Raindrops keep falling on my head...

No, seriously. It's been raining on and off these past few days, but I haven't let that dampen my good mood. I currently feel very much like Peter Parker after he gave up being Spider-Man (please excuse this moment of utter dorkiness). There is a lightness in my step, a constant smile on my face. Why? Because in T minus 5 hours, I will be on a plane that will officially mark the beginning of an entire month of travels. Starting in Athens, I'll be going to Istanbul, Cairo, Luxor, Cappadocia, Prague, and finally Hadrian's Wall. It's a small list compared to that of many of my other fellow study abroad students, but what they make in breadth, I'll more than make up for in depth. Hopefully, I'll come across something like this:

Turning my back on 2009

Smart Art....Art Smart?

By far one of the best museums I've visited yet was the Tate Modern. And I've been to quite a few this year. In fact, this has been the year of art and culture for me, what from city hopping: NY, DC, PVD, Boston, Venice, Florence, Milan, and London. Anyways, I went to the Pop Life exhibit back in December. Verrry, interesting, and filled to the brim with controversial "art." It essentially consisted of commerce and celebrities as foundations for the artwork, most notably in Jeff Koon's and Andy Warhol's artwork. A celebration of American consumer culture at its unrepentant worst. And I have to say, that's pretty much why I don't always like modern art. More often than not, they turn out to repackage past work. It becomes more about media presence and participation in mainstream pop culture, eventually leading to emphasis on entrepreneurship.

What I began to see was a rejection of the romantic image of an artist as a solitary genius, embracing the role of an entrepreneur or producer. I suppose the point is not necessarily to create an original work of one's own creativity, but to produce anything that will essentially interrogate institutions and challenging traditional ideas of taste by exploiting banal imagery. One particular piece I can think of from the Tate is Jeff Koon's Glass Dildo. It looks like what it sounds like. You have been warned.

The art overall is in constant flux between mocking and celebrating traditional institutions, specifically consumer culture. The one that took the cake was the life-sized figurine of an anime character with impossibly oversized breasts, squeezing out from nipples what must be a ring of milk around herself. Form your own opinions.

Alighiero Boetti was who I was really excited to see. I first encountered his work at the NY MOMA, specifically his "I Sei Sensi." I especially love his pieces with ballpoint pens, which are generally interesting studies of the balance of order with disorder, tending towards the creation of a new form of communication. I was kind of disappointed to learn (from the side description of "Aeri" at the Tate) that he had practically nothing to do with the physical manifestation of his pieces of art, merely conceptualizing the idea. In general, I guess the type of art I like are the one's that use traditional materials not necessarily to idealize the heroic past, but to address contemporary experience with artistic (tasteful?) iconography. A perfect example of this would be Jasper Johns.

Alighiero Boetti - Aeri

Jasper Johns - Racing Thoughts (though he's more famous for Flag)

Anyways, by far the best piece in the museum was Miroslaw Balka's "How It Is." It was a pitch-black container that viewers walked through. The piece focuses viewers inwards, both physically and psychologically, as you enter into the darkness. "How shall I move forwards?" you might ask yourself, as you stand at the threshold, confronted by the darkness ahead. In choosing how to move ahead - to march in fearlessly, or to skirt along the walls, probably surprised by their soft, furry touch - you create your own journey.

How you approach the unknown is unique, and I love how this piece physically illustrated that. My friend waited for me to go first, and kept her hands in front of herself at all times. I walked straight forward, and it almost seemed like I was getting nowhere. I've since learned a valuable lesson - to be more cautious in approaching new experiences - a point I learned quite painfully by walking forward continuously without a thought, eventually smashing into the wall. I thought it would eventually lead to another opening.

I'll admit, it was a somewhat terrifying experience, but my friend and I found solace in navigating the void collectively with other viewers. Eeriest of all, though, was when you marched forward, and other viewers walking back exuded a soft, pale glow from their skin. They were almost like ghosts walking towards you. On your way out, though, people looked like the MIB. The closest encounter of the third kind, I think, that I'll ever get!

Overdue Notes

Sorry I'm late, I got lost on the road of life.

I figure I should finally detail the numerous things that have happened abroad these past few months, or at least the past few weeks as those memories are my freshest. After an intense and rewarding first term at Cambridge, I started out on a Grand Tour of my own that began in Italy and will conclude in the spring of 2010 elsewhere. Here's the winter portion of this trip (all photos were taken by yours truly).

Venice:

Rialto Bridge, Bridge of Sighs, Galerie (Vetruvian Man), Grand Canal, St. Mark's Square, St. Mark's Basilica, Doge's Palace

What a grey and green color scheme this city had going on (I just couldn't resist ending with a preposition). It rained the entire time I was there, but I didn't mind. I think the overcast weather added to the gritty and mysterious nature of the city, what with all the winding streets and Venetian masks. Of course, being in Venice, I went on a gondola ride. It was at this point that I finally noticed that the city was unusually quiet, but I suppose that's only natural during the winter when hardly any tourists or motorboats are about. I was extremely disappointed about the lack of motorboats; I was hoping to catch sight of a boat chase, or even partake in one. I must confess that this desire was fueled by films like "Casino Royale" and "The Italian Job." They really almost over-romanticize the city, but I still want to pull off a heist of my own at some point, in Venice. It's the city to do that kind of thing.

Florence:

Il Duomo., Ponte Vecchio, Academy Gallery, Uffizi Gallery, Santa Croce, Piazza Della Signoria

Piazzala Michelangelo, Gravesites of a bunch of famous Italians

Orange...and white. Those are the first things that come to mind when I think of Florence. Oh, and "Room with a View." I just can't help associating the cities I visit with movies. Anyways, Florence was definitely my favorite city. My time here was blessed with great weather, which has, perhaps, better endeared me to the city. I stayed in a great hostel with awesome people in a great location right by the Duomo and other fun places. There is so much to see/do here. I saw the huge-ass statue of David, which is so much bigger than I ever imagined, and the night life here was so much cheaper and laid back than that in Venice (what a money drain! especially on dinner). The best part of the trip, though, was hiking up to the Piazza Michelangelo (which has another copy of Michelangelo's David), where you get the greatest view of all of Florence. This is the must-see/must-do of a trip in Florence.

Milan:

Last Supper, Duomo

Milan was, by far, the most industrialized city (plus the easiest city to navigate via the subway despite the language barrier) in Europe, save London, I've visited yet. I don't really have a color scheme in mind for this place, but I do think of The Sartorialist's blog. The men here are truly the best-dressed of all. Best-dressed women are probably in Paris, but I'll find out in the spring. I only stayed in Milan for a mere 5 hours, but that was plenty of time to see Da Vinci's Last Supper and the Duomo, plus a little extra excitement! While I was eating lunch outside with my traveling companion, this old man walked by and picked up my purse. The lift was so smooth that I nearly didn't realize it, but when I did, I YELLED and ran after the guy, who had by this point walked a few paces away. Upon grabbing his arm, he dropped my purse and just grumbled as he walked away. This was a bit of a shocking lesson for all the other tourists around me, who noticeably kept a closer eye on their belongings and the strangers that walked by them afterwards. Anyways, I went to see the Last Supper, which was MASSIVE, larger than I expected. I've kind of been getting sick of museums and artwork after a whole summer of them, but this was something entirely new. It was nothing like what The Mona Lisa apparently is: a bit of a letdown in size (I dunno if that's true. I saw The Mona Lisa when I was about 7, at which time I had no sense of proportion and everything seemed big to me). Anyways, Milan was definitely an interesting city that noticeably put itself forth as one of the fashion capitals, but it's more my sister's kind of place than mine.

Berlin:

Despite being a capital city, Berlin is remarkably open and spacious. I don't feel any of the claustrophobia or anxiety characteristic of London and NY, and I've since realized that it's because there are practically no skyscrapers! This must somehow account for why the people here are so laid back (and why this city is never shown destroyed in disaster films). Even the scenes at bars and clubs are so laid back. Anyways, I stayed at my friend's place, which obviously was built and occupied by the Soviets during the war, as evidenced by the architecture consisting of mainly solid, concrete blocks of buildings (an interesting if not altogether aesthetically pleasing sight). Really, the only two historically cultural things I did in Berlin were investigate the numerous bullet-hole-ridden buildings throughout the city (so much fun to see!) and visit the Berlin Wall. I think Berlin contains the most interesting graffiti, my favorite being the kiss between Brezhnev and Honecker as pictured above. One of the few times and places (the only other I can think of is Rome), where such artwork, traditionally an urban nuisance, is a national treasure. Another interesting sight were grillers who are basically the Berlin version of a New York hotdog stand, but better. These men wear a contraption that holds a grill to cook on at their waist and an orange umbrella above their head to protect them in the case of rain. I think we really need to import this kind of service into the States. Another idea we should import is to incorporate a cafe and lounge into every department. That's what I discovered Humboldt University did when I visited their German Department! Brown and Cambridge's Classics department definitely need something like that. Also Christmas markets! They beat funfairs and carnivals any day. The one I visited had sledding, ice skating, curling (?!), foods of all kind, gifts, and so much more! I had my first taste of mulled wine there, which really warmed me up faster than any cup of hot chocolate has ever done before! Seriously, Berlin is the place to be.

London:

The Eye, St. Paul's, Globe Theater, Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster's Abbey, TATE Modern

Back to the cesspool . . . well, perhaps I'm a bit too harsh, but I will always be somewhat prejudiced to these kinds of cities. Part of the problem was where I stayed: Palmer's Lodge. The place was nice and cheap, conveniently located, but filled with young Beatnik-wannabes who have obviously and unfortunately been reared in the age of technology. I was waiting in the lounge for a bit, where I was met with the sight of about thirty 20-something-year-olds lounging around there, on a beautiful day, working on their damn laptops! For crying out loud! What are they doing here? They were nothing like the awesome people I met in Florence. I did, however, meet an interesting French monk, fluent in French, Spanish, and English, who now lived in Mexico. Funny guy. Last time he was in England, he walked from Luton Airport to Cambridge, making camp one night in a place where, he discovered the next morning, was a golf course. The golfers weren't too pleased with the holes his tent had made in the ground. Haha, but THAT'S what these young travelers should do: actually go out and see/do things. I'm glad and proud that I can end the year with that sense of achievement, and I think I'll end on that note.

America: Home, Sweet (Cruel) Home

Every time I reenter the States, I am immediately bombarded with the latest gossip fodder sweeping the nation. Every return, in fact, seems to have been defined by these "news cycles." When I came back from Italy in 2006, for instance, I distinctly remember reading on the headlines of every magazine, "FORMER N'SYNC MEMBER IS GAY." Today, I was met with something along the lines of, "TIGER WOODS IS A CHEATING BASTARD." Have to say, didn't really see that one coming. It's kind of sad that I will forever associate my travels with these cruel invasions of privacy, but such is the strength of America's ever-growing media and popular culture. It's good to be home.

A Coffee Review, of sorts

I think it's no secret that I habitually frequent coffee shops in order to do my work, and so I feel obligated to detail my observations on those found in the Cambridge area. Of course, as in every other modernized country in the world, there is a Starbucks. And as in every other Starbucks chain, the food and drinks are over-priced. Here more so because, I suspect, of the cost of imports, taxes, etc. This is why I've refrained from frequenting the one and only Starbucks in the area, a refreshing change from the scene one may find in, say, NY: a Starbucks every other block. So I'll leave the matter there.

I have instead resorted to Caffe Nero, another coffee chain, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, that stems from Italy. It reminds me of the pre-2007 Starbucks on Thayer St, which makes it particularly endearing to me. As sad as it sounds, the baristas already know me...

Other places of note include CB2, CB1, and Clowns though they are a bit too far, and so I don't expect to go there often. Overall, these places have one thing in common, and that is the fact that the prices for food and drink when you stay in are more expensive than when you do take-out. Is it meant as a sort of penalty that encourages people to never actually stay in the store? I find this highly unlikely, given that the proprietors of coffee shops love the company, and so this leads me to conclude that a profit motive must somehow be involved. They must be charging extra for the inviting ambience the stores provide, a highly lucrative idea, and one I hope is never imported into the States.

The final place I'll mention is Indigo Coffee House, where I don't frequent to study, for once, but actually socialize. On my first visit, the barista immediately singled us (we were international students from Pembroke numbering 3) out as "The Americans," and continued to expound the various stereotypes he had accumulated about them: loud, obnoxious, unrefined, etc. We, of course, retaliated by pointing out how cold, reserved, and elitist the British are. The thing about the British, and this man was no different, is that they are extremely sarcastic and ironic, with the latter being much more subtle. Thus, the resolution of the conflict was an amicable one, resulting in the formation of the Anglo-American treaty of friendship within the store.

On my second visit, I went with my friend James, who was English both in nationality and course of study. We were discussing our Halloween costumes, and I mentioned I wanted to be Waldo, sparking a heated debate about "Where's Waldo?" as opposed to the UK's "Where's Wally?" At this point, the same barista piped up supporting the latter. Being the only American present this time around, I was rather overwhelmed as other customers joined the debate, and the discussion moved onto whether or not American vocabulary was inferior. Topics included: sweaters vs. jumpers; sneakers vs. trainers; pants vs. trousers; crew vs. rowing, etc. Anyways, the basis of the barista's argument for Wally as opposed to Waldo was that there was never anybody good with the name of Waldo, a direct reference to Ralph Waldo Emerson. This guy had recently graduated from University studying English, and apparently hated the works of Emerson and Ernest Hemingway the most. James and I immediately attempted to change his opinion to no effect, but the discussion, as always, was extremely enjoyable. In case you were wondering, my arguments were just as petty: the name of Wally conjured up in my mind the hideous image of the Red Sox's mascot (sorry, Red Sox fans). If his name had been spelled Wall-E, matters may have been different.

This place really encapsulates why I love coffee shops so much, and that is because they really provide a kaleidoscopic view of the different topics of interest and types of people one may find in contemporary society. I apparently fall into the category of taciturn loners who prefer to work in the margins of society, or something like that. Well, at least I'm not an overly-sensitive, loquacious highbrow! . . . says the Cambridge student. Oh, the irony.

Will you be my swine flu friend?

Classrooms are deathtraps. Seriously. I noticed this during my first lecture of today, where there was quite an increase in the number of attendants. The lecture was History of the Ancient Mediterranean, and so the students not only included those from the Classics department, but also those from History. We all squeezed into the tiny classroom, the lecturer shut all the windows, and the symphony of sniffles then commenced. Coughs came from one direction and sneezes from another, making it quite impossible to listen to the lecture properly. Even worse, the likelihood of my getting sick is now a guarantee. In fact, I'm sure I've already got a bit of a tickle in my throat!

Quite a few Cambridge students have already caught Swine Flu, and its treatment is very different from what Brown has outlined. Back in the states, whenever my friends and I heard someone had been quarantined for Swine Flu, we laughed, as horrible as that sounds. More often than not, the victim himself/herself laughed along with us and ignored the quarantine. Here, the infected are not allowed out of their rooms, and the bathrooms they use becomes off-limits as well. These infected are identifiable from the signs on their doors, which most noticeably, and rather unfortunately, feature an unhappy face. It's almost like how FEMA marked the doors of houses during Katrina to count the dead. How sad is that?

Anyways, I have been required, as all Pembroke students have, to list down two "Swine Flu Friends" who can look after me (or rather yell through the barricaded door of my room from time to time) in the event that I become infected as well. So a common soundbyte of Cambridge students' conversations on the streets, in the libraries, dorms, etc, is, "Will you be my swine flu friend?" It does sound quite ridiculous, but is apparently quite necessary as Pembroke constantly reminds me that I probably, no definitely will get Swine Flu. Of course, I'm still new to the area, and am not quite sure whom I can trust with such a demanding task. So here's me asking: will you be my swine flu friend?