December 14, 2010 – 11:57 am
I always have trouble writing the last blog for these travel trips because it feels like I’m supposed to sum up everything I’ve experienced into 150 to 200 words, or I should have some kind of new and profound thought about the world.
In my world, my profound thought is that I’m back. I’m back from two consecutive travel trips that took me to two very different parts of the earth. Over the past ten days I’ve been having flash backs of standing in the sparkling King’s palace in Bangkok, suddenly I’m gazing up at the Sistine Chapel, then I’m flying on a wire for 800 meters over an Asian juggle, now I’m watching the deep blue Italian coastlines turn into the breathtaking hills of Austria…
I’m back, sitting in my temporary room in St Croix House, surrounded by clothes that I haven’t seen since last year, finding old jeans I’ve forgotten about and realizing that in two days I need to have all of it packed up again to take back to my home, home. A home I haven’t lived in consistently for over a year. I’m back in one community and not yet back for another. A community of people I have missed so tremendously at times that I’ve experienced moments filled with sensations of my insides wanting to burst with such great anticipation of getting to see them all again. However, their lives have been moving forward very differently from my own: new babies, new houses, new animals, new plans, people gone, people leaving, people who’ve come back. I’ll be entering into a place of familiarity, yet so much will have changed there and in me that I have no way of telling how familiar it will feel.
I am also leaving a group of people who I will only get to see all together at the same time in the same place one more time when I come back to celebrate their graduation four months from now. The bitter-sweet tastes of life fill my mouth today.
I’m back and not back, leaving and coming home…
The experiences I’ve had over the last six months will continue to percolate. And I imagine they will begin to create a really great pot of coffee that I will be able to share and enjoy with my friends and family and whomever else walks over holding out a mug. But for now I need to be patient, you just can’t rush a good cup of coffee.
Genevieve
November 30, 2010 – 12:05 pm
The night sky was full of floating stars. We had been seeing what are called khom loi (although most Thai people just refer to them as balloons) for a few days, but nothing like the scene this night presented. As we approached the bridge the crowd began to thicken slightly. There were people lining the railings sending colourful and noisy firecrackers off over the water, leaving a smokey haze in the air. Again and again I would see glowing paper cylinders of different sizes rising out of the crowd and into the darkness. It’s one of the coolest sights I’ve ever seen.
When we reached the bridge my host parents pulled out paper balloons for us. Sarah and I took turns lighting the wax ring held by thin wires at the base of the balloons. My Khun Pa held one side as we waited for the fire to produce enough heat to lift the paper lantern. While waiting for mine to have enough fuel for the journey I was the only one hanging on to the bamboo ring, testing it every few seconds by releasing my finger tips to see if it would float on its own. Suddenly it was ready, I let go and my eyes were fixed on the white circle outlining the fiery center, with the darkest of blue as the backdrop. In that moment I couldn’t see any other balloon but my own. I could hear my Khun Pa chiming me to make a wish, “Ask for good looking boyfriend!” I laughed and continued to watch as my orange balloon joined the thousands of other floating stars.
I had a feeling of surrealism, like I was in a movie except, I wasn’t. I was standing on a bridge in the middle of Chiang Mai city, taking part in one of the traditional customs of Loy Krathong, the largest and most beautiful festival of the year. An incredibly unique experience!
Genevieve
November 9, 2010 – 12:15 pm
Oh Malaysia, it’s a very different place in comparison to the Philippines… or anywhere else I’ve ever been. Every night I go to sleep to the sounds of low booming drums and Hindi music right outside my hotel window. As I explore the city, be it in a mall or on the street, incense and curry are the two most common scents that fill the air. I have only seen two churches while here, the rest of the religious buildings consist of Mosques, Hindu temples and Chinese temples.
Mosques are very quiet and peaceful, the Chinese temple I went to was busy and confusing and Hindu temples make me feel a little bit uncomfortable. It’s a discomfort that derives from not being able to find comprehension about what the people in the temple are worshiping. I understand that those who believe in praying to their ancestors or to various gods have very strong feelings about it and take it very seriously. However, the tension for me lies in the emptiness that I feel in these places (Mosques exempted) and the knowledge in me that the belief system I have is truth. But, I know this is how others feel about their faith and I don’t want to impose my faith onto theirs because they very well could believe that mine is not the right way either.
It’s strange being a minority to other religions rather than just a secular point of view as I’m more used to in the west. It’s a confusing thought process that I don’t expect to figure out soon.
October 24, 2010 – 12:46 pm
Jeepney’s; tin roofs; clothes drying on bushes, fences and everywhere else there’s space; construction workers wearing flip-flops and no helmets; electrical wire rat nests that hang through the trees and rest on top of buildings… These are some of my first observations as we’ve toured through the cities within the Philippines.
One of my first thoughts was that this place reminds me of Haiti with a little less garbage and people. Then I thought it also reminds me of Brazil with the clash between Western and Native cultures side by side. Guatemala also came to mind as I compared the friendliness of the people, however, I feel like the Filipinos have surpassed my travel comparisons with their incredible enthusiasm and excitement just because a bunch of strangers pass by on a bus. I’ve never seen a young man walking through the rice fields suddenly break out into a run, hopping and dancing with his arms flailing above his head to simply say hello… to strangers! Maybe it is because we’re the wealthy white folk from afar – I don’t know – but I admire all the poor and middle class Filipinos whose faces break out into huge smiles with sparkling eyes when they receive our smiles and waves through a foggy bus window.
What if we could have that kind of joy at the sight of one another, friend or stranger? It’s such a picture of how God welcomes all of us: smiling, running, hopping, dancing, arms flailing and eyes sparkling.
I want to have that kind of excitement for people — so welcoming, although I fear it may be the kind of excitement that I’ll never quite understand.
Genevieve
August 16, 2010 – 10:08 am
*SIGH* Being back in Canada is great. Seeing and speaking with friends and family who were not on the trip with me has been wonderful. Sleeping in a bed with a foam mattress, pillow and a feather duvet, rather than in a tent is superb. And not having to force a crusty baguette with processed meat and cheese into my stomach for lunch everyday is such a relief. As I write this blog, the days amount to 3 weeks since I’ve been back and although I appreciate and love having my daily comforts and routines reinstated, I would do it all over again if I had the opportunity.
There’s so much to tell that it’s too much. So many ideas, insights, questions and memories I’ve swept through over a period of 2 months that to even recount them all is… it feels impossible.
I fell in love so many times in 60 days it’s a wonder my heart is not breaking from being apart from it all. And even though I am thankful right now to have space and time to myself, daily I miss my tent-mate, my bus-buddy, my cooking-team and every other person I traveled with on this trip.
So what did I learn? I’ve learned that I can fall in love with a sculpture as I stand before it and become mesmerized by its beauty, emotion and true humanness. I’ve discovered a love and appreciation for some art not only for the art itself, but also from finding out about the artists: who they were, their stories, why they painted what they did. I’ve learned that having knowledge of the history behind buildings and cathedrals: why they are so important to be maintained (in some cases rebuilt) over hundreds and hundreds of years, can deepen my level of appreciation and understanding of their significance. Whether it be people, places or structures their stories are important. I have also learned that friendships can grow between the least expected of people when given a chance.
Everyone and everything has a story. Knowing the stories can transform our ideas, perceptions, and judgments giving us a possibly deepened appreciation for the person or thing, or simply broaden our understanding and cultivate a change in our thinking.
It’s been ride! Thanks TEAM Europe 2010!!
I have never had a huge interest in WWI prior to this trip. I have watched a few war movies in the past, which is probably the extent of much of my learned understanding – it is sad, I know. Both my Grandfather and Papa were in WWI and besides the fact that my Papa flew a fighter jet, I regret that my knowledge on the matter is greatly lacking.
As I walked through Flanders Fields Museum, I became more and more interested in knowing how the war began and the events that took place. The more I learned, the more frustration I felt and the more questions I began to ask. I think now about the catalyst of WWI being over a Duke – in Austria? I think of the leaders (including within the church) of every country (over 60) that continued to keep the war going, even though the sole purpose became that of attrition. I think of the soldiers, many who did not even know why they were fighting yet continued under the direction of their country’s leaders – so much trust. So much pain, loss, hurt and irreversible damage done… and it goes on.
How do we remember well?
As I walked through Trycott Cemetery, I was surrounded by grave after grave –many without names– I felt so far removed. What is in us as a human race that craves the passion for violence? We question when someone says “war is beautiful” yet we, on the outside, are inspired and touched by the stories of love and hope that are cultivated through the times of terror and hopelessness (as we should be), but even still – we were not there.
I have never talked to a war veteran. I do not know how they see their experience and what kind of value (if any) they feel war provides. Canada apparently first became a nation because of the battle at Vimy Ridge during WWI… Was that the only way? Would we have become a nation if the war had not happened? I hope so.
War has been a part of our existence since, always. God even seems to support it according to Old Testament Scriptures. But does He really? I have never considered whether I was a pacifist or not. I just wonder, is there another way for us to be inspired? To find truth? To feel passion? Is there another way to fight for something beyond the giving of countless lives? Is there another way to find true beauty? Is there?
So many questions without real answers.
Genevieve
I was riding the city bus today on my own, heading back to the campsite after seeing the Pope at the Vatican. I was just sitting there a little bit unsure if I had got on the right bus, but pretty sure I had, when the thought occurred to me, “I’m on a bus in Rome!” The city is fascinating and incredible with its ancient ruins that hold mysteries of a people and culture that have strongly influenced the way societies are built and run to this very day. However, I must admit that I will not have a pressing desire to come back – not to say it wasn’t great, it was. It’s just very busy, chaotic and noisy… like any big city.
At this point I’m in love with Florence, there was something about that city that made my heart skip several beats. Being surrounded by sculptures that are much more impacting in person than looking at a picture in a book. I was surprised by my emotional reactions to some such as, Michelangelo’s David and the unfinished Pieta, as well as his finished La Pieta in St. Peter’s Basilica. With all three sculptures I had to pull myself away.
Orvieto I will go back to with enough time to sit and have an espresso at one or two of their many café’s and wander through more of the narrow, cobblestone streets that seem to only ascend at a steady incline and stop at markets run by cheerful local vendors.
There’s so much that we have done and so much more to see. I’m overwhelmed just trying to think of what to share. It’s really hard to believe we’re only in our third week and just starting our fourth country. With all the travelling I’ve done up until this point, there is one thing that I continue to notice; that although the scenery and culture changes from place to place, at the core of our humanity we as people are the same. This meaning no matter what the language barrier we can find people to laugh with, show love to or gain inspiration from – it’s a beautiful thing.
Genevieve
Well, here I am, writing my first blog for a Europe trip I wasn’t planning on being a part of when I started my second year in the Fall. Here I am, pondering what to write about with heavy eyes and a mind filled to the brim with new snippets of knowledge about brilliant artists, genius composers, the politics of the EU, language divisions, historical events both victorious for the human race and heartbreaking, and the list could go on. Here I am, in the midst of homework and classes, trying to make sure everything is in order: bags packed, ipod charged, another trip to the store, call credit card company, legs waxed, one more trip to the store… We catch a plane tomorrow and land in Spain and I have no idea what to expect. I have moments of normalcy when I feel like I’m just here at SSU going to school then it clicks in and I start thinking, “Is this really happening? Am I really getting ready to spend two months sleeping on the ground, strolling down cobblestone streets and standing before gigantic pieces of artwork, centuries old?” I am here.
My favourite moment of this week was the ‘ice breaker’ chapel. One hour of hearing a glimpse of where everyone was coming from, how we were all feeling, what we are hoping for. It broke the tension of what was unknown within each person and connected us — in that moment we became a group.
I look forward to seeing and experiencing all the growth ahead, individually and collectively.
Cheers!
By