Dear 2016

To an old friend,

Arriving as a ravaging storm you graced us with your presence in the form of the new year. Some of us thankful, some of us remorseful and hesitant, your arrival provoked the subsequent series of tumultuous events. With no consent you watched us fight, weep, laugh, and love; holding us when we needed to be supported and pushing us into the abyss when we needed candor. Now that you have left in the same means you arrived, we find ourselves once again in a state of powerlessness as we attempt to replace you with someone new, one we can only hope bares your resemblance.

Looking back on this short time you’ve spent with us, I have to give thanks for all the ways you have changed our lives by bringing us together and showing us love. The year has seen plenty of disasters, heartbreaks, and pain but it is remarkable how easy it is to forgive the pain by being reminded of the happiness and opportunity that was 2016.

You first met me on new years eve at midnight in the midst of a crowded street listening to local music. We celebrated with hot chocolate and kindred hellos. Then without delay or choice you forced me to embark on a journey with you with no knowledge of the possibilities to come.

Through the journey we finally said our goodbyes to the long winter and you gave me a glimpse of the beauty I had nearly began to forget. Spring blooms along with nature’s soundtrack beckoned new adventures. The beauty was short lived as I went through a period of strife. There you made an appearance in the form of soothing friendships that helped stretch the long sombre nights into the early dawns of the warm summer.

This led to the appearance and disappearance of summer. You had me say a magnanimous goodbye to those who were important to me and a candid hello to those who would become important. The summer you left me to my own devices and watched me connect with those I met under your faithful guidance. You implored me to work hard for myself, to plan for the unexpected future, and to always trust and love others as you do for me.

The end of summer you pushed me to explore new horizons, introduced me to new people and showed me a perspective I had not yet realized. The wisdom that was your grace echoed through every new footstep I took forward.

In December you gave me a shy reminder that your journey with me ended here. All the magic you possessed you relinquished in this last month in the form of merry festivities. With your charm you brought together people of different nations, backgrounds, and opinions, and together we celebrated our achievements with you and wished you a pleasant goodbye.

2016, you have been a wonder. You will be missed for all the good and the bad but I am most of all thankful to have been able to live by your side and be part of your journey.

Sincerely,

Girlinjeanjacket

 

Half Way Point

Two months that can only be described as a tumultuous roller coaster ride, it is with great surprise that I realize my exchange term has already passed the half way point.

What seems like a picture perfect experience is not without its own frustrations. I have experienced loneliness, bitterness, friendship, love, and even perhaps enlightenment. As the initial euphoria has settled, I find myself less motivated to venture outside and explore the amazing city I currently live in. This feeling of sedentary satisfaction is reminiscent of my feelings of home in Canada, where I would be content every day to simply stay home and enjoy suburban life.

Having done just about every touristy thing I could have done and dining an immense amount in cafes and restaurants, I found much comfort and joy in being able to make my own meals and read novels in the comfort of my home.

Having caught a flight every weekend for almost two months October was the breaking point in which I felt I had let things become out of balance. I had then decided that for the benefit of my health and mental well being it was time to reallocate resources into matters that I had neglected. With the transition of the weather so did my mood and excitement, however, I was not completely deterred from making my time here memorable and took many opportunities to try new things.

Approaching December, the last leg of my stay here, the month will be filled with exam prep and much anxiety and anticipation for winter holidays. With that said, I have made several amazing plans to leave with a firm mark, the same rambunctious reaction I experienced when I first arrived.

 

Only time will tell.

Until Next Time

-Girlinjeanjacket

A Londoner for a week

Popping into the United Kingdom for six days, I was revitalized by a culture familiar yet refreshing to the North American society I was brought up upon.

The charm of London begins immediately upon arrival. Departing the airport, I was spoken to by border security along with bus operators with kind humour, something France lacks abundantly. The people carried themselves casually moving from platform to platform in the train stations at St. Pancras. It was here that I indulged on my first British delicacy, eating a scone. I easily familiarized myself with London transportation and began my six day adventure.

Beginning my adventure by crossing off all the major tourist attractions, I finally found time to enjoy the great British Museum. The finest and largest collection of antiquities I had ever observed. It was truly an eye opening exposition. I marvelled simply at the sheer variety of collections the British Museum housed. From ancient mummies to modern pottery, from Islamic antiquities to North American head dresses, each museum room created a different dreamland from a different location and time. Traveling from ancient Mesopotamia to feudal Japan I was able to learn the histories of various nations simply by walking through the corridors.

Enriched in a millennium of history, conquest, and also a leader in modern art and the new world order, the people of the city embrace the past with great pride; displaying their union jack flags on balconies and in bars. But being an epicentre of multiculturalism, London has adapted the cultures and arts of other nations and infused it into their own. One can see indian markets at every street corner and french bakeries down every road. Entering these markets and bakeries it was surprising to hear the languages spoken were not english but their own respective languages.

Visiting the iconic tower of London it was truly an amusing and surreal experience. From the very instance one sets foot into the fortress they are transported into the medieval realm. Yeoman warders greet tourists with what can only be considered to be British hospitality. Loudly yelling at tourists and making humours mocking remarks, these active soldiers in uniform are crucial gems to the overall experience of the fortress. Aside from the people, the building itself holds and preserves the centuries of bloodshed the monarchs have inflicted upon others and each other. Walking through the various towers such as Bloody Tower, I can’t help but wonder about the lives of the princes and queens who were sent to live here before their execution.

The streets and landscape of London in the autumn is golden and rich similar to its culture. The autumn leaves contrast prominently against the frequently dull sky. The people following the weather often dress in warm red tones playing off nature’s beauty.

A hidden gem among my time in London was Hyde Park. Here beside the home of the monarchs of the past lies a serene residence for animals and people alike. Swans, duck, and geese haphazardly frolic in the park often grazing on the freshly cut lush grass. People, surprisingly few, are seen to be playing various sports and flying kites. Beneath the ivy arches the path paved leads to one of the grand royal palaces, Kensington Palace.

Suddenly afternoon tea has become a staple in my daily routine. Following mornings spent in museums and palaces it was a relief and a pleasure to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea and some light snacks. Sitting in the plush velvet seats I had never felt my life more at ease. Spending an hour mentally preparing for an evening full of entertainment and excitement I now understand why this British hobby is so widely practiced.

Spending some time outside of London, I visited Windsor castle. The primary residence where the knights of the Garter are gathered every year to revive their oath to protect their sovereign. This medieval castle embodied childhood dreams inspired by King Arthur and his knights of the round table. Moats, thick brick walls, armour and shields of bronze, and Queen Mary’s dollhouse all emphasized simply how drastic life was a few centuries ago.

After a spirited six days spent in London, I took with me a piece of their culture. Feeling more inspired, wholesome, and thankful, I recall some wise words from the highly influencial Charles Dickens, “Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.” I leave London with courage; so that I can take on more personal challenges, be more passionate about those I love, and show more empathy to those who are deserving.

Until next time

-Girlinjeanjacket

An autumn in the Barcelonian summer

Transported into a different realm, landing in sunny Barcelona from a chilly Paris I was immediately surprised by the greenery surrounding the city. A melange of tender palms and flowers sprouting haphazardly on sidewalks and between the cracks of the pavement made the city a utopia for those wanting to escape the chilly weather.

A few things I had concluded regarding Spanish culture prior to arriving in Spain for the first time. Firstly was that Spain was a country of embers, the people igniting sparks through seductive dance, ambrosial foods, and ravishing landscapes. Secondly that the people of Spain like no other group, begun the day early with zest and ended the night late with zeal.

Walking towards the gothic quarters the streets became more narrow and the buildings more rustic. Soon I began to hear my own footsteps echo through the streets as the walls enclosed around me. The architecture feeling medieval, left little to the imagination for how the Spanish bourgeoisie conducted themselves back in the day.

Barcelonian architecture being one of the anchors of the city’s diverse flavour was prominent upon arrival. Neo-gothic buildings designed my Gaudi fused together with traditional classicalism. Amongst the illustrious designs within the city spawns some particularly humorous art installations that added spice to Barcelona’s landscape. A city as colourful as its community, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and joyfulness.

Feeling the sand beneath my feet and the waves crashing on my legs eventually led to a hunger that could only be satisfied only by the taste of the sea. With exquisite food at every corner it wasn’t difficult to find a meal worthy of a fisherman’s dinner table. Fresh paella along with cured ham granted me the pleasure of treasuring every spoonful of food, a feeling that is often only felt at your grandmother’s kitchen.

Accompanied by food the landscape of Park Guell reflected a paradise only found in children’s dreams. Here I found youth in historical architecture and joy in being able to walk through a surreal world.

A love that lasts forever is a love worthy of understanding, yet the essence of a timeless love is that it can and should not be understood. For it will always be romantic for its incompleteness… The Sagrada Familia.

Having been under construction for over a century, it now appears to be a child of Gaudi’s that the world has come to love so earnest that completing it would take away from its allure. A basilica truly extending to the heavens, the interior and exterior both gracious yet powerful, reflect an astronomic amount of effort and passion that countless architects have bestowed with respect to Gaudi’s original vision. Yet another feeling of timelessness was found in this magnanimous church. This time timelessness due to the infinite details on the walls. Every corner, nook, and cranny lathed with meaning and purpose made it difficult not to lose all sense of time examining the creation.

With a short four days, I tried my best at conquering the city’s secrets. Obvious to me was the fact that this was a city worthy of infinite visits. If not by the landscape filled with rolling hills by the sea, the liveliness of the people within the city create an impossible way to not experience the city uniquely with every visit.

 

Until Next Time

-Girl in jean jacket

Shipping to Brussels

The land of fresh waffles, beer, and fries…Belgium.

Waking up at an ungodly hour in the morning to catch the early morning bus to brussels, I left Paris yet again and arrived in Brussels nearly four hours later. The scenic farmlands along the route to the city gave the impression that you had entered the countryside where  the atmosphere carried an airy easiness and life was more simple.

Arriving in Brussels I immediately sought out the famous Belgian waffle, or in this case Brussels waffle. Its reputation having not been exaggerated I found the simple Brussels waffle with icing sugar to be the perfect balance of crisp and fluff. Scarfing it down by the mouthful I could now check off an item on my list.

Arriving at Grote Markt I was flocked by tourists. Like the pigeons on the ground, there were hundreds of tourists and numerous tour groups standing in the square. Understandably so the square was magnificent with details. The buildings outlined in gold and the gothic architecture of the Hotel de Ville accentuated all the characteristics of classical European architecture. Drifting from the main square the alleys were a complete parallel. The quiet almost ghostly street were immaculately clean with perfectly manicured windows and floral arrangements. A refreshing change from Paris where the city streets are always bustling, Brussels managed to remain very much urban while simultaneously giving the small town feel of privacy.

Through a scuttle I veered even further off the path and proceeded to stray from my plan. I found myself in the centre of a beautiful garden accompanied by business offices. Walking by you could hardly notice the buildings due to the canopy provided by the trees. The building signs along with their corporate logos camouflaged by dense leaves gave the feeling of walking through thick woods. At the centre of the park a victory column stood memorializing the glory of the park in gold.  As magnificent as the park, the royal palace in Brussels was a spectacle to behold. Fenced off to the public, I was left to imagine the daily ongoings of the royalties housed inside.

Located in the east end of the city the buildings begin to look different. Grandiose structures covered in glass from floor to ceiling, these modern buildings are the epicentre of the European Union in Belgium. The monuments commemorate the unionization of the states of Europe and the joint progress Europeans have achieved in the Euro-area.

As the night progressed Brussels’ urban culture peered through its historical culture. Suddenly all the streets were covered with artistic graffiti and markets lit up like neon billboards. My night ended with some moules et frites in an area that was layered with restaurants pubs and nightlife. Plenty of locals and tourists alike enjoying beer and food on the narrow street and many more inside the restaurants and pubs. The warmness of their interactions  and the scent of delicious food felt like I had just arrived back home and reunited with kindred lost friends.

My short trip to Brussels ended the same day. I returned to paris by the same bus as I came completing a full circle. Tired and full from food and beer, I fell asleep and awoke again back in Paris.

Until Next time

-Girl in jean jacket

Potsdam & Sanssouci

On the morning of a somber Saturday enveloped in sporadic rain I took the regional train from Zoologischer Garten station to Potsdam. A gargantuan park Potsdam is home to the many castles and monuments of Frederick the Great. The thirty minute commute provided an opportunity to view the suburbs of Berlin and some countryside farms. Row on row of houses built in typical German fashion dotted the journey to Potsdam.

Arriving in Potsdam one could immediately see the testaments to which King Frederick II’s life attributed to. Magnificent castles, kaleidoscopic gardens, and pristine forests at every corner the eye. The palaces having suffered from the wars still stood sublimely albeit covered in some soot from fire and looting.

Entering Sanssouci I was immediately awed by the first chamber. As magnificent as Versailles the reception room was scripted with immaculate detail on all surfaces. From the length of the armchairs to the decorative hand paintings leading to the frescos, the room created a whimsical and mystical environments where love, music, and nymphs frolicked through the painted flowers.  In accordance with the reception hall, the King’s chamber was also ornately furnished with hand painted gold mosaics and silk furniture. Leading into the guest chambers the Voltaire room was simply a magical space. Contrary to the rest of the palace it was furnished quite simply holding only a bed and an armchair. Where it flourished was the massive amount of painted wooden carvings of vineyards and laurels that wrapped the room placing you in a divine forest.

Continuing to the new palace one can observe the modernization in architecture. The rooms more grander and the decorations more romanticized, the new palace showcased the prominent baroque style that had become popular in the 18th century. The marble floors and columns publicized the wealth and power of Frederick’s rule over Prussia.

Finally the room that I gravitated towards the most to, the picture gallery. A sanctified collection of unique pieces that stretch from the birth of christ to the enlightenment age the paintings complimented the magnanimity of the room itself. Designed in a grand ballroom style the wide hall was a quiet and peaceful space for art aficionados.

After what seemed like an eternity spent in castles and galleries made by kings I returned to Berlin. Stepping back onto the train I felt grounded back to the twenty first century. Cellphones immediately started buzzing, families began returning home after picking up their children from school, and the smell of city gutters once again reminded me of the urban landscape.

A truly magical experience the castle although grand and glamorous showcases a unique character that would suggest hidden treasures and secrets kept in silence. The hopes, dreams, and pleasures of the king that could not be said but perhaps observed for if revealed would break the charm of the vineyard castle.

Until next time

-Girl in Jean Jacket

Rain on city pavements

The weekend began for me on Thursday evening when I departed on a coach bus towards Berlin. Germany, the land of sausages, sauerkraut, and beer.

My first solo trip was a mix of nerves and excitement. More than anything I wanted to prove to myself that a twenty-one year old five foot girl like me could systematically navigate my way to another country. I had always relied on the comfort of company when traveling to feel safe. My fears of encountering dangerous situations were eased immediately by the tenderness of the bus operator. A man in his fifties, who oddly resembled old st. Nick himself greeted me in german and helped me board the bus. With the few german words I knew, I thanked him for his hospitality and reached my seat. Fatigued from the day, I quickly sat down. Falling into a numbing sleep I awoke to a new surrounding filled with mystery.

Departing from the bus station the city was a stark contrast to Parisian architecture. The buildings, a mixture of fine antique gothic architecture and concrete brutalism emanated a sense of fragmentary isolation. Each individual building assumed its own character and competed for the attention of the wandering eye. The vast contrast in architectural styles I can only assume is to be attributed to the many wars and conflicts fought in these neighbouring walls.

Where houses and churches were destroyed by bombs and raids, new ones have emerged portraying the brutalist style that was popular post WWII. Most surprisingly was the sheer extent to which graffiti covered the surface of the city. Buildings, sidewalks, bridges, and shops proudly showcased graffiti. I quickly realized that like the city that was destroyed and rebuilt, the citizens had utilized the stroke of brushes and paint to convey the messages of their silenced voices during the communist era. Leaving the city a colourful disaster to the naked eye I found the graffiti resembling the vigilance that the buildings paraded.

The inner city, where most of the unesco certified monuments resided reflected a different quality of life. The lavishness and magnificence of the monuments stood tall in the cold October wind. A token to memorialize Berlin’s original magnificence; Museum island, Brandenburg Gate, and the Reichstag building showcased the imperial heart of Germany. Followed by a lush linden forest the path Unter den Linden led me from a restless city to a rustling forest. From the top of the top of the Victory Column in the Tiergarten, a full view of Berlin can be found. With trembling knees I observed how a city and a forest peacefully coexisted, respecting each other’s boundaries and reaping each other’s rewards.

 

 

Scandinavia

Through a series of spontaneous encounters I’ve managed to voyage to Stockholm, Oslo, and Gothenburg. Driving through the Scandinavian countryside one can observe the personality of the nation. The small white, yellow, and orange homes with their hectors of land in every direction; the horses, cows, and sheep freely roaming through the fields and streets. The gentleness of a shepherd as he greets you in his native tongue.

Approaching Stockholm after a calm and almost hypnotic six hour drive the industrialization of simple farm work is realized. With the advancement in mechanics; tractors, trucks, and machinery seem to occupy the yards of farm houses instead of animals. Yet what remains is still the same personality, but with a touch of modernity. Homes are still small and quaint, painted a variety of vibrant colours they overlook the fields that they cater.

The city itself is a warm medley of tradition and innovation. The commuter trains make their way almost silently through the streets while cyclists can be seen in the dozens utilizing pedestrian bike lanes. The trains, almost bullet like, reach their destinations with gusto and collect and deposit daily commuters. Observing the infrastructure one would never think that tucked away in the old town Gamla Stan would be a solitary gem. The old town shines with tradition and character palpable to the crown jewels that have been embedded into the palace since its birth. Leaving the city limp from the excessive walking it was comforting to sit by an intimate fire at my lodge, scrunching my toes and curling into a comfortable position on an armchair I drifted to sleep.

Endeavoring to Oslo was another whirlwind of experience. The heart of modern Norwegian culture resided there and it is there that I saw my first Norwegian fjords. The city created the impression that it had risen out of stone itself as buildings were mounted on bedrock and roads paved through the hard grit of the many mountains that eclipsed the town. Waking up to morning mist and dew, the freshness reminded me of all the familiar and extraneous mornings that I awoke in a haze to attend lectures.. only to be jolted awake by the smell that can only be described as the rising dawn. The night just as fragrant, although scentless, retains its allure through the glistening sky and the faint sound of waves crashing against the shores. A sky so glistening that street lights seemed to pale in comparison and sounds so invigorating that when you closed your eyes you became lost.

Leaving Sweden my last destination was the bustling city of Gothenburg. Here I walked down the pedestrian path and experienced what I can only describe as Scandinavian luxury. Similar to the Parisian lifestyle, people dined on street corners and casually enjoyed wine in the lambent afternoon sun. Although feeling not as cultured, I modestly attempted to retain some of the class that emanated from the locals by enjoying the same sun by the canal side parks.

My Scandinavian journey concludes with some bittersweet goodbyes, sore shoulders, and one thousand photos detailing all the moments. As John Steinbeck said, “What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” It is leaving these wonderlands that I appreciate my home so much more, the familiarity, the comfort, and the safety all give me a sense of gratitude as I depart to rest for my next adventure..

Until next time

-Girlinjeanjacket

 

 

 

Settling in

Somehow rushing from airport to airport a month has passed by. A month filled with adventure, mischief, bewilderment, and tantalizing food. After the initial lust for new appearances has settled and a regular routine established I find myself solemnly appreciating the privilege of being able to study academia as well as culture in person. ~

During an iridescent day to Versailles I visited the grand Chateaux de Versailles. With no understatement and restraint I was thrown into the world of the princes. The palace, as magnificent as the morning sunrise, truly embodies the sun god with its golden arches and endless greenery. As I walked through the rooms and corridors the sense of time is lost. Daily troubles so easily forgotten as you’re engrossed into the daily lives of the royals and wonder what sort of nuisances could have possibly freckled their lavish lives. Ending the afternoon by boat I gradually ventured home, back to reality, back to daily nuances.

Entering my university for the first time I was intrigued by the small classrooms, the concrete walls, and the institutionalization of the building itself. Often walking around with a deer in headlights expression I found that many others like myself bore the same face. Sitting in blazing heat left by the lingering summer students and teachers alike endured through the weather and found something common through our mutual suffering.

School days ended and Parisian nightlife took over as I attended what locals would call apéritif. An interesting and completely foreign concept, I sipped on wine and familiarized myself with my colleagues for the coming semester. A mixture of foreigners and nationals, the exchange of culture was undeniable. Faces lit up as languages changed and through the struggle of pronouncing names that would be considerably exotic to any north american, I grasped that they found my accent and appearances just as enchanting.

Until next time

-Girlinjeanjacket

First Arrival

Since September 2015 I have been meticulously planning, thinking, and dreaming about my next adventure. Occupying the empty realms in my thoughts as I hover in limbo between consciousness and sleep are my dreams to travel to Europe and to experience what could only be the mystique of a European lifestyle.

Upon arrival in Paris I was greeted with immediate expeditious welcomes. Streets are narrow, people walk at a brisk pace, and are immaculately dressed. Having lived in Shanghai, a city engrossed with activity, Paris was somehow familiar. Despite the change in faces and geography, what persists is the design of a routine lifestyle every local seems to embrace. Having landed for nearly 6 hours and eating my first meal in a humble neighbourly bistro I once again found myself leaving a place I had just begun to familiarize myself with in exchange for something more. Leaving in the fiery haze that I arrived in, I left France to visit Denmark.

 

I exchanged gothic style apartments with cascading balconies and street corner cafes with lush greenery, the smell of the ocean breeze, and Scandinavian style homes painted white and yellow; the perfect concoction for a relaxing weekend deprived of the bumble and noise that lingers on your skin and clothes from being in an urban city.

Walking along the Danish shoreline overlooking Swedish waters I experiences some combination of tranquility and euphoria. The week proceeding my departure had been an impetuous experience having forgotten many last minute important details. Now that I had arrived it seemed that those details had lost the significance that they held a short week ago. This left a blurring and mystifying taste as I wondered what was akin to a comfortable lifestyle… The ever busy city life or a simpler one.

Spending a serendipitous weekend I left Denmark with a slice of nostalgia and as cliche as it is, a heart filled with hope as I knew there would be more journeys to come.

As W.B. Yeats once put it scrupulously, “Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.” Striving for growth in every aspect during these four months I hope along the way I also achieve some prosperity as Yeats claims.