha, TC ’18

누구를 위하여 결혼식을 올리나

by Seungjung Sohn, ES ’19

썸

by Nikki Hwang, MC ’17

Festa do Espirito Santo

by Helder Toste, BK ’16

A Queima das Fitas

by Mariana Do Carmo, BR ’17

Stare bene insieme

by Matteo Rosati, PC ’19

Il mio caffè

by Alessandro Luciano PC ’18

De Traditie van Sinterklaas

by Olivier Van Donselaar, BK ’17

Ατέλειωτη Κύκλοι

by Daphne Martin, TC ’19

Звички комфорту та зручності

by Yulia Vozzhaeva, SM ’16 and Iryna Kharlamova

The Accent Team

Caroline Kulmhofer

3

в деревне

by Polina Puzacheva

Reminiscing about her childhood and summer days spent in a village with her grandmother, Polina Puzacheva from St. Tikhon’s Orthodox University of Humanities in Moscow, Russia finds that rituals tie people together, whether they are families, friends or whole nations.

До крещения Руси в 988 году немаловажную

роль в жизни славян играло язычество, во многом определившее дальнейшую судьбу русского народа, в повседневной жизни которого веками сохранялись языческие праздники и обряды. К примеру, масленица и гадание на святки являются неким пережитком именно языческой традиции. Но не стоит забывать, что в настоящее время главенствующей религией в России является православие, а именно поэтому такие христианские праздники, как Рождество Христово и Пасха необычайно популярны в нашей стране. Каждый год на праздничных богослужениях в храмах собираются не только верующие православные христиане, но и нерелигиозные люди, довольно далекие от веры. Объединяют русский народ и другие праздники, такие, как, например, Великий День Победы, день России. Но помимо столь известных всему миру памятных дат и привычных праздников, в каждой семье существуют свои традиции. Некоторые на протяжении многих лет передаются из поколения в поколение, некоторые рождаются с созданием новой семьи и существуют непродолжительное время. Например, в нашей семье один летний месяц было принято проводить на природе, за городом, в гостях у бабушки с дедушкой. Почти все мои детские воспоминания связаны именно с деревней: чистейший воздух, домашние животные, наши с братом маленькие ежедневные обязанности: прокормить кур, пробежаться с собакой до соседнего леса через поле. А каждый день ровно в 8 p.m. с этого поля пастухи гнали сотни коров, быков и овец домой в стойла. Нашей со старшим братом маленькой традицией было забираться по деревянной лестнице на забор и наблюдать за этим шествием из ­за ограды. Мы пересчитывали идущих с поля животных, спорили, какая корова придет сегодня последней, ну и просто разговаривали о том, о сем. Какой пирог будем печь с бабушкой на следующий день, поедем ли на велосипедах до соседнего городка, будет ли туман ранним утром в поле...

4

Before the Baptism of Russia in the year

988 A.D., paganism played a central role in the lives of the Slavs, which set the course for many of the pagan rituals which for centuries were preserved in everyday Russian life.

For example, maslenitsa and fortune telling at Yuletide are survivors of an overtly pagan tradition.

However, it’s worth remembering that in the present day the predominant religion in Russia is Orthodox Christianity, and therefore Christian holidays like Christmas and Easter are popular in our country. Every year both the religious and those who are far from faith gather at festal services in churches. Other celebrations, such as Victory Day and Russia Day, unite the Russian people as well.

Aside from these internationally famous dates and habitual holidays, each family also has its own traditions. Some of the traditions are passed down from generation to generation over the course of many years; others are born with the founding of a new family and survive only a short while.

For example, in my family it was customary to spend a month each summer in nature— in the countryside with my grandmother and grandfather. Almost all of my childhood memories are tied to the village: clean air, farm animals, my brother’s and my small everyday chores. I remember feeding the chickens and taking the dog on a run through the field to the neighboring woods. And every day right at 8 pm hundreds of cows, bulls, and sheep would be herded home from the field to their stalls. My brother’s and my little tradition was to climb up a wooden ladder to the top of the fence and watch the procession from behind the railing. We would count the animals coming back from the field, arguing about which cow would be last today, and we would talk about this and that. What pie will

we bake with grandma tomorrow, will we ride our bikes to the neighboring town, will there be fog in the field in the early morning.

Childhood memories are priceless, and the traditions that come into being during those years are impossible to forget. And even now, when we have grown up and moved far away from our native city and our favorite village, I try to find time during the summer and spend a week or two with my grandma and grandpa. True, my grandma no longer keeps chickens, and there are only one or two cows coming back from the field. But the starry sky is unchanged, and we still go out at night, wrapped in blankets, into grandma’s garden and marvel at the thousands of heavenly lights. All is as it was in childhood:the same old fence around the garden, the same clean air, the same sounds of barking dogs.

There are many similar traditions in my family. It is precisely these traditions that help us remember the happy moments of the past, to value the present, to look with confidence to the future. It is precisely these traditions which guard my family’s values. And from time to time, when a ritual turns into a habit, the action becomes so natural to a person that he or she simply stops noticing it. There are hundreds of these small habits, if not thousands.

They make our lives unique, full. They tie people together: friends, lovers, whole families, and even nations.

And that’s precisely what makes a human a human.

Russian

Д е т с к и е воспоминания бесценны, а сложившуюся т р а д и ц и ю невозможно просто так забыть. И даже сейчас, когда мы выросли и уехали далеко от родного города и л ю б и м о й деревни, я с т а р а ю с ь находить время летом и проводить н е д е л ю - ­д р у г у ю с бабушкой и дедушкой. Правда, кур бабуля больше не держит, да и коров с поля возвращается одна, ­две. Но звездное небо по­прежнему остается неизменным и мы все также выходим ночью, укутавшись в пледы, в бабушкин сад и любуемся тысячами прекраснейших небесных светил. Все как в детстве. Та же ветхая оградка огорода, тот же чистейший воздух, те же звуки лающих собак. В моей семье довольно много подобных традиций. Именно они помогают не забывать счастливые моменты прошлого, ценить настоящее, с уверенностью смотреть в будущее. Именно такие традиции охраняют семейные ценности. И порой, когда обычай превращается в привычку, это действие становится для человека настолько естественным, что он просто перестает его замечать. И таких мелких привычек сотни, если не тысячи. Именно они делают нашу жизнь особенной, наполненной, именно они объединяют людей: друзей, влюбленных, целые семьи и даже народы. И это есть то, что делает человека человеком.

5

Запах воспоминаний

by Natalia Titenkova & Yulia Vozzhaeva SM ’16 Scents. How important are they in our emotional life, if at all? Yulia and her friend Natalia believe that scents recreate emotional memories that otherwise would be doomed to be forgotten.

Едкий

запах краски, цитрусовый запах мандарин, пощипывающая морозная свежесть, тлеющая прошлогодняя трава. Я далеко от России, но со мной мои воспоминания. И как ни странно, самые яркие из них навеяны запахами. Осень в моей памяти всегда начинается со школы. Я вспоминаю бессонную ночь перед первым сентября, когда не спится от роящихся мыслей о предстоящем школьном дне. К школе у меня все готово заранее: пузатый портфель с цветными тетрадями и дневником отдыхает в углу, идеально выглаженный школьный наряд ждет утра на спинке стула. Нарядной процессией из сонных детей и больших букетов мы отправимся завтра на первый урок. А школа встречает нас спокойствием, идеальным порядком и чистотой, которым останется жить не долго. Уже в первый же день на безупречно выкрашенных стенах и партах появятся наши следы. И именно запах свежей краски еще долгие годы будет навевать мне воспоминания о школьных днях. Зима - очень длинная глава в жизни россиян. Снег толстым покрывалом лежит на земле так, что звук падающей с дерева ветки кажется не громче падения пера на кучку шерсти. Эта тишина идеально сочетается с зимним запахом чистоты и свежести. В моей памяти этот запах всегда ассоциируется с запахом чистого сухого белья, которое мама приносит из холода в тёплую гостиную. Замерзшие простыни,

6

The poignant scents of paint, citrusy tangerine,

fresh crispy cold, burning dry leaves. I am far from my country but I have my memories. The most vivid and most emotional of which are those evoked by smells.

Fall always starts with school in my memory. It is a nervous night before the first of September, the day of Knowledge in Russia. Anxious about my first day at school, I am not sleeping. My school bag is packed with colorful copy books and a school journal for grades. My new neatly ironed school outfit is resting on the chair. Tomorrow, I will join the joyful procession of kids mixed with the chaos of festive bouquets of flowers and sleepiness. We will enter the school building for the first time after our long summer break, eager and anxious. The school is ready for us to destroy its three month serenity and its immaculate appearance of freshly painted walls, desks and floors which soon will be covered with myriads of notes. Fresh paint is the scent that never fails to evoke those memories in my mind, even many years after I graduated from school.

Winter is a long chapter in the life of Russian people. A white blanket of snow covers everything in a thick layer so that a falling tree branch sounds like a feather descending onto a pile of wool. This silence perfectly matches the winter scent of purity and freshness. It is imprinted in my mind as the scent of clean dry laundry that my mother would bring from the cold into a warm living room. Frozen bed sheets, pillow cases, pants, shirts would

наволочки, штаны, рубашки причудливо стоят на диване и креслах, наполняя всю комнату пощипывающей нос свежестью. Спокойствие, глухая тишина и запах свежести создают чувственный образ русской зимы. Празднования Нового Года привносят краски в серую зимнюю жизнь россиян. Новый год делит зиму на две части, до и после, где первая часть полна радостных ожиданий праздников, а вторая - унылая, холодная и бесконечная с отчаянными мыслями о долгожданной весне. На Новый Год каждый ребенок в России получает подарки с работы родителей. У моих родителей на двоих было три работы, а у меня, соответственно, три подарка, которые я берегла, как сокровища. Все эти подарки были красиво упакованные коробки со сладостями, карамельными и шоколадными конфетами с редкими вкраплениями мандарин, чтобы подарок казался больше. И после Нового Года на протяжении месяца, как ежедневный ритуал, я открывала коробку за коробкой, выкладывала все конфеты одна за другой, рассортировывала их по видам, пересчитывала и удовлетворенно складывала обратно. Больше всего из них я любила шоколадные конфеты, и я позволяла себе есть только по одной в день. Потом шли карамельные конфеты. Я их не жалела, съедала десятками и даже делилась с родными. А вот мандарины мне не нравились совсем: они только место заполняли в коробке, их я сразу раздавала. А сейчас они составляют главную ноту в гамме запахов из моих воспоминаний. Запах мандарин в сочетании с шоколадом всегда напоминает мне о Новом Годе в России; вспоминая, я даже переживаю те же эмоции, что чувствовала тогда. Робкая русская весна приходит с весёлым смехом играющих на улице детей. Тогда первый раз после долгой зимы я сниму свой толстый зимний наряд, который больше напоминает скафандр, и удивлюсь непривычным ощущениям. Без толстой шапки все звуки вдруг кажутся необычно громкими. Тяжёлые ботинки и плотные слои одежды больше не сковывают движений, и мне кажется, я не хожу, а почти летаю. Весна радует. Отражаясь яркостью солнца на тающем снеге, она слепит своими красками. Повсюду жгут прошлогоднюю траву: расчищают землю для новых весенних побегов. Дым толстым слоем стелится по непокрытым снегом участкам земли. Так весна пахнет. Часто по прошествии лет события обычных дней и пережитые эмоции ускользают из памяти, хотя и дороги нам. Удивительно, как именно запахи помогают вспомнить и даже вновь пережить ощущения, которые иначе никогда не остались бы в нашей памяти. Благодаря запахам дорогие мне моменты из жизни в России никогда не забудутся.

stand, not lay, in a bizarre way on the sofa and chairs, like ice mountains overwhelming the entire room with its freshness that pinches the nose to tears. The serenity and its unique scent of pinching freshness create a sensual Russian winter.

The New Year celebrations bring colors into the long grey winter life of Russian people. The New Year breaks our winter into two parts, before and after, with the first part happy, full of festive expectations, and the second, grey, cold and eternal with despondent thoughts of never-coming spring. By the New Year, every child in Russia gets a present from their parent’s employer. My parents had three jobs and so I had three presents which I treasured. Fancily packaged in festive boxes, they were all collections of chocolate and caramel sweets with random additions of tangerines to make presents look bigger. It would become my daily routine for about a month to open each box, breath in the chocolate aroma, take sweets one by one out of the box, assort them into different kinds, count them, and then put back in the boxes. The ones that I cherished the most were chocolates – I would allow myself to eat only one a day. Second were caramels – I ate dozens of them every day and even shared them with family members. Big yellow space fillers, tart tangerines were my least favorite - they would be all given away. Now they constitute the major tone in my scent memory - even a whiff of citrusy tangerine mixed with chocolate brings up not only visual images but also emotions that I felt back then.

Shy Russian spring announces itself vociferously with the joyous laughter of kids playing outside. For the first time after a long winter, I would take off my multi-layered winter outfit (that feels more like a space suit) to again hear sounds in all their intensity, to be surprised by the lightness of my movements. Lit by strong spring light that is reflected and intensified by melting snow, the colors of spring are blinding.

Clear from snow, areas of land are covered with smoke. That is last year leaves and grass being burned to give way to a new grass. That is the smell of spring.

It is surprising how strong smell memories are. They rush into the mind to draw sensual images of our dearest past. While people and meaningful events keep revisiting our memory naturally triggered by nostalgia or by particular life experiences, the reminiscences of regular day rituals or small details as well as sensual and emotional perceptions do not appear often, if ever. Less important they are not, however, as they move us emotionally in a unique way.

Through smell memories, my little Russian rituals of everyday life will never be forgotten.

7

浴 衣 を 着 る こ と by Ring Wang, PC ’17 In this article, Ring discusses the meaning of putting on a yukata.

8

京都に着いたときは、夏の始まりだっ た。光り輝く高層ビルが集まった東京 と違って、京都は古い木のにおいがし た。京都にいる間にいろいろ観光をし て、古く狭い町を歩き、 お寺や神社で 半日過ごすと、現代からほど遠く離 れ、 なにか古い昔のものと繋がった 気分がした。 そういう時代を越える力 を持つ京都の町並みに陶酔した。 そういう町の中で、祇園周辺に対 しては、複雑な感慨を抱くことになっ た。 四条通りは京都に珍しい高層ビ ルが並んで、商店街になっている。 四 条通りの終わりに位置しているのが 祇園である 。花見小路と八坂神社と いう有名な観光地が揃っているゆえ、 いつも観光客で混雑している。一番 印象的なのは、多くの浴衣を着てい る人々が自然に現代的な町で歩く光 景だった。浴衣や着物というのは、私 にとって一種、神聖なるものである。 浴衣や着物を着るというのは、 儀式の ようなものである。 そういった着物は 普通の衣装より遥かに長い歴史を見 渡してきた魂と思想を持つ生き物だ からである。着る度に何か自分より大 きい力を感じ、遠い昔の何かと繋が る気がする。何百年もの間、無数の職 人が念入りに着物を作り、 自分の魂 を注ぎ込み、無数の人々が念入りに 着物を身に着け、京都の町を歩いて きた。 しかし、今祇園あたりで浴衣を 着て歩き回る人々は ほぼ観光客であ った。観光客にとって 浴衣を着ること はもう京都で定番の行事になってい る。大量生産された値段の安い浴衣 を売る商店は山ほどある。適当な浴 衣を買い、適当に身にまとい、古都を 歩き回ることで満足するというのがい まの人々の心理である。浴衣は商品

It

was the beginning of summer when I arrived in Kyoto. Unlike Tokyo where lofty buildings dominate, Kyoto has the smell of ancient wood.

During my stay in Kyoto, I did a lot of sightseeing. As I walked on the ancient streets and spent half of the day at temples or shrines, I felt like I was drifting away from modern times and connecting to something in the distant past. I was enchanted by the streets of Kyoto that possess the power to transcend times.

As I walked these streets, I developed complicated feelings towards the periphery of Gion. Lofty buildings—unusual in Kyoto—line up the sides of Shijo Dori Street, which has become a commercial street. Gion is situated at the end of Shijo Dori.

Because this area has tourist attractions such as the famous Hanamikoji and Yasaka Shrine, it is always crowded with tourists. What struck me was seeing a great number of people walking along the modern thoroughfare wearing Yukata—traditional Japanese clothing in summer. To me, Yukata and Kimono are sacred objects, and putting them on is like a ritual. This traditional clothing has witnessed a much longer history than normal clothing and has become almost like a living creature with its own soul and thinking. Every time I put on a kimono, I would feel some power bigger than myself and feel connected to something in the distant past. In a period of hundreds of years, countless craftsmen have put their souls into the painstaking process of making kimono; countless people have put on kimono with great care and walked the streets of Kyoto. However, people who walked around Gion wearing yukata now are mostly tourists. Wearing yukata has become a routine thing to do for the tourists. There are a sea of shops that sell mass-produced and low-price yukata. People are more than satisfied by the experience of

buying a random yukata, casually putting it on and walking around the ancient city. Yukata has been commercialized and has come to serve the tourist industry. As the number of tourists increased, the meaning and value to the act of putting on yukata changed.

Since Kyoto has become a popular tourist city, many traditions have become commercialized. During my stay in Kyoto, I went to see the famous Gion festival. Gion festival lasts for a month from July 1st and has existed since the 9th century. The parade of the Yamaboko floats is the most important event during the festival. On that day, many people assembled on Shijo Dori Street to see the parade. Most of the people were tourists. When I asked my friends who live in Kyoto and my host family, it turned out that no one went to see the parade that day. Some have never gone to see the parade. The Gion festival has come to be a festival for the tourists and, like yukata, it seems to have lost its original meaning and value as a tradition by becoming a favorite of the tourists. However, this is probably inevitable in a world of commercialization and globalization. What I can do as an individual is to be mindful of the original value of traditions whenever I put on a yukata or go to see a festival. I can pay homage to the tradition and history behind these rituals by treating them as sacred.

Japanese

化され、 旅行業の一部にな った。浴衣を着る意味と価 値は旅行者の増加に伴っ て 変わったのである。 京都が人気の観光都市 になってからというもの、多 くの伝統が商品化された。 京都にいる間に、有名な祇 園祭りを見に行った。祇園 祭は９世紀より続き、 ７月 １日から一か月間に行う祭 りである。 山鉾の巡行は祇 園祭の一番大事な行事で ある。 その日、巡行を見るた めに多くの人々が四条通り に集まった。 その場にいた 人々はほぼ観光客でした。 京都在住の友達やホストフ ァミリーの皆に聞くと、誰も 見に行かなかったという。 一回も見に行ったことのな い人さえいた。祇園祭りは 浴衣と同じく、観光客のお 気に入りになって、伝統と しての価値が変わり、曖昧 になってしまった。 しかし、 これは商品化とグロバー ライゼーションが進んだ世 界では仕方がないことであ ろう。個人として、私ができ ることは、浴衣を着る度に、 また祭りを見に行く度に、 それらの本来の価値を心 に刻み、神聖な儀式として 行うことである。

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México: el ritual como expresión cultural

by Susana Castillo, JE ’16 In “México: el ritual como expresión cultural,” Susana sheds lights upon Mexico´s most traditional and characteristic rituals as they take part in mexican cultural identity.

Los rituales están presentes en todas las

sociedades y la sociedad mexicana no es la excepción. La palabra ritual, del latín ritualis, en su sentido más amplio, significa “aquello que está impuesto por la costumbre.”

Aunque ha sido comúnmente asociada con la religión y lo sagrado, la palabra ritual denota cualquier actividad que se realice de manera reiterada y que posea un significado especial: el matrimonio, las celebraciones presidenciales, los juicios, hasta saludos en determinados idiomas, son todos ejemplos de rituales que el ser humano realiza de manera constante.

Los festejos y las celebraciones en las que participa el mexicano están llenas de rituales que han sido elaborados y mantenidos por la costumbre, pasando de generación en generación.

Las Posadas Navideñas son una de las tradiciones más representativas de la cultura mexicana, y es en ellas donde observamos rituales característicos del mexicano.

Cada año, durante los primeros días del mes de diciembre, los mexicanos celebran la próxima llegada de la Navidad y el nacimiento del niño Jesús. El carácter de ritual de esta celebración católica puede observarse en la actuación que tiene lugar al inicio de la fiesta, la cual consiste en una imitación de la peregrinación de María y José hacia Belén. En ella, dos personas son vestidas como María y José y varias casas son designadas como “posadas” o refugios.

Las dos personas que representan el papel de María y de José van tocando puerta

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Rituals

are present in all societies and Mexico is no exception. The word ritual comes from the latin ritualis, and in its broadest sense, it means “any activity which has been imposed by tradition.”

Commonly associated with religion, the word ritual indicates any activity that is performed repeatedly and that possesses a special meaning: marriage, presidential celebrations, trials, even the way men greet each other, they all are examples of rituals performed by humans on a continuous basis.

Celebrations and festivities in which the Mexican population participates are full of rituals that have been elaborated and maintained by custom and tradition, from generation to generation.

Christmas “Posadas” are one of the most representative and ritualized traditions of Mexican culture. Every year, during the first days of December, Mexicans gather together to celebrate the arrival of Christmas and the birth of Jesus Christ.

The ritualized character of this Catholic celebration can be observed in the performance that takes place at the beginning of the celebration, which consists on a representation of Mary and Joseph’s pilgrimage to Belem. During the performance, one person is dressed as Mary and another one is dressed as Joseph, and several houses are designated as “posadas” or shelters.

The two people who represent Mary and Joseph knock door-to-door in search for a place in which Mary can give birth. The rest of the attendants act as pilgrims and shep-

ards, who sing during the whole pageantry.

This Mexican ritual reaches an end when the host finally lets Mary and Joseph enter the house designated as shelter, which marks the beginning of the celebration.

One of Mexico’s best-known rituals is “El Grito.” Every September sixteenth, during Mexico`s celebration of independence, Mexicans meet around Mexico City’s main plaza to hear their President “scream” for Mexican Republic’s freedom. This ritual is a representation of the words spoken on the “Cry of Dolores” by Miguel Hidalgo, a leader and a priest, to invite people to fight for Mexico’s independence from Spain in the year of 1810 .

Finally, in November, Mexicans and their families get together to worship the Day of the Dead, and, in a kind of ritual, Mexicans offer bread, flowers, fruits and sugar skulls which are arranged on altars of several levels that have been decorated in memory of deceased family or friends.

Mexicans are surrounded by many rituals that most of the times they do not seem to be aware of them. The preparation of the typical breakfast after a night of cele-

Spanish

en puerta, en busca de un lugar en donde María pueda dar a luz al niño Jesús. El resto de los asistentes hacen el papel de peregrinos y pastores, cantando durante toda la procesión. El ritual culmina cuando los anfitriones de la fiesta finalmente dejan entrar a María y a José, y es en este momento que comienza la celebración e inicia el rompimiento de las piñatas tradicionales.

Uno de los rituales más conocidos de México es “El Grito.” Cada dieciséis de septiembre, por motivo de la celebración de la independencia de México, los mexicanos se reúnen alrededor del Zócalo Capitalino para escuchar al Presidente de la República “gritar” por la libertad de la república mexicana. Este ritual es una representación de las palabras que el libertador Miguel Hidalgo dio al pueblo mexicano al convocarlos a unirse en armas y a luchar por la independencia del México en contra de España en el año de 1810.

Finalmente, durante el mes de noviembre y en el “Día de los Muertos,” los mexicanos se reúnen con sus familias para venerar a los muertos, a quienes, en una especie de ritual, ofrecen pan, flores, frutos y calav

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eras de azúcar que son dispuestas en altares de varios niveles elaborados en memoria de algún familiar o amigo fallecido.

Todos los días el mexicano se ve rodeado de rituales, tan típicos que muchas de las veces ni siquiera se percata de su existencia. La preparación del tradicional desayuno después de una noche de fiesta, la oración a la Virgen de Guadalupe e incluso el típico saludo “¡Hola, compadre!” que acompañan al mexicano de manera cotidiana, son todos ejemplos de pequeños rituales que el mexicano realiza.

La acción ritual tiene una organización, es realizada por determinadas personas y en ella se combinan gestos, cantos, discursos o actuaciones del mexicano que atribuyen al acto un significado especial. Los rituales, como es posible observar, son parte esencial de la identidad cultural del mexicano, en ellos se reflejan valores característicos de la cultura mexicana como la fraternidad, la unidad, el valor de la familia y la muerte como una etapa más de la vida. Los rituales son, entonces, símbolos de la idiosincrasia del mexicano, y es en este valor simbólico en donde reside su importancia.

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-bration, the prayers to Mexican Lady of Guadalupe, and even the characteristic “¡hola, compadre!” greeting, they are all examples of little rituals that the Mexican performs on a daily basis.

Rituals have a distinct organization. They are performed by specific persons, and they combine gestures, singing, speeches or performances that attribute a special meaning to every act. Rituals, as we can see, are an essential part of Mexican cultural identity. They reflect characteristic values of the Mexican culture such as fraternity, unity, the value of family and death as another stage of life.

Rituals are symbols of Mexican idiosyncracies and bear a lot of importance to the population.

Las Nieves de Antaño

by Sergio Infante, CC ’18

When the transformation of old rituals is the only ritual that is left, all that remains is to pack your bags and head for the hills. An explanation of the “ritual of modernity” and why it hurts, as inspired

by Jorge Luis Borges.

Percibía con toda lucidez la condición experimental de sus libros: admirables tal vez por lo novedoso…pero no por las virtudes de la pasión. «Soy como las odas de Cowley», me escribió desde Longford el 6 de marzo de 1939. «No pertenezco al arte, sino a la mera historia del arte».

He plainly understood the experimental nature of his works: admirable, perhaps, for their innovations…but not for the virtues of passion.

“As if I were one of Cowley’s odes,” he wrote to me from Longford on March 6, 1939, “I do not belong to art, but rather to the mere history of art.”

– Jorge Luis Borges, Fictions

Antes de abordar esta cita del incomparable Borg- Before I discuss this quote from the one and only es, quisiera describirles un ritual. Tal vez lo conozcan, queridos amigos, y así podrán ayudarme a recrearlo en sus propias cabezas, en toda su complejidad. En todo caso, conózcanlo o no, mi pobre ejecución aquí debería bastar para los humildes propósitos que me ocupan.

El ritual que describo se ve actualmente en todo su esplendor chez les hipsters. Sin embargo, lo iniciaron y articularon varios pensadores antiguos, entre ellos Francis Bacon, Niccolò Machiavelli, Miguel de Unamuno y Karl Marx. Es un rito a veces irreligioso, siempre irreverente. Dada la difusión extensa que tiene en este mundo moderno, no diría que se puede considerar iconoclasta, pero eso cada lector lo decidirá por su propia cuenta. En todo caso, es un ritual curioso y llamativo, porque es el único que la antropología clasificaría como asesino en serie: es decir, es el único que va a la persecución de los otros – que caza, que hiere, que mata a sus camaradas.

Hoy en día, un sinnúmero de gente observa las normas de este ritual sin tener la menor intención, sin examinar con la mínima seriedad los efectos de esas acciones. Los que todavía enuncian su filosofía – entre ellos el muy incomprendido dramaturgo californiano, John Logan – repiten un refrán casi tan piadosamente como los musulmanes el shahada. Dicen: «el hijo debe matar al padre…respetarlo pero matarlo». Tal vez no se pueda hablar concretamente de esta práctica sin primero citar innumerables estudios culturales y sociales. Asimismo, admito que no debería descri

Borges, I’d like to tell you first about a ritual. Perhaps you shall know it, friends, and will hence be able to help me to recreate it in your heads, in its most detailed complexity. In any case, know it or not, my poor execution here should suffice for the humble purposes I have sought.

The ritual that I aim to sketch out here is nowadays seen in fullest splendor chez les hipsters.[1] Nevertheless, it was first articulated by various thinkers of old, amongst them Francis Bacon, Niccolò Machiavelli, Miguel de Unamuno and Karl Marx. It is a rite at times irreligious, always irreverent. Given its widespread diffusion in this modern world, however, I would not say that it is properly iconoclastic, although it is often classified as such. In any case, it is a mysterious ritual, because it is the only one that anthropology would classify as a serial killer: that is, it is the only one that actively pursues its kin – that hunts, that wounds, that kills its comrades.

Even today, countless numbers of people observe the norms of this ritual without intending to, without examining in the least the effects of their actions.

Those who still understand the philosophy behind this cult – amongst them the much-misunderstood Californian playwright, John Logan – repeat a simple refrain: “the son must kill the father…respect him, but kill him.” Perhaps this ritual cannot be properly spoken of without my first citing countless cultural and social studies. But even then, I admit that this tradition should not be described solely through its phenotypes, ex ungue leonem.[2] At the same time, I would emphasize that it is one of those social phenomena

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birse solamente a través de sus fenotipos, ex ungue leonem. Pero, también quisiera recalcarles que es uno de esos fenómenos sociales que bien se reconoce a simple vista, no solo porque tiene incontables adeptos, sino también porque – a fin de cuentas – es el ritual que rige nuestra modernidad. Es, simplemente, un ritual que privilegia la innovación continua como un bien en sí.

No se preocupen, amigos, que yo sería el último en pregonar las virtudes de un retorno al pasado. Después de todo, no veo ningún bien en alegar que nada es sacrosanto en este brave new world. Pero me quiero considerar un poquito como Borges – porque a veces me preocupo que la posición de mi época en la historia, como la del autor en la cita de arriba, no se deba a la riqueza de sus productos sino a la fuerza bruta de una inservible innovación. Escribo esto en un computador que estará obsoleto en unos pocos años, situado al lado de un iPhone nuevecito y ya sobrepasado, con carros y edificios y países enteros ya vetustos a la vista de mi anticuada ventanilla.

Tal vez no lo quiera admitir, pero estoy lleno de una nostalgia incurable e inútil. Me provoca tristeza ver la partida, muchas veces injusta, de todos los viejos rituales: ya los sábados pegados frente a una televisión caleidoscópica no existen, ya las horas ansiosas de anticipación antes de comprar un nuevo álbum desaparecieron, ya murieron Mr. Rogers y Gabriel García Márquez.

Con el calentamiento global, tal vez solo nos quedará repetir la triste dicta de François Villon: « Mais où sont les neiges d’antan ? ».

recognized at first sight, not only because of its countless acolytes, but also because – in the end – it is the ritual that rules modernity. To wit, it is a ritual that privileges continuous innovation as a good in and of itself.

Don’t worry friends! I’d be the last to preach the virtues of a return to the past. After all, I see no benefit in claiming that nothing is sacred in our brave new world. Yet, I do want to consider myself at least a little bit like Borges, because at times I worry that the place of my generation in history, just like that of the author in the quote above, is not due to the richness of our products (i.e. the world of art) but rather to the brute force of a useless innovation – one that produces obsolescence by its very nature (i.e. the history of art). Even as I write this, I’m using a computer that will be outdated in a couple of years, next to an iPhone both brandnew and out-of-style, with cars and buildings and entire countries looking positively ancient right outside my antiquated window.

Perhaps I do not want to admit it. Perhaps I am full of fatalistically incurable nostalgia. Yet, it makes me sad to see this “ritual of modernity” rip apart my beloved rituals: the Saturdays glued to a kaleidoscopic television screen, the anxious hours of anticipation before going to the store to buy a new album, even the late Mr. Rogers and Gabriel García Márquez. With global warming, perhaps all that will be left will be the echoes of François Villon’s sad dictum: “Where, o where, are the snows of yesteryear?”

[1] Trans. amongst the hipsters [2] Trans. from the claw, the lion (i.e. to identify the whole from a part)

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arabic

‫االختالفات الثقافية بني األخبار‬ ‫االمرميية و األخبار العربية‬

by Nolan Phillips, TC ’18

Reading the newspaper is a daily ritual practiced in every corner of the world.

Nolan Phillips reflects on how we select our favorite news source, and what this says about us.

‫ ولكنها‬،»‫أنا ال أختار غالبا مشاهدة «فوكس نيوز‬ ‫ كنت أقعد عىل‬،‫ يف الصيف املايض‬.‫أحيانا محتومة‬ ‫ وما كان من املمكن‬،‫طاولة يف مطعم يف بلدة صغرية‬ .‫أن أنظر بعيدا عن التلفزيون امل ُعلّق بالجدار امامي‬ ‫دون ّأن مل أدهب ابدا إىل هذا املطعم املحدد فام‬ ‫فاجأين اختيار «فوكس نيوز» كالقناة اإلخبارية املفضلة‬ ‫ نظرا ملوقع هذا املطعم يف بلدة ضغرية يف جنوب‬،‫هنا‬ ‫ الذي يوجد فيه وجهات النظر‬،‫الواليات املتحدة‬ ‫ انتامؤنا السايس يحدد‬،‫ يف امريكا‬.‫السياسية املحافظة‬ .‫اختيار مصدرنا األخبارية‬ ‫الوصول إىل األخبار هو عادة يوم ّية يف كل جانب‬ ‫من نواحي العامل ألننا لنا رغبة قوية يف معرفة مجتمعنا‬ ‫ تختلف‬،‫ بالرغم من عاملية هذه العادة‬.‫وحكومتنا‬ .‫الثقافة األخبارية كثريا حسب البلد الذي نعيش فيه‬ ‫ يوصف مصدر األخبار بانتامئه‬،‫يف الواليات املتحدة‬ .‫ او محايدا‬،‫ محافظا‬،‫ وميكن أن يكون ليرباليا‬،‫السايس‬ ‫ طريقة األخبار هي‬،‫ولكن يف كثري من العامل العريب‬ ‫مختلفة جدا عن النظام االمرييك بسبب هيمنة الجرائد‬ ‫املدعومة من الحكومة يف وسائل األعالم املختلفة‬ ‫ بعض الجرائد األردنية متلكها‬.‫كالصحف والتلفزيون‬ ،‫ حيث إن كثريا من املصادر املستقلة‬،‫الحكومة كليا‬ ‫ إ ّن القيود‬.‫ لها حصص عديدة يف الحكومة‬،‫يف الحقيقة‬ ‫الصارمة عىل حرية التعبري تق ّيد وسائل اإلعالم املحلية‬ ‫ ونتيجة لذلك فأن الناس‬،‫يف كثريمن البلدان العربية‬ ‫يصلوا إىل مواقع اإلنرتنت الدولية مثل يب يب يس ويس‬ . ‫إن إن‬ ‫ هناك كثريون من‬،‫مثل كثريين من االمريكيني‬ ،‫العرب فخورون بأفضلية مصادرهم األخبارية اليومية‬

I rarely choose to watch Fox News,

but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

This summer I found myself sitting at a small-town restaurant, finishing up the last bites of my ice cream, unable to look away from the muted television hanging on the wall in front of me. Although I had never been to this particular restaurant, it came as no surprise that Fox News was the channel of choice. After all, the restaurant was located in smalltown Kentucky, a common arena for conservative political views. As Americans, our choice of news is largely defined by personal politics.

Accessing the news is a daily ritual that occurs in every corner of the globe—we all desire to be informed about our society and our government. Despite the universality of this practice, the culture surrounding news varies greatly based on the country in which we live. In the United States, a news source is generally categorized by its political affiliation: is it liberal, conservative, or (ostensibly) neutral? In much of the Arab world, attitudes towards the news are markedly different. In many countries where freedom of speech is limited, government-backed newspapers proliferate the newsstands and the TV screens. Jordanian newspapers such as Al Ra’i are entirely owned by the government, while many supposedly independent sources such as English-language The Jordan Times have a size-

15

‫ولكنهم فخورون خصوصا‬ .‫باملصادر الرئيسية من اإلنرتنت‬ ‫من املعروف يف أي مكان يف العامل‬ ‫العريب أن الناس يعلنوا والءهم‬ ‫ كذلك‬.‫لبي يب يس أو ليس إن إن‬ ‫يوجد ناس آخرون واضحون يف‬ ‫ ولكن‬.‫دعمهم للمصادر املحلية‬ ‫األسباب يف هذه التفضيالت‬ ‫مختلفة جدا عن أسبابنا يف‬ ‫ إذا شاهدت‬.‫الواليات املتحدة‬ ،»‫يف تلفزيون «فوكس نيوز‬ ‫فأتعرف فورا عىل انتامء لحزب‬ ،‫ يف ناحية أخرى‬.‫معي‬ ّ ‫سيايس‬ ‫إذا قال عريب إنّه يقرأ فقط لبي‬ ‫ فإ ّن ذلك‬،‫يب يس أو ليس إن إن‬ ‫إشارة للفكر الح ّر والفهم لألمور‬ ‫ أ ّما يف البلدان‬.‫الدولية ايضا‬ ‫حيث املصادر األخبارية املحلية‬ ‫ هذه العادة‬،‫غري موثوق بها‬ ‫ فيمكن‬،‫تظهر بشكل مختلف‬ ‫أن يكون اختيار األخبار مصدرا‬ ‫نادرا لحرية التعبري والتعليم‬ . ‫وحتى التدمري‬ 16

able amount of government-owned shares of stock. And regardless of ownership, strict limitations on freedom of expression severely limit local media throughout the Arabian Peninsula. As a result, internationally vetted news sites such as BBC, Aljazeera, and others are often accessed online only.

Like many Americans, many Arabs are proud of their daily news source—but particularly when it is a major online one. Throughout the Middle East, it is common to hear someone declare allegiance to only BBC, or to CNN. Select others are vocal about their preference for local newspapers. But the reasons behind these preferences are far different than in the United States.

When an American television plays Fox News, this immediately recalls a political party affiliation. When an Arab says she or he reads only BBC or CNN, it is often intended as a badge of free thinking and international mindedness. In countries where local news sources are not trustworthy, this daily ritual takes a different character: the choice of news can be a source of free speech, education, and even subversion.

by Alejandra Padin-Dujon, DC ’18

‫ دور املنسف‬:‫األرز والبدوي‬ ‫يف تشكيل الوطنية األردنية‬

In the Levantine corner of the Arab world, mansaf denotes many things: lamb cooked in yogurt, nationalism, Bedouin hospitality… but colonialism? In a stroke of poetic irony, the Jordanian national dish is a living embodiment of constructed nationalism and the British mandate.

‫ فإنّه‬،‫ييمثّل الطبيخ التقليدي ركيزة الثقافة الوطنية يف أي مجتمع‬ ‫لسد غريزيت‬ ّ ‫ كام أنّه طريقة‬،‫انعكاس تاريخ الشعب ونهجه الحيايت‬ ‫ يصبح‬،‫ وهوالطبخة األردنية الوطنية‬،‫ إذن املنسف‬.‫الجوع واالجتامع‬ ‫باالستقراء ألي شخص يهتّم بإنشاء هوية وطنية يف الرشق األوسط‬ . ‫الحديث‬ ‫ يتكون املنسف من لحم مطبوخ يف لنب مجفّف اسمه‬،‫ببساطة‬ ‫ ويتناول الناس كل هذا تقليدياً يف املناسبات والحفالت‬،»‫«جميد‬ ‫ يتوفّر‬.‫لالحتفال بأعياد فوق األرز والخبز العريب املتزين مبكرسات‬ . ‫املنسف دامئاً مهمة أو الستقبال الضيوف‬ ‫ ألنه رمز لتقاليد‬،‫ يرجع املنسف إىل تراث األردن البدوي‬،‫ىل حد ما‬ ‫ ومن املفروض أنّه يضّ م مقومات بسيطة‬،‫االستضافة قدمية ومحرتمة‬ ‫ ولكن قد ت ّحور شكل املنسف‬.‫ومتوافرة يف حياة البدو الزراعية الرعوية‬ ‫ أصبح‬.‫وأهميته السياسية طيلة القرن األخري بقدر ال سبيل إىل إنكاره‬ ‫ غري أنه يأيت أص ًال من‬،ً‫املنسف رمزا ً وطنياً ُمعرتف به كأردين أساسيا‬ .‫ ملاذا ننىس أن املنسف‬.ً‫ بدوية يف فلسطني وسوريا أيضا‬.‫جاليات‬ ‫يتجاوز الحدود الوطنية ونربطه باألردن خصوصاً؟ اإلجابة املفاجئة‬ ‫ تّ ت أربعة أحداث مهمة بالنسبة لتاريخ‬.‫ االنتداب الربيطاين‬:‫هي‬ ‫ الثورة العربية‬،‫ الحرب العاملية األوىل‬:‫األردن يف أوائل القرن العرشين‬ ‫ كان‬.‫ وبداية االنتداب الربيطاين‬،‫ سقوط اإلمرباطورية العثامنية‬،‫الكربى‬ ‫ ُولد البلد بسبب تخطيط‬.‫األردن بلدا ً جديدا ً ودون أي هوية وطنية‬ ،‫ وال بسبب مشاعر شعبية بالوطنية‬،‫حدوده عىل خريطة يف أوروبا‬ ‫ فهو قام‬.‫فكان يحتاج النظام الجديد إىل أساس ليبني رشعيته عليه‬ ‫ ختري املنسف كرمز‬.‫بحملة بعيدة املدى لتشكيل ثقافة رسمية متّحدة‬ . ‫اتّحاد الوطن األردين واالحتفال بالرتاث البدوي‬ ‫ وهو خلق الوطنية من قبل قوات‬،ً‫إذن ميثل املنسف تناقضاً ساسيا‬ ‫ تظهر هذه املفارقة حتى يف املقومات املستخدمة يف عملية‬.‫احتاللية‬ ‫ بدأ األردن أن يستورد األرز‬،‫ تحت حكم الربيطنيني‬.‫التجهيز الحديثة‬ ‫ واندمجت هذه البضاعة الجديدة يف املنسف بد ال‬،‫من الهند بزيادة‬ .ً‫من القمح املحيل الذي كان أساس الطبخة تقليديا‬ ‫لن أذهب إطالقاً إىل القول بإّن الوطنية األردنية غري رشعية بسبب‬ ‫ يخربنا العلامء بأّن ال وطنية اال‬.»‫تاريخها وشكلها «غريالطبيعي‬ ‫ مثل‬،‫ الوطنية األردنية ورموزها‬.‫ وال وطن اال الجديد‬،‫املفتعلة‬ ‫ وحيدة فقط ألنّها متثّل عىل صورة واضحة تشكيل الوطنية‬،‫املنسف‬ . ‫ودور السياسة يف تطّور الثقافة والطبيخ‬

Traditional cuisine is a cornerstone of national cul-

ture. It reflects the history and way of life of the citizenry, and it also satisfies humanity’s instincts to eat and commune. Thus mansaf, the Jordanian national dish, becomes a case study in the construction of nationalist identity in the modern Middle East.

In a nutshell, mansaf consists of meat cooked in a kind of dried yogurt called jameed and eaten atop rice and thin flatbread garnished with nuts. It abounds at all special occasions, including important holidays and parties to welcome guests.

To some extent, mansaf recalls Jordan’s Bedouin heritage. It is a symbol of ancient and respected traditions of generosity and hospitality, and it consists of simple ingredients that would be abundant in the agro-pastoral Bedouin lifestyle. However, mansaf’s form and political significance have undergone an extensive transformation in the last century. Mansaf has been cast as a quintessentially Jordanian nationalist symbol despite the fact that it comes from Bedouin communities in Palestine and Syria too. Why do we forget that mansaf transcends national borders and associate it with specifically with Jordan? The surprising answer is the British mandate.

Four important events in the history of Jordan took place at the beginning of the twentieth century: World War I, the Great Arab Revolt, the fall of the Ottoman Empire, and the start of the British mandate. Having been created at the whim of European powers, the infant country lacked nationalist sentiment. So, the new regime undertook a far-reaching campaign to construct it. Mansaf was chosen as a symbol of Jordanian national unity and a celebration of Bedouin heritage.

Thus, mansaf embodies the irony of a nationalism created by occupying forces—an irony which extends to the ingredients used in modern preparations. Under the British, the country began to import rice from India in massive quantities. This new good replaced local wheat as the customary base.

It would not be fair to say that Jordanian nationalism is illegitimate because of its contrived roots.

Scholars tell us that all nationalisms are constructed, and that every nation is new. Mansaf and Jordanian nationalism are remarkable only in that they are so transparent an example of the role of politics in cultural and culinary development.

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Dans la cuisine

by Dasia Moore, PC ’18

Dasia describes the important role the kitchen plays in her life and in Southern culture as a whole.

Les soirs chez moi sont remplis de la mu-

sique de la cuisine. A l’évier, j’écoute l’eau tourbillonnant et le tintement de l’argenterie. Mes deux sœurs chantent doucement, ouvrant les placards et fermant les tiroirs.

Périodiquement, nous rompons la routine pour plaisanter et bavarder. Plongées dans nos pensées, au rythme de cette ritournelle envoutante, nous devenons plus sérieuses—imaginant nos avenirs, se confiant nos secrets et avouant nos peurs. Dans la cuisine, j’ai appris qu’une de mes sœurs aimait un garçon mais elle se sentait souvent toute seule. Dans la cuisine, nous avons choisis les noms des enfants que nous pourrions avoir et des romans que nous voudrions écrire. La cuisine c’est notre lieu de rituel.

Cette pièce ne nous est pas chère, par coïncidence. La cuisine, la nourriture et les tâches ménagères occupent une place importante dans la culture familiale américaine, surtout au Sud, la région d’où je viens. Ma mère, née à la campagne en Caroline du Nord, raconte souvent des histoires de grands diners qui

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At my house, evenings are filled with kitchen

music. At the sink, I stand washing dishes. I listen to the water whirling and silver clinking. My two sisters sing softly as they open and close drawers and cabinets. Our quiet tranquility is punctuated by jokes, gossip, and laughter. Some nights, when we allow ourselves to be put under the kitchen music’s spell, we become pensive. We imagine our futures, share our secrets and admit our fears.

It was in the kitchen that I learned about one sister’s first crush, and about her feelings of loneliness. In the kitchen, we chose the names of the children we might have and the novels we would like to write. The kitchen is our space for rituals.

It is no coincidence that the kitchen is so special to my sisters and me. Kitchen, food, and domestic life occupy an important space in the culture of the American family, especially in the South, the region I am from. My mom, who was born in rural North Carolina, often tells stories of grand dinners she had as a child at her grandmother’s house. The entire family gathered there each Sunday after church. The women prepared elaborate banquets. The children pretended to learn how to set the table while spying on the adults’ conversations. (As for the men, I imagine they ate

and smoked a great deal.) Everyone came together in the kitchen.

In the seventies, when my mom was a child, Southern society still consisted mostly of manual laborers. There were farmers who toiled under the glaring hot sun and factory workers who endured smoke and noise. The poverty that existed—and still poses problems today—made life simpler…and more difficult.

In the context of this difficult routine, Sunday was the day of rest, of family, and of food. The kitchen became the center and the heart of everyday life. Cooking and eating together were sacred acts, rituals.

Today, the kitchen and food are not quite as important as they once were in the South. A number of factors brought about this change. Fewer people live close to their extended families.

Church attendance has declined, and Sunday afternoon banquets with it. Attitudes towards gender roles have modernized. Despite some changes, however, the kitchen is an important ritual space in Southern heritage, and it remains important in everyday life, and in my life specifically.

I look forward to winter vacation, when I will be with my sisters again in our kitchen. I am excited to tell them stories and hear their news. Maybe we will talk about the possibility that this year will be out last spent together at home as each of us follows her path of travel and work.

There is one thing of which I am sure: we will laugh, sing, and rejoice in our kitchen music.

French

avaient lieu chez sa grand-mère. Tous les dimanches, après l’Eglise, les femmes préparaient des banquets élaborés, les petits apprenaient à mettre la table et espionnaient les adultes. Quant aux hommes, j’imagine qu’ils mangeaient et fumaient beaucoup. Tout le monde se rassemblait dans la salle à manger.

Dans les années 70, à l’époque où ma mère était enfant, le Sud était encore principalement une société des ouvriers faite de fermiers qui travaillaient sous le soleil brûlant et d’employés d’usines enfumées et bruyantes. La pauvreté qui existait—et reste un enjeu du Sud actuel—rendait la vie plus simple mais plus dure. Dans cette routine difficile, la dimanche était le jour de repos, celui de la famille, de la cuisine. Une seule et unique salle devenait le cœur de la vie quotidienne. Cuisiner et manger, c’étaient des actions sacrés, des rituels.

Aujourd’hui, la grande importance de la cuisine au Sud a un peu diminué. Beaucoup d’éléments ont déclenché cette transformation de la culture : par exemple, l’éloignement familial dû à une mobilité accrue, le déclin de la religion, entraînant la disparition des banquets familiaux, et les efforts contre les rôles de genre stéréotypés). Mais malgré ces changements, la cuisine comme espace de rituel fait partie du patrimoine du Sud, et elle reste importante dans la vie quotidienne, et dans mon propre quotidien.

J’attends avec impatience les vacances d’hiver quand je serai avec mes sœurs dans la cuisine. Je raconterai des histoires, et mes sœurs me confieront leurs secrets et leurs béguins. Peut être discuterons-nous de nos ambitions, de nos projets.

Peut-être évoquerons-nous le fait que cette année sera probablement la dernière que nous partagerons chez nous, avant de vaquer à nos The kitchen became propres occupations the center and the ou projets de voyages. heart of everyday Une chose dont je suis sûre, c’est que life. Cooking and nous rirons, chantereating together were ons, et écouterons la sacred acts, rituals. musique de la cuisine.

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Un chemin nourri par le rituel

by Laura Fridman, BR ’16

In “A Journey Nourished Through Ritual,” Laura Fridman explains her ritual associated with ballet class - one that has taught her discipline and brought her a sense of fulfillment throughout her life. She further reveals why this rigorous ritual remains the reason she dances today.

Pour moi, le mot « rituel » est synonyme de disci-

pline rigoureuse renouvelée tous les jours à travers ma passion – celle de la danse classique. A l’inverse des petites filles enchantées par les tutus et rêvant de devenir danseuses, je ne me souviens pas d’avoir éprouvé une vénération particulière envers cet art lorsque j’étais enfant. Ma passion s’est développée progressivement. Ma mère m’a inscrit aux cours de danse à un si jeune âge que je serais incapable de me souvenir aujourd’hui de mes premières rencontres avec les pas et exercices. « Plié, dégagé, grand jeté… » - ce jargon de la danse classique forme la base de tous les ballets, celle qui trouve ses origines dans la Renaissance italienne. Ils sont à présent aussi familiers pour moi que les lettres de l’alphabet. Aujourd’hui, je les exerce encore et, à présent, de manière pratiquement instinctive. Cela représente pour moi non seulement une habitude

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The word “ritual” for me is synonymous with a rigorous discipline, renewed every day through my passion – ballet. Unlike most little girls who were enchanted by tutus and dreamed of becoming ballerinas, I do not recall having particularly venerated this art when I was a child.

Rather, ballet became a passion of mine gradually. My mother introduced me to dance classes at such a young age that I have no recollection of when I became acquainted with the steps and exercises. « Plié, dégagé, grand jeté… » - this jargon constitutes the basics of ballet, the very ones that were born during the Italian renaissance and that are as familiar to me as the letters of the alphabet today. These are the steps I have been repeating in a traditional order that has become not only a habit, but also a daily ritual, imperative to my happiness. I practice these

mais aussi un rituel quotidien, indispensable pour mon bonheur. J’effectue ces exercices comme une prière quotidienne, dans cet ordre qui s’est toujours présenté comme étant incontestable.

Lorsque je suivais ma formation au Conservatoire Régional de Paris, les cours de danse représentaient pour moi un moment dans ma journée dont je connaissais le déroulement par cœur, où surprise et distractions n’existaient pas.

Le temps de la prière. Aujourd'hui, on me demande souvent pourquoi je danse, pourquoi je consacre autant de mon temps à mes cours, chorégraphies ou spectacles. Je réponds en plaisantant : « Parce que je ne peux pas ne pas danser ». Ce ne sont pas les spectacles, les quelques minutes que je passe en extase sur scène, mais plutôt les cours, ceux qui précèdent les répétitions aux heures interminables qui symbolisent mon rituel et sont à l’origine de ma nécessité de danser. Ce sont eux qui définissent mon bien-être.

“Ce n’est pas la destination mais la route qui compte”. Pour moi, ce chemin conduisant au spectacle est nourri par le rituel du cours, ancré dans mon corps depuis toujours. Ainsi, le cours de danse classique représente pour moi un moment de rigueur sacrée, un confort irremplaçable, ainsi qu’un rituel à travers lequel je retrouve inlassablement ma joie de vivre.

very same exercises like a daily prayer, in an order that has always appeared as indisputable.

When I was dancing professionally at the Regional Paris Conservatory, dance classes became a moment during the day, the progress of which I knew by heart, when no surprises or distractions could arise. A time of prayer. Today, I am often asked why I dance, why I dedicate so many hours to classes, choreographies or shows. I answer lightheartedly: “Because I can’t not dance”. I don’t dance for the shows, for the several minutes I spend on stage, but rather for the classes that start every single rehearsal. These long-learnt exercises that constitute a ballet class have become a sacred habit for me – one that defines my well-being.

“It’s not the destination, but the journey, that matters.” In my case, the journey to the exhilarating performance is nourished through a ritual – one that has long been inscribed in my body. Ballet lessons symbolize for me a moment of sacred rigor, an irreplaceable comfort, as well as a ritual in which I inexhaustibly find my ‘joie de vivre.’

21

Tous à bord

by Charlotte Desprat, BR ’18

In this article, Charlotte Desprat explains how her frequent train rides between New Haven and New York became a fundamental ritual during her first year at college, as they helped her cope with her adjustment to Yale - a ritual which, however, should not have come into being.

New Haven. West Haven, Milford, Stratford.

Bridgeport, Fairfield, Westport. Je connais les arrêts par coeur. Ils se succedent, l’un après l’autre, comme les billes d’un chapelet. Je les vois sous les feuilles aux couleurs changeantes, sous la pluie, sous la neige, qui fond et qui retombe, inlassablement, avant que le ciel ne se dégage, jusqu’à ce que je me rende compte que je suis arrivée à Grand Central et qu’une année entière vient de s’écouler.

La poésie de Metro North Railroad n’est pas forcément évidente. Ces wagons en acier bosselé aux vitres couvertes de graffitis opaques et d’égratignures désespérées ne sont a priori pas une source de lyrisme. Et pourtant, je me sens bien plus attachée à ce tas de metal et de rouille qu’à l’architecture irréprochable de Yale. Ce train n’a rien à me cacher. Il n’est peut-être pas très beau, il n’est peut-être pas très confortable, mais au moins il n’a pas de prétention à l’être. Il ne cherche pas à être impressionnant, tout comme il ne demande pas à être impressionné. Environ tous les deux mois, il m’accueille dans la lumière chaude de ses néons et s’attend à ce que je lui décrive avec exactitude mon état d’âme. Cette conversation se fait en silence, les mains jointes, le regard ailleurs, entre la banquette déchirée et la vitre poussiéreuse. Elle est rythmée par le passage inexorable des arrêts et des saisons. New Haven. West Haven, Milford, Stratford. Bridgeport, Fairfield, Westport.

Ce train a été un repère fondamental pendant ma premiere année à Yale. Sous la pression d’une université prestigieuse où on s’attendait à ce que les étudiants soient brillants, confiants et heureux 24 heures sur 24, où chacun répondait à la question on-ne-peut-plus superficielle “How are you?” avec l’inlassable exclamation stridente “I’m great!”, je me sentais piégée dans un univers où tout devait être illusion et où le moindre signe de faiblesse était source de mépris. Je ne vivais plus sur un campus, mais dans une vitrine où chacun tentait d’impressionner les autres et où le jeu était de garder sa tete haute le mieux et le plus longtemps possible. Cette compétition pathétique entre jeunes étudiants n’avait évidemment pas lieu

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New Haven. West Haven, Milford, Stratford.

Bridgeport, Fairfield, Westport. I know the stops by heart. They pass by, one after the other, like the beads of a rosary. I see them under the changing leaves, under the rain, under the snow that melts and falls again, endlessly, before the sky clears itself, until I realize that I have reached Grand Central and that an entire year just went by.

The poetry of the Metro North Railroad system is not necessarily obvious. These cars made out of indented steel with windows covered in opaque graffiti and desperate scratches should not, at first glance, be a source of lyricism. And yet, I feel far more attached to these lumps of metal and rust than Yale’s irreproachable architecture. This train has nothing to hide from me. It is perhaps not that beautiful, not that comfortable, but at least it doesn’t claim to be so. It is not trying to be impressive, nor does it wish to be impressed. Approximately every two months, this train welcomes me in its hot neon light and expects me to describe my exact state of mind. This conversation takes place in silence, with joint hands, my eyes gazing in the distance, between the torn seat and the dusty window. It is accompanied by the rhythm of the inevitable passing of stops and seasons. New Haven. West Haven, Milford, Stratford. Bridgeport, Fairfield, Westport.

This train has been an essential lifeline during my first year at Yale. Under the pressure of a prestigious university where students were expected to be brilliant, confident and happy 24 hours a day, where everyone answered the oh-so-superficial question “How are you?” with the same shrill exclamation “I’m great!”, I felt trapped in a world where everything had to be a façade and where the slightest sign of weakness was a source of contempt. I was no longer living on a campus, but in a window display where we all were trying to impress each other and where the purpose of the game was to keep our heads high as convincingly and as long as possible.

This pathetic competition between students naturally did not take place in my interactions with

au cours de mes interactions avec mes amis proches. Il n’en demeure pas moins que Yale de manière générale exhibait cette image d’une population d’êtres humains qui refusaient d’admettre que leur existence n’était pas absolument parfaite.

Au sein de ce jeu de trompe-l’oeil et de m’as-tu-vu, mes voyages réguliers entre New Haven et New York prenaient une valeur thérapeutique. Je pouvais reprendre contact avec la réalité et m’adonner à mes pensées sans honte ni gêne. Ce train a été le témoin de chaque étape de mon ajustement a Yale: il m’a accompagnée dans mes joies, mes inquietudes, mes espoirs, mes tristesses, mes rêves et mes angoisses. Il m’a bercée, m’a fait comprendre qu’il est concevable d’avoir besoin d’une pause, et m’a amenée à Grand Central pour me reprendre trois semaines plus tard, plus forte et mieux préparée aux mois à venir.

Au cours de ma premiere année à Yale, ces périples intimes entre New Haven et New York sont donc devenus un rituel indispensable pour mon bien-être. J’avais réellement besoin de ces moments d’introspection où personne ne s’attendait à ce que j’apparaisse d’une certaine manière, et le train m’a fourni cette opportunité. En revanche, bien que je sois profondément attachée à ces experiences, j’aurais souhaité que ces voyages ne deviennent pas aussi essentiels pour moi. Si Yale avait été plus compréhensif, si Yale avait été plus honnête et plus sincère, je n’aurais pas eu besoin de ces moments d’introspection où je pouvais m’isoler dans le confort de l’environnement authentique d’un simple train. Ce rituel n’aurait pas du être nécessaire. J’espère donc qu’au fur et à mesure que Yale améliore sa façon d’être, les relations charactérisant l’ensemble de la communauté estudiantine auront rendu ce rituel progressivement inutile. Mais cela risque de prendre du temps. En attendant ces changements, j’espère que le train allant de New Haven à Grand Central fournira à de futures générations d’étudiants confus et perdus le confort d’un endroit où il est tout à fait concevable de se sentir vulnérable.

my closest friends. Nevertheless, Yale displayed this general image of a population of human beings who refused to admit that their lives were not absolutely perfect.

In the midst of this game of trompe-l’oeil and m’as-tu-vu, my regular trips between New Haven and New York became a source of therapy. I could regain contact with reality and dedicate myself to my thoughts without any shame or trouble.

This train has witnessed each step of my adjustment to Yale: it accompanied me through my joy, my worries, my hopes, my sadness, my dreams and my anxieties. It lulled me and made me understand that it’s okay to need a break once in a while, and carried me to Grand Central, only to bring me back once again three weeks later, stronger and better prepared for the months to come.

During my first year at Yale, these intimate trips between New Haven and New York truly became an indispensable ritual for my well-being. I truly needed these moments of introspection where no one expected me to appear a certain way, and the train provided me with this opportunity. On the other hand, despite the fact that I am profoundly attached to these experiences, I wish these train rides had not become so essential for me. Had Yale been more comprehensive, had Yale been more honest and more genuine, I would not have needed these moments of introspection where I could isolate myself in the comfort of the authentic environment of a simple train. This ritual should not have been necessary. Therefore, I hope that as Yale improves itself, the relationships binding the student community will have rendered this ritual progressively useless. However, such changes will not happen anytime soon. In the meantime, I hope that the train rides from New Haven to New York provide future generations of lost and confused students with the comfort of a place where it is perfectly understandable to feel vulnerable.

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出 P O O L 饭

24

by Yujing Liu, PC ’17 What do college students in Hong Kong do after they get into relationships? Yujing Liu, an exchange student from the University of Hong Kong, explains that they take their friends to a so-called “out-of-pool treat.” 一对情侣若公开宣布确立恋爱 关系，则常常引来亲朋好友的 祝福和恭喜，这再正常不过。 然而在香港的大学中，情侣们在 公开关系后会肩负一项特殊的义 务——请客吃饭。 这个在香港大学生中流传已久 的传统叫做“出pool饭”。“出 pool”即恋爱。这个说法也许来 源于一个形象的比喻：所有单身 的人们都在一个大池子(pool)里 扑腾，与另一半相遇后便可携手 逃离这个池子。幸运“出pool” 的情侣在接受完一轮道贺后总免 不了被朋友询问：“什么时候请

People everywhere receive congratulations after getting into relationships. On Hong Kong’s college campuses, however, couples take on a special duty after disclosing their relationships—to treat their friends to a meal.

This ritual is called an “out-ofpool treat.” “Out of pool” means being in a relationship, which perhaps originates from a popular Hong Kong metaphor referring to singles being packed in a pool. As soon as people manage to find their partners, they flee the pool together.

Those who luckily get “out of pool”

are often greeted with a question from friends besides the usual congratulations. “When are you treating us to the ‘out-of-pool’ meal?”

This ritual has become such a natural part of the norm among students that friends use this term to make fun of each other, “Are you treating us soon?”

Unlike their American counterparts, college students in Hong Kong usually skip the dating process and get into relationships after confessing their feelings to each other directly. So this kind of news could be quite surprising to friends. Treat meals usually happen only when people encounter pleasant surprises. For instance, one may treat his or her friends after receiving a scholarship.

Treating friends to a grand meal for a wedding seems to be a tradition quite universal across cultures. But why do so when people get into relationships? Perhaps the status of being “out of pool” carries much value and meaning to college students in Hong Kong— the “pool” metaphor itself implies an expectation for single people to strive to get into relationships.

This ritual often makes me think of the kind of celebration after commercial deals were made. Another set of campus jargons further proves this: at the University of Hong Kong, people’s relationship history and status are indicated by A (available), O (occupied), or C (complicated) followed by a number that represents how many relationships they have had before. For example, an A5 person has had five relationships but is “available,” or single, at the moment. “Round status” is what people often do when hanging out, which is basically taking turns revealing relationship statuses. This efficient way of identifying oneself transforms the whole process of “getting out of pool” into something less romantic and more businesslike. In this way, isn’t the “out-of-pool treat” a genuine celebration of a hard-earned transaction of love?

Chinese

出pool饭呀？”这习俗在一届又一届 学生的传递中仿佛成为了天经地义的 必要步骤，以至于朋友间互相打趣时 也会用其替代“恋爱”：“你是不是 快请客了？”逃避这顿请客大概不会 遭到什么惩罚，然而日后却有可能成 为被朋友们埋怨或调侃的由头。 与美国的约会文化不同，在香港本 地的大学生一般并不会经历约会这一 阶段才成为情侣，而是在表白后正式 确立关系。由于没有约会的“预热” ，所以确立恋爱关系的消息可能令两 方的朋友都非常惊讶。而请客在香港 文化中则常常暗示着请客一方获得了 额外的好处。例如，很多学生得到奖 学金后也会请客。 结婚时摆宴席似乎是为大多数文化 所接受的，然而情侣恋爱也要请客是 为什么呢？也许是因为“出pool”对 于香港的大学生而言的确是一件具有 重大价值与意义的事情——“pool” 的比喻本身就暗示了一种对单身人 士“一定要努力离开‘pool’”的期 望。 而“出pool饭”则总是让我不禁联 想到商品交易成功后的庆祝。另一套 流行术语也许能够佐证：在港大， 你的恋爱经历与现状总是可以被快 速地概括成为A (Available)、O (Occupied)或C (Complicated)加上一个数 字，这个数字代表曾谈过几段恋爱。 譬如“A5”即代表某人曾有过五段 恋爱史，而现在没有男女朋友。同学 聚会时大家常会做“Round Status” ，即轮流报出自己的状态。这种快速 高效的身份概括似乎让恋爱褪去浪漫 的外衣，变成一件如买卖商 品或竞价拍卖的市场 化行为。如此看 来，“出pool 饭”不正是 一对对情侣 历经千辛万 苦终于交易 成功、脱离 苦海后的庆祝 吗？

25

阅 兵 by Yifu Dong, BR ’17 China has a ritual of putting on military parades. In this article, Yifu points out that they exist more for symbolism than military might. 一恐怕没有什么东西能比天安门广场上的坦克 和核武器更有效地传递和平的信号了。 今年的9月3日是反法西斯战争胜利70周年纪念 日。当日于天安门广场上举行的阅兵仪式让很多 中国人激动不已，同时也令不少外国的旁观者不 寒而栗。当今的世界比起过去要和平很多，但如 果一个国家的军队不断地耀武扬威——阅兵也好 扩军也罢——的确会让其它国家感到不安。 不过，对于“新中国”来说，阅兵只是一个传 统而已。 共产党当政以后，毛泽东从1949年到1959年连 续11年于国庆节阅兵。从马背上的骑兵到摩托车 里的警察，从飞机到坦克，天安门的阅兵声势浩 大，内容也越发丰富。当时，军事显然是中国发 展的重点：不仅国防需要强大的军队保障，而且 中国在之后发展的过程中与许多邻国都或大或小 发生过军事上的摩擦。 1959年之后的第一次阅兵是1984年。那时，改 革开放已经开始施行，然而对于当权者来说，毛 泽东提出的“枪杆子里出政权”依然是不变的真 理。 后来，也正是枪杆子才让中国共产党避免了苏 联和东欧共产党政权的厄运。在意识形态上逐渐 孤立的政权只能在1999、2009和2015年的阅兵中 想方设法激发民众的爱国主义情绪。 当然从理论上讲，共产主义者应该是和爱国主 26

Nothing conveys better the message of peace than

tanks and nukes on Tiananmen Square.

This September, in a celebration of peace—the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II—the mandarins in Beijing put on an outlandish display of strength before the nervously watchful eyes of the world. Our world today is more peaceful than ever before, according to academics such as psychologist Steven Pinker, but there are still plenty of reasons to worry about regimes that take pride in such a blatant hint of violence.

However, for now China might be an exception, for the military parade is but a ritual.

When the Communists first took over following the loss of twenty million Chinese in World War II and by means of a bloody civil war that killed another six million, they organized eleven straight National Day parades from 1949 to 1959 under the leadership of Mao Zedong. For the Communists, the military was a priority; the “New China” was to not only defend itself but also fight battles on nearly all sides of her borders during Communist rule. Soldiers on horseback and policemen in motorcycles as well as tanks and planes all marched in the early parades. Even the famine caused by the 1958-1961 Great Leap Forward, which resulted in 30 to 45 million deaths, could not stop the regime from celebrating its “achievements” with military parades in 1958 and 1959.

义者划清界线的。共产主义的目标是“国 际主义”和“无产阶级专政”，不过现在 我们并不清楚这些名词还有多大的实际意 义。相比之下，爱国主义则十分实用，因 为它可以团结民众，并将人们对国内问题 的关注转移到一同反对“境外势力”上。 最近的一次阅兵的确意在震慑日本、美 国一类“万恶不赦”的敌对势力，而其 更重要的目的则是通过展现雄厚的军事实 力来激发民众的爱国主义自豪感，并使其 敌视那些所谓“威胁中国发展”的外国势 力。所以，虽说中国近些年来又是扩充军 备又是在南海造岛，让国际社会颇为担 忧，但是这些动作只不过是使爱国主义保 温的常用手段罢了。 相比于阅兵，更让人担心的恐怕应该是 中国互联网上铺天盖地的战争宣传，甚至 战争叫嚣——对越南、菲律宾等邻国开战 的“狠话”充斥着网络。这种宣传不仅扭 曲客观事实和历史真相，还会使公众支持 不必要的战争。 当然，中国在近期不太可能与邻国开 战，毕竟成功的爱国主义宣传有效地确保 了政权的合法性。 换句话说，只要坦克和核武器还可以经 常出现在天安门广场的阅兵上，只要中 国的大部分民众对阅兵及政权持拥护的态 度，其他国家就大概暂时不用惧怕中国对 外施展军事力量。

The next parade after 1959 happened in 1984 after two decades of political upheaval that devastated the country. Even though Mao died in 1976, now the more economically liberal-minded Communists still believed in his unassailable conclusion that “regimes are made from gun barrels.”

Later, it was precisely gun barrels that helped the Chinese Communists avoid the fate of their Soviet and Eastern European comrades. But as China grew increasingly isolated ideologically, the subsequent military parades in 1999, 2009 and 2015 started to take on a nationalist flavor.

Of course, Communists, by definition, are never supposed to be nationalist, for its creed calls for internationalism and “dictatorship of the proletariat,” however seriously the Communists take those concepts today. However, nationalism is a useful tool that diverts people’s attention from substantial concerns at home. The military parade is the right fuel for nationalism.

This nationalism depends not just on the incitement of fear and hatred against foreign enemies such as Japan and the United States, but also on the display of strength. Once nationalism is ignited, the showcase of military might has to continue, or else nationalism will wane. Therefore, although recent muscle flexing by China, such as building an aircraft carrier and constructing islands in the disputed waters of the South China Sea, provokes worries internationally, it is no more than a ritual tactic aimed at inspiring nationalism at home.

Compared to military parades, more alarming to the outside world should be China’s constantly replenished doses of online nationalistic propaganda, written by irresponsible writers with the acquiescence of the authorities, who happily distort historical truth, manipulate facts and openly call for aggression against countries such as Japan, the Philippines, and Vietnam.

But China is not likely to engage in openly aggressive acts against a neighboring country as long as nationalism keeps afloat the legitimacy of the Communists, for Chinese regimes throughout history have kept up a ritual of pacifying the population and exploiting the riches of the country at the same time.

In other words, as long as tanks and nukes regularly appear on Tiananmen Square, and as long as most Chinese people heartily cheer for military parades like they always do, the world does not yet need to fear the unleashing of China’s pent-up military power.

27

韭 菜 盒 子

by Xinyu Guan, PC ’18 Food is an essential part of childhood memories, so it’s no wonder that food remains such an important family ritual in China. In this article, Xinyu reminisces about her grandma’s cuisine, particularly her cooking chive boxes.

对我来说，外婆 做的韭菜盒子是很 难被超越的——剁 得碎碎的韭菜拌着 打花的鸡蛋、略炒 熟的肉丝和粉条， 再混上老抽和糖做 成馅儿，之后包在 大一号的饺子皮里 煎到金黄。想想其实做韭菜盒子并不 是一件特别复杂的事，但我们一家三 口就偏偏没有人想到去学。每隔一段 时间，我和妈妈总要打电话给外婆叨 念我们有多馋她的韭菜盒子。一般没 过几天，我们就登上了从上海回西安 的飞机。 那么多次往往返返，可是每一次家 人都无比兴奋地期待着我们的归来。 姨妈和表哥守候在机场，外公霸占着 家里楼下停车场的位置，外婆则是包 好一个又一个韭菜盒子、盛好一碗又 一碗精心熬制的红豆粥。不争气的国 内航班常常延误，可是即使到深夜， 家人也依然翘首企盼。终于进了家 门，而我和妈妈毫无寒暄之意，每次 都立刻狼吞虎咽起来。每当我们把刚 出炉的韭菜盒子蘸着浓浓的镇江香醋 放进嘴里时，那个瞬间的美味敌过天 下所有的美食。在这里，我们可以放 肆地大吃，吃五个都是小菜一碟。 十几年来，这个屡屡重复的“吃 货”场景成为了我和妈妈的一种习 惯。当妈妈在工作中遇到挫折或当我 在申请大学的过程失去信心的时候， 我们都会阿Q般地告诉自己：大不了 回家啊！怎么样都有韭菜盒子吃！就 算不能放下手中的事情，我们也总会 顺手打个电话，问问外公外婆晚饭吃 了什么。 今天，我的外公外婆健康而充实 28

My grandma makes the best chive box. I

guess you could say that chive box bears a certain resemblance to hot pockets. Chopped chives, eggs, pork and vermicelli, seasoned with soy sauce and sugar, wrapped in dumpling dough and fried until they turn golden-brown. Nothing too complicated. And yet no one in my family seems to know how to make them. Every once in a while, my mum and I would call my grandma and tell her how much we miss her chives boxes. Two days later, we would be on a plane back to Xi’an, the birthplace of ancient Chinese civilization and my grandparent’s home for more than thirty years.

No matter how late we arrive and how many times we tell my cousin and aunt not to come, they would always be at the airport, ready to comment on the slightest changes in our physical appearances and report that everyone has been “too excited to sleep”. My grandpa would be waiting downstairs of their apartment, guarding the one empty parking space, while my grandma prepares plates and plates of readily made, pan-fried chives boxes with two small bowls of red bean porridge on the side. The unwritten rule is that as soon as we enter, we have to sit down and start gobbling. No small talk. No pleasantries. Just pick up a chives box, dip it into vinegar and enjoy the intense flavor and warmth that come with this traditional dim sum. We are expected to eat as many as we can: be it six o’clock in the morning or eleven o’clock at night, five chives boxes is the absolute minimum.

For ten years, this quiet, fifteen-minute ritual with food and family has been what my mum and I looked forward to and returned to in times of loneliness and frustration. Whenever we were struggling in business negotiations, endless daily chores or the college ap-

地生活着，然而我却不再能 经常体验那被韭菜盒子和家 人环绕的十五分钟。至少在 未来的三年，十五个小时飞 行的间隔、十二个小时的时 差、外公外婆对互联网通 讯的陌生以及大学生活的繁 忙，都使韭菜盒子的味道渐 渐疏远了。尽管每一次在中 餐厅我都会迫不及待地点韭 菜盒子，尽管我要求外婆将 独门秘方完整地写下来以便 假期时我自己掌勺，但我却 怎么也无法品尝或复制那熟 悉的味道。深夜时分，每当 我在图书馆绞尽脑汁准备考 试，或在床上辗转反侧担忧 令我苦恼的科学课时，我就 会突然特别想回家，回到满 载美味的餐桌前，在外公外 婆众星捧月般的期待中咬一 大口韭菜盒子。每想到这 里，我都会轻叹一口气，坦 然接受远离家乡的代价。

plication process, we would think about the delicious chives boxes on my grandparents’ dinner table and how incredibly lucky we were to be loved and cherished by our family.

Even if we couldn’t board a plane right away, we would call them, ask them what they ate for dinner, and promise a visit as soon as possible.

Today, my grandparents are both still healthy, but I can no longer continue our ritual. We are and we will be, for at least another three years, a fifteen-hour flight apart. The twelve-hour time difference, their reluctance to learn how to use Skype and the constant distractions in my chaotic college life make it hard for us to remain as close as we were before. I order chives boxes at every Chinese restaurant that offers them; I asked my grandma for a complete recipe and tried making them myself during fall break. Yet nothing comes close to the flavor that I was used to. There are moments late at night—usually when I am studying for an upcoming midterm at Bass Library or lying awake in my bed worrying about my science credit—when I suddenly have this irrepressible and irresistible urge to go home, to have my grandparents sit right beside me as I stuff a whole chives box in my mouth. Then I would quietly go to sleep knowing that this is the price of leaving home.

29

Weihnachten zu Hause

by Caroline Kulmhofer Focusing on the celebration of Christmas in Austria, Caroline Kulmhofer from the University of Graz in Austria describes how inseparable it is from her sense of home. She discusses specific rituals associated with the holiday, all meant to help reconnect a family and express gratitude.

Thinking

Wenn ich über die Ansichten anderer Men-

schen über mein Heimatland nachdenke, bin ich mir nie ganz sicher, was diese Menschen mit dem kleinen Land Österreich verbinden, das gelegen ist im Herzen Europas. Das Gefühl, wenn ich zu meinem Heimatort zurückkomme, weit weg von dem stressigen Stadtleben, ist natürlich das Gefühl in meinem zu Hause anzukommen. Im harmonischen und friedlichen Landleben scheint es, egal was passiert, dass alles irgendwie in Ordnung kommen wird.

Dieses Gefühl ist besonders stark zu Weihnachten. Nach der Bescherung am Weihnachtsabend unternimmt meine Familie, mit einer Gruppe von anderen Leuten, immer eine Wanderung mit Laternen und Fackeln und folgt dem Weg eines Heimatdichters.

Um 1900 unternahm dieser Dichter in der Weihnachtsnacht die Wanderung, um die Kirche für die Weihnachtsmesse mitternachts zu erreichen. Diesen Weg beschreibt er in einem seiner Gedichte, die er in regionalem Dialekt verfasst hat. Dabei erfahren wir die Dankbarkeit und die Aufregung am Weihnachtsabend, die er als 10-jähriger, aufwachsend in Armut, erfährt und in dieser magischen Kurzgeschichte ausdrückt.

Während wir durch den Schnee stapfen, machen wir uns auf den Weg von seinem Geb-

30

about other people’s perceptions of my home country, I’m never entirely sure what comes to their minds when hearing about Austria, a small country in the heart of Europe.

The feeling I get when I come back to the place where I grew up, far away from the bustling city life, is the feeling of coming home. When I’m home in the harmonious and peaceful countryside, it seems that no matter what happens in this world, it will be alright.

This feeling is especially strong on Christmas.

After our celebration on Christmas Eve, my family, with a group of other people with lanterns and torches, walks a special trail in the nearby woods of Styria1. Back in 1900 a famous regional poet walked on this trail on Christmas Eve to go to church for the service at midnight. Through his poems, that are written in the regional dialect, we get to experience the gratefulness and excitement about Christmas that he, a ten-yearold, growing up in poverty, experienced.

Starting from his birthplace, a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, we trudge through the snow to the town center. This reminds us both of the harsh living conditions of that time and gives a great opportunity to enjoy the beauty of nature. To me, it’s one of Austria’s most fascinating landscapes: deep, dark forests flanked by steep mountain ridges, gentle meadows reaching up to exposed summits, and my beloved snow, covering the hills like velvet. After this experience of a childhood in Styria’s Alpine uplands, we sit together with a cup of hot tea and reminisce about what happened in the year that is coming to an end.

1

Die Steiermark ist eines der neun Bundesländer in Österreich.

German

urtsort, einem Bauernhaus im Wald, in den Dorfkern zur Kirche. Dies erinnert uns nicht nur an die relativ harten Lebensbedingungen dieser Zeit, sondern gibt uns auch die Möglichkeit die wunderschöne Natur zu genießen. Hier findet sich eine von Österreichs faszinierendsten Landschaften: Dunkle, tiefe Wälder von scharfen Bergkämmen, weite Felder, die bis zur Bergspitze reichen und mein geliebter Schnee, der die Hügel wie mit einer Samtschicht bedeckt. Nach diesem Eintauchen in die Kindheit der Vergangenheit in den Steiermärkischen1 Alpen, sitzen wir danach alle zusammen bei einer Tasse Tee und reden über das Jahr, das sich dem Ende zuneigt.

Irgendwie wurde das Ritual dieses Dichters nun zu unserem. Doch gerade das ist das Wundervolle an Ritualen. Immer wieder aufs Neue lernt man diesen Ritus mehr zu schätzen, wenn man ihn wiederholt. Wir lernen noch etwas anderes bei dieser jährlichen Weihnachtswanderung.

Die Gewohnheit dankbar zu sein, für das was wir haben. Dankbar zu sein und wahrzunehmen und darauf Acht zu geben was rund um uns passiert.

Somehow, his ritual has become ours. This is the wonderful aspect about ritual: it makes you connect to something you love even more every time you repeat it. There is also something else we can learn from this annual very personal Christmas hike. The habit of being grateful for what we have. Being grateful, and recognizing and listening to what is happening around us.

1

Styria is one of the nine regions in Austria.

31

Marie Was ist Martinmas? by Freudenburg, To most Americans, Thanksgiving means a crisp autumn day of pumpkin pie, a turkey dinner, and festivities. In Germany though, other holidays celebrate the fall season.

Als

Amerikanerin hatte ich oft Mitleid mit den Deutschen, weil sie Erntedankfest nicht feiern. Erntedankfest ist nämlich ein Feiertag, auf den ich mich jedes Jahr richtig freue. Alle meine Schwestern, Tanten, Onkeln, und Kusinen feiern zusammen. Zuerst stehen wir früh auf und rennen einen 5k "Turkey Trot", so dass wir uns später beim Abendessen nicht so schuldig fühlen. Danach kochen, warten, und fasten wir den ganzen Nachmittag. Dann kommt das Abendessen, und das ist wirklich ein Kunstwerk. Es gibt letztendlich so viel Essen auf dem Tisch, dass wir die Reste die nächsten paar Tage noch essen können.

Ich musste mich deshalb fragen: Wie kann man ohne den Truthahn, Kartoffelbrei, und Kürbiskuchen überhaupt Herbst haben? Ich war froh zu lernen, dass Deutschland auch Traditionen für diese Jahreszeit hat, die sogar viel älter sind. Der Martinstag ist so ein Feiertag.

Der Martinstag am elften November ist das Fest des Heiligen Martin von Tours. Er lebte im zweiten Jahrhundert nach Christus. Eines sehr kalten Tages traf er einen Bettler, der fast vor Kälte gestorben ist. Martin riss seinen Mantel durch und gab dem Bettler eine Hälfte. Später träumte Martin von Christus, der diesen Mantelhalb trug. In dem Traum sagte Christus, "Hier ist der Mann, der mich eingekleidet hat." So lautet die Legende.

Aber der Martinstag ist nicht nur für die Kirche; es ist auch ein Fest der Ernte. Vor langer Zeit war alles von neuem Wein bis Gänsen im November reif und fertig, also feierten Bauern und Edelleute gleicherweise mit Trinken und Essen. Eigentlich ist Martin von Tours der Patron vom reformierten Trinken, Weinhändlern, und Kneipen.

Heutzutage wird der Martinstag noch gefeiert. Viele machen Martinsfeuer oder Festzüge. In der Schule lernen und singen die Kinder Lieder um den Heileigen.

Sie bauen auch Laternen, die sie in den Festzügen tragen. Für manche sind diese Laternen symbolisch; sie repräsentieren das Licht der Menschenliebe, die Martin dem Bettler zeigte. Symbolisch oder nicht, wem gefällt nicht eine Parade? Genauso wie mit den meisten Feiertagen, gibt es am Martinstag auch auf jeden Fall leckeres Essen. Man findet "Martinsgans" mit Knödeln, "Martinshörnchen", Gebäckstücke (die in Gestalt von der Mantelhalb sind), und natürlich sämtliche Süßigkeiten.

Obwohl es keinen Kürbiskuchen, "Turkey Trot," oder Kartoffelbrei gibt, ist der Martinstag auch ein wunderbares Fest des Herbstes. Was Familie, Essen, und Spaß zusammenbringt, muss immer ein schönes Ritual sein.

32

BR ’19

As an American, I used to feel sorry for Germans,

because they never get to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is a holiday I look forward to every year. All of my sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins celebrate together. First we get up early and run in the 5k "Turkey Trot," so that we don't feel so guilty at dinner. After that, we cook, wait, and fast for the entire afternoon. Finally, we sit down to dinner, and it's a true masterpiece. There's so much food on the table that we end up eating leftovers for the rest of the week.

So I had to ask myself: how can you have fall without turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie? I was happy to learn that Germany also has traditions for this time of year, traditions that are even older than Thanksgiving. One such is the holiday called Martinmas.

Martinmas, celebrated on November 11th, is the feast of St. Martin, who lived in the second century AD. One frosty day, St. Martin met a beggar, who was almost freezing to death. He tore his cloak in two and gave half to the beggar. Later he dreamed about Christ, who wore this piece of his cloak. In the dream Christ said, "Here is the man who clothed me." So goes the legend.

But Martinmas is not just for the church; it is also a harvest festival. Back in the day, everything from new wine to geese was ripe and ready in November, so nobles and peasants alike celebrated by drinking and eating. In fact, St. Martin is the patron saint of reformed alcoholics, wine developers, and bartenders.

Martinmas is still celebrated today. Many will make bonfires or throw parades. In school, children learn and sing songs about the saint. They also build lanterns, which they carry in the parades. For some, these lanterns are symbolic; they represent the light of compassion that St. Martin showed the beggar. Symbolic or not, who doesn't like a parade? And just like most holidays, there is, of course, delicious food. You can find "Martins"-goose and dumplings, "Martins"-croissant pastries shaped like half a cloak, and other sweets.

Although one won't find pumpkin pie, a "Turkey Trot," or mashed potatoes, Martinmas is a wonderful fall festival just like Thanksgiving. Whatever brings family, food, and fun together must always be a beautiful ritual.

by Talia Katz, ES ’17

Hebrew

‫קצב‬ ‫השלום‬

In Tomboronkoto, Senegal, a rich tradition of communal greetings structures each day's rhythm. This ritual, which once served as a tool for reducing ethnic tension, ties village members into a web of intimate daily connections. This piece explores how repeated, quotidian greetings shape the worldview of all those who participate in the practice. ‫ האד'אן (הקריאה‬,‫במשך שנה הזריחה‬ ‫המוסלמית לתפילה) ומסורת ה"מלינקה‬ ‫ במשך שנה גרתי‬.‫” הגדירו את קצב יומי‬ ‫ כפר קטן בדרום מזרח‬,‫בטומבורונקוטו‬ ‫ מלי�נ‬500 ‫ במשך שנה קהילה ש ל‬.‫סנגל‬ ‫קיים אימצו ושילבו אותי בכל היבט של‬ . ‫חייהם‬ ,‫ ובמערב אפריקה בכלל‬,‫בטומבורונקוטו‬ "?‫היום מתחיל עם השאלה "הראה סיטה‬ ‫("האם עברת את הלילה בשלום")? התנ‬ .)"‫שובה היא "הראה דורונג" ("רק שלום‬ ‫התשובה תמיד תהיה "רק שלום" – אפילו‬ ‫לאחר שלא הצלחת להירדם בגלל החום או‬ ‫כאבי הרעב; אחרי שנאכלת כל הלילה על‬ ‫ידי יתושים; אחרי שעברת את הלילה ער‬ ‫לצד חברך הטוב ביותר ששכב בבית החונ‬ ‫ אם עודך חי תאמר שעברת את הלינ‬. ‫לים‬ ‫ חשוב לציין שהאינטראקציה‬.‫לה בשלום‬ ‫ אחרי "הראה‬.‫לא מסתיימת בשאלה אחת‬ "?‫סיטה" מגיעה "קור טאנה מן סי‬ ‫ משם‬.)"?‫("לא קרה שוב דבר רע בלילה‬ ,‫ ילדיך‬,‫ אמך‬,‫ממשיכים לשאול האם בעלך‬ ‫ בני דודייך וחברייך עברו את הלילה‬,‫סבתך‬ – ‫ התשובה לכל אלה היא – כמובן‬.‫בשלום‬ ‫ אין זה מספיק להנ‬,‫ יתר על כן‬."‫"רק שלום‬

For a year the sunrise, the Adan (the Muslim call to

prayer), and the Malinke tradition defined the rhythm of my days. It was the year in which I lived in Tomboronkoto, a small village in southeastern Senegal. It was the year in which, to my luck, a community of 500 Malinke adopted and integrated me into every aspect of their lives.

In Tomboronkoto, and in West Africa more generally, the day begins with the question “Hera sita” (Have you spent the night in peace?), to which the answer is “Hera dorong” (peace only). The answer is always “peace only,” even after a night spent awake because of insufferable heat or hunger pains, even after being bitten by mosquitos all night long, even after spending the night alongside your best friend in the hospital. As long as you are alive you’ll always answer that you spent the night in peace. It is important to note that the interaction does not end with just one question. After “Hera sita” follows “Kor tana man si” (Has there been no evil in your night?). From there, one proceeds to ask if your husband, mother, children, grandmother, cousins, and friends also spent the night in peace. The answer to all of these questions is, of course, peace only. Moreover, it is not enough to ask these questions to one representative from each family in the community. According to the informal rules of the village, one must ask these questions to

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‫ציג את השאלות לנציג אחד בלבד מכל משפחה‬ ‫ יש לשאול‬,‫ לפי חוקי הכפר הלא פורמליים‬.‫בכפר‬ ‫כל אדם בכל משפחה לפחות שאלה אחת – אפילו‬ . ‫אם תשובתו כבר ידועה מראש‬ ‫ סידרתי‬,‫ בכל בוקר לאחר שקמתי‬,‫כיוון שכך‬ ‫את כילת היתושים שלי והנחתי את כפות רגלי על‬ ‫ נשמתי עמוקות במשך דקה לפני‬,‫רצפת הצריף‬ ‫ כל‬.‫שפתחתי את הדלת ופצחתי במסורת הברכות‬ ‫ התינ‬,‫בוקר נפתח עם סבתא בינטו ונסגר עם איבו‬ ‫ לצחצח‬,‫ אסור להתקלח‬.‫נוק בן חמשת החודשים‬ ‫ לפני שמברכים‬,‫ או אפילו ללכת לשירותים‬,‫שיניים‬ ‫ כך השפיעה מסורת הברכות על‬.‫כל אחד ואחד‬ ‫ מתי התקנ‬,‫תוכניותי בכל ערב – כמה מים שתיתי‬ . ‫ מתי החלטתי ללכת לישון‬,‫לחתי‬ ‫פעם אחת שכחתי לברך ידיד קרוב בשם מאנ‬ ‫ נתקלתי בו‬.‫ בחור צעיר העוסק בכריית זהב‬,‫מדו‬ ‫ עוד לפני שהספקתי‬.‫ וראיתי מצוקה בפניו‬,‫ברחוב‬ : ‫ הוא לקח את ידי ושאל‬,‫לשאול מה קרה‬ ,?‫ הכל בסדר בינינו‬,]‫"בינטו [השם המלינקה שלי‬ "? ‫למה את כועסת עלי‬ ‫ אני בכלל לא‬...‫אין לי מושג על מה אתה מדבר‬ "? ‫ למה חשבת ככה‬.‫כועסת‬ "‫אותי‬ ‫"הבוקר לא באת לברך‬ . ‫ אני אסביר לך‬.‫ באמת‬,‫אני כל כך מצטערת‬ ‫ בתרבות שלי לא מברכים כל אחד בכל‬.‫משהו‬ ‫ הייתי‬.‫בוקר – בשבילי המנהג הזה זר לחלוטין‬ ‫ אבל‬,‫רוצה להבטיח לך שלעולם לא אשכח שוב‬ ‫ אני מתקשה עם כל‬.‫לצערי זה עוד יכול לקרות‬ ‫ וזה לא עוזר שהכל קורה מוקדם בבוקר‬,‫הברכות‬ ". ‫כשאני עדיין עייפה‬ ".‫ אין ברכות בתרבות שלך? נראה לי מוזר‬,‫"רגע‬ ". ‫ לפחות לא ברכות כאלה אינטנסיביות‬,‫"נכון‬ ? "‫"וואללה‬ ‫בעבר הרחוק מסורת הברכה שימשה כמנגנון‬ ‫ התהליך הארוך‬.‫למיתון ושיכוך הסכסוך האתני‬ ‫והמורכב של ברכת הרועה או הסוחר העובר‬ ‫ תושבי הכפר היו מזמינים‬.‫האניש את השבט הזר‬ ‫ היו שואלים בתשונ‬,‫ובמהלך הארוחה‬, ‫אותו לאכול‬ .‫ משל היו חברים בנפש‬,‫קה את כל השאלות האלה‬ ‫ שנמצאת ברחבי‬,‫הציפייה ההדדית לברך ולארח‬ . ‫ יוצרת קשרים חברתיים ייחודיים‬,‫מערב אפריקה‬ "?‫במשך שנה שלמה השאלה "הראה סיטה‬ ,‫ מטרותיי‬,‫ מערכות יחסיי‬,‫הכתיבה את שגרת יומי‬ ‫ בניו הייבן‬.‫ את השקפת עולמי‬,‫ובאופן לא מפתיע‬ ‫אני כבר לא מתעוררת יחד עם השמש והחמורים‬ ‫ ובוודאי שאיני שואלת את הבחור שיושב‬,‫הנוערים‬ ‫ אף‬.‫לידי בסמינר אם הוא עבר את הלילה בשלום‬ ‫ פסיפס השאלות המלינקיות עדיין מלווה‬,‫על פי כן‬ ‫ כאשר זיכרונות הבוקר של טומבונ‬,‫אותי בחיי כיום‬ . ‫רונקוטו שוברים את שתיקת הבוקר של ניו הייבן‬ 34

each family member, despite the predictable response.

Consequently, every morning after waking, I arranged my mosquito net, placed my feet on the hut’s floor, and breathed deeply for a minute before opening the door and launching into the greetings tradition.

Every morning began with greeting Grandma Bintou and closed with Ibou, the five-month-old baby. It is forbidden (or at least strongly frowned upon) to shower, brush one’s teeth, or even go to the bathroom before greeting each and every person. Thus, the greeting tradition influenced my plans every evening: how much water to drink, when to shower, when to go to sleep.

Once, I unfortunately forgot to greet a close friend named Mamadou, a young man who worked in the gold mine. I ran into him on the street and saw how distressed he appeared. Before I even managed to ask him what was wrong, he took my hand and asked: “Bintou [my Malinke name], is everything alright between us? Why are you upset with me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… I’m not upset at all. Why would you think that?”

“This morning you didn’t come to greet me.”

“I’m so sorry, I really am,but I need to explain something to you. In my culture, we don’t greet everyone every morning. For me, this tradition is completely foreign. I would like to promise you that I will never forget to greet you again, but unfortunately it could happen. I have trouble with the greetings and it doesn’t help that we greet in the early morning when I’m still tired.”

“Wait, there aren’t greetings in your culture? That seems strange to me.”

“Correct, we don’t have greetings, at least not ones this intensive.”

“Wow, really?!”

In the distant past, the greeting tradition served as a mechanism for reducing and relieving ethnic conflict.

The long and complex process of greeting the passing shepherd or merchant humanized the foreign tribe.

The villagers would invite him to eat, and during the meal, one would passionately ask the greeting questions, as if the two were soulmates. The mutual expectation of greeting and hosting, which is found across West Africa, produces unique social connections.

For an entire year, the question “Hera sita” dictated my daily routine, my relationships, my goals, and thus, unsurprisingly, my worldview. Here in New Haven I no longer wake alongside the sun and braying donkeys, and I definitely don’t ask the student who sits next to me in seminar if he spent the night in peace. Nevertheless, the mosaic of Malinke questions still accompanies me every day, when memories of mornings in Tomboronkoto break the silence of mornings in New Haven.

‫טקסים‬

by Anna Brundtland Many countries have a tradition of celebrating an ancient battle. In this article, Anna Brundtland, a student at the Jackson Institute for Global Affairs, discusses the history of Independence day in Norway. ‫הטקס המשמעותי ביותר בנורווגיה הוא יום‬ ‫ לאחר שדנמרק‬.1814-‫ שמקורו ב‬,‫העצמאות‬ ‫ היה‬,‫הפסידה במספר קרבות לצד נפוליאון‬ ‫ שנגדה לחמה‬,‫עליה להעניק משהו לשוודיה‬ ‫ בה‬,‫ הדנים החליטו לוותר על נורווגיה‬.‫והפסידה‬ ‫ אף‬,‫ אולם‬.‫משלו במשך קרוב לחמש מאות שנה‬ ‫על פי שנורווגיה הייתה צריכה להימסר לשוודיה‬ ‫ נותר לנורווגים חלון זמן‬,‫מיד בתום הקרבות‬ .‫ אותו ניצלו על מנת לכתוב חוקה משלהם‬,‫קצר‬ ‫ במאי והוכרזה בראש‬17-‫ שנחתמה ב‬,‫החוקה‬ ‫ הייתה דרכם של הנורווגים לבקש עצ־‬,‫חוצות‬ ‫מאות בדרכי שלום – מאחר ובאותם ימים לא‬ ‫ למעשה‬,‫היה ברשותה של נורווגיה צבא סדיר‬ . ‫הייתה זו האפשרות היחידה שעמדה בפניהם‬

‫ נורווגיה למעשה לא‬1814-‫אף על פי שב‬ ‫ אלא עברה מידיהם של הדנים‬,‫זכתה בעצמאות‬ ‫ במאי נחרט בזיכרונם‬17-‫ ה‬,‫לאלו של השוודים‬ ‫הלאומי של הנורווגים כתחילתה של השאיפה‬ ‫ בכל שנה אנחנו חוגגים את‬.‫הלאומית לעצמאות‬ .‫ במאי עם דגלי נורווגיה ושירים עממיים‬17-‫ה‬ ‫ וילדים בבגדים‬,‫התאריך גם נודע כיום הילדים‬ ‫מסורתיים בכל הגילאים משתתפים במצעד הש־‬ ‫ במצעד הם שרים‬.‫נתי שנערך בכל עיר במדינה‬ ‫ שומעים הרצאות וממשיכים‬,‫שירים מסורתיים‬ . ‫את המסורת בת מאתיים השנים‬ ‫לאור השינויים הדרמטיים שחלו בנורווגיה מאז‬ ‫ כיום עולה השאלה האם יש לשנות את‬,1814 :‫ הרי אנחנו כבר מדינה אחרת‬.‫הטקס המסורתי‬ ‫ כמו גם הכיבוש הש־‬,‫המלחמות הנפוליאוניות‬ ‫ האוכלוסיה אף היא‬.‫ אינם אלא זיכרון רחוק‬,‫וודי‬ ‫ וכבר‬,‫ מהגרים ופליטים נקלטו במדינה‬:‫אחרת‬ ‫אין עלייך להיות זהוב שיער ותכול עיניים על‬ ‫ מאידך עולה‬.‫מנת להיות נורווגי ככל הנורווגים‬ ‫השאלה האם ניתן – והאם כדאי – לחגוג את‬ ‫ההיסטוריה בצורה שונה על מנת להתכונן לע־‬ ‫ האם ניתן לשנות את המסורת מבלי להפוך‬.‫תיד‬ ? ‫אותה למשהו אחר לחלוטין‬

The most meaningful tradition in Norway is

Independence Day, first celebrated on May 17th, 1814. Following its loss in the Napoleonic wars of the early XIX century, Denmark had to cede territory to its opponent, Sweden. That territory, which the Danes had ruled for 500 years, was to be Norway.

In 1814, the Norwegians were not so fond of the idea of being under yet another foreign authority. Seizing the moment, young men from all over the country came together to craft a constitution and peacefully call for national independence. Though the country didn’t gain independence until 1905, May 17th has remained in the memory of Norwegians ever since.

Over the last 200 years, it has become an important holiday in Norwegian history and culture, celebrated with flags, music, and national costumes. It is known as the ‘Day of Children’ because kids from kindergarten to high school participate in the national parade conducted in the holiday’s honor.

Dramatic changes have affected Norway over the past two centuries. Today it is a radically different country than it was in 1814: the Napoleonic Wars, just like the Swedish reign, are a distant memory. The population is no longer homogenous: immigrants from all over the world have made Norway their home.

Today the Norwegian population questions whether or not the traditions need to be changed in order to reflect a changing nation. They wonder whether it is worthwhile to celebrate history with as much focus on the future as on the past.

Who will we be and what do we want to remember? Can we change the tradition without distorting it? Will there still be a need for tradition or will we seek something altogether different?

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그들의 편지들

by Jennifer Ha, TC ’18 Military service is a mandatory rite of passage for all Korean men, so those in relationships during this period must develop rituals to cope with the forced separation. The author retraces her parents’ rituals through their photos and letters, exploring themes of memory, temporality, and personal identity.

내가 한국에 도착한지 6일째 되던날 내가 보고 싶어했던 그 상 자를 찾았다. 할머니 방 구석에 옷더미와 다른 상자들 아래에 서 그 무게에 눌려 살짝 찌그러져 있었지만, 할머니의 이삿짐 싸는 솜씨 덕에 단단하게 그 모양을 유지하고 있었다. 무엇이 나올지 큰 기대를 가지고 할머니 방을 엉망으로 만들던 중, 뒤 에서 바라보고 계시는 할머니의 눈길을 의식하며 나는 옷더미 와 상자들을 치우고 그 상자를 끄집어 내었다. 상자를 열어보니 엄마의 대학 졸업앨범, 오래된 사진첩, 그 리고 여러장의 코닥 사진 필름들이 플라스틱 보관지에 담겨 있 었다. 나는 사진들을 먼저 하나씩 살펴 보았다. 우리 부모님의 젊은 시절 모습들이 담긴 사진들을 보면서 전혀 기대하지 않았 던 모습들에 놀랐다. 엄마가 얌전하면서도 활발한 표정으로 단 정하게 옷을 입고 나무 뒤에서 찍은 사진을 보았다. 우리 아빠 는 두손을 허리에 올린 잘생기고 매력적인 청년이었다. 지리산에서 친구들과 캠핑을 가서 아빠가 가스 스토브 위에 서 요리하고 엄마가 젓가락을 들고 있는 사진들도 있었고, 눈 내리는 겨울, 머리에 눈을 맞으며 큰 눈사람 옆에 뽐내듯이 서 로 기대어 찍은 사진들도 있었다. 하늘을 바라보며 공원 벤치 에 앉아 찍은 모습도 있었고, 여러가지 꽃들이 피어있는 꽃밭 에서 서로를 바라보며 찍은 사진들도 있었다. 짙은 립스틱을 바른 엄마와 회색 자켓을 입고 머리를 단정히 빗은 아빠는 꼭 영화 속의 한 장면 같았다. 그 중 내가 제일 좋아했던 사진은 부 모님이 갈색 말을 타고 서로 마주보며 어깨를 서로 감싸고 뽀 뽀를 하는 사진이었다. 배경인 드넓은 초원을 보아하니 아마도 제주도의 한 목장인 것 같다. 그 다음으로는 아빠가 먼저 말에 서 내려 엄마의 다리를 잡고 안아 말에서 내려드리는 사진이었 는데, 연한 파란색 모자를 쓴 아빠와 80년대 유행했던 푸들 파 마 머리를 한 엄마의 모습이 우스웠다. 그 후 대부분의 시간은 아빠가 모든 한국 남자들에게 주어 진 병역의 의무를 다하던 중 부모님이 주고 받았던 편지를 읽 는데 보냈다. 당시 한국 남자라면 반드시 30개월간 군 복무

36

I found the box on my sixth day in Korea. It sat

buried in a corner of my grandmother’s room, its crushed frame sagging weakly under the weight of three other boxes and a heap of clothes, yet tightly held together by my grandmother’s aggressive use of packing tape. Smiling with victory, I moved towards the tower and swiftly began to make a mess of my grandmother’s room as she watched me from behind, amused and bewildered.

When I opened the flaps and reached inside, I came across a few things: my mom’s college yearbook, old scrapbooks, and several loose packets of Kodak photos still in their plastic sleeves. I looked through the photos first, studying them one by one. My mom—shy, playful, fashionable, pouting from behind a tree trunk. My dad—handsome, mischievous, all charm and boyish swagger, posing with both hands on his hips. My parents had become characters, mysteries, subjects of some distant narrative.

They’re camping together with friends in Jirisan, bending over a gas stove, my dad turning switches and my mom watching him, chopsticks in her hands. They’re leaning on either side of a giant snowman, flecks of snow in their hair, boastful of their creation. They’re sitting on a bench together, both looking up at the sky. They’re standing amid a bush of soft pink flowers, facing each other. My mom wears red lipstick and my dad is in a gray suit jacket, his hair combed neatly. It looks like a scene from a movie.

In my favorite picture, they are each sitting on top of a brown horse, arms around each others’ shoulders, faces seconds away from a bashful kiss.

The deep green of the background suggests a ranch, maybe Jejudo. In the next picture, taken moments later, my dad is standing on the ground, holding my mom’s legs as she dismounts the horse. I laughed at their tacky, youthful appearance—my dad in a pale blue bucket hat and my mom sporting the infamous poodle perm of the 80s. They look skinny and lighthearted, but full to the edges, embracing each other with the whole of their petite frames.

And then the letters—I spent the rest of the afternoon reading through the letters my parents wrote to each other while my dad completed his mandatory military service. In my dad’s time, every qualified Korean male citizen was required by law to serve in the military for 30 months—these days, most men serve 24 months. My dad left at age 21, just a year after meeting my mom. In his letters to her, he shares details of his military exercises, his travels, his work as specialist in strategy and intelligence, what it feels like to give up freedom, how much he misses her, little curiosities, delicate confessions. My mom talks about her research at school, interesting family events, uninteresting family events, how much she misses him, how much she loves him. For 30 months, they share a ritual in letter writing.

In between pages of letters, I found a picture drawn by my dad in pencil, dated February 19, 1990.

It was a sketch of a young woman who vaguely resembled my mom, eyes looking to the side, finger placed thoughtfully on her chin. The caption scribbled below read: “Love is wondering what he’s doing right now this very moment.” I laughed at the silliness of the gesture. But I also found myself thinking of the picture of them facing each other amid the bush of pink flowers and wondered about the things that fill a space between two people, about the act of waiting for someone. My dad once told me that soldiers would often find their happiest moments in the late afternoon hours when the battalion messenger delivered their mail. “There were guys that got letters from their girlfriends every single day,” he said.

“But after two months or so, those guys would get dumped,” he added. “Most of my friends broke up with their girlfriends. Waiting is difficult.”

What I saw of my parents in the pictures, I heard through the letters. Sitting in my grandmother’s room, surrounded by boxes and clothes and decades-old dust, I turned pages of a story in which I did not yet exist. And so I glimpsed the boxed memories from afar, uncovering my parents piece by piece as if watching a flower bloom silently in front of me.

With history in my hands, I thought to myself—this is my origin story. The relics before me gave new meaning to the idea of a motherland, an idea that seemed incomprehensible when I had arrived a week earlier. When I looked up from the box, Korea felt a little less foreign.

Korean

를 해야 했다. 아빠는 21살에 군대를 가셨었 고, 그 때 쓴 편지들에는 전반적인 군 생활과 아 빠가 복무 중 자주 다녔던 아름다운 한려해상 국립공원에 대한 묘사, 자유가 뺏긴 상황에 대 한 안타까움, 그리고 엄마에 대한 그리움과 사 랑이 고스란히 담겨 있었다. 이러한 편지를 주 고 받는 것이 두 분 사이의 소중했던 의식이었 던 듯 하다. 편지를 넘기다 그 사이에 끼어 있는 1988년 2월 19일 자의 스케치를 발견했다. 아빠가 그 린 한 이 스케치는 엄마를 아주 조금 닮은, 손을 볼에 대고 있는 젊은 여자의 옆모습이었다. 그 림에는 “사랑은 지금 이 순간 그 사람이 무엇을 하고 있는지 궁금해 하는것” 이라는 글귀가 적 혀 있었다. 글귀에 드러난 엄마 아빠의 깊은 사 랑에 약간 메스껍고 당황스러웠지만, 그 글귀 를 다시 읽었을 때는 부모님의 그리움과 기다 림에 대해 깊이 생각했다. 군인들에게 가장 행 복한 시간은 군사 우편물이 배달되던 늦은 오후 라는 것을 아빠에게 들은적이 있었다. 또한 “매 일 여자친구에게 편지를 받는 군인도 있었지만 몇 달이 지나지 않아 여자친구와 헤어지는 경우 를 많이 보았다” 라 말씀하셨고, 그런 헤어짐이 대다수였던 만큼 군대 간 남자 친구를 끝까지 기다리는 것이 힘든것라 말씀하셨다. 사진과 편지들 속에 부모님의 목소리가 그대 로 담겨있었다. 30년 전의 엄마 아빠의 목소리 를 다시 듣는다는 것은 나에게 형용할 수 없는 느낌을 남겼다. 할머니 방에 앉아 여러 상자와 옷가지들, 또 몇 십년 된 먼지층에 둘러싸여 나 는 잠시 내가 존재하지 않았던 부모님만의 시간 으로 돌아갈 수 있었다. 먼곳에 있는 부모님의 추억을 하나 하나 발견하는 것이, 마치 눈앞에 서 만개하는 꽃밭을 바라보는 기분이었다. 부 모님의 이야기를 알고 나니, 내 이야기가 어떻 게 시작됐는지도 알 수 있었다. 내 눈 앞 엄마 아 빠의 젊은 시절 흔적들은 내게 조국에 대한 새 로운 의미--일주일 전 한국에 도착했을떄는 전 혀 알지 못했던 그런 의미--를 내게 주었다. 그 순간 한국이 더 가까워지는 것을 느꼈다.

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누구를 위하여 결혼식을 올리나

by Seungjung Sohn, ES ’19 Korean wedding traditions have been changing rapidly, relying more on consumption than meaningful relations. These changes reflect an aspect of Korean culture that extends to all corners of life.

필자에게 외국에서 생활하며 가장 문화적으로 놀랐 던 경험을 물어본다면, 요르단에서 처음 가 봤던 아 랍식 결혼식을 가장 먼저 꼽을 것이다. 시작은 여느 한국 결혼식과 비슷했다. 큰 홀에 몇 백명의 사람들 이 모여 신랑 신부가 나오기만을 기다리기를 몇 시 간. 하품을 하며 지루해하던 그 때, 저 멀리서 들려 오는 소리는 신랑 신부를 목격한 사람들의 웅성거 림도, 주례를 위해 참석한 성직자의 엄숙한 발소리 도 아니였다. 그것은 바로 북소리와 여러 여자들의 ‘ululation (아랍 여자들이 결혼식이나 다른 경축 행 사에서 내는 소리. 매우 높고 트릴 ‘trill’ 같음) 소리 였다. 주례나 결혼 서약 같은 것들 대신, 그 날 결혼 식의 주요 이벤트는 새벽까지 이어지는 광란의 파티 였다. 조용하고 성스러운 결혼식에 익숙한 우리 가 족에게 아랍 결혼식은 꽤 큰 충격이 아닐 수 없었다. 이처럼 결혼식은 문화적 차이를 가장 잘 보여주 는 의식 중의 하나이다. 한국도 마찬가지이다. 인터 넷이나 백과사전에서 찾아 볼 수 있는 한국의 결혼 문화는 전통적이고, 서양의 관점에서 본다면 매우 이 국적인 색동 한복과 가마를 탄 신부가 주를 이룬다. 전통 혼례 속 폐백 등의 의식과 얼굴을 수줍게 가리 고 있는 신부와 신랑에게서 한국 사람들의 가치관을 엿볼 수 있다. 하지만 한국에 살아 본 사람들은 이러한 전통 혼 례를 지금은 찾아 보기 힘들다는 것을 안다. 어렸을 때 친구들에게 필자 부모님의 전통 혼례 사진을 보 여주면 꼭 조선시대 사진인 것 처럼 ‘우와 신기하다!’ 라는 반응 뿐이었으니 백과사전의 정보가 얼마나 시 대에 뒤쳐져 있는지 알 수 있다. 요즘 한국의 결혼식은 색동 한복과 연지곤지보

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If I were to choose an experience that gave

me the most ‘culture shock’, it would most likely be the first ‘Arab’ wedding that I attended in Jordan. It started off as any other Korean weddings: hundreds of people milling about in a big hall waiting for the couple to show up. However, what I heard next was unlike anything I had ever imagined to hear at a wedding; it was neither the crowd murmuring at the sight of the beautiful bride, nor the shuffling of the feet of a priest, but the sound of drums and ululation of a dozen women. The wedding quickly unfolded into a big party that lasted throughout the night, without a break for vows or ‘I do’s. To those of us accustomed to a more spiritual and quiet versions of weddings, the whole event was quite a shock.

As such, weddings are one of the rituals that best show cultural differences. Let’s look at Korea. If one were to look up Korean weddings online or in an encyclopedia, one would find the description of traditional Korean weddings. The colorful hanbok, bride and groom with their faces hidden and the bride riding the gama (a palanquin) all reveal the values held by the generations of Koreans.

However, those who have actually lived in Korea know all too well that one would not

다는 이런 쪽에 더 가깝다: 하루에도 몇 커플씩이나 처리하는 결혼 대행 회사에 서 빌린 홀에 지인이란 지인은 몇 백명 씩 불러 모아 놓고, 지루해 하는 사람들 (“이번 달만 해도 결혼식만 벌써 몇 번째 야”) 가운데 속전속결로 이뤄지는 결혼 후, 사람들은 축의금과 맞바꾼 식권으로 몇만원짜리 뷔페를 먹고 돌아간다. 심지 어 요즘은 부를 지인이 모자라 ‘신부 친 구’ 대행 알바가 유행하기도 한다. 이것은 백과사전에 나오는 전통혼례 에 비해선 훨씬 보기 좋지 않은 그림이 다. 하지만 필자는 문화를 잃는 것에 대 한 분노나 슬픔에 대한 장광설을 늘어놓 고 싶지는 않다. 사람이 변하듯 문화가 변하는 것은 당연한 것이고, 전통혼례가 조상의 가치관들을 보여주듯, 이렇게 변 화된 결혼 의식도 21세기 한국의 성향 을 잘 드러낼 수 있기 때문이다. 한국 문화는 언제나 자신보다는 남, 그리고 사회를 중요시했다. 남의 시선, 사회의 추세, 그리고 유행 등이 언제나 개인의 성향보다 우위를 점했다. 이러 한 사회 중심적 (sociocentric) 성향 에 지난 50년 (겨우 두 세대)간의 역사 상 가장 빠른 경제 성장을 더하면 지금 한국문화의 변화를 조금 더 잘 이해할 수 있다. 20세기 말 기하급수적인 소득 증가에 너무 일찍 샴페인 병을 터트리 고 난 흐지부지한 뒷수습을 맡은 21세 기 한국은 남 보여주기 식의 물질주의 에 꽂혀 19세기 후반의 미국, ‘Gilded age (금박 시대, 대호황 시대)’를 연상 시킨다. 결혼식도 더 이상 종교나 개인 의 행복을 떠나 다 른 사람들을 따라 ‘ 나도 이렇게 크게 결혼식 할 수 있다’ 에 더 치우쳐 가는 것 같아 보인다. 필자는 항상 한 국의 ‘나보다 남 먼 저’ 사상을 자랑스 러워했다. 하지만 요즘은 이러한 사 고가 이득보다는 사회의 시선에 대 한 불필요한 의식 을 부르는 것 같아 안타까울 따름이다. 전통식으로 돌아가 자는 말은 아니다. 개인주의로 돌아서자 는 것도 아니다. 하지만 지금의 한국은 사회중심이건, 공동체 의식이건, 먼저 자기 중심부터 잡고 주위를 의식할 여유 가 절실해 보인다.

find such procedures in Korea anymore. Pictures of my parents’ own traditional wedding 20 years ago are now a rarity, met more with incredulity than with familiarity; something more likely to be found in encyclopedia than in people’s photo albums.

What would be found in people’s wedding albums these days are more like this (if there ever were any candid shots): a crowded hall rented from a wedding company that goes through at least a dozen couples a day, filled with extended acquaintances of the couple and their family; a wedding hurried through and watched by people bored out of their minds (‘This has got to be like the hundredth wedding of the month’) who pay a certain amount of ‘gift’ in exchange for a meal coupon, some of whom are actual strangers paid to pretend for the day to be the bride’s (or groom’s) friends (Yes, that is a thing, and yes, it is for a desperate attempt to fill the giant hall and even out the guests from both sides of the couple).

This definitely paints a much sadder picture than those found in encyclopedias. However, I am not trying to launch into a tirade about my sadness over the loss of culture and identity; cultures change as people change, and these changed rituals illustrate the contemporary side of Korea just as the traditional ones show the older values of Korea.

What do these changed rituals tell us about the XXI century Korea? Korean culture has always prioritized the opinions, trends, and values of ‘others’ over those of individuals. Coupled with these sociocentric tendencies, the unprecedented economic growth in the last 50 years (only two generations!) has led Korea down a certain path; faced with a success that it was unprepared for, the 20th century Korea indulged in the sudden affluence, leaving the scars of the last century of occupation, war, and poverty for the next generation to tend to. The result in the 21st century resembles the ‘Gilded Age’ of the 19th century America and its showy materialism, which changed even the holy ritual of marriage into another extravagant show.

I have always taken pride in the Korean culture of ‘you before me’. Unfortunately, now it seems that this mentality has evolved into an excessive concern over the others’ gaze, bringing more harm than good. I am not suggesting that we all go back to the ‘traditional’ ways. Nor am I suggesting that we abandon our sociocentric ways for individualism.

What Korea needs right now is a reflection on for whom truly the wedding bell tolls.

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?

썸

?

? ??

by Nikki Hwang, MC ’17 In Korea, a newly defined mode of social interaction is changing the way young couples go through a relationship. This term offers clarity to the traditional gray area in romantic progression, and the younger generation’s affinity towards it might point to a characteristic of Korean youth. “요즘 썸타는 사람은 없어?” 언제부터인가 오랫만에 만나는 친구 사이에서 마치 안부처럼 어김없이 묻게 되는 말이다. “썸” 근황을 묻 는 건 식상하지도 않으면서, 어느 정도 친해야만 물어 보지만 그렇다고 너무 진지하지도 않은, 좋은 ‘화젯거 리’이다. 정확한 시작을 찾기는 힘들겠지만, 돌이켜보면 한국 에서 “썸문화”라는 것이 본격적으로 거론되기 시작한 것 은 정기고와 씨스타 소유의 노래 “썸”이 유명세를 타면 서부터가 아닐까싶다. 서로를 알아가는 두 사람 사이의 설렘이야 늘상 있었던 노래 소재이지만, 이러한 사이에 “썸”이라는 단어를 붙이고 그것을 “내꺼인듯 내꺼아닌 내꺼같은 너”로 해석해준 친절한(?) 곡으로 인해 한국 은 “썸” 열풍에 돌입했다. 처음에는 그냥 원래 있던 현상에다가 누군가가 이름 을 붙여준 것이라고 생각했다. 말로는 표현할 수 없지 만 무언가 애매한 둘 사이의 관계를 누군가가 고맙게도 “썸”이라는 단어로 정의내려준 것만 같았다. 그리고 썸 문화를 바탕으로 새로운 예능프로도 생기고, 친구들끼 리 누구랑 누구랑 썸을 탄다더라는 얘기도 하며 한동 안 그러한 문화를 여과없이, 그리고 흥미진진하게 즐겼 던 것 같다. 예를 들어 내가 즐겨보는, 그리고 한국의 20-30대 에게 유독 인기가 많은 예능프로 <마녀사냥>은, 솔직 한 연애 고민상담을 해주던 프로에서 “그린라이트를 켜 줘”라는, 남녀 사이의 오묘한 관계를 사연자가 읽어주 면 MC들이 이것이 “썸”인지 아닌지 판단 후, 그린라이 트 버튼을 눌러 다수결로 결론을 내려주는 코너를 도입 해 폭발적인 호응을 얻었다. 일년 남짓 후, “그린라이트 를 켜줘”가 식상해졌다는 평가를 받자 급기야 “너의 톡 소리가 들려”라는, 썸남 썸녀에게 보내는 카톡 답장을

40

“II sdon’t there anyone you have a “some” with these days?” know when it started, but my friends and

I developed a habit of asking this question. Asking about recent “some”s became an interesting and intimate, yet not too serious or overly intrusive way to catch up on each other’s lives.

I think it was February 2014, when JunggiGo and Sistar’s SoYou’s song Some went viral in Korea. True, songs about the exciting, heart-fluttering dynamic of two people getting to know each other have always existed, but this song effectively coined the particular dynamic-- there is something between us; you are mine but also not mine -- as a “some.” It seems to be ever since then that a “Some culture” has swept over Korea.

At first, I found this phenomenon an interesting, and even convenient term for an otherwise quite ambiguous and puzzling tension between two people.

It became far easier to gossip about “some”s of my friends, and several Korean entertainment channels seized this opportunity to weave the “Some culture” into their shows to gain popularity.

For example, one show I enjoy watching, which is well known amongst 20-30s in Korea is “WitchHunt.” The show started off as a rather ordinary talk show where the MCs would give men and women relationship advice based on the stories they sent. Then the show added the corner Turn on the Green-light in which the MCs would listen to stories of anonymous people discussing their puzzling relationship

with another. The MCs would then judge whether this relationship is a “some” or not. If it was a “some,” they pressed the green-light button in front of them and essentially took a majority vote to decide. This corner gained immense popularity-- only to fade away after a year or so.

So then the show introduced another corner, I hear your Talk sound, in which the MCs and the audience would assist those going through a “some” by typing out their text message to the person they wanted to develop a romantic relationship with. Watching how the text message was crowd-sourced, with the audience tossing around heated suggestions like, “NO you moron, don’t add the exclamation mark!” “No that sounds creepy - stop it” “Just tell her you want to see her right now, obviously,” made me feel weird and taken aback about this whole “Some culture” that possessed Korea.

What troubled me was the increasingly authoritarian and bold attitude of others who either sensationalized or belittled the relationship between two people. It was particularly worrisome how the MCs who, at first, got all excited and jittery about the stories while giving advice, now did not even bother to listen to the full story and immediately pressed the green-light button with the triumphant air of “this is obviously a “some.””

In a sense, we have become too good at this game of detecting a “some.” It has become a repeated, mental activity with which we have gained a certain technical efficiency or established an algorithm for. In fact, rather than spending more time to actually get to know the other person, it has become such a natural, almost engrained practice to categorize and label him or her as a “some,” “just a friend,” and so on. You could say that the “Some culture” in Korea sprung from the desire of those in their 20s and 30s who, going through an uncertain phase in life, wanted to define at least their puzzling romantic life.

The decision to study abroad in the US has taught me many life lessons, but above all, each new interaction confirms my belief that there are unbelievably diverse people, and accordingly so many different forms of relationships one can have. I realize that forming a relationship cannot really be reduced to another ritual or routine. It is telling and rather relieving that one year ago JunggiGo and SoYou’s song cherishing this heart-fluttering phenomenon of “some” reigned on top of Korea’s music chart, but more recently, Baek Ah Yeon’s song “Shouldn’t have,” which laments about the frustration and (ironically) uncertainty brought by a “some,” is high up on the chart. I find myself hoping that Korea’s “Some culture” passes by like a fad or a hit song, instead of consolidating and morphing into a custom. 방청객과 MC들이 직접 쳐주는 새로운 코너가 생겼다. 이러한 전개과정을 보며 나는 “썸”에 대해 회의를 갖게 되었다. 그것이 연애든 “썸”이든, 둘 사이의 인연을 대중이 점점 노골적으로, 자 극적으로, 그리고 권위적으로 결정지으려는 것 같아 흥미롭기보다는 걱정스러웠다. 무엇보다 도 처음에는 두 남녀의 사연을 귀기울여 들으 며 공감하고 상상하며 호들갑을 떨던 MC들 조차도 이제는 사연이 채 끝나기도 전에 “이건 100프로지”는 의기양양한 표정으로 그린라이 트 버튼을 누르는 모습이 싫었다. 우리 사회가 “썸”을 탐지하는 데에 능숙해진 것은, 그만큼 그것이 관습화된 것을 의미한다. 상대방을 인 간 대 인간으로 알아가려는 노력보다도, 나와 그 사이의 다이내믹을 파악해서 “썸” “남사친” “여사친” 등으로 분류하고 규정짓기에 급급한 요즘을 보며 안타깝다. 어쩌면 결정장애에 시달리고, 진로를 비롯한 모든 문제에서 불안함과 불확실함을 겪는 한국 의 20-30대에게, 남녀 사이의 설명하기 힘든 관계라도 정의내리고 싶은 욕구가 “썸문화”를 불러일으킨 것일 수도 있겠다. 그러나 미국에서의 대학 생활이 나에게 매 일같이 가르쳐 주는 사실은, 세상에 정말 다양 한 사람이 존재하고 그만큼 다양한 관계가 있 다는 것이다. 때문에 사람과 사람 사이의 ‘관 계’는 ‘관례’나 ‘관습’적으로 정의내릴 수 없는 것이다. 불과 일년 전에 정기고와 소유의 달달한 “ 썸”이라는 노래가 음원 차트 1위를 놓치지 않 았지만 얼마 전부터는 백아연의 “이럴거면 그 러지말지”라는, ‘썸’의 관계에 지친 노래가 1위 를 달리고 있다. 가을 “탄다” 유행”탄다”라는 말 처럼 썸을”탄다”는 것도 관습화되지 않고 그저 한번 휩쓸고 지나간 현상이었으면 좋겠다고 희 망해본다.

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Festa do Espirito Santo

by Helder Toste, BK ’16

Helder Toste explains the origin of the festival of the Holy Spirit, an important religious ritual that has grown in importance and popularity around the world, and describes how it is celebrated in immigrant Portuguese communities.

A Festa do Espirito Santo que hoje ocorre

nos Açores, Brasil e também nos Estados Unidos tem as suas origens numa lenda Portuguesa muito antiga. O conto diz que a Rainha Santa Isabel, que nasceu e reinou no século XIII, era rainha quando Portugal estava a sofrer de uma grande escassez. Por compaixão ao seu povo, a rainha decidiu mandar todas as pessoas da comunidade orar ao Espirito Santo para pedir ajuda. Diz-se que então chegaram muitos navios cheios de comida para ajudar as pessoas e salva-las da fome. A rainha, dando graças a Deus, escolheu uma jovem para coroar em honra do Espirito Santo e depois deu uma “sopa de carne” para todas as pessoas comerem.

Esta tradição começou então em muitas comunidades rurais, onde já se celebra há mais de 700 anos. O ritual da festa do Espirito Santo é hoje em dia uma das celebrações mais importantes nas comunidades portuguesas.

No estado da Califórnia, de onde eu sou, as comunidades portuguesas continuam esta tradição. Hoje em dia a festa tem inicio na quinta feira e continua até segunda-feira. Durante estes dias as comunidades têm muitas atividades que são em parte religiosas e também em parte só para fazer festa. As festas na Califórnia começam na terceira semana de Maio, normalmente sete semanas depois da quaresma, e ocorrem por todo o estado durante mais sete semanas. As festas fazem então uma grande parte do verão, onde todas as pessoas da comunidade, jovens, adultos, e velhos, se juntam para

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The festival of the Holy Spirit, which to-

day occurs in many parts of the Azores, Brazil, and the United States, has its origins in a very ancient Portuguese legend.

According to the story, Portugal faced a huge famine during the reign of the Holy Queen Isabel of Portugal in the 13th century. The Queen, who felt deep compassion for her subjects, decided to bring all of the people in the community together to pray to the Holy Spirit for divine intervention. It is said that after these great orations began, many ships filled with food arrived to the country and saved it from hunger. The Queen, giving thanks to God, chose a young peasant girl to crown in honor of the Holy Spirit, and then served a special meat stew for all the people to eat. This began a tradition in many rural communities throughout the nation which has been celebrated for over 700 years. The ritual of the Holy Spirit Festival is understood as one of the most important Portuguese celebrations that still occur.

In the state of California, where I am from, the Portuguese communities continue this tradition every year beginning about 7 weeks after the start of Lent, the third week of May, until roughly 7 weeks after that. The festivals begin on Thursdays and continue through the weekend to Monday. During these days the community partakes in many activates, some religious and some merely as extensions of the celebrations. The festivals take up a large part of the summer, bringing together entire communities and people

both young and old. The important of family and community cannot be sufficiently stressed, because for many of us it’s an important part of expressing our culture and growing in our Catholic faith. Before the celebration begins, the old queen passes the crown on to the new queen, a young girl between 15 and 18 years old. Her parents become the de facto presidents of the festival and are asked to organize the celebration. The new queen then chooses princesses (normally sisters, cousins, or close friends) to help her with various aspects of the celebration. The queen also chooses a court made up of two or more couples that march in the parade and the closing ballroom gala that ends the formal part of the celebration on Sunday.

Sunday is the most important day of the celebration because it’s the day of the parade, the Catholic mass, the serving of the meat stew, and the gala.

The queen and her court walk from the Portuguese salon to the church, as the local orchestra plays the appropriate anthems and all the people parade with the queen in the streets. After arriving at the church the queen and the princesses help read for mass and the priest crowns the queen in front of the faithful, praying over her and the community. After mass, the parade returns to the salon where the orchestra continues to play music and the kitchen begins to serve the meat stew to everyone. The soup is traditionally made up of Portuguese sausage, beef, potatoes, cabbage, and moist bread dipped in stew. After the meal, everyone returns to their homes to rest. At night they come back for dinner and to see the ballroom gala, where the community can see the queen’s Holy Spirit Cape, a handmade cape carefully decorated with religious images.

After the gala everyone breaks out in dance, and we conclude this great festival and religious ritual that defines our community.

Portuguese

celebrar este grande evento. A importância da família e comunidade não pode ser mais evidenciada.

Para nós é uma maneira de sermos portugueses e de fazer crescer ainda mais a nossa fé Católica. No inicio da celebração, a rainha do ano anterior coroa a nova rainha, normalmente uma jovem entre 15-18 anos.

Os pais da rainha ficam então os presidentes da festa e coordenam o festival. A rainha escolhe duas princesas, normalmente irmãs, primas, ou amigas, que a ajudam em vários aspetos da celebração. A rainha também escolhe uma corte de dez pares de jovens que ajudam na parada e também no desfile que acaba a parte mais formal da festa no domingo.

O domingo é o dia mais importante da festa porque é o dia da parada, da missa, da comida da sopa, e do desfile. A rainha e a sua a corte andam do salão Português até á igreja, onde a nossa filarmónica toca os hinos apropriados antes da parada sair. Depois de chegarem á igreja a rainha e a princesas ajudam a ler as leituras do dia e o padre coroa a rainha em frente de toda a igreja, rezando por ela e por toda a comunidade. Depois da missa, a parada retorna ao salão onde a filarmónica toca uma seleção de modas e se cozinha a sopa da carne para toda a gente! A sopa é feita com linguiça, batatas, repolho, e pão demolhado.

Depois da comida, as pessoas voltam ás suas casas para descansar e durante a noite todos voltam á festa para ver o desfile da rainha. Este desfile serve para mostrar a capa do Espirito Santo á nossa comunidade.

As capas do Espirito Santo são feitas a mão e são ornamentadas com imagens religiosas. Depois do desfile todas as pessoas dançam e concluímos esta grandiosa festa, um ritual religioso que define a nossa comunidade.

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A Queima das Fitas: Um Ritual Dos Alunos Universitarios

by Mariana Do Carmo, BR ’17

Each country has its own unique graduation ceremonies/ rituals for university students.

Portugal’s involves a week of fun and festivities led by the graduating class for all members of the community to enjoy.

Em 1899 a Universidade de Coimbra, uma

das universidades mais antigas de Portugal, começou um ritual chamado a “Queima das Fitas”. As fitas eram usadas nas pastas ou sebentas dos estudantes pré-finalistas, e cada faculdade, como a de letras, direito, ou medicina, tinha uma cor diferente para as suas fitas.

O significado de queimar as fitas é o atingir de uma meta, a graduação. Este evento é uma festa que acontece todos os anos no mês de Maio quando os finalistas das universidades portuguesas celebram a sua semana académica. Consoante a região do país, assim lhe dão diferentes nomes. Por exemplo, no norte do país chamam-lhe o “Enterro da Gata”.

Durante a semana da Queima das Fitas, como manda a tradição, seguem-se vários eventos divertidos todos os dias. Existe a Garraiada, onde os alunos mostram com orgulho as suas fitas numa arena antes de começar a tourada. Durante a Serenata canta-se o fado e a canção de Coimbra. Nesse dia os padrinhos, que são os alunos que estão a graduar, traçam as capas aos seus afilhados caloiros, que as vestem pela primeira vez. O Chá Dançante é um baile envolto em mistério. A fanfarra académica começa a atuar e os estudantes, vestidos de gala e bengala, partem o cenário.

O Cortejo é um desfile de carros alegóricos que transportam os estudantes, vestidos a rigor com a sua capa e batina pretas (parecidas ás do Harry Potter), e onde não falta a sátira política e social. Os finalistas passam a saudar a multidão, onde os seus pais se enchem de orgulho vendo passar os seus novos Doutores.

Eventos mais formais incluem o Baile de Gala das Faculdades e a Venda da Pasta, uma atividade solidaria em que os finalistas fazem vendas para ajudar instituições de caridade.

Embora popular agora, a Queima das Fitas foi interrompida durante a ditadura portuguesa por um grupo de alunos revoltados com o governo de Salazar. Pararam com estes rituais académicos num período que durou dois anos chamado o “Luto Académico”. A seguir á Revolução de Abril de 1974, quando foi instalada a democracia em Portugal, os estudantes continuaram todas estas tradições até os nossos dias.

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In 1899, the University of Coimbra, one of Portugal’s

oldest universities, began a ritual known as the Burning of the Ribbons. These ribbons were a part of the folders where students who were about to graduate had kept their notes and documents throughout the school years. Each of the University’s faculties, such as those of languages, the law, or medicine, had ribbons with their own respective colors. Burning the ribbons symbolizes achieving a goal, namely that of graduating and moving on to thrive and succeed in the real world. The Burning of the Ribbons is an event that occurs every year during the month of May, when the graduating class celebrates their “academic week,” which takes place at the end of their classes and about one month before the start of their final exams. Depending on the region of the country, this ritual may go by other names, such as the Burying of the Cat in the north.

During the week of the Burning of the Ribbons, tradition calls for various enjoyable events to take place every day. There exists the Garraiada, in which the students show off their ribbons with pride in an arena just before a bullfight takes place. Later on, serenades occur during which students sing Fado, the traditional Portuguese version of the blues, as well as the song of their university. On that day, the graduating class takes on the role of the “godparents” of the first year students, adorning their godchildren with their own robes for the first time. The Dancing Tea is a party shrouded in mystery, during which the academic fanfare plays, and the students, dressed in black robes and sporting canes, destroy some of the props in the room. The Cortejo is a parade of allegoric cars that transport enthusiastic students.

This parade involves plenty of social and political satire.

Members of the graduating class usually travel in one of the floats, dressed in black robes reminiscent of those in Harry Potter, waving to a crowd in which they will often find their proud parents waving back. Formal events include a ball, known as the Baile de Gala das Faculdades, and the Selling of the Folders, a solidary activity during which the graduating students fundraise for charities.

Even though it is popular now, the Burning of the Ribbons was interrupted during the Portuguese dictatorship by a group of students who were dissatisfied by the Dictator Salazar’s political reign. They put an end to this ritual over a period of time known as the luto académico, the mourning of academics. However, after the Revolution of April 1974, when Portugal became a democracy, the students resumed these traditional celebrations, and they have been maintained alive and eventful to this day.

by Matteo Rosati, PC ’19

In this article, Matteo discusses the value Italians place on conviviality and dining together. He reveals how central the tradition is to Italian identity.

Ogni anno, a natale, io e il resto della mia

famiglia - cioè i nonni, gli zii, le zie, i cugini e tutti i parenti lontani che potrei aver dimenticato - si radunano a casa di mia nonna per il pranzo del 25 dicembre. Fondamentalmente composto da piatti tipicamente italiani e di tradizione romana, questo pasto è un momento di grande unità familiare, dedicato all’apprezzamento del buon cibo, dei piccoli piaceri della vita. Questo non è un articolo sul natale, né sul fatto che in Italia il 25 dicembre è, per tantissime famiglie, un’occasione per riunirsi e stare insieme.

Queste sono tradizioni comuni a molte altre culture. Il mio è un articolo sul ruolo del cibo in Italia, sul buon cibo come occasione per stare insieme e per condividere i sapori tipici di un’identità culturale condivisa da tutti.

La cucina italiana piace in tutto il mondo.

Ciononostante, un qualcosa di essenziale al cibo italiano si perde quando si prova a ‘esportare’ la tradizione culinaria italiana, ovvero l’aspetto sociale del mangiare il cibo assieme ad altre persone. Ogni regione, e a volte ogni città, ha un piatto tradizionale, un piatto che tanti hanno mangiato da quando erano piccoli, e la cui storia di come la ricetta si sia sviluppata può essere incredibilmente lunga e intricata. Questo crea una variazione enorme in ciò che si mangia in posti che possono anche essere molto vicini da un punto di vista geografico, ma le cui tradizioni sono completamente diverse.

Tuttavia, questo aspetto sociale rimane. Mi è inconcepibile cenare insieme ad altre persone mentre la televisione è accesa, per esempio. Mi è inconcepibile mangiare a orari diversi dal resto della mia famiglia perché mio padre torna a casa tardi o perché mia sorella sta con la sua squadra di pallavolo.

Questo perché il cibo in Italia è fatto per essere mangiato in compagnia, per incoraggiare la condivisione di storie e d’idee. Il cibo italiano è buono perché una persona

Italian

Stare bene insieme

Every year at Christmas, the rest of my

family, which means grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins ​​and all the members of family membership categories that I might have forgotten, and I gather at my grandmother’s house for 25th of December lunch. Basically consisting of dishes of the typical Italian and Roman tradition, this meal is a time of great family unity, dedicated to the appreciation of good food and of the small pleasures of life. This is not an article on Christmas, that is, in Italy, for many families a chance to get together and to share aspects of their daily life, because this tradition is common in many other cultures. This is an article about the role of food in Italy, on good food as an opportunity to be together and to share the flavors of a cultural identity shared by all.

Italian food is liked everywhere in the world. However, an essential aspect of Italian food is abandoned when trying to ‘export’ the Italian culinary tradition, i.e. the social aspect of eating food with other people. Each region, and sometimes each city, has a traditional dish, a dish that so many have eaten from when they were little, and whose recipe’s story can be incredibly long and intricate. This creates a huge variation in what you eat in places that can be very close from a geographical point of view but whose traditions are completely different.

However, this social aspect remains. It is inconceivable for me to dine with other people while the TV is on, for example. It is inconceivable for me to eat, while at home with my family, at different times because my father comes home late or because my sister has volleyball practice. This is because food in Italy is made to be eaten in company, to encourage the sharing of stories and ideas.

Italian food is good because a person that is happy and satisfied is a social person, and good food is probably one of the most effective ways to make a person happy. When you enter a restaurant, you are deafened by

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contenta e soddisfatta è una persona socievole, e il buon cibo è probabilmente uno dei modi più efficaci per rendere contenta una persona.

Quando si entra in una trattoria, si è assordati dal rumore che si sente, dal numero di conversazioni che avvengono allo stesso tempo; in questo ambiente il cosiddetto ‘animale sociale’ raggiunge la sua massima espressione, e il pranzo diventa un momento di quiete nella confusione dei doveri della vita quotidiana.

In Italia, la maggior parte delle volte che qualcuno mangia insieme ad altre persone, questo individuo sta partecipando nel rituale del ‘pasto’. Volente o nolente, fa parte di una lunga e complessa storia di condivisione di buon cibo e di conversazione interessante. Egli diventa un altro tassello nell’edificio che è l’identità culturale di ogni italiano. Il cibo è una parte essenziale di questo edificio, ma non sarebbe importante senza la dimensione sociale. Un pasto in silenzio è un pasto senza senso né obiettivo, diventa un semplice momento per soddisfare dei bisogni carnali senza alcuna pretesa a un significato più alto. Se il cibo diventa una semplice espressione della nostra natura animalesca, allora il buon cibo non è importante. È proprio questo che gli italiani rifiutano. Il cibo fa parte di un rituale sociale importantissimo, e il buon cibo aiuta a radunare più persone e a farle ‘stare bene insieme’.

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the noise you hear, the number of conversations that take place at the same time; in this environment, the so-called ‘social animal’ reaches its highest expression, and the room becomes a quiet moment in the confusion of the duties of daily life.

In Italy, most of the time someone eats with other people, this individual is participating in the ritual of the ‘meal’. Whether he likes it or not, he is part of a long and complex history of sharing good food and interesting conversation. He becomes another step in the building that is the cultural identity of every Italian. Food is an essential part of this building, but it would not be important without the social dimension. A meal in silence is without meaning or purpose, simply becoming moment to meet the needs of the flesh with no claim to a higher usefulness. If food becomes a simple expression of our animal nature, then good food is not important. It is this that Italians refuse. The food is part of an important social ritual, and good food helps to gather more people and to make them ‘be together’.

Il mio caffè

by Alessandro Luciano PC ’18

In this article, Alessandro explores the meaning of coffee as an Italian ritual and tradition.

He introduces us to coffee etiquette and then analyzes the deep sociological implications of “Italian-style respite.”

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“ rendiamoci un caffè!” — quando lo dicono gli Italiani, lo dicono sul serio. Quasi sempre, il caffè lo vogliono subito. E quando ne vogliono fissare uno per il futuro, anche se un po’ in ritardo, non mancheranno. Perché? Perché - stereotipi a parte - il caffè è un rito delizioso che in Italia è praticato con fervore.

Prima di continuare, qualche consiglio pratico sul caffè in Italia. Il caffè prima delle 10 è sempre e solo espresso, con l’eccezione di qualche domenica mattina sonnolenta. Il caffè non è mai d’asporto: lo si può solo assaporare da seduti e per almeno 15 minuti, a meno che uno decida di prenderlo al banco. Il caffè lo si beve la mattina, subito dopo pranzo e dopo una cena sostanziosa. Il caffè non si beve quasi mai da soli o per stare più svegli o attenti — è un momento di condivisione allo scopo di rilassarsi e prendersi una pausa. Il caffè si beve in una tazzina di ceramica come quella che vedete sopra. Alcuni lo prendono con lo zucchero, altri lo preferiscono amaro, ma la bustina è sempre lì presente.

Ma che cosa, in fondo in fondo, rende il caffè un rituale tutto italiano? E in che modo è diverso - sapore a parte - dal “rito americano”?

Nella mia esperienza, il caffè in Italia è solo raramente il mezzo per un qualche fine. Non mi faccio un caffè per finire i compiti o affrontare un esame. Non bevo un caffè per qualcos’altro ma proprio per quel momento di condivisione e tranquillità che è il momento del caffè stesso.

A proposito, forse non è un caso che in Italia si dica “farsi un caffè” piuttosto che “prenderne” uno. “Farsi un caffè” — anche se poi si finisce per comprarlo al bar — suggerisce un tipo di relazione diversa all’esperienza del caffè. Il caffè è un qualcosa di personale e rilevante piuttosto che uno strumento per qualcos’altro.

E’ un po’ come se il bere un caffè sia un’espe-

L

“ et’s get a coffee!”—when Italians say it, they mean it. In most cases, they mean it now. And when they decide to schedule a coffee for later, even if it may be a bit later than the scheduled time, they always show up. Why? Because, stereotypes aside, coffee is a delightful rite that Italians genuinely enjoy.

Before moving forward, a few more practical rules about coffee in Italy. Coffee after 10am is always espresso, with an exception for late Sunday mornings. Coffee is never to go: one must always sit down and savor it for at least I5 minutes, unless one decides to have it “al banco” – that is, on the cafe’s counter. Coffee is best relished in the morning, right after lunch, and after a filling dinner. Coffee is seldom enjoyed alone or for productivity needs – it is a social endeavor with the purpose of relaxing and taking a break. Coffee is served in a small ceramic espresso cup. One typically adds a single sugar packet to make the espresso just a tad sweeter.

But what, if anything, makes coffee an Italian ritual? And how is it different – flavor aside – from American coffee?

In my experience, coffee in Italy is rarely the means to an end. I’m not going to have an espresso to finish that problem set or get through a midterm. I’ll have an espresso not for something else, but for the shared moment of enjoyment and respite that is the experience of having coffee itself. An informal way to invite someone to coffee is “Facciamoci un caffé”, which translates as “Let’s make a coffee,” even if it actually means buying one at a café. But “making” a coffee rather than “getting” one suggests a different relationship to the experience

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-rienza da custodire con gioia.

Yale è e sarà sempre reticente a concederci momenti di pausa come quelli del caffè italiano. Proprio per questo, il caffè in stile italiano descritto sopra è diventato un mio simbolo dello stare insieme.

Stare insieme semplicemente e col cuore. Parlando con semplicità, non superficialità. Stare insieme veramente, qui ed ora. Senza maschere, senza artifici, senza sentire la necessità di riempire il tempo che si spende insieme. Perché il tempo da riempire è vuoto per definizione. Non è vero che a Yale non ci sono abbastanza ore nel giorno. Abbiamo un problema più grande: non ci sono abbastanza momenti in un giorno. Non abbiamo abbastanza tempo e autenticità per stare insieme veramente. A così i nostri caffe diventano appuntamenti pre-registrati su calendari digitali che ci ricordano 30 minuti prima del nostro impegno preso, come fosse un appuntamento di lavoro, e sediamo già distratti, già altrove. Come l’insoddisfatto Prufrock di TS Eliot, anche noi misuriamo la vita a cucchiaini di caffè, calcolando anche ciò che dovrebbe essere spontaneo e genuino.

Per adesso, continueremo a prendere shot di caffè. Poi si vedrà, giusto?

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itself – coffee is something personal and relevant rather than a mere instrument for something else. It’s a bit as if the experience of coffee were something to nurture and experience with joy.

Yale is and will always be reluctant to spare moments of Italian-style respite.

That’s why having coffee in the way described above has become – for me – a cherished symbol of being together. Being together simply and wholesomely. Being together actually, now, here, truly. Being together without masks, without artificiality, without feeling like the time together is something to “fill.” Time to fill is empty in the first place. It is not true that at Yale there aren’t enough hours in a day. We have a much bigger problem – we don’t have enough moments in a day. We don’t have enough emotional time and authenticity to just be together. And thus our coffees become pre-scheduled appointments with iCal reminders set 30 minutes in advance, as if they were business meetings, and we sit and smile already distracted, already somewhere else. Like the dissatisfied young Prufrock in Eliot’s poem, we too measure life in coffee spoons, measuring even what is meant to be genuine and spontaneous.

by Olivier Van Donselaar, BK ’17

Babel

De Traditie van Sinterklaas: Wanneer een Feestdag en Racisme Samenkomen In this article, Olivier discusses the holiday of Sinterklaas -- a version of Christmas in the Netherlands. He focuses on the custom of putting on blackface as Saint-Nicolas’s helper Black Pete during the celebration and challenges the tradition’s value and appropriateness.

Als opgroeiend kind in Nederland was er niks

waar ik met meer verlangen naar uitkeek dan het Sinterklaasfeest. Dit oer-Hollandse feest speelt rond de verjaardag van Sint-Nicolaas op 5 December en gaat gepaard gaat met ladingen snoepgoed en cadeaus die menig kinderhart sneller laat kloppen. Sinterklaas zelf is een oude en serieuze man met een groot boek dat aangeeft of elk kind goed of stout is geweest in het afgelopen jaar, en dus wie cadeaus krijgt.

Maar omdat hij een oude man is kan Sinterklaas niet alle cadeaus alleen afleveren bij de kinderen, en daarom heeft hij helpers: de zwarte piet. Zwarte piet is volgens de overgeleverde traditie een grappige kindervriend die s ‘nachts door de schoorstenen van huizen gaat om cadeautjes en snoep af te leveren voor de slapende kinderen. Zwarte piet is te herkennen aan zijn zwarte of bruine huid, zwarte krullen, knalrode lippen, gouden oorringen, en pofbroek en hoed met veer. Sinterklaas en zijn leger aan zwarte pieten worden natuurlijk gespeeld door acteurs, net zoals in andere landen dit het geval is met de Kerstman. Mijn vader heeft bijvoorbeeld Sinterklaas gespeeld toen ik nog een peuter was in het kinderdagverblijf.

De beschrijving van zwarte piet heeft waarschijnlijk al een aantal alarm bellen laten afgaan bij de lezer, en inderdaad, de oppositie tegen dit figuur is de afgelopen jaren gestaag gegroeid.

Mensen hebben hun ongenoegen geuit over de racistische implicaties van zwarte piet en willen het karakter ontdoen van raciale elementen.

Nederland heeft een donkere geschiedenis door kolonialisme en de deelname aan de slavenhandel, een periode die in de Nederlandse geschiedenisboeken nog steeds wordt aangegeven als “De Gouden Eeuw,” en zwarte piet verwijst naar dit tijdperk. De acteurs die zwarte piet spelen tij-

Growing

up in the Netherlands, there was nothing I looked forward to more as a child than than the holiday of Sinterklaas.

This typically Dutch celebration marks Saint-Nicolas’ birthday on December 5th and involves loads of candy and presents that make the hearts of many a child beat faster. Saint-Nicolas himself is an old man with a big book that says whether a child has been naughty or nice in the past year, and so it determines who gets gifts.

Nevertheless, because he is an old man, Saint-Nicolas cannot deliver all gifts to the children by himself. Instead, he has a helper: Black Pete. According to tradition, Black Pete is a goofy sidekick who climbs through homes’ chimneys at night to deliver gifts and candy to the sleeping children. You can recognize Black Pete by his black or brown skin (supposedly so colored due to chimney soot), afro hair, bright red lips, gold earrings, knickerbockers, and feathered hat.

Saint-Nicolas and his army of Black Petes are, of course, played by actors, similar to Santa Claus and his elves in other countries.

My own father played Saint-Nicolas, for example, when the holiday was celebrated in my kindergarten.

Now, the description of Black Pete may have already raised some alarm with the reader, and, in fact, opposition to the figure has been growing during recent years. People have expressed their discontent with the racist implications of Black Pete, and want to have the figure stripped from its racialized elements. The Netherlands has a dark history of colonialism and participation in the slave trade, a period that Dutch history books still call “The Golden Age,” and

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dens het Sinterklaasfeest zijn bovendien meestal blanke mannen en vrouwen, en dit betekent dat ze “blackface” uitvoeren.

Diegenen die bekend zijn met het fenomeen van de minstreel voorstelling herkennen de gelijkenissen tussen zwarte piet en dit Amerikaanse horrorverhaal onmiddellijk. Zwarte piet is geheel zwart, iets wat niet kan gebeuren door alleen schoorsteen roet; en dan hebben we het nog niet eens gehad over de grote rode lippen, afro pruik, en gouden oorringen. Grote delen van de Nederlands-Afrikaanse diaspora en hun bondgenoten zeggen nu “genoeg!”

Hoewel zwarte piet racistisch is, werd de campagne tegen deze traditie gepareerd met een woeste terugslag.

De meerderheid van het (blanke) Nederlandse volk is het niet eens met dit standpunt. Zij dringen erop aan dat zwarte piet niet racistisch is en dat de feestdag een fundamenteel onderdeel van de Nederlandse cultuur is.

En, omdat zwarte piet een onderdeel is van de feestdag, weigeren ze zijn uiterlijk te veranderen. Anderen klagen bijvoorbeeld dat anti-zwarte piet demonstranten een feestdag voor kleine kinderen willen ruïneren, terwijl die kinderen veelal positieve ervaringen hebben met zwarte piet omdat dit personage ze cadeaus brengt. Met “kleine kinderen” bedoelen ze natuurlijk kleine blanke kinderen, een categorie waartoe ik ook behoorde. Ik ben zelfs ook minstens één keer verkleed en geschminkt geweest als zwarte piet. Toen was ik niet in staat om het racisme van zwarte piet te herkennen, maar nu kan ik dat wel.

Ja, zwarte piet is traditie, en hoewel hij niet ontwikkeld is met hetzelfde racistische doel als blackface in Amerika, zijn de gevolgen wel zeker racistisch. De mythe dat Nederland een van de meest tolerante landen ter wereld is wordt tenietgedaan door het onvermogen van de algemene bevolking om te begrijpen dat zwarte piet stereotype opvattingen van Afrikaanse en Afro-Caribische landgenoten aanhaalt. Dit sluit een deel van de Nederlandse bevolking buiten en marginaliseert mensen van Afrikaanse en Caribische afkomst als tweederangsburgers. We moeten als samenleving beseffen dat er iets fout is als niet-blanke Nederlanders door kinderen op straat worden aangesproken als zwarte piet. Nederlanders verdringen hun medeburgers wanneer ze weigeren om te luisteren en hun argumenten tegen zwarte piet te overwegen. Dit onderdrukt en vermijd discussies over racisme, xenofobie, en de Nederlandse identiteit. Door het niet laten toestaan van deze discussies ontkent de meerderheid van de Nederlanders deze niet blanke mensen volledig lidmaatschap van de samenleving. Het is nauwelijks verscholen racistische vreemdelingenhaat, en Nederland moet dit aanpakken.

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for many, Black Pete references this era. What is more, most of the times the actors that play Black Pete during Sinterklaas are white men and women, meaning that they’re in blackface when performing.

Those familiar with the phenomenon of the minstrel show immediately see the similarities between Black Pete and that American horror story. Black Pete is uniformly black, a physical descriptive that chimney soot alone would not be able to achieve; and we haven’t even touched upon the red lips, afro wig, and golden earrings. Large parts of the Dutch African diaspora and their allies are saying “enough!”

Even though Black Pete is racist, the campaign against it has been met with a ferocious backlash. The majority of (white) Dutch people disagree with this point of view. They insist that Black Pete is, in fact, not racist, and that the figure is a fundamental character of the holiday, and therefore a fundamental part of Dutch culture. Others complain that anti-Black Pete protesters are out there to ruin a holiday for small children who have mostly positive experiences with Black Pete, since the character brings them gifts. With “small children,” these detractors of course mean small white children, a category I once belonged to as well. I was dressed up like Black Pete and in blackface too at least once when I was small. Back then I wasn’t able to recognize the racism of Black Pete, but I can clearly now.

Yes, Black Pete is tradition, and even though it did not develop with the same racist purpose as blackface in America, its effects are most definitely racist. The myth that establishes the Netherlands as one of the most tolerant countries in the world is dispelled by its general inability to understand that Black Pete perpetuates stereotyped understandings and images of African and Afro-Caribbean people, and relegates people of African descent as second-class citizens. Dutch people marginalize their fellow citizens when they refuse to listen and consider arguments against Black Pete, and thus actively repress discussions on racism, identity, and what it means to be Dutch in the first place. By not allowing these discussions to occur in the first place, the majority is denying many Dutch people of color full membership of society. It’s thinly veiled racist xenophobia, and the Netherlands has to do better.

Ατέλειωτοι Κύκλοι

by Daphne Martin, TC ’19

Can a ritual transcend the boundaries of time? Greek folk dancing survives as one of the few invaluable traditions that continues bringing people together for centuries. “τρίτη δὲ ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ τῆς εὐθείας ἐκβολὴ κατὰ τὰ δεξιὰ ἐς Καρύας ἄγει… ἄγαλμα ἕστηκεν Ἀρτέμιδος ἐν ὑπαίθρῳ Καρυάτιδος: χοροὺς δὲ ἐνταῦθα αἱ Λακεδαιμονίων παρθένοι κατὰ ἔτος ἱστᾶσι καὶ ἐπιχώριος αὐταῖς καθέστηκεν ὄρχησις” Στριφογυρίζουμε σε ατέλειωτους κύκλους γύρω απο το δέντρο ενώ οί άλλοι πανηγυριώτες, χορτασμένοι με ψητό κρέας και «Μύθο», μας κοιτούν. Στο κέντρο του χόρου κάθονται οί μουσικοί καί τραγουδιστές, με τσάμικα καί καλαματιανά να ξεφεύγουν απο το κλαρίνο, τό μπουζούκι, και το ντέφι σαν τα χρωματιστά μαντίλια που ενώνουν τούς χορευτές. Οι εικόνες των γιαγιάδων, μαμάδων, και κοριτσιών θολώνουν ετσι οπως στριφογυρίζουν γυρω-γυρω. Το νυχτερινό αεράκι κάνει τα φύλλα των δέντρων να χορεύουν και αυτα, κουνώντας τα πέρα δώθε. Εγώ είμαι μέσα στο χορό, αλλά και απ’έξω, υπερίπταμαι, τρώγωντας σουβλάκι, βγάζοντας φωτογραφίες, γλαρώνοντας στις πλαστικές καρέκλες και ακούγοντας τις νότες της μουσικής από μακριά, απο το κρεβάτι στό σπιτάκι τού παππού. Αυτή τη νύχτα το χωριό μεταμορφώνεται σε αμφιθέατρο, με τούς σκοτεινούς λόφους τής Λακωνίας να περικυκλώνουν την φωτεινή πλατεία και τους ανθρώπους που γιορτάζουν τον Άγιο Παντελεήμονα, κάθε χρόνο στις 27 Ιουλίου. Με αυτόν το τρόπο ζωντανεύει το χωριό για κάποιες μέρες στη μέση του καλοκαιριού όταν συγκεντρώνονται οί Αραχωβίτες σε κοινά τραπέζια για να γιορτάσουνε μαζί. Ξαφνικά, ο κύκλος μετατρέπεται σε κατι αρχαίο και μαγεμένο. Τα μπουζούκια αντικαθιστάνται με λύρες και τα κλαρίνα με αύλους. Οι νότες ξεδιπλώνονται καί αναβλύζουν μελαγχολικά. Οί γυναίκες μεταμορφώνονται σε λαμπαδιάστες, λεπτές φιγούρες με περίπλοκες πλεξίδες, ασημένια και χρυσά βραχόλια να στολίζουν τούς καρπούς τους, και κάτασπρους χιτώνες να πέφτουν από τους ώμους τους σαν τα κύματα τού χρόνου. Δέν είναι πλέον το πανηγύρι του Άγιου Παντελεήμονα, αλλά τα «Καρυατεία», που τιμούν την θεά

We turn in eternal circles around the tree,

while well-fed spectators look on. In the center of orbit are the musicians and singers, releasing kalamatiana and tsamika from clarinet, bouzouki, and tambourine, as if they are colorful mantília (scarves, handkerchiefs) to be grabbed and twirled. Grandmothers, daughters, granddaughters blur as they go around and around. The night wind causes the tree to dance as well, beckoning with its limbs first one way and then another. I am both in the dance and above it, eating souvlaki and taking photographs, sleeping in the cheap plastic chairs and listening to the last strains of music from my bed.

On this night, the village turns into an amphitheatre, projecting our feast-making into the midnight hills that expand concentrically from our dancing circle. It is the 27th of July, nameday of Agios Panteleimonos, which is not the name of the main church, as is normally the case, but of a sacred relic inside.

And so the dancing circle transforms, the music trills and warps into something more haunting and organic, the men disappear.

The women become upright, lithe figures, with honeyed and raven hair tressed into elegant styles, wrists wrapped in silver and gold circlets, and their bodies covered in the white drapes of time. It is no longer the feast day of Agios Panteleimonos but rather the Karyateia, a feast celebrating Artemis of the Walnut-Tree, and these are the fair virgin Karyatids, executing their difficult dance with fluidity and rhythm.

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Άρτεμις τής Καρυδιάς. Οί χορεύτριες είναι οι Καρυάτιδες, όμορφες και αθώες. Ό χορός δύσκολος και περίπλοκος όπως και οί πλεξίδες τους, αλλά τον χορευουν μέ ρυθμό και χάρη. “Λακεδαιμόνιοι μεν άριστοι Ελλήνων είναι δοκούντες παρά Πολυδεύκους και Κάστορος καρυατίζειν μαθόντες… άπαντα μετά μουσικής ποιούσιν άχρι του πολεμείν προς αυλόν και ρυθμόν” “οι Λακεδαιμόνιοι, οι θεωρούμενοι άριστοι των Ελλήνων, αφού έμαθαν να καρυατίζουν (δηλ. να χορεύουν το χορό “καρυάτις”) από τον Πολυδεύκη και τον Κάστορα… κάνουν το καθετί με μουσική, μέχρι και τον πόλεμο, με συνοδεία αυλού και ρυθμού.” Αλλά τι είναι αυτό που βλέπω εκεί; Ενα κινητό μας επιστρέφει στήν πραγματικότητα. Ή θεία μου σναπάρει φωτογραφίες για να τις κάνει πόστ στο Facebook. Πίνουμε ανέρωτο κρασί απο μπουκάλια, όχι κράτηρες. Τα τραπεζομάντηλα είναι χάρτινα και πλαστικά. Ή μουσική ξεπηδά με ένταση απο μεγάφωνα. Το φώς βγαίνει από το ηλεκτρικό και όχι από φωτιά. Οί άνθρωποι συγκεντρώνονται ανα οικογένειες, συγγενές και με φίλους, και οχι ανα φυλή η πλούτο. Και επιπλεόν, όλοι σχεδον φορούν παντελόνια! Απίστευτο. Μοντέρνο. Τώρα έχω μπερδευτεί εντελώς. Ή τελετουργία του χορού είναι και διαφορετική και ίδια. Το αιώνιο φεγγάρι, σάν το τεράστιο άσπρο μάτι ενός κύκλωπα, μάς παρατηρεί απο ψηλά. Αν χαθώ στην εικόνα του, τότε ολα σβήνουν εκτός απο μερικές νότες τής μελωδίας. Ή θεά Άρτεμις λάμπει συνεσταλμένη και μυστηριώδης πίσω απο τα σύννεφα. Αθάνατη. Κυκλική. Αλλά δέν είναι μόνο η φύση που διαπερνά τα όρια του χρόνου και τής παράδοσης. Ακόμη και οι χορευτικές κινήσεις γίνονται διαχρονικές. Ό χορός, επείσης, το καταφέρνει. Η κυκλική και ασταμάτητη ένωση των χεριών σηματοδοτεί μια διαχρονική τελετουργία. Το 2015, πολλά απο τα σπίτια είναι εξοχικές κατοικίες και όχι πλεον μονώροφα χωριατόσπιτα. Οι ηλικιωμένοι κάτοικοι τής Αράχωβας, κάτω απο το πλατάνι της πλατείας, παίζουν τάβλι, συζητούν για τα καθημερινά του χωριού αλλα και για το μέλλον της χώρας, ενω τά εγγόνια τους παίζουν κυνηγητό γύρω από την εκκλησία του Άγιου Ανδρέα. Απ’ότι ξέρω όλοι οι γαϊδαροι έχουν αντικατασταθεί με αυτοκίνητα. Η Αράχωβα όμως παραμένει γεμάτη απο κατσίκια, μέλισσες, σκύλους, γάτες, κοτόπουλα, πάπιες, και γαλοπούλες. Το χωριό ξεχειλίζει απο ιστορία. Το παρελθόν είναι πλούσιο και περίπλοκο. Έδω, σκιαγράφησα μόνο μια διαχρονική τελετουργία της: το πανηγυρι. Το παρόν του χωριού είναι εξίσου περίπλοκο και πολυπρόσωπο, με πολλά γεγονότα να προκύπτουν ταυτόχρονα, κατί που συνήθως ανακαλύπτω μόνο σε μεγάλες πόλεις. Ό χορός συνεχίζεται τώρα ασταμάτητα, . , τα χέρια είναι πιασμένα το ένα με το άλλο. Δέν υπάρχει κούραση, ουτέ θέληση να σταματήσουμε. Ο χορός των Καρυατίδων συνεχίζεται μέχρι το ξημέρωμα, ακόμη και μετά την ανατολή του Ήλιου.

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But what’s that, there? A cell phone disrupts the mirage, which recedes, spluttering, into the distance. People are taking snapchat stories now, and panoramas to post on Facebook. The wine is not mixed with water; it is stored in bottles, not kratērs. Our tablecloths are made of paper and plastic. The music is projected through speakers. Light is given by electricity, not fire. The seating is based on family and friend groups, not gender or social class. What’s more, we have pants! And Vineyard vines (hoorah for globalization).

But again--and here confusion reigns--some things are the same. The moon is the same, if I stare at it for long enough so everything but the faintest notes of music fade away. Artemis shines demure and mysterious behind scattered clouds, timeless, a circle.

However, it is not only nature which crosses the boundaries of time and tradition. The dance achieves this as well.

The movement of the dance. Not its steps, but its circular and ceaseless nature, the ouroboros. An infinite ritual.

In 2015, many of the houses have turned from one bedroom cottages to villas. The older residents of Karyes can be found playing backgammon and discussing the current state of matters (public and private) in the shady plateia while the younger ones play tag around Agios Andreas or gather BBs. All donkeys—to my knowledge— have been replaced with cars, although Karyes is rich in goats, bees, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, and turkeys.

And she is rich in time. Her history is a long and complex one that I have only barely brushed upon. Her present, also, is complex and multifaceted, with many things happening at once, similar to the way time unfolds in the world’s great cities. The dance is still occurring now, all hands are linked together. There is no fatigue nor desire to stop. The dancing of the Karyatides continues even after the sun rises.

Have we aged?

Звички комфорту та зручності

by Yulia Vozzhaeva, SM ’16 and Iryna Kharlamova How much comfort is too much? And what are the consequences of our daily conveniences? Iryna Kharlamova, a student at North Carolina State University, and Yulia Vozzhaeva compare comfort habits in Ukraine vis-à-vis the USA and encourage us to give our comfort habits a second thought.

Кожен

день зросатаючі стандарди життя добавляють більше комфорту і зручності до нашого повсякдення. Комфорт стає великою частиною нас, і ми приймаємо це за належне. За звичкою ми втішаємо себе фізично, але, досягнувши фізичного комфорту, нам все ще чогось не вистачає. Скільки повинно коштувати взуття щоб потішити свої ноги, а не его? Де межа, після якої основний комфорт стає даремним потуранням власних слабкостей. Ця нечітка межа стає яснішою якщо подивитись на це з точки зору інших культур. Мій переїзд з України в США в 2009 році надав мені таку перспективу. Серед всіх новинок кухні, мови та моди, я помітила наскільки комфортниішим і зручнішим є життя в США. Моя перша робота в США - касир в продуктовому магазині відкрила мені очі на те що робить життя американців більш комфортним – все розфасоване: маленькі пачки соку, крихітні пакетики горіхів, фруктів, серветок, і т.д. Що також було новим для мене, це кількість сміття створеного такими зручностями. Поняття комфорту в США змусили мене задуматись про поняття комфорту в Україні. Наприклад, моя країна може похвалитись дуже гарною пішохідною інфраструктурою, але наші дороги, як відомо, жахливі. Ми вимикаємо світло кожен раз, коли ми виходимо з кімнати, щоб зекономити електроенергію. Тим не менш,

Rising standards of living add more and more com-

fort and convenience to our lives everyday. Comfort has grown to be such a great part of our daily routines that we almost take it for granted. We are in the habit of comforting ourselves physically, but once the physical comfort is acquired, we still seem to be lacking something. At what price does a pair of shoes become more comfortable for our ego rather than feet? Where is the boundary after which basic comfort becomes a gratuitous self-indulgent habit?

This line is indeed a very blurry one, which becomes clearer once put in a different cultural perspective. My move from Ukraine to the USA in 2009 presented me such perspective on my own habits and on those of Americans. Among all the novelties of cuisine, language, and fashion, I didn’t fail to notice how much more comfortable and convenient life in the USA was. My very first job in the USA –cashier in a grocery store put me face to face with the means that Americans use to make life more convenient—prepackaged everything: small containers of juice, tiny packages of nuts, fruit, napkins, etc. What was also fresh to my eye was the amount of trash the packaging of such conveniences created.

The new concepts of comfort in the USA made me reflect on the concept of comfort I had back in Ukraine. For example, Ukraine can boast very good pedestrian infrastructure, but our roads are notoriously bad. We switch off the lights every time we

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наше використання води менш стримане. Мій перший рахунок за воду в США змусив мене бути бережливішою по відношенню до споживання води. Використання пластикової продукції, такої як пластикова плівка для продуктів харчування та пакетів Зіплок також відрізняється між двома країнами. В Україні я ніколи не використовувала плівку для зберігання продуктів. Навіть якщо Зіплок та плівка легко доступні, часто я просто клала залишки їжі в миску і накривала іншою тарілкою замість того щоб упаковувати в пластик. Це набагато простіше і дешевше! Навіть звичайні пластикові пакети коштують грошей. Це спонукає людей в Україні використовувати їх повторно. Люди приносять пакети в супермаркет кожного разу коли вони йдуть за покупками. Міцні пластикові сумки деякі бабусі*навіть миють,

leave the room to save electricity. However, our use of water is less constrained. It was my first water bill in the USA that made me as frugal with regards to my water consumption.

The use of plastic products such as food wrap and Ziploc bags is also quite different between the two countries. Back home, I have never used plastic wraps to store products. Even though now Ziplocs and wraps are readily available, oftentimes I still simply put the leftovers in a bowl and cover it with another plate as opposed to wrapping it up. It is so much simpler at times! Grocery plastic bags are not a free commodity in Ukraine, which incentivizes diverse occasions for their reuse. People bring these bags to the supermarket every time they go shopping. If the bag is made out of partic-

перш ніж вони порвуться, використовуючи їх протягом декількох місяців. Ті ж пластикові пакети також використовуються як пакети для сміття. До мого переїзду в США я не пам’ятаю щоб я коли-небудь купувала великі мішки для сміття. У той час як я не обтяжую себе з миттєм пластикових пакетів і дуже часто забуваю взяти їх з собою коли збираюсь в продуктовий магазин, я досі повторно використовую і мию Зіплок пакети. Якимось чином у мене виникає відчуття що це не правильно викидувати такі пакети після одного використання. Очевидно, обмежені рівні комфорту і зручності в Україні виникають не через підвищенний рівнень еко-свідомості, але через нищий рівнь життя. Я вірю, що приймаючи до уваги різні підходи комфорту отримуеш досвід, який змушує нас сумніватися в необхідності деяких зручностей в нашому повсякденному житті. Можливо, я їду на велосипеді замість того щоб їхати на машині, коли це доречно. Чи мені дійсно потрібно встановлювати кондиціонер на дуже низьку температуру? Навіщо мені так багато льоду в моєму напої або затишний капхолдер (манжет) для моєї кави? Іноді трохи менше комфорту робить наше життя простіше і більш толерантним по відношенню до світу навколо нас.

ularly sturdy plastic, some babushkas even wash these bags and use them for months before they actually do break. The same plastic bags are also used as trash bags. I don’t remember ever buying big trash sacks before moving to the USA. While I do not trouble myself with washing my plastic bags and very often forget to bring my own bags when going to the grocery store, I still do reuse and rewash my Ziplocs. Somehow it feels wrong to me to throw them away after one use.

It is obvious that the limited levels of comfort and convenience in Ukraine do not spring from elevated levels of eco-consciousness, but from lower standards of living. I do believe taking a notice of different approaches to comfort could be an eye opening experience that makes us question the necessity of some of our daily routines that we undertake for the sake of convenience.

Maybe I bike to my destination instead of driving. Do I really need to set my AC to a freezing temperature? How badly do I really need so much ice in my drink or a cozy for my coffee? Sometimes slightly less comfort makes our lives easier and more sustainable vis-à-vis the rest of the world around us.

For information regarding submissions, advertisements, or to give us feedback, please contact the editor-in-chief at: irina.gavrilova@yale.edu Disclaimer This magazine is published

by Yale College students, and Yale University is not responsible for its content.

The opinions expressed by the contributors to Accent do not necessarily reflect those of its staff or advertisers. The magazine is run by the undergraduate student organization Accent, the undergraduate multilingual magazine at Yale.

Editor-in-Chief Irina Gavrilova, BK ’17 Publisher Dasia Moore, PC ’18 Head Copy Editor Zara Contractor, TC ’17 Creative Director Maria Melchor, MC ’18 Language Editors Arabic: Nolan Phillips, TC ’18 Chinese: Yifu Dong, BR ’17 French: Charlotte Desprat, BR ’18 & Mélanie Ullmo, SY ’18 German: Schirin Rangnick, BR ’19 Hebrew: Dan Nahum, SM ’16 Italian: Alessandro Luciano, PC ’18 Japanese: Ring Wang, PC ’17 Korean: Ho Kyeong Jang, PC ’17 & Nikki Hwang, MC ’17

Portuguese: Mariana Do Carmo, BR ’17 Russian: Andrew Brod, BK ’17 & Stephan Sveshnikov, SY ’18 Spanish: Lucia Baca, PC ’17 The Babel: Kevin Hwang, BK ’17 English Editors Gowri Kalugotla, BR ’16, Kevin Hwang, BK ’17, Alexandra Lombardo, JE ’18, Tiannan Zhou, BR ’18 Victoria Wang, PC ’18 Katie Martin, PC ’18 Creative Team Joshua Morin, BK ’18, Charlotte Desprat, BR ’18, Victoria Wang, PC ’18 and Jennifer Ha, TC ’18 Senior Editor Omegar Chavolla-Zacarias, BR ’16 Vincent Tanutama, TD ’16

Photo courtesies of Emma Fredericks; Xinhua; Pek Shibao, Steelsen Smith, and Andy Leu; Laura Fridman; Dasia Moore; Helder Toste; Polina Puzacheva; and Jackie Guzman. Special thanks to Katia Fridman, Yuri Sokolov, Professor Muhammad Aziz, and Alex Bailey.

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