bus to Belfast

We are on the wrong side of the road. And it appears to be raining. The road cuts between green fields scattered with townhouses and leafless trees. And we are driving under the arch of a rainbow backed up against low mountains.

It has been 6 days since I left my beautiful family in London and started traveling with my wonderful mother in Ireland. We spent two days in London town, which consisted of going to the National Gallery and seeing two shows. I loved seeing the familiar works of all the artists I have grown to love on this trip. Caravaggio, Monet, van Eyck and the like. The first show we saw was Wicked, which was absolutely incredible. Best voices I have ever heard in my life. It was the kind of show you find yourself thinking of days and days after you’ve seen it. The second was Jersey Boys. I knew it was a popular show, but I never assumed it was they type of show that 2,000 Brits would go crazy over… I mean they were just 60’s American pop-stars (nothing compared to their own bands like The Beatles or the Rolling Stones if I’m being generous). I seriously thought that these women I was sitting behind were going to take their tops off for these actors (actors- not even the real Four Seasons). Audience members on all sides of me were clapping to 5 different beats to every single song. It was just ridiculous. But nonetheless, still a good show.

Though I rarely ever needed to navigate while I was on Europe Semester, I have realized during this week how much better I am at it now that I have been on that trip. But I suppose the only thing to do with my directional challenges was to improve (I was pretty damn awful). I think the next four months will be an adventure just discovering the ways my European adventures have shaped me. There are the stereotypical changes of being more globally minded, seeing other religions in a new light, and having the Bible ‘come alive’ in Israel etc etc. Now those are all things we could all use transformation in, but I am not altogether sure that those will be my changes. I would like to think of myself as somewhere outside those boundaries of learning. I will like to sit hear and wait for those changes to unravel into some kind of mess that will be my new self. We are always a beautiful mess though aren’t we?

After London we flew to Dublin. We briefly explored the city and traveled to the Cliffs of Moher, small cities on the west coast, as well as Glendilough and the surrounding countryside. Last night I had the pleasure of meeting up with two of my friends from Europe Semester and getting drinks with them in Temple Bar- the last Euro Sem reunion in Europe ever.

I have wanted to see the hillsides of Ireland for many years now. Before I knew that green was my favorite color even, ha. It’s as beautiful as you would think. It’s as beautiful and peaceful as you’ve seen it portrayed. And isn’t that nice to know?

We stayed in a great hostel in downtown Dublin. Lucas who worked there was from Bakersfield and had in the last 10 years been to 65 countries. That is not the lifestyle for me. I have met so many people with that itch for travel: the more countries to scratch it the better. But I love the comfort of a home and the ease of being near those I love. I do not need distance or new food or strange languages to make me feel free or alive. The wind outside my door is enough for that. I merely long to see great mountains, long reaching meadows, tall forests, low, slow moving rivers, and fields of flowers. Lord willing I will one day settle down near to these and traveling to them will be no longer necessary.

But until that day, I will journey to places like Montana, Wyoming, Maine, the Great Smokey Mountains of the South, the Rockies of Colorado, and the Wicklow Mountains of this here Ireland. And I will be satisfied in their beauty.

concerning farewells

How do I say good-bye? I mean technically I already have. I am sitting in a hostel in Dublin and have now spent two days away from my Europe Semester family. I see everyone’s faces now and again, hear our jokes, remember our memories, and accidentally laugh out loud at them sometimes because they are just too good. I obviously cannot sum up this semester in a blog post but I feel compelled tell you how I feel now that it is all over. If you won’t listen who will right?

First of all, I am blown away by how well the semester went. I mean that sincerely. When I say everyone got along, I truly mean it. I do not believe I was in a dream-like state where in reality, everyone tolerated one another, but we had extreme cliques and dislikes. Obviously we had friends we were closer to, but dinner groups constantly got switched around as did the roommates; we were all comfortable with each member of the group despite our different personalities and backgrounds. Is that dropping heavily enough for you? 43 young people all getting along. Praise the Lord. Each week, each new city, I kept expecting drama to creep up on us. I thought, “surely, this is the week the honeymoon period will end and groups will start to form and people will be shut out etc etc.” That day never came. I am not sure if we ever had a ‘honeymoon period’, it was hard from day one, but it was always good. So so good.

Second, Vespers was one of the most memorable and shaping events of our semester. Every Sunday night we would meet together in our hotel/ hostel lounge/room, wherever we could find, and worship. We would sing, share, pray for one another, take Communion, and end with more singing. The sharing is what was so striking to me. Since our very first Vespers in Oxford, our group opened up their hearts and shared more than anyone expected. The level of vulnerability within our group was entirely a gift from the Lord. We were all deeply invited into each other’s struggles, pains, and joys. These are the nights we all the looked forward to and I would say these nights were the main reason we stayed the way we did. Without inviting the Spirit into our group at least once a week, I am convinced this trip would not have been even a fraction of as incredible as it was.

And lastly, I say it’s all over, but it is not over.

I cannot wait for spring semester to start when I will see everyone again and relive every good and bad moment we had on this trip. Hell, I can’t wait to get home during Christmas break and text them (never thought I’d look forward to texting so much). I really am firm in believing that Europe Semester was just a basis for these friendships, it did not encompass them. And sometimes I get anxious with the fear that people will not pursue each other, that there will be a few of us always striving to keep these friendships alive and we will eventually give up in exhaustion from trying.

But perfect love casts out all fear. The Lord has his hand over all of our relationships. He greatly desires our fellowship with one another. His perfect love saves us. Our group was not by any means perfect nor did we love perfectly, but when I remember how well we did love each other, and how much we love each other still, the fear ceases.

more than a memory

This is a poem written by one of my dear friends on this trip. He shared it last night at our good-bye meeting (yes I said 'good-bye meeting'). I was completely blown away by it. He captured so much in this poem that I could not express to you on a blog. (I do not expect for everyone who reads it to understand it all, there are many many inside jokes).

But it is a beautiful piece of work. And it might help a little to understand what I have gone through this semester and show insight to the incredible people that have gone through it with me. You will hear my thoughts later.

More Than a Memory OR Europe Semester
by Matthew Bennett

Look.
Who are you?
Where are you?
Where did you come from?
How did you get here?
Where did you stop along the way?

There’s no more time to waste
No more tears to wipe from your face
No more fears to flick over fierce cliff faces.
No more foolish theses, themes, or broken fascist dreams,
No Florentine Renaissance figurines, no more one-euro ice cream.
No more busses, no more trusses, no more Gombrich,
No more fussing with broken luggage, no more bed buggage, no more “Rubbish!?”
Oh, and no more Gombrich.

But this wouldn’t last.
I hate to say it, but it’s true.
Some things are much less like Gorilla Glue than I would prefer.
I’d say more like the scent of a flower.
Peaking ever so sweetly in the bright afternoonish hour.
Yet in few days time the flower’s power-hour ends faster than a cold, Palestinian-Israeli morning shower.
But luckily for us, we look at flowers and say “Hey, that’s a pretty looking thing. Maybe I’ll have a sniff.”
So we do. And then we walk away. [Unlike Mr. Jerusalem and Nif.]
But we’re not flowers dammit.
We’re people. If I dare – friends. Family, if I double dare.
So we employ our next level tactics, and wander from Jericho to the Eiffel Tower.
From museum halls to wherever chocolate is sweet and beer is never sour.
From Churchill’s War Rooms to Monet’s delightful flowers.
All these places spanning countless speeding hours.

But we were given something more to grasp.
So gather round children, zip it, listen.
As surely as the mountaintops of Mittersill glisten, this trip was something grand
This trip was more than just a European one-hundred-and-four-night stand. It came with a mission.
No, I don’t mean Father Serra. I don’t mean Manifest Destiny.
I just mean simply, don’t let it go to waste.
This isn’t just a memory. It’s more than traveling from place to place.
It’s something that cannot be erased.
We experienced it all, so to speak.
We learned, we grew, we yearned and flew
We turned pages, took stages, and dropped every single LotR reference from now until the end of all ages.
We toasted to friends and dreams and silly things then crashed and burned on classroom floors.
And I could go on and on and on with more of white cliffs, wrenching hearts, and watery, narrow corridors.
But I digress, that’s not what we came here for.

I came for this, you came for that, her that one thing, him the other, and those two because of their mothers.
Well there’s something we’ve been told.
Maybe you heard it earlier, maybe now’s the first time. Or maybe you heard it through the grapevine.
And, despite what you first thought,
It didn’t matter whether it was French, Italian, or Senonian rock.
It didn’t matter what we saw or ate or drank or bought.
Or even how many times Jenny rolled around the block.
Get it in your head, it was all just poppycock – compared to what That Guy had in stock.

life is good today

I sit in my living room with a cup of tea looking out as the sun sets over the Sea of Galilee. There are rocks and wildflowers on the sandy shore, palm trees and grass in my backyard, and so many colors on the water.

We arrived yesterday afternoon at Ein Gev resort. We ate our usual lunch and once again ran, laughing and screaming, into the water. The weather was like a late spring day, where the sun is pleasant but not blazing and the water is cool. The sand is so soft here and the water is as clear as Lake Tahoe. After swimming, my friend Shanan and I sat on the rocks with his guitar staring at the lake. Everywhere we travel I try to figure out what each place reminds me of. Most of the time it naturally comes to me, it is somewhere in central or northern California- but this place is entirely unique. I have never seen anything like it in my life.

I love this place.

(my lovely backyard)

I was so thirsty for nature. Israel has been even harder that European cities in that respect. Beautiful but dry and dusty hills with the sparing fertile valley. This trip to Samaria and Galilee is more than I could have hoped for. Yesterday we traveled through Nazareth and Samaria, learning about the trade routes and fortresses of the cities as well as the Samaritan faith and the community of Samaritans left today. We drank water from the well of Jacob where Jesus talks to the Samaritan woman in John 4. Today I woke up and watched the sunrise on the shore and ate French toast at breakfast! We then traveled north of the Sea of Galilee into the Huleh Basin and into the Golan Heights seeing Biblical sites such as Hazor, Dan, and Caesarea-Philippi. Though Israeli school kids harassed us the entire time, I greatly enjoyed Dan’s beautiful spring water and wonderful walk through it.

(sunrise)

(Dan and the spring water)

We feasted on a Thanksgiving lunch of pumpkin bread and pita with turkey (and the usual hummus, pickles, olives, and carrots). In Caesarea-Philippi we stood at the cave that once was a temple to Caesar Augustus which was known to be where one could enter the gates of Hades through the River Styx. We read from Matthew 16 where Peter confesses Jesus to be the Christ, Messiah and Savoir. Jesus then tells Peter that, “on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it’ (vs. 18). And I was right there, right at that rock, pretty cool.

On the bus ride home my friend Kyle and I decided to jam together and play our favorite songs for the other on our iPods. We sat there and listened to beautiful music as we watched the sun set from the bus. I ate a little bit of pumpkin bread and thought to myself ‘this is the good life’.

we have done so much

We left Jerusalem early early in the morning for the West Bank on the 11^th. I have not much to say about the beginning of the day in Jerusalem besides that it was full of crowded religious sites and man confusing overlooks of the city. I do love being on the Mount of Olives though. It is such a vivid place to me when I read the Gospels. I would have loved seeing the Garden of Gethsemane and all the area around it, but it was far too crowded with tour groups and venders that I felt no emotion besides frustration.

(olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane)

The real story is what came with the evening. We were split into groups of two and assigned to stay with Palestinian families in Beth-Sahour, the neighboring city of Bethlehem in the West Bank. Alex and I stayed with a Simon and his family. We ate dinner with him and had incredible conversation concerning the current state of Israel and Palestine. He told us of where his family was before 1948 and during the 6-Day War. He told us how he and his sons have blue Jerusalem IDs and his wife and daughter have green IDs meaning they basically cannot leave Palestine). We discussed the curfews put on the Palestinians during the shooting in the Church of the Nativity and many other times in the early 2000’s. His wife came home from her meeting and we talked about how they met and the culture differences among culture and dating in the Middle East (even among Christian families). As we were drinking tea and being continually fed sweets, a couple with a newborn baby and a two-year-old girl just walked in the door. The woman worked with Simon as environmentalists and this was the first time her new baby girl had been in their home. Her husband Max and Simon continued to discuss the conflict with Alex and I. And then another friend of theirs, a 20-something-year-old basketball player just walked into the living room and started joking with us all.

To our surprise, Alex and I heard vivid stories from Max and Simon about their severe beatings from the Israeli police force. I do not think I will forever forget their stories. They were 14 and 18, beaten beyond recognition for having a peace sign key chain and a picture book of newspaper clippings.

They next day (the 12^th) we went as a group to the city of Hebron where there is the most fanatic Jewish settlers in all of Palestine. The shops and homes of the local Arabs have been welded shut by the police and the economy is shutting down. Jewish settlers have built their own homes on top of abandoned Arab houses while many Palestinians have to climb in through their windows and roofs. We walked through a Palestinian refugee camp afterwards and walked along the wall that separates Bethlehem from Israel.

That night Alex and I had a much less politically charged night as we went ‘shopping’ with our host mother. Really we just stood around flipping through racks of the oddest clothes I’ve ever seen while she went shopping. Apparently she had had gastric bypass surgery and needed a whole new wardrobe. (I will just add here that that is, in my opinion, one of the most detestable surgeries available). While we were in the car we were able to have great conversation with her about her family. She treasured family above anything else in the world, and explained to us that when you cannot leave your country or town, that they are all you have. I have never met a woman that felt so strongly for her family in my entire life.

Our next day (the 13^th) was a bit of blur. We explored the Sphelah and saw the area where the battle between David and Goliath took place. Our day ended with our entire group swimming together in the Mediterranean Sea. Moments like these are the times I am most fond of- 42 people whom I know so well laughing and playing the ocean together as the sun set. And the water was so lovely and warm.

(pretty proud of that Chaco tan)

The 14^th was our exploration of the Negev portion of Jerusalem. But the REAL part of the day was in the incredible hike Cyndi took us on in the basins of the Negev. It was stunning and much-needed. The wilderness in this country is just so so different. I often don’t know what to do with it. Brown hills, white hills, tan hills. But it’s intriguing and so many of the people here find it absolutely beautiful.

(the canyon hike)

(wilderness view)

Now this night was an adventure. Our bus ride to Arad was supposed to take a little under an hour, but our trusty bus driver Omar got us lost. This means a bus full of 43 hungry and tired college kids for 2 and a half hours. People started listing all the foods they were going to eat when we get home, they talked about how much they missed their mothers, insults started flying as we became more tired, and Eric started reciting his cannibal love poem. We finally arrive in Arad as Omar pulls up to a warehouse far off the freeway. They tell 13 girls to grab their stuff and get off the bus. Apparently all of our housing accommodations had fallen through and myself and 12 other women slept on the floor of an art warehouse with mats and sleeping bags.. it was hilarious. We got back in the bus to go to dinner and Cyndi informed us that we are eating dinner with the Bedouin.

“You’re joking aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

-silence-

“You see, it’s funny, because we still ALL think that you’re joking”

We waited for an escort car as Omar drives us and our GIANT tour bus on a dark dirt road into the wilderness. Turns out, Cyndi was not joking. We walked into this giant room with oddly colored pads and pillows- all exhausted and famished. The Bedouin community fed us a delicious dinner of flat bread, chicken, salsa, rice, soup, tea and Arabic coffee. Then it was back to the warehouse. We woke up the next morning and ate breakfast of flat bread, humus, zatar, yogurt, and olive oil with the Bedouin again- just as delicious as dinner. We learned about the Bedouin and their life under the Israeli government. They showed us their sheep, goats, and camels. I personally was kicked in the arm by a charging sheep. And I’m not talking about a cute little white lamb, I’m talking a BIG scared sheep.

(breakfast with the Bedouin)

After this we all swam in the Dead Sea. Covered ourselves with priceless black mud and minerals that people pay for at spas, and then jumped into the thrashing salty waves. It was all fun and screaming and floating and laughing, until the waves crash into your mouth and eyes and BURN BURN BURN. And if that isn’t enough to get you out just wait 5 minutes until your skin starts to burn. It feels like you are going to lose every inch of natural protection on you body. So we splashed our way to the shore that is covered with white salt crystals. All our friends were packing the mud into water bottles and pouring fresh water over their faces in relief. It was an adventure. But after the enflamed skin, sore eyes, and bloody knees- we know the Dead Sea means death.

We ate our usual lunch of pita, carrots, humus, and cookies and made our way to the springs of En Getti. We compared the deceptive beauty of the Dead Sea to the promises of the world’s materialism. Beautiful and temporarily enjoyable, but eventually bringing pain and death. Shrinking and stagnant. And then we jumped in the pools of En Getti. Incredible, fresh, sweet spring water. Every place water splashes from the waterfalls it sprouts new life from within the thirsty surrounding stones. The living water that comes from the Lord.

And now I am back in Jerusalem at the Gloria Hotel outside Jaffa Gate- and it feels so so good.

the Land Between

“You will not be able to describe this trip.  You will not be able to tell people back at home what you have experience here.  You will not be able to even discuss it amongst yourselves.  But Israel’s not here to make you a better witness, its here to make you a better servant.”

This was said to us by Moshe, an Orthodox Jewish shopkeeper who we visited on our first day in the Jerusalem.  I know that’s no way to start a blog, telling you I can’t explain to you anything.  But please try to understand, these are the fullest days I have ever experienced, I can barely sort through them myself.  I mean that in the most wonderful way possible.

How am I to become a better servant here?  I keep asking myself this.  To listen and to learn are first in my head.   We are studying “the geography and history of Israel as it impacts the Bible and Modern Life.”  That is my class title.  I am studying freaking everything and am overjoyed about it.  For the past couple weeks, as Europe was coming to a close, I kept wondering why I came on this trip.  I did not really care much about European cities, I certainly did not care about WWII, and I did not just come for the food and shopping.  I have not acted like I did most of the summer and was stripped of many comforts from home that I treasure... so why the hell was I here.

In the middle of our first class day in Jerusalem I remembered- THIS is why I signed up for this trip, THIS is why I’m here.  And God did so many things before we came to Israel (like handing me beautiful relationships and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with art), but this is why I’m here.  To see and learn this.

On our field first day, starting at 7 AM, we explored the nature of the land, the names of the valleys and hills of Jerusalem.  We went into the City of David to see (potentially) the foundation stones of Kind David’s palace.  We went to high rooftops to see the different views of the city.  We saw ancient houses and walls from the time of King Hezekiah.  But the highlight of the day was all 42 of us walking through Hezekiah’s tunnel.  Hezekiah’s tunnel was made around 400 BC, carved through the mountain bedrock by hand with torches, meant to channel water from the Gihon Spring to the completely other side of the city.  We got to walk through it, in the dark with flashlights water above our knees laughing and yelling.  We are on adventures e v e r y d a y in this place.

After lunch at JUC (Jerusalem University College) we had an intro to our course lecture.  We went until 5:30 PM.  Such long days.  And then back to the hotel for dinner.  Lunch and dinner always have so many olives and hummus and vegetables, I have missed vegetables so much.

Today we started at 7:30 AM and explored the 4 quarters of the Old City (Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and Armenian).  We saw the Western Wall and discussed the many city walls during the times of Herod and Great and Hadian of Rome.  We saw the old streets and the shopkeepers selling a variety (from belly dancing outfits and earrings to prayer shawls and rosaries to bras and socks to spices and produce).  We walked along the rooftops and saw the city look united from above.  We sang beautiful harmonies of ‘Come Thou Fount’ and the Doxology in a Crusader church near the Pool of Bethesda from John 5.  We then had lunch and class until 5:30 again.  In class we discussed the types of rock and disciplines of historical geography. 

But the part I loved the most was the lecture on the Agricultural Calendar of this region.  Our calendar had all the months of the year with the rainy and dry season, showing the time for harvesting each crop, and the dates for the major Jewish festivals.  We then discussed passages from the New Testament where Jesus fully relates what he’s saying to this agricultural lifestyle of the people.  His fulfillment of each festival (not just Passover) was pure joy for me to learn about. 

I must tell you my favorite example.  When Jesus speaks in John 7:37-38 he says “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.  Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”  Jesus spoke this in the final day of the Feast of Tabernacles.  This feast is at the very end of the dry/ harvest season where the people thank God for the harvest he has provided.  They pray each day with this thankfulness, and on the last day of the festival they turn their prayers into requests for God to bring the early rains.  Their cisterns are getting low in water and all the people are in fact thirsty.  So Jesus’ timing is, as always, perfect.  And he claims not no only to be God, who provides the rain for his chosen people, but to be the one who can give living water.

Seeing this relationship unfold between God, his people, and the land is beautiful.  I am loving this so much.  I will leave you with Psalm 125:1-2, which is meaning more and more to me every day-

“Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever.  As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore.” 

concluding Europe

I suppose I should update y'all on Rome...

4 years ago when I was there with my mom I really did not like it.  We spent most of our time navigating through crowded streets and waiting in long long lines, only to push through giant crowds of people again (it was summer tourist season).
I really loved it this time.  To be fair, it is still an enormous city and I do hate that.  I hate the overcrowded-ness of the place, I hate all the high end, over-priced shopping selling things no one needs, the obsession with what it means to be Roman, or what it means to live in the Catholic capital of the world.  So why then did I like it so much..

I had incredible roommates (Laura, Sonora, and Lauren).  And we had a couple extras that might as well have been our roommates (Bry, Taylor, and Tiffany).  Our space was filled with so much laughter and silliness.  Laura and I shared the most giant bed I have ever slept on.  Everyone was piled on it as we spent a whole day writing our Technology in European Society paper and another studying for our WWII final.  Pumpkin seeds and sarcastic insults were flying.  It was wonderful.
I really was not looking forward to our tour of the Colosseum or the Roman Forum.  I saw them as merely physical representation of a powerful but sick society that is long dead and gone.  And I still think that.  But we had the most AMAZING tour guide we have ever had named Franchesca.  She made every place come to life as she imaginatively reconstructed every ruin and painted it with marble and frescos for us.  I understood the Roman Empire and current Roman culture in an entirely new way as she then connected it to our every day lives.  It made me appreciate every Roman ruin I saw for the rest of our time there.  It was essential to my time in there.

The rest of my week had times of homework, rest, shopping, site-seeing, and great dinners with friends.  I got together with my roommates from Krakow (known as 'the Bitches' for no good reason).  I am just so thankful for the times I get to go out with small groups of people I am close to.  We shared a delicious Italian meal, got cut a deal by Tony our waiter, and at gelato in St. Peter's Square (circle).  The next night I went back to the same restaurant with my small group.  I am just so blessed to be around so many incredible women on this trip.  Each day I fall more and more in love with the group I am with.  I am so thankful for them.

One of the interesting excursions I went on in Rome was to see the prison cell Peter and Paul were held in.  The cell was far below ground level (since Rome has been built on top of itself).  Above the prison was a Medieval church dedicated to Peter which is now a museum.  We purchased the audio guide for our short tour and let me tell you- it was weird.  No other word for it.  It tried to be extremely symbolic with talking about stones and water, and water dripping like a heart beat, colored stones from different time periods that talked and argued.. etc.  Strange!  The religious portions of the tour were also odd.  They practically glorified Peter above Jesus, only mentioning that he is the Son of God once and the reason Peter lived and breathed.  They claimed that Peter split time in two with his creation of the church and only talked about him, not even the reason he was really imprisoned.  On top of that, they did not even say a single word about Paul.  It was hilarious how strange it all was, but it was also sad.  This place where Paul wrote so many letters, this place that was so special to us, had become somewhat absurd.  Here is a picture of the church above the cell..

Our tour of the Vatican was not as expected either.  We had had our WWII final that morning and were practically useless, add that to a very average tour guide, with some useless information and only about 7 minutes in the Sistine Chapel, and you have a pretty big waste of time.  The thing that did stand out to me was St. Peter's Basilica (aka the Vatican church aka the most important building to the Catholic World).
IT IS SO DAMN BIG YOU CANNOT DESCRIBE IT TO YOU.  I could not even handle it.  (Keep in mind that this church was assembled entirely of marble taken by destructing every temple in the Roman Forum.  The alter above St. Peter's remains is constructed of melted bronze from the ceiling of the Pantheon).  I felt so so so small in this place.  It blew my mind.  Everything is oversized.  They have a marker of the size of every other Cathedral in the world on the floor to show you how big it is.  I thought that was awfully unnecessary and conceited.  This basilica, the capital of the Catholic world, felt lifeless to me.  It felt like a government building, only concerned with size, power, and tradition.  I do not at ALL think that way about the Pope, the Catholic faith or community, but that is how I felt towards the Vatican.


And now I sit in the Hotel Parthenon (ha) on the eve of my journey to Israel.  Yesterday we spent in class learning about the Arab- Israeli conflict, visiting the Parthenon and Acropolis, and copying my professors maps of Israel for our JUC course (yes, they let us copy, this trip is the best)!  Today we had another class and then a free afternoon.  I laid on a fenced-off lawn next to the statue of an angel in a park for two hours.  I then ate the best 2 euro gyro of my life in the same park and journaled next to the birds.  I then went to cafe Smile and drank a beer as I read my Bible (Beer & Bible, you proud Dad?)  We fly out of Athens/ EUROPE tonight at 10:30 PM and arrive in Israel/ THE MIDDLE EAST at 12:30 AM.
I cannot believe it has finally come.

wasting time while it rains in Florence..

I have one more paper to write, one more test to study for.
Yesterday was our first full day in Florence.  Once again so happy to be back in a some-what familiar city.  Alisha (one of my current roommates and friends) and I had an early start.  We ate breakfast and walked around until we found ourself in front of the Uffizi Gallery and decided we better get in line.  In our 45 minute que we started talking with the American couple behind us.  They were from Pennsylvania visiting their daughter and her husband who lived in Florence.  We talked about what they had done in Itlay, what they did back at home, the nature of our program, I do not even remember much else.  All I remember thinking was how nice they were and how glad I was to meet friendly Americans with good hearts and intentions.  Alisha and I championed the Uffizi.  I got to sit on the ground in front of one of my favorite paintings of all time.  Caravaggio's Doubting Thomas (which they failed to have a postcard for, unbelievable).

We then got a little bit lost, continually contemplated going to see Michelangelo's David, but didn't.  Got lost, ate gelato, went to a vintage store, made it back to our hotel/ hostel around 5 pm, completely sore and tired, but feeling very accomplished.  I then had a normal night of doner kebabs, paper writing, a good game of Go Fish, and Whose Line Is It Anyway clips on YouTube.  

Another early start this morning as Alisha and David and I went to see the David.  Breakfast and another 45 minute wait.  About halfway through we started talking to the American couple behind us.  They were in their mid-50's like the first couple, and from Connecticut.  We talked of our travels, our majors, Westmont, their experiences in Israel, their children and coming grandchildren.  Once again, such nice good-hearted people.  As we parted ways in the museum the man said to me. "You have very lucky parents".  I do not feel like that is a sentence people throw out lightly.  It was one of the best compliments I have ever received.
They made me miss being at home with my own parents.  Cold weather always makes me miss home, especially wind and rain.  I think of my fire place, my dining room table, playing cribbage on the living room carpet, the sound of rain tapping on my bedroom window, driving through my wet neighborhood streets.  Sometimes when it rains I have the overwhelming urge to sit out in the middle of the worst of it, looking up and the sky as I get irreversibly soaked.  I honestly don't know why this is.  On my late drives home in the winter I roll down all the windows and drive fast enough to fill my car with as much cold wind as I possibly can.

Tomorrow I will hopefully be going to the Cinque Terra islands.  And on our last day my hopes are to climb Brunneleschi's dome, see the inside of the Duomo, and watch the sunset from Michelangelo's hill.


Until then, I will sit in the lobby under the skylight, listening to Horse Feathers, editing photos and avoiding homework.

change of scenery

I am sitting in a hotel in Venice.  Waitwaitwhat?  What?  Yes, ok.  I am in Venice, Italy.
I cannot believe I am finally here.   Most everyone on the trip has said the same thing-

We have all had these marking points for ourselves.  Places we were really looking forward to that split the trip up into sections.  For me it was to start in London, then go till Paris, then I finally got to see what Germany was like, and then it was Italy.  A place I had already seen but a place that I had loved.  And now I'm here!  We are here for three weeks and then it is Israel... and then the trip is done!  It is just mind-blowing.

My time in Mittersill was wonderful.  Like I said, it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen in my life. It snowed the first two nights we stayed there.  We had class every morning till 1, then we would all eat soup together for lunch, and study until we went to sleep with about 2 hours of of a study break when we would break free from the castle and breathe the mountain air.  We wrote papers and studied hard for an entire week,  all getting a a serious case of castle fever.  I barely changed out of my pajamas the whole stay.  Each night the 'wine cellar' was open when we could all buy cheap beer and wine from Colby for a euro in our classroom.  Totally worth it.  We also had a day trip to Salzburg to see Sound of Music sights and Mozart's home.

On our first stop in Salzburg we stumbled upon this incredible playground.  43 college students on a playground made for children but lacking serious safety precautions = awesome but disastrous.  After being stuck in the castle for 5 days.. we went wild.  The playground was full of millions of different kinds of swings and spinning devices high above the ground, even a zip line.  We jumped on everything and expounded all of our energy until, unfortunately, one of a girls was being pushed by three guys on the zip line and got so much air at the end of the line that she split her head open on a metal beam.
here's a little bit of what I saw:

(view from hill by our castle)

(I want one of these cows when I grow up)

(one of our study breaks/ play dates)

But now we are in Venice.  I came here 4 years ago with my mom and I am still trying to figure out how it feels different.  Maybe it doesn't.  I am just noticing more.  I went to mass at Saint Mark's Basilica this morning and my appreciation for the art and the architecture is obviously far superior than it was 4 years ago.  This is absolutely my favorite church in Europe.  The domes, the gold, the mosaics.  It is stunning, but not overdone.  The mosaics are simple in nature that I am not overwhelmed by them as I am with so many Renaissance and Baroque alter pieces and sculptures.  And then of the course the architecture is unbelievable.  A church that took two centuries to complete, drawing from both Eastern and Western styles.  I also have a new appreciation for the technology it took to build Venice.  Never thought I'd say that before...

Being by the water feels so incredible.  I am so in love with the mountains that I forgot how wonderful the ocean truly is.  In one day we went from the crisp mountain air of the Alps to the salty breeze of the Adriatic Sea.  It is so windy by the water, oh how I love the wind.

But, with all of it's wonderful things- Venice is a tourist town.  Every single street has shops on it.  So many shops.  Apparently all you need to survive in Venice are glass animals, lingerie, fur coats, jewelry, leather shoes, squishy rubber pigs that continually flatten and reform, and handbags.  Because that's all they sell.  And really, you don't need any of that.  Also, there are practically no locals whatsoever.  Just the 20 MILLION people that visit every year.

So what is the 'feeling' of Venice?  Fake romanticism encouraged by the cheesy gondola singers?  The preserved culture of a place with few inhabitants?  A sinking city that was once a refuge but soon became a town based on money and pleasure, now turned into a tourist trap?


I can't leave on that cynical of a note.  Yes, I believe all of that about this place.  But romanticism, even if fake, feels nice every once in a while.  And I am so happy to be in Italy.  And it is beautiful.  And I am here with so many incredible friends.  And I am very blessed.

Schloss Mittersill

We left Vienna this morning.  Vienna was nice for its lack of agenda, but not much other than that for me.  I had some notable meals with wonderful people and discovered a new artist to love (Gustav Klimpt).

What comes next I cannot fully describe.  Please know that I am not one for exaggeration.  I would not do that to you.  I have no reason to. I do not need to make this trip seem more incredible than it is.

Today I saw the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.

We drove through the Austrian Alps and I was utterly speechless for the two hours we traveled.  I sat by the window listening to Ray Lamontagne, trying my hardest to absorb everything I was seeing.  I could not open my eyes wide enough.  I kept thinking of how thirsty I felt.  I saw such beauty that all I could do was thirst for more.  I didn’t have my camera on the bus so all I could do was look.  I do not need pictures to remember everything I saw today.  I don’t think I could ever forget it.

It had rained all day.  The mist and clouds sat in the valleys of jutting mountains, all covered in trees and rock faces.  They clung and lingered and hid the peaks. The mountains stand so tall.  Ones off in the distance had snowy caps and we all wondered if we would find ourselves in snow.  Streams and little waterfalls trinkled on the sides of each of our turning roads.  The villages were infrequent, small, scattered, and colorful.  We saw rivers and lakes, some of even a turquoise blue that you would find in the tropics.  They rush in the quietest way.  And the trees, oh the trees.  Most were green and full- birches and oaks and so many kinds I have yet to learn the names of.  The pines are so thin and tall with needles only at the very top.  In every grove and along every road there would be a few yellow and orange trees transformed by Fall.  Their leaves have not yet fallen but then seemed to float on the branches awaiting the next strong wind to send them dancing.  As we drove up and around the giants of land, we made it high enough to reach the snow.   It was thicker than a dust, just enough to flock trees but not covering all the ground.  The bus was full of joyous yells and laughter as snow smeared our windows.  Everyone chattered of snow days and sledding with the fondest memories.  But I missed the forest below instantly.  As we drove back down we saw the sun break out on the greenest valleys my eyes have ever known.

I now sit in the top room of a castle in the Alps.  I have a slanted wall with wood paneling and two small windows.  Erica and I have used our scarves to decorate our cozy space.  I can hear the rain steadily pattering on the roof and I am content.

even though I walk through the valley of death and dying

I will try my best to explain today to you, but forgive me if I do not do it justice or if you are offended by it.

Today we visited Auschwitz 1 and Auschwitz Berkenau.  I have been anticipating this day since I stepped off the plane in London.  My anticipation was to walk through horror and Hell, to sob, to feel anger, or to feel like I was going to throw up or pass-out at the atrocities of these places.  I have a tendency to be distant from this type of feeling, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs.  I wanted to learn whatever the Lord had for me to learn in this place.  Feel how he wanted me to feel.

(A distinction for those who do not know:  Auschwitz Berkenau is an extermination camp in which the Nazi’s murdered thousands of Jews and other types of peoples i.e. Russian POWs, gypsies, mentally disabled people, homosexuals, anti-socials, Poles, Czechs, and many others from German occupied areas.  Auschwitz 1 was a concentration camp that was built before Berkenau.  It conducted 5 months worth of extermination until Berkenau was built but was mostly a work camp and a prison.)

I will describe the second half of the day to you.  We visited and camp and memorial at Auschwitz 1 second in the day after Auschwitz Berkanua and lunch.  Because of what I had experienced at Berkenau, I did not know how I was going to feel.  To make it short, I could not feel much.  I saw the hair, I saw the shoes, I saw the mounds and mounds of glasses and dishes and suitcases and clothes.  The one thing I could not handle where the baby clothes and baby shoes.  The thought of the poor children..
As I walked through the barracks, I thought to myself “this is what Hell is like”.  I walked through horror and Hell.  But I felt that the Lord was protecting my heart, guiding my feelings.  I did not break down as I thought I would.  But I will not say that I was numb to what was around me.  I sang to myself…
“Even though I walk through the valley of death and dying, surely goodness will follow me, follow me.  In the house of God forever”



In the beginning of the day we had gone to Auschwitz Berkenau first.  For the first 45 minutes of the tour I was continually asking God how I should feel.  I was confused.  I kept looking at the trees.  I was affected at Sachsenhausen and have been deeply moved by many Holocaust documentaries and books.  The horror of that “event” is not lost on me.  As we made our way to the demolished gas chambers I looked up at the trees.  Today’s weather was incredible and they were so beautiful and silent.  But I pitied them.  I thought, “How does life grow here?  It shouldn’t grow here..  Should it grow here?”
Most people come to these places and feel extreme empathy, distress, trauma, and sadness.  But how does one house those emotions?  Where do we go from there?  How does life grow from the knowledge of such death?  I kept thinking about what I should do with the knowledge of that place.

Because of my education, I have heard a great deal about the Holocaust, the reasons behind it, the technology, the way the world made it possible.  And the evil made sense to me.  All of it’s awfulness, it made sense for a fallen world.

But I did not feel like the place was godless.  I am not saying that I have answers for why God allowed such evil to happen to his children.  I do not know why.  And I hate it.

But I felt the Lord’s presence so greatly in that place.  Not in a warm and happy way of course, not the way you feel after your favorite worship song or whatever.  It was more real than that.  I felt the presence of His power and wisdom.  It surrounded me from above and on all sides.  I knew that He saw our group in that place and He had seen everything that had happened there.
Nothing that happened has been lost on Him.

I did not know how I could feel this way.  And I knew that He felt anger, sadness, and pain at what happened.  I have felt that.  But I did not feel that today.

I could only swear that He loves his children.  And that he loved all that went there, Nazi and Jew, Pole and Czech, Hungarian and Gypsy.  And I CANNOT explain why it happened, but I know that He loves his children.  I was in that place and my trust in the Lord has never been stronger.  I felt like a tree whose roots were deep, deep, deep in trust in the Lord.  I could go nowhere out of His sight, out of His plan.

I felt His power.  His power is bigger than death, bigger than Auschwitz.  He defeated death.  As I thought of his power, wisdom, and love, I will say that I have never felt the presence of God more in my life than in Auschwitz Berkenau.  I have struggled for the past 2 years, more like the past 6, to know and feel the Lord’s love for me.  And as I thought of His love for the people sent to that place, I felt it and knew it a little more.  I do not think I would have asked to feel it there, but he loved his children, he loves me and guides me.

I walked back to the bus in the strangely warm autumn day, surrounded.

you better Czech yourself before you wreck yourself (because I didn't)

I was racing my friend Kyle with our suitcases on the way to our hotel in Prague. The back and white Czechered sidewalks had some potholes and I “ran” into one and rolled my ankle (2nd time since this summer). My pho-fiancé Ian carried me across the threshold of our hotel while my other wonderful classmates carried my bags. Kim ran to my side with ice, ankle braces, and more ice. It was a big deal folks.

I haven’t told y’all much about our trip leaders, but they are incredible. Ken and Kim Khilstrom two of the leaders who are professors from Westmont.  They travel with us, teach us, and completely take care of us. They are two of the most caring and generous people I know. Ken tells jokes more frequently than anyone, and half of them are just downright inappropriate, and we love them. He is a true Physics and World War II NERD. Very laid back, very enthusiastic, and a joy to be around. Kim has redefined cute precious adorable sweet and all of the above for me. She is all of those things and more. She takes care of all 43 of us (and Ken) so well and has this nervous giggle that is to die for. And the best part of about them is that their love for the Lord and for each other is evident in everything they do. Everything.

Anyways, I am in Prague!! I have heard countless incredible things about this city. All of them include the word “beautiful”. I am in one of the most beautiful cities on the planet- that is pretty damn cool. (It’s completely dark right now as I sit with my foot elevated and icing, so I cannot actually testify to that yet).

We spent less than 24 hours in Dresden and it was really a great time. Once we checked into My Bed Dresden (yes, that was our hotel) we went straight to a brewery for dinner. Now let me tell you, that was Germany. We sat in long tables, with cute candles and water as we picked at a little salad… and then the real meal came. There were GIANT platters of 3 different forms of potatoes, gravy, ham, sausage, corned beef, chicken, schnitzel, more sausage, sauerkraut, and more sausage. SO MUCH MEAT! And to think I am a pescaterian back home. I literally had to lie down on a bench because I had wrecked myself by eating so much. Dessert came out. It was a deep-fried something dough with ice cream, whipped cream, applesauce, and cinnamon. And then we had beer. We ordered two 5-liter barrels of beer that you pour out yourself at the table.

Here is a picture of my dear friend David and I at the end of it all:

Our tour of Dresden today was so good. Gabriel gives us a tour of each city on the first day we have there and they are my favorite part of this trip so far. Really though, I learn so much from him. Gabriel is a British Oxford graduate who has worked as journalist for BBC and now works as tour guide for most of Western Europe (he teaches our art course but could cover any course he chose). He truly is one of the most intelligent, helpful, sarcastic, and honest people I’ve ever met. He also walks and talks faster than anyone I’ve ever met (and you should see how fast my mother can walk)!

If you don’t know anything about Dresden, let me tell you the little I do. Before WWII Dresden was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It was known as the Florence of Northern Europe because of its riverside layout and beautiful Baroque buildings. The Allies literally leveled the city with bombs in WWII, destroying the entire city and killing about 40,000 civilians, mostly women and children. Due to the Ally bombing tactics and the city’s defenselessness, they created a natural phenomenon which is a called a “fire storm”. In a fire storm the bombings were so precise that they created a vacuum, ensuing a fire so hot (1000 C) that it melted the infrastructure of buildings and every floor collapsed which brought down every single building.

I am learning the horrors of war in this semester. And there are many. War holds so many aspects to it- there is strategy, there is politics, there is economics, there is costs and proportionality, and then there is death. Oh there is death. I am learning about the man-made sport of death. The millions of lives that could have been. The people that never lived because of war. The suffering and anguish of their death.

I have no answers for war. I will not sit here and tell you that I am a full pacifist and that all wars are worthless. There is evil that must be stopped in this world and I seriously am not attempting to put on false humility when I say that I have NO idea what to do about it.

But I know that I hate this. The death of millions over often empty ideals, mere target cities, and strategies of war. Children of God. Valued souls and bodies. Loved and lonely people. Gone.

That is all I can tell you for now. The ice on my ankle has melted now.

hitting 'the wall' in Berlin, imagine that

I have now spent a week in this city.  I didn't know much of what to think when I came to Berlin.  I kept expecting to see the real city around every corner, but it all looked the same.  Tall, flat buildings with millions of windows and graffiti.  Every other shop was for hipster clothing, hipster shoes, or a hipster bar. And I've grown to really like it.  Like Amsterdam, I do not feel like I need to be something I am not here.  Maybe that confidence is just coming with the more time spent in Europe.  I am American, I do not have crazy hip clothes, I never know where I am or where I am going, and I hang around 42 other people exactly the same way.. and that is just the way it is.  Berlin has also presented me with extremely nice and gracious people.  And for the record, the German language is not as grotesque as people put it out to be.  It sounds very normal for lack of a better word.  It just sounds like a language.  Dutch is far stranger if you ask me.  And you might as well be asking me, it's my blog!

Now, I say that I "hit the wall" here.  We did not have an entire free day here in Berlin, the most time we had off at a time was about 5 hours.  The rest of the time was filled with almost entirely lectures.  We stayed in Bruges and Amsterdam for such short periods of time that we basically have been traveling all 43 of us for what felt like at least 6 days.
So 6 days of traveling + 7 hour class days + 43 college students - alone time - privacy + the discomfort of traveling in general = a very upset Laura.

I am not sure if this is permanent, but I think I became some what of an introvert this summer and that has carried over into Europe Semester.  During my years at home in Rocklin, alone time was built into my schedule.  Every time I drove to school, work, or church I was alone.  And once my brothers moved out, anytime I was at home, that was paired with a great deal of alone time in my room.  In college it was hard for me, but I have been blessed with wonderful roommates and the opportunity to find that time in my room apart from people.  This summer at Woodleaf provided me with simultaneously a great deal of alone time and practically no alone time at all.  The Falck House seemed to always be full, but I found so much joy and peace in the mornings when I would water and weed by myself.  And now I find myself here.  Never living alone, never learning alone, practically never eating alone, and barely traveling alone.  The only times I am separate from people is in the bathroom and when I sleep.  But not even sleeping since I am always with roommates.  It's an illusion.

After all of the classes, traveling, forced conversation, loud chatter, and roommate life, I lost it.  There was no crying to myself and rocking in a corner, but I might have done that if I even had the chance to.  It has been a week of irritability and frustration, not wanting to talk much or 'process' with anyone.

There have been beautiful breaks from that frustration though.  When I feel like this group is going to be the end of me, I cook a meal with some of dear friends and have normal conversation full of laughter and honesty, and I find hope and rest again.  Those nights are spent in our hotels, not out in the lively European cities we inhabit, but they have been some of my favorite memories so far.  We had a free couple hours yesterday morning which I took to my advantage.  I navigated my way across town to pick up some tennis shoes and then ate a sandwich by myself in the most beautiful park.  I sat silently under a tree by a stream.  And that is all I could have ever wanted, truly.

There has been a serious contrast of experiences here.  Hitting the wall, classes and tours on Nazism and the Holocaust, a visit to Sachsenhausen (a concentration camp),  tours of the Berlin Wall(s), dark Expressionist and Romantic paintings, etc.   But also beautiful Expressionist and Romantic paintings, Karaoke night, incredible kebabs, hilarious cabaret, trendy wine bars etc.


These hard times I've been living in are inevitable while traveling.  I think I hit mini-walls every day actually.  And I will probably hit this one again in a month or so.  But that is expected, that is traveling, that is life.  I am thankful that I am in the presence of classmates that understand that and are supportive.  Although Berlin has not been the easiest place we've been, I am grateful for it.

thoughts from the train

I sit on a train traveling from Amsterdam to Berlin.  But let me backtrack.

I spent 2 days in Bruges, Belgium.  It is one of the best-preserved Medieval cities in the world.  Very quaint, very touristy, very expensive.  We had gotten assigned a giant art assignment, basically summarizing the entire Story of Art.  We were in the nicest hotel I’ve ever been in, so it wasn’t the worst place to do homework in. 

-study for 3 hours, drink tea, eat chocolate, go our for a waffle break, come back, repeat-

End the night with beer and watching Colin Ferrell’s dark comedy “In Bruges”.

It was actually a great time.  We needed to get out of the culture and business London provided.  And it felt like we were back at Westmont again.  The intense academic atmosphere interrupted with fits of silliness made me feel at home.  That’s what we do.  We run our minds into the ground studying and come out laughing in delirium.

Next was Amsterdam.  Most of the group was not looking forward to this city, and most of them did not know why we were visiting it.  I sat in between indifferent and optimistic towards the city. 

I loved Amsterdam.  It is one of my favorite cities I’ve ever been to.  The tall yellow and green trees lining every street with the peaceful canals and simple architecture were perfect.  There was diversity on every street reminding me strongly of San Francisco.  It is full of so many young people of all kinds that I finally felt comfortable and accepted, unlike the poorly dressed tourist that I feel like in most countries we visit. 

And although I loved the city, it was not all positive and enjoyable.  We stayed in a Christian hostel in the center of the Red Light district.  I welcomed this space and this idea.  Because I am a Westmont student, I hear heart-breaking stories about the world constantly.  I am thankful for that.  I am so blessed to attend a college that truly is globally minded and compassionate about those suffering in our world.  But it is easy to become numb to suffering, especially when you find it difficult to act upon that information.  Not only do I become numb, but I struggle with compassion in general.  It is a trait that I have prayed for and desired for a long time. 

And so, I was really looking forward to being so near to the struggles of this city, to see the brokenness and not be able to escape it as quickly as a I leave the gym from Chapel.

Amsterdam was fake to me before I even arrived.  It was a strange place where marijuana and prostitution are legal and it ends there. 

It seemed to be fake when I was there. 

Our hostel was next to a Thia Massage brothel with women in the windows 24-hours a day.  I walked the district with a few friends on our last night in the city.  Women tap on the glass, open the doors to talk to you, look you in the eyes, talk on cell phones as they wait.  I saw men ring the doorbells and enter.  I saw people walk the streets and laugh at these women.  The red and neon lights glow as though you walk through a sick amusement park of sadness and sin.  It is so very real.  But it is so very empty.  Something so terrible, so disgusting, so... sad, cannot make itself fully real to me.  It is a city full of lies about life and human beings and value that I do not see how I could see it completely.

I saw the sin as real.  I saw the emptiness as real.  I saw the addiction as real.  I saw the twisted treatment of God’s gracious gifts as real.  My pity for that place was real. 

That was the saddest and emptiest place I’ve ever been.  But Jesus is my truth, and his life is my reality.

And now I am on my way to Germany.  Excited to see what it has to offer, I have no idea what is ahead of me.