More Boston: The Trail to Freedom

{Learning Reflection 4}

When I visited Boston over fall break, I had the opportunity to venture on the Freedom Trail.  It’s a trail marked by red bricks that goes through the historic city and passes famous sites from the times of the American Revolution.  As a true tourist, I dragged my friend Baily and her boyfriend along.  She had lived in Boston for over a year but had yet to see some of these national landmarks, and I was determined to change that.  We had taken AP U.S. History together in high school, but we didn’t’ remember anything from that arduous class.  I figured we could at least appreciate the spots like John Hancock’s grave and where the Boston Massacre happened centuries ago.

The trail began at the Boston Commons, a beautiful park that was made even more splendid with the changing seasons.  There was a family taking a portrait under a tree with bright red leaves.  I was delighted when they set a self timer on a camera that was placed on a tripod then, when the time for the picture, threw a pile of cardinal red leaves into the air. 

I got to see Paul Revere’s house, his grave, and the Old North Church where lanterns were lit; one if by land, two if by sea.  Baily’s boyfriend, a computer science major at MIT, marveled at the simplicity of this code.  It was an effective means of communicating a message without the complexity of zeros and ones that he typically dealt with.  I agreed with him, that simplicity could often be the best solution, although I have no idea how to code a computer program. 

I saw the meetinghouse where Patriots got riled up and went outside to meet British officers.  They hurled insults until a fight and broke out ending in the death of five Bostonians ultimately adding to the already heavy tension.  As someone who has always enjoyed history, I was fascinated at seeing these places made famous by history.  It was like walking through my old American textbooks.

We ended our Adventure Through Time near the Boston Harbor at the Boston Tea Party Museum.  Unfortunately, the Museum had just closed, but the gift shop was still open. The workers in the store were dressed in 18^th century clothes and even spoke with old-fashioned dialects.  It was weird and great at the same time.  While Baily and I walked around the store, I joked that I was going to buy one of the hundreds of small boxes of tea that were on sale and go throw it into the harbor outside.  She told me that alternatively, I could throw five dollars into the water.  I restrained.

Across the street from the gift shop were two art installations.  One had plexi glass of all colors of the rainbow attached to the railings over the harbor.   The intent of the artwork was “to catch the natural and ambient light to create a luminous field of color and alternating hues.”  As each day progresses, the light shining through glass will change so that it never has the same effect twice.  I really enjoyed the ephemeral nature of this artwork, entitled “Shimmer” and am glad that I got to be one of the people to see it before it was removed.

The other art installation was a pyramid floating on the water.  The description on the rail overlooking the water simply says, “Boston cobblestones, floating on water in the shape of a pyramid, marking past and future history.’  What I find most striking about this description is the phrase, “future history.”  I still have no idea what it means.

I realize I learned a lot as I reflect on my trip to Boston.  I learned that sometimes, simplicity is best, sometimes, beautiful things are temporary and meant to shed a different light or a different color on our perspective, and sometimes we aren’t supposed to understand everything in life.  These are probably all big stretches to metaphorically apply my experiences up north to my life, but they are still important lessons to learn.  I’m glad I had the opportunity to travel down the trail to freedom that eventually led to this nation we live in today.  My adventures in Boston offered me insight and new perspectives, which is all I can ask for in my travels.

Christmas in Spain

{Conversation Partner Reflection 6}

The first thing Aitana told me when we sat down at our last meeting before finals week and the end of the semester was that she had completed the Intensive English Program and was now officially a TCU student.  I am beyond excited for her to start this new chapter.  She finished her last two finals Thursday and passed with flying colors.  Next semester she will start TCU classes.  On Friday she leaves to go home to Málaga, Spain to spend Christmas and New Year’s with her family.   Life gets better overall after finals.

I asked her about traditions that her family celebrated during the holiday season.  Traditions are an important element to any culture, and I was interested in another glimpse of what her life is like in Spain.  Her Christmas Day is similar to mine, spent celebrating and spending time with family.  She also has a traditional Spanish Christmas celebration in early January that commemorates the three wise men called the Cabalgata Dia de Reyes.  It is a parade that takes place in multiple Spanish cities and towns and even some in Mexico.  The three Magi ride on floats through the streets as children dressed up as page boys throw out candy to young waiting observers.

The parade occurs on January 5, the day before the feast of the Epiphany.  On the evening of January 5, children go to bed early after cleaning their shoes and the next morning they find gifts from the Magi.  The children who had bad behavior over the preceding year receive coal.  Sounds familiar.  The day of the Epiphany, January 6, ends the Twelve Days of Christmas celebrating when the Three Kings, or Magi, came to leave presents for the baby Jesus.

The parade is a fun celebration that focuses on children because of the vast amount of candy they gather throughout the procession of floats.  Aitana told me about the parade two years ago when the festivities turned into tragedy.  A six-year-old boy was killed in her hometown procession when he dived under a parade float to retrieve a piece of candy.  Since then, security measures were reevaluated in hopes of strengthening them to avoid tragic accident.  This horrific turn of events two years ago has altered the fun that Aitana once associated with the celebration.  Such a senseless loss of an innocent child would alter the course of any celebration.

Not all the traditions of Christmas the day of the Epiphany in Spain have been touched by tragedy.  Roscon de reyes is a king’s cake pastry eaten in Spanish and Latin American countries to celebrate the Epiphany.  Traditionally, several surprises are hidden inside the cake including a small figure of baby Jesus or a figure of one of the Magi and a dry bean.  Whoever finds the one of the porcelain figures will have good luck and be the king of the party, but finding the bean means you have to pay for the cake.

I told her about Mardi Gras and how they also have their version of king cake in a pre-Lenten celebration.  It is interesting how different countries with diverse cultures that emphasize distinct holidays have similar means of celebration.  But I guess, who wouldn’t want a king cake?

I liked hearing about traditions that were different from my own.  Another celebration Aitana told me about is Semana Santa, which commemorates the Passion of Jesus.  It is a procession of floats that depict images of the Passion.  Visitors from all over congregate in Málaga to watch the floats pass during Holy Week.  She showed me pictures of how large the crowds can get to watch the procession.  She told me that her family used to join in the festivities, but now the crowd keeps them at home.

She asked me how my family celebrated New Year’s Eve.  I told her it was nothing special, just me at home with my family watching the ball drop in Times Square on television.  When midnight strikes here an hour later, my sister throws confetti all over the living room.  It is the same confetti that she throws each year since she recycles it each year and keeps it in a plastic bag in her closet the rest of the year.  My parents drink champagne and give my two sisters and me a glass to celebrate with as well.  The next day we have a big dinner usually with roast beef.

Aitana’s celebration is similar.  She celebrates with her family then parties with friends.  She began telling me about her favorite drinks because the legal drinking age in Spain is 18.  I’m excited for Aitana to return home and begin the holidays with her family, which I know she is eager to do.

The biggest surprise from this conversation with Aitana was how alike our celebrations are.  Across the world, children get presents from a figure with legendary and historical origins, they eat the same foods, and they spend time with family.  While cultural differences and traditions may be something that separates people at the surface, we are all rooted in similarities.  I enjoyed meeting and talking to Aitana this semester.  I gained insight for Spanish culture that I knew so little about before, and I hope that I was able to share some American culture with her.  I hope to hear all about her Christmas break when we return to TCU in January.

Dogs of Ebola

{Conversation Partner Reflection 5}

Not long before Ebola made its way across the Atlantic to our neighboring city of Dallas, it found its way to Madrid, Spain.  When my conversation partner Aitana was telling me about the looming threat of this fatal disease in a city close to her hometown, Ebola was still relatively new to me.  I knew that is was a deadly disease that had plagued lots of people in West Africa, but I knew not much more beyond that.  Ignorantly, and even selfishly, I kind of ignored the disease, not because I didn’t care, but because it was so far removed from my life that I never really thought about it.

The woman in Madrid that contracted the disease was the first person infected outside of West Africa.  She was a 44-year-old nursing assistant who was caring for a Spanish missionary.  While she was in isolation and being cared for, her husband was quarantined.  Meanwhile, their dog, Excalibur, was euthanized because the pet was suspected to have been infected.  This followed recent discovery of scientific evidence that dogs can contract Ebola and can spread the disease.  While Aitana was telling me about this, I was researching the news online.  There were pictures of the nurse being transported to the hospital inside an isolation chamber by a police escort.  But, there was even more public outcry over their dog being put down despite the protests of the owners.

Aitana and I discussed the controversy of the dog being euthanized.  More than 400,000 people signed an online petition protesting Excalibur’s death, and the nurse’s husband denounced the move by posting a picture of their dog on Facebook.  We both sympathized with the family.  It’s always sad when a dog dies.  I know personally my dog back home is considered a member of my family, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.  Aitana also has dogs that are part of her family, and we agreed that losing a dog is like losing one of the family. 

At the same time, I can also see the side of the Spanish officials in Madrid who made the controversial decision to put down the dog.  This was the first case of someone outside West Africa being infected, and they wanted to take every step to contain it as soon as possible.  They feared that the dog had contracted the fatal and contagious disease and to reduce the risk of the dog developing symptoms and spreading the disease, they decided better safe than sorry.  Human lives are more valuable than that of animals, and I like to think that it was a difficult decision for them to make.

To this day, I don’t know if I agree with the officials’ decision or not.  I was happy to discover that the nurse is now Ebola-free and her husband who was under quarantine never developed symptoms.  But, it makes me curious about what would have happened if they could have just quarantined the dog instead of euthanizing it.

I told Aitana that I wondered what would happen if, God forbid, Ebola found its way to the United States, and we were faced with a similar situation.  Barely a week passed when we got the first case of Ebola being contracted in the United States right in our backyard.

Thankfully TCU alumnus Nina Pham is now Ebola-free, but there was some concern regarding the fate of her own pet Spaniel.  However, instead of the drastic decision to euthanize her dog, authorities developed a plan for how to deal with the dog during Pham’s treatment that began with delivering food and water to the dog in her apartment. The dog, Bentley, was then quarantine at an abandoned Navy base in Dallas for 21-days after which, he tested negative for Ebola.  Pham thanked Bentley’s caretakers during the emotional reunion.  There’s a video online of their reunion, and Bentley’s tail is wagging faster than I have ever seen a dog’s tail wag.  I may have teared up.

I find it interesting to compare these two stories.  I’m glad that both women made it through alive and that Bentley was taken care of and quarantined rather than euthanized.  But it’s sad that Excalibur did not share this fate.  I hope that in the future, we will have a more effective resolution to these kinds of issues.

Boston from a Bridge

{Learning Reflection 3}

Over fall break I went to Boston to visit my friend Baily from high school who now attends MIT.  I was glad for the time to explore Boston for the first time.  As the proficient student that I am, I noticed all the water around me as we went adventuring through the city and took a prodigious amount of pictures. 

On the left is Boston from the Harvard Bridge and on the right is Cambridge from the same spot.  There are so many hidden fun facts about this.  First, let me direct your attention to the tallest building in the picture of Boston on the right.  When the project to build this skyscraper was first introduced, the public was not keen about being in the shadow of a skyscraper built for an insurance company.  In response, the architect designed the building to mirror the sky.  He basically tried to make the building invisible.  Also, the building on the left in the picture of Cambridge is an MIT academic building that has windows that light up in shapes like tetris and actually plays tetris with the windows.

Second, this bridge isn’t measured in miles or feet; it’s measured in smoots.  What is a smoot?  It’s a unit of measurement created as part of a MIT fraternity prank in 1958.  The length of the bridge was measured using the height of a student by the last name of Smoot.   Each smoot is 5 feet 7 inches and the total length of the bridge is “364.4 smoots and one ear.”  The paint used that marks every 50 smoots is painted over each year to cover the faded color.  Halfway across the bridge, there is a mark with an arrow pointing toward MIT saying “Halfway to Hell.” 

Third, with the name of Harvard Bridge, it may cause you to believe that it leads to Harvard.  However, the bridge actually leads you directly to MIT.  To get to Harvard you would need to take the metro for a couple stops.  It isn’t called the MIT Bridge because MIT students disapproved of the architecture of the bridge and refused to be the namesake, leaving the honor to Harvard. 

On a more serious note, the most impactful part of my trip was the Holocaust memorial.  It was a series of tall glass columns amid trees with yellowing leaves.  I would not have noticed it if Baily had not pointed it out.  Etched in the glass of each of the six glass towers are six million number sequences representing the numbers that were tattooed on the arms of victims.  Over the numbers, each column has a quote from a survivor of a death camp.  One of the quotes says, “A childhood friend of mine once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf.  Image a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry and you give it to your friend.”  Below each of the glass towers are six pits.  At the bottom of each pit is a glowing fire with steam that envelopes you as you stand and read the quotes etched into the towers.  It’s a chilling heat on a cool autumn day.

There’s a quote I came across once that I love, “Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent in the ideas of living.”  Quotes are great because other people are better at phrasing things than I am.  These repeated words especially apply to this Bostonian trip.  Even though it was only four days that went by pretty quickly, I saw more than sights.  I saw the skyscraper of an architect that listened to the public and designed the seemingly impossible.  I saw the legacy of people embracing life and beginning a tradition of using humans as a legitimate unit of measurement.  I saw the result of people taking pride in their school and the name of their school.  And I saw a memorial honoring those who suffered from utter evil and transformed their experiences into six towers of hope, faith, and remembrance. 

Málaga As Seen By Pinterest

{Conversation Partner Reflection 4}

I wanted to see what Aitana’s hometown looked like in pictures so I searched it on Pinterest with her.  I knew it was going to be gorgeous because it’s Spain and she lives near a beach, but wow.

It kind of puts Fort Worth to shame, as much as I love my hometown.  I pointed to the coliseum in the center and asked her about it.  Apparently it’s for bullfighting.  Because Spain.  I asked her if she has ever seen a bull fight, and she told me that she hasn’t.  In fact, she is against the whole “sport.”  I had never thought about the violence of bullfighting, mostly because I never really thought about it outside a fictional realm of movies and books. 

As a national tradition that draws natives and visitors from all over the world, bullfighting is also one of Spain’s biggest controversies.  It consists of a sequence of three parts where the bullfighter or matador progressively injures the bull then ultimately kills it.  It is basically a celebrated form of animal cruelty.  However, not everyone is against the lucrative industry of bullfighting.

Ernest Hemingway wrote about the bullfighting industry and called it an art, a tragedy, and a business.  “To what extent it is an art depends on the bulls and the men who are hired to kill them, but it is always a tragedy and it is always a business.”  In the article he describes Spanish bullfighting in great detail of each aspect and defends the bullfighting business.  Hemingway wrote in The Sun Also Rises, “Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bull-fighters.”  He also wrote a non-fiction book called Death in the Afternoon, which was published in 1932.  It emphasizes the magnificence of bullfighting and elaborates on the nature of fear and courage in the coliseum.  Apparently, Ernest Hemingway was passionate about bullfighting, among other things.

Here is a picture from Pinterest of a street in Málaga, Spain where lots of shopping and nightlife takes place.   Málaga is also the birthplace of Pablo Picasso, and there is a Picasso Museum.  So I’ll just add that to the list of reasons I want to go to Europe.  Picasso and Hemingway knew each other through Gertrude Stein.  Basically it’s all connected. 

Aitana tells me she misses her home and is looking forward to returning to Málaga for Christmas break.  Her mother just added a new dog to her family, and she is excited to meet him.  The weather there is a lot tamer than Texas with our excruciatingly hot summers and icepocalypses.  In winter it about 17 degrees Celsius, which is approximately 62 degrees Fahrenheit. 

When Aitana first came to the United States to study, she didn’t know any English.  Now after almost three semesters in the Intensive English Program, her English is nearly flawless.  One day I hope to visit a country where I don’t know the language and be immersed in the culture and eventually become a fluent speaker in a second language.  After scrolling through pictures of Málaga I’m convinced that Spain would be a beautiful place to begin my ventures.