Dec
12
Home – Part 2
As I promised, I’m going to continue on this idea of “home.” But this is also about my Thanksgiving travels.
A few weeks ago, I did another full week of traveling with two new friends I made at OUA. We took an overnight train to Vienna, Austria, where we saw some wonderful museums, shopped at the twinkle-light Christmas markets, befriended a nomadic Kiwi, miraculously found a can of root beer (!) to go with our schnitzel, and realized my years-long dream of seeing the band MUSE live in concert. (I could make at least one full blog post about that concert, but it seems kind of irrelevant to the study abroad experience, so we’ll leave it with the commentary that I almost don’t like to listen to their recorded music anymore because it was so much better live.)
One of the highlights of my year–hearing Matthew Bellamy shout out “How are you feeling tonight, VIENNA?”
After a few nights in Vienna, we headed up to Prague. We exchanged our Euros for Czech Krona (1000 krona = $50. It was dangerously like having a pocketful of Monopoly money) and found our beautiful (and apparently eco-friendly?) hostel.
Everyone has always told me that Prague is “like a fairy tale” … and they weren’t lying. The whole city was magical, from the river to the “dancing building” to the castle and—my favorite—the astronomical clock in Old Town Square.
It was in the UK that I realized my confusion with the whole “home” thing. In discussions with the other OUA students we had met up with in London, I found myself using “home” in three ways.
- (Sitting around the English pub that was the first floor of our hostel drinking Strongbow cider) “It’s too bad I won’t be able to drink this for another two years when we go home.” (Here meaning the states. I’m 19, and totally not a lawbreaker, if you need some context there).
- (Inside the National Gallery looking at some uber famous super amazing paintings) I don’t want to spend all day here because there are other things I want to make sure we see in London before we fly home tomorrow. (Home here meaning Arezzo).
- (Taking pictures of Big Ben and Westminster) We can head home and check out that Christmas market by the London Eye on the way. (Home here meaning…..wait, a HOSTEL?
Let’s break from this list thing. Did I really call a HOSTEL “home?”
You bet I did.
We only stayed anywhere a maximum of two nights.
We never had a room with less than eight people in it.
We kept our bags in locked lockers and had to pull out a slip of paper to remember the combination to get in the front door.
But it was home.
Just for a few days…it was home.
That’s completely crazy, isn’t it?
-Shelb
Dec
10
Disclaimer: This window has nothing to do with this post. I just really love it.
Despite my best efforts, the thing most on my mind lately has been this concept—home.
I say “despite my best efforts” because the last thing I want to be doing in my final ten days in Italy is thinking about leaving it. But in my studies and in my travels I keep coming back to this idea—home. I consider and I wonder (like the over-analytic freak that I am)…what is home? What does that mean to me anymore? I call myself a global student; I call the world my classroom. But am I a global citizen? Is the whole world also my home? I can’t seem to escape the question.
It doesn’t help that I have six songs on my iPod all dealing with “home” (three of which are literally titled “Home.” I don’t have any other repeats that dramatic—maybe this concept has been more important to me in the past than I knew?).
To share these thoughts with you (and of course give some updates on my time in Italy as it comes to a close) I am going to make a series of blog posts, starting now and ending when I fly back to the States, about this idea of home. And I’m going to share some of these songs. Hope you enjoy!
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**Gabrielle Aplin- Home** – this is my most recently-dicsovered (and favorite) “Home” song that I have. My friend Ashley shared it with me a few weeks ago, and it’s quickly become the theme song of my semester.
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We learned in Immigration Class that the Italians in the days of their mass emigration (1800s, mostly) had a sort of catch phrase with which they consoled themselves – tutto il mondo e’ un paese. Or “all the world is a home town.” Through the generations they had learned that they could bring their culture with them wherever they went and be happy anywhere in the world.
Before I had ever heard this phrase, I made a similar comment.
This summer, my best friend and I backpacked around Europe for a week before our semesters started. We traveled through Edinburgh, Sheffield, London, and Luxembourg, and by the end I decided that the lesson I learned (and I pull this from a travel journal, I’m not just conveniently making this up) was “With good friends, good coffee, and the good Lord, you can feel at home anywhere.”
(Edinburgh especially felt like home becuse we found my new favorite coffee shop ever)
Guess I was already more Italian than I thought.
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