juliagoesplaces

New York, New York

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 29 Sep 2016 21:52:00 +0000

New York City has a power of its own. It is a city with character, with ambition and will. It is full of possibilities. It is a metropolis, without a doubt. It feels like the centre of the universe, like all the different strings of the world come together in this magical place. I love NYC, and I love it even more after spending two weeks in June there. It was not my first visit, I spent almost a week in NYC during my first trip to the States close to ten years ago. We did all the touristy must-sees, a lot of museums, and spent time with our friends, with whom we were also staying. (That last part was also true for this trip and made it all the more enjoyable.) Back then New York was the last stop of a three- week journey starting in Chicago, all the way to Des Moines in Iowa and to the Niagara Falls. It wasn't necessarily the highlight of the journey, it was one of them, and I believe that's why I wasn't able to appreciate it in all its glory.
This time, New York literally took my breath away. I wanted to pinch myself each and every day, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. The city is incredible. It has a palpable energy, there's 'something in the air' that gives you a feeling of invincibility. Frank Sinatra knew what he was singing about: 'If I can make it there I can make in anywhere.' There is so much to see and do, it seems endless. I was surprised by the effect the city had on my creativity - it made me want to read and write, to get together with like-minded people, to explore the arts and different cultures. It is an inspiring place.

Then there's the architecture. I don't know if it gets any better than NYC when it comes to architectural miracles. By walking around any part of the city you get to marvel at these buildings, old and new, wondering how it all fits together, how it was (and is) possible to build like this. It looks like a perfect puzzle where all the pieces have found together. It is never finished, however. As much as the buildings impressed me, it was also fascinating to see so many building sites and cranes in between an already dense spread of skyscrapers. The word 'urban jungle' truly fits.

We can't forget the arts, of course. New York has everything, and not just a little bit of it. We didn't overdo it museum-wise this time, the weather was simply too gorgeous to spend too much time indoors. Even so, we got to see a fascinating mixture of classic and contemporary art, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Whitney Museum, the Museum of Modern Art to the fancy galleries of Chelsea.

New York would be nothing without New Yorkers. The term 'melting pot of nations' may not be the catchiest one, but it does truly apply. The mix of different cultures, the co-existing of various backgrounds, nationalities and religions, all of this makes New York. All the people that came in the past brought pieces of their culture and history to the city, as will the future arrivals. And that gives the city its rich character. The city is the sum of its people. And that is what makes New York so amazing. The writer Jason Diamond wrote the following in an essay collection: 'Hemingway wrote about Paris being a moveable feast, the kind of place that stays with you for the rest of your days once you've truly experienced it. That's what this place feels to me. No single city truly affects a person like New York does.'[1] There is definitely some truth to that. New York is still on my mind, and I'm sure it will be for quite a while, maybe until I get to go again. Until then, I'll just write about it some more.

[1] Never can say goodbye. Writers on their unshakable love for New York, ed. by Sari Botton, NY: Touchstone, 2014, p 21.

Hader plays Zweig

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 02 Sep 2016 21:08:00 +0000

A few days ago I watched the film Vor der Morgenröte (eng. Stefan Zweig: Farewell to Europe), a depiction of Austrian author Stefan Zweig's life in exile during the second world war. When Hitler rose to power, Stefan Zweig, being a Jew, was forced to flee his home country. His books were put on the list of banned books, he himself became a banned author. He resettled in Brasil and took his own life in 1942, together with his second wife, Lotte. These are the facts, the things I learned in school. The film, however, doesn't concentrate on educating the audience about these facts.
There is no narration, no voice-over, no background information. As a film, it is very basic, almost raw; everything is stripped back so that the essentials remain in their purest form. It is a film about the second world war, or at least about its effects on people. As such, it is astonishing that there is not a single war-like image in the entire production. There are no flashbacks to show us the horror the protagonists had to leave behind, and no parallel storyline to demonstrate the conditions in Europe at the time. The entire storyline takes place in a safe space - exile. Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, New York City and Petropolis are the locations of this film, places that are beautiful and would seem idyllic under different circumstances.This creates a strong juxtaposition between the world outside and the feelings inside of the characters. The terror of wartime is portrayed more strongly by not being physically shown.

I always thought this to be true: the genuine horror lies within the effect something has on other people, not within the actions itself. At a funeral, a mother crying for her dead daughter causes me to feel more sorrow than I could explain. The fact that someone has died is devastating on its own, but the realization of its consequences in other people makes it truly tragic.
Films often use this technique. I saw one taking place in New York a few years ago. I don't remember which film it was, but it featured the attacks on the World Trade Centre on 9/11. It didn't show the towers crashing down. It showed us faces of people witnessing the collapse of the skyscrapers. The pain, fear and panic in their eyes made the audience feel what they were feeling, it made it relatable and truly disturbing to watch.
This is also a trend in reporting. I don't watch the news, I prefer to read or listen to them. But generally, the hard facts are being upstaged by personal stories; interviews with people who have watched their parents get shot, eyewitnesses of a terror attack, survivors who have lost everything except their lives. Frequently, as it was with the devastating shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando, the victims are being presented to us, their stories told, by relatives and friends, with pictures and touching music. Now, I'm not saying that these aren't important stories to tell, on the contrary. Stories of victims and survivors might be the most important ones. But: They are agonizing to watch or read or listen to. They appeal to our core as human beings: our ability to empathise. While empathy is absolutely necessary for us as humans to connect to each other, it can also become too much, and cause us a great deal of pain. Especially if these reports are being shown to us on a daily basis, in print media, on the radio and online.
Back to the film. The helplessness Zweig feels translates achingly beautiful onto the screen. The dialogues are simple and direct. Zweig travels to New York and visits his first wife, Friderike. She tells him about the letters she has been receiving, from friends and acquaintances back home, asking for help to flee. Zweig struggles with this. If he tries to get visas for all these people, some of which he doesn't know well or like, he will have to use his connections and he will be indebted to a lot of people. He is overwhelmed in every sense of the word. Friderike tries to tell him, they only write because they need help. He responds: "Everyone over there needs help." Friderike then tells her story of fleeing, crossing the Pyrenees on foot, struggling through crowded train stations and waiting at the dock within a mass of people, having to wave goodbye to their friends who were left behind because they weren't on the list. She was fleeing with her children and recounted how many times they were forced to take separate routes, never knowing when, where or if they would come back together again. This reminded me of the current situation of Syrians having to flee their country. People arriving in a foreign country, leaving war and persecution behind, not knowing where they are exactly and possibly having lost family along the way. I realise that these are two very differents wars, but refugees are refugees. The film illustrates the immense difficulties they have to face: the uncertainty of not knowing where you are or whether you will be able to stay and what happened to the family you had to leave behind. Zweig tells Friderike he keeps sending money to a friend, without knowing whether he's still alive. There is so much pain in that statement.

The film also explores the problem of guilt. Zweig knows that, under the circumstances he and his family are very lucky. They are safe and able to continue with their lives. They can't, however, enjoy their fortune. Toward the end of the film, it is Zweig's birthday a friend asks him how he'll celebrate and he answers that in times like these there is no room for celebration. The flight from their home country and the continued wave of bad news from Europe stay with them, follow them around like a dark shadow. They see no solution, no way of continuing to live like that. So they take their lives, Stefan and Lotte Zweig, and they are found by their housekeeper, dead in their bed in their house in Petropolis together with Zweig's note:

“Every day I learned to love this country more, and I would not have asked to rebuild my life in any other place after the world of my own language sank and was lost to me and my spiritual homeland, Europe, destroyed itself.

But to start everything anew after a man’s 60th year requires special powers, and my own power has been expended after years of wandering homeless. I thus prefer to end my life at the right time, upright, as a man for whom cultural work has always been his purest happiness and personal freedom – the most precious of possessions on this earth.

I send greetings to all of my friends: May they live to see the dawn after this long night. I, who am most impatient, go before them."

(source)

This is where the film ends. The whole film is beautifully shot, especially the final scene. Again, we are presented with other people's reactions to Zweig and Lotte's death before we see a glimpse of them, and even then it is only through a mirrored door. Hader's acting is exquisite. He is able to show so much emotion without saying anything. There is a scene where he is being welcomed by the Mayor who organised a marching band to surprise Zweig. They play the Donauwalzer (The Blue Danube), arguably the most Viennese piece of music. They play it horribly, out of tune and rhythm, but still recognisable. Zweig watches and listens, he doesn't say a word. His expression, however, speaks ever so loudly. It shows the pain, the sadness and the homesickness for a place he can't return to because it no longer exists. That one minute might the most emotional scene in the entire film, and it is all thanks to Hader's brilliant abilities.

The film touches upon a lot of other issues that I am unable to cover, for example, the writer's role in politics, life as a writer in exile and the future of Europe. It is an extremely relevant film at the moment which shows scary parallels to our society today. Zweig believed that there will be a united Europe where passports will be a thing of the past. He also knew that he wouldn't live to see it.

Watch the trailer here on the official homepage of the film.

A powerful mug

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 21 Aug 2016 20:43:00 +0000

This morning I made coffee, just like any other morning. And just like any other morning, I had to make the tough decision of which mug to drink from. I have quite an extensive mug collections, most of them from my travels. I reached for a fairly new mug I got in New York City just a few months ago. I got it at the Museum of the City of New York, and it looks like this.

It immediately reminded me of where I bought it. By that, I don't mean NYC, but the exact spot in the museum gift shop where I stood, holding it in hand, deciding if I should buy it. It reminded me of the way I felt that day, what I had seen before, what I did afterwards. And it made me want to write about it. Write about that day, about my time in NYC, about my travels in general. I haven't been writing here for a long time and I am unsure why that happened. But this little moment this morning reminded me why I wanted to write about travelling in the first place: because I like to revisit what I've experienced. We move so quickly these days that it's sometimes difficult to fully be in just one place. Travelling usually allows us to focus on the new adventures ahead and not worry about the six different things we should be doing at the same time. But as soon as we get back home, back into the routines and deadlines, we sometimes almost forget what we've seen, visited, tried just a few weeks ago. We take pictures to remind us - but we hardly ever look at them because they are all on our phone or computer. People ask us 'How was your trip to NYC?' and we say 'Amazing, I loved it.' and often that's that. I write so that it doesn't end there. That is my motivation.

To say I don't know why I stopped writing is not completely true. There have been a lot of moments these past months where I thought about it. But to be perfectly honest, it didn't seem right, posting about my holidays with everything that's going on in the world at the moment. Not a week goes by without horrible news. People fleeing, getting injured, killed. Political situations all over the world are moving further and further to the right, even in my home country. I thought it was immoral and wrong to pretend it wasn't going on. At the same time, I didn't know how to talk about it. I was stuck - and wrote nothing. I'm realising now that this wasn't and isn't the way to deal with the situation. To bury my head in the sand won't help anyone or anything. I love to write and the global situation doesn't change that. It might, however, influence the kind of topics I'd like to write about. Travelling is one of my passions, that will never change. But there are a lot of other things close to my heart, and I might want to write about them from time to time as well. I thought I'd write about this mostly as a reminder to myself, should I ever lose sight again of why I'm doing this. Let's raise our mugs to the power of the written word.

Happy New Year!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 21 Jan 2016 23:57:00 +0000

Happy New Year, everyone! I'm a little late, I know, I know, January is almost over, but we are still in the very beginning of the year. Around this time, people start reflecting on their past and make resolutions for their future. I'm not that big of a fan of this whole process, although even I'm not immune to the wave of optimism which is present during this period. So I too think about the past twelve months, and might even make a few resolutions of my own.
So how was my 2015?
I already wrote about the first half of my year in this post here, where I mainly wrote about my month in Venice studying Italian. A few more things happened in the second half of the year:

First Solo trip

I'll start with the biggest one first. I took my first-ever trip all alone. I was surprised that I hadn't done this sooner. I decided to travel around Europe by rail, visiting friends along the way. I actually managed to be on the road for 30 days total, staying always with friends, some old, some new. My tour took me to the Netherlands (Leiden, Delft, Den Haag), Germany (Trier, Koblenz, Gebelzig and surroundings, Berlin), Luxembourg, Brussels, France (Lille), Switzerland (Lausanne, Luzern), San Marino (yes, really!) and finally Italy (Cattolica, Venice, Triest). I had an amazing time - everyone took such good care of me, picking me up at the station, showing me around, making sure I had everything I could possibly need. It was so nice to see people in their 'natural habitat' and meeting their friends and family. I think visiting people you know is one of the best ways to travel: You see the place you're visiting from a completely different point of view, you are really more of a traveller than a tourist. If you're lucky you'll be included in weekend trips, family celebrations, boring errands (I truly mean it, nothing like buying a toilet seat, getting a kitchen delivered or having a duvet cleaned to get a feeling for the daily life), city tours and home-cooked meals. I'm not going to go into more detail about the trip here (I might in another post), but I'll give you an overview with these photos. Also, I want to thank all my lovely hosts: Henk, Caroline, Uta (and her family), Nadine, Babsi and Zakaria, Coraline (and her family), Carlotta, and of course, my parents for meeting me at the very end of my journey in Venice, and exploring Triest with me, on what must have been one of the hottest, and also one of the final days of Summer. (Although I did a lot of exploring on really hot days - that was kind of the theme of this trip.) Thank you all for making this trip so enjoyable for me!

Visited my first EXPO

All the credit goes to my mom for this one (Thanks!). I wasn't too interested in the Expo, but she wanted to go, and since it was in Milan it was fairly easy to organize the whole thing. Milan was not the city for me, but the Expo fascinated me. It was two (exhausting) days of incredible impressions, amazing architecture, interesting exhibitions, modern design and food from all over the world. It is hard to believe what you get to experience in a single day at the Expo - I'm so glad we went!

London, twice

I had the opportunity to visit London twice in 2015. As you all know, the love affair between this city and me is an ongoing one, and it's reaffirmed with every visit. I went there in May, had some lovely (almost) summer days, a trip to Ely and Brighton, and was in the city when the Princess was born. I travelled there again at the beginning of December, for some pre-Christmas fun. I saw a few great exhibitions, strolled through Southbank, did some shopping and, best of all, got to see the musical Cats again. This was my favourite musical as a child, and when we came to London, if at all possible, we would always go and see it. It was still just as entertaining as I remembered, and brought back a lot of happy memories. I'm already looking forward to going back again. I know you'll wait for me, London ♥

Had the best fall ever

I have always loved fall, it is by far my favourite season. But in 2015, I definietely enjoyed this period the most. I also discovered my insane love for pumpkin. To eat, sure, but also to simply have at home, to look at, to make the whole place look like pumpkin heaven. I went a bit crazy, had all types of pumpkin at home, made lots of pumpkin soup, pumpkin risotto, and my first ever pumpkin pie.

So it's been a good year. Blogwise, I haven't been as active as I wanted to, but hopefully this will change. Let's say that's my resolution. But shhh, don't tell anyone! xxx

Let's recap

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 09 Jul 2015 14:49:00 +0000

So. I haven't been writing for a couple of months. I thought about it a lot, tried to write a bit, but somehow never quite made it. But I'm about to make up for it.
First, I'm in the middle of planning an Interrail trip in August. I have a few friends I haven't seen in a while and who I miss - and so I'm going to visit them. The final route is not completely decided yet, but I can already tell you: It's going to be good!

Second, it's time to catch up. After New Year's I spent a few days in Venice.

That gave me the idea to go back there - and stay. So I decided to spend my February in Venice, and work on my Italian. I picked a language school and had four weeks of classes. The atmosphere at the school was very relaxed, the teachers were great and the other students were friendly. I probably didn't study as much as I should have, but I got to enjoy Aqua Alta, Carnevale and all things Venetian with a group of lovely new friends (and some old ones who visited). It was different to finally get to explore the city for longer, and with a purpose. Going to school every morning made me feel like I was part of the 'working' people of the city, not of the visiting one. It gave me the chance to see Venice from a different point of view - and I really enjoyed that view. Venice is unlike every other city, and being there for month just confirmed that. I'll definitely be back, hopefully for more than a weekend.

In March one of the friends I made in Venice came to visit me in Vienna, and I got to fall in love with the city once more (I know, I know, that's not news to anyone, but still worth mentioning...). I also took a daytrip to visit a friend just outside Vienna and connected with the weird wonderfulness that is the Austrian countryside.

And then London called to me again. I went back to visit my old roommate, my parents were also around, and I met up with some friends. It was amazing as usual - the atmosphere of a vibrant city gets me every time, and this time it was especially exciting since everyone was awaiting the arrival of a baby girl, which happened while I was there. My mom now shares her birthday with an actual princess. There will be a London post soon, because I need a little more space to write about that glorious city. And I still haven't talked about my last visit just before Christmas. There's also a film I want to write about and a recipe I've been wanting to share with you for a while. So you can look forward to all of that very soon.

Highlights 2014

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 02 Jan 2015 22:53:00 +0000

This last year has been an interesting one. Until July I was living and studying in London, coming back home in the summer, and readjusting to life in beautiful Vienna. Travel-wise this wasn't my most exotic year - no long distance travels, no new countries visited. But I saw a lot of exciting, interesting and beautiful things, enjoyed a few musicals, watched some powerful films (for example The Normal Heart), went to a couple of concerts (Chick Corea, anyone?), perfected the art of Skype, rediscovered my home town and so much more. So here I present to you: my highlights 2014! :)

Shakespeare's Birthplace

Chinese New Year Celebrations in London

Canterbury Cathedral

Springtime in London

Bath

A Visit to Sweden

A Boat ride on the Thames

Kent: Ramsgate, Margate, Broadstairs, Deal

Wales
Just one quick picture- read (and see!) more about it here.

Falling in love with Vienna all over again

This post here was all about my return to Vienna.

Kalymnos

Full post here!

London - again!

Post will follow soon!

Christmas Market in Sopron, Hungary

It has truly been an amazing year - I met a lot of lovely people that I hope to see again in this new year! I also hope to explore new corners of the world, close by and far away! Fasten your seatbelts and get ready for take-off!

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 27 Dec 2014 15:47:00 +0000

I always miss Thailand. Some weeks just a little bit, some weeks I almost forget, but around Christmas it hits me the hardest. The explanation for that is simple: For many years, my parents and I traveled to Thailand over Christmas during my school holidays. Opening a gift and on a roof terrace or having dinner in a lovely garden setting in Bangkok on the 24th of December was the norm for me.
Ever since I started university, we stopped travelling to Thailand during that period, so Christmas went back to 'normal', whatever that means. We're home, the family comes together, it's cold outside - the usual.

And I love it - I love Christmas and the whole holidays. But I was four years old on my first visit to Thailand, and since then we've been there regularly. Thailand has practically always been a part of my life - and I miss it. I miss the wave of humid heat that greets you as soon as you leave the airport. I miss the sound of the Thai language. I miss the noises and smells of Bangkok streets. I miss the peace and calmness of a temple, and the bustling business of the shopping centre next door. I miss the Christmas songs they play over and over, even after the new year. I miss the kitschy Christmas decorations. I miss the fake trees and the ability to put them everywhere - I once saw a decorated tree inside of a big fish tank. I miss the smiles of Thai people, and the way they ooh and aah in a group. I miss the food, and the way it is shared, even in restaurants. I miss the markets where you can buy everything you don't need. I miss the fact that there is always something new to explore behind a corner. I miss the cool coffee shops where you can get overpriced sweet ice coffee in modern surroundings, and for a second you could be anywhere in the world. I miss the announcements on the Skytrain and the underground. I miss the people, and their positive energy. I miss sitting in a taxi, exhausted after a long day, being stuck in traffic for over an hour and listening to the radio. I miss our friends, and exploring new things with them. I miss the beaches. I miss Thailand.

Ten years ago the horrible Tsunami destroyed so many lives, not just in Thailand. We were in Bangkok during that time, so we weren't affected physically. But it still left a mark somewhere, somehow. I feel connected to Thailand. So much so, that I start to see similarities between Thailand and wherever I am all the time. The Christmas market in Sopron reminded me of Thailand. Kalymnos as a whole reminded me of Thailand. I'm starting to think that places don't have anything to do with Thailand, I just try to create a connection in my mind, to feel closer to a country I love that sadly is quite far away. I also seek out traces of this country everywhere I go - London being the perfect example. While I was studying there I visited the Thai temple in London, Wat Buddhapadipa. It's is amazing how authentic it feels - like a small piece of Thailand, in Wimbledon.

On my latest London visit we went to a restaurant called East Street, just off Oxford Street. It does a variety of Asian food, also Thai of course. I walked in and the smell of Thailand welcomed me. It was a wonderful feeling to be surrounded by all things Thai, but also slightly sad, knowing I'm not actually there. Nostalgia would probably be a fitting description.

The food was excellent and, considering you are in central London, almost cheap. The atmosphere was lovely, nothing fancy, but not too hectic either. And the big bonus - on the ladies toilet they were playing recordings of the announcements from Bangkok airport. I felt right at home!
This was just one of my new London discoveries from my last trip - I will write about the others very soon.

As you have noticed, this is not your standard Christmas post. But I do wish everyone happy holidays and a happy new year too! Sawadee pee mai kha! May it be the best one yet!

The 5 stages of travelling

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 21 Nov 2014 23:17:00 +0000

It has started again. The days have grown shorter and darker, and no one knows whether it's ten in the morning or four in the afternoon since it's always grey outside. The sun got shy and only shows itself sporadically. It has to be November.
It's the beginning of a period that makes you want to stay in bed all day. Christmas is the light at the end of the tunnel, but we all know that there's another tunnel just behind it, leading us at least until the end of February.

But there is always the option to escape. London has been calling out to me for some time now. After my return in the summer I had enough of all things British for a while, which surprised me, actually. But I should have known that it wouldn't last long. Soon the yearning to go back to this magnificent city grew so strong I just had to book a flight. It was a win-win: It would shut up the voice inside of me and help me through the November depression. So in a weeks time I'll be spending four glorious days in London (an I'll definitely report back).

But it got me to thinking about the power of anticipation, and about the steps involved in planning a trip, so I present:

The 5 stages of travelling

(or, my 5 stages anyway...)

1. Deciding to go
It's easy to dream about leaving your everyday routine, even just for a weekend. But it's quite a different thing deciding to go. This crosses the line between fantasizing about something and actually doing it. The rest is all fun and games, or as Tony Wheeler, founder of Lonely Planet said: 'All you've got to do is decide to go and the hard part is over. So go!'

2. Where to?
The choosing of a destination is one of the best parts of travelling. The world is literally waiting for you to decide what to explore next, and everything is possible. That is until you find out how expensive the flights are and that everything is already fully booked.

3. The Anticipation
Ah, the fun begins. Once you know where you'll be and how much time you'll have, it's time to start the research. I never plan out every minute of every day, but I still like to know what there is to see and do. So I would look up the major attractions, find out what neighborhoods might be fun to explore, and maybe even pick out a café or restaurant to go to. I also like to make the effort and at least learn how to say 'hello' and 'thank you' in whatever language is spoken at my destination. Depending on how much I'm looking forward to the trip, or on how much time there is in between the present and the departure date, I'll go a bit further. I might read stories or watch films set in the soon to be visited place, listen to music connected to it, look up customs or think of what I will bring back home. These steps vary, depending on whether it is a first-time visit to somewhere new and exotic, or whether I'm returning to an already familiar place.

4. The actual trip
There are a lot of stages within this one, maybe enough to write a different post soon, but the actual trip involves them all, from packing, to the journey, to the arrival, the days (or weeks if you're lucky) of living a different life, to the return back home. This is the part where you realize, no matter how much you've prepared, everything will be different anyways, and it will still be amazing, maybe even just because of that.

5. Home again
I wrote about this stage already here. This seems to be the hardest part, for me at least. It's not that you feel sad because you're back home - unless you're 'home' is a horrible place, but let's assume it isn't - it's just that the past days, weeks, months, we're so incredibly exciting, and you've felt so alive, that it seems strange to go back to doing anything that doesn't make you feel like that all the time. But if you've done it right, this will only inspire the next trip, and you can start this lovely process all over again.

Greek impressions

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 28 Oct 2014 18:37:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending my summer vacation on the Greek island of Kalymnos. It's a fairly small island, one hour by ferry off Kos, known for natural sponges and mountain climbing. Now, personally, I don't have a need for either of these, but that didn't stop me from having a lovely and relaxing time. The weather was perfect, and the combination of hills and sea remains one of the most impressive images for me. Greek people were as friendly as I remembered, the food still delicious and the sea as clear as could be.

For whatever reason, I feel connected to Greece. I don't know if there is something more meaningful behind it, but actually, I think it makes perfect sense. The Greeks are the founders of almost everything that makes us human. They are one of the oldest civilizations in the western hemisphere, so in a way we all have a little bit of Greek in us. The language is beautiful and fragments, sometimes even entire words, can be found in a lot of other languages. As cheesy as this sounds, going to Greece feels like doing something good for my soul. It brings a kind of tranquility, like tracing something back to its inception, that's hard to duplicate.

Apart from all of that, it simply is a beautiful country. The day before I left, my roommate and best friend asked me what Greece is like. I told her the first thing that came to my mind: 'It smells different.' I'm sure, every country, or city even, smells different. (I wrote a little something about this before here) But Greece is special. Just by leaving the airport in Kos and taking that first deep breath I knew where I was. It's the combination of the warm, slightly humid and sunny air, mixed with saltiness, dirt, and herbs - brought by the breeze that's usually a constant present.

We spent our days driving around the island, stopping at viewpoints or by the beach, swimming in the sea, eating all the local delicacies, soaking up the sun and generally living the island life. It reset my inner peace and balance. It also became clear to me, once again, that I am a 'Stadtkind' (city-child). I need everything that makes a city what it is in order to survive. Now, I'm not saying that I couldn't enjoy the peaceful country life for some time, but in the long run, I need the business and the overall vibe a city creates. Kalymnos wasn't void of people, but often we were alone on a certain beach, at a church or museum, or at any other site. This added an almost hypnotizing feeling to an already enchanting experience. I leave you with some photos in an attempt to recreate the magic for you all! Enjoy!

City Love II

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 25 Aug 2014 21:57:00 +0000

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Venice is one of these cities - even if you have never been there, you probably have an image of the city in your head. It is one of its kind, there truly is no second city like it (although it has inspired some recreations, but more on that later...). Because of its unique character, it is often used as a backdrop for adversting, fotoshoots and films, and that is one of the main reasons it is so well known worldwide. A lot of people see it as a tourist trap, a city you visit once and then you can cross it off your list. I have been to Venice many, many times, and I still don't get tired of it. It's not a mega-city like London, Paris or New York. It's a place full of history, almost like a live-in museum, that still operates as a functioning, modern-day city. Most of all it is a beautiful place, where you want to stop and admire your surroundings every other minute. Once you've done the tourist thing you can start exploring the sideways, back alleys and empty squares, and that is where the charm of Venice is at its strongest.
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Do you know this feeling?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 15 Aug 2014 21:43:00 +0000

Whenever I get back from traveling, I always feel kind of weird for the first couple of days. Do you know what I mean? Transportation today has made it easier than ever to cover long distances in a very short amount of time, so sometimes I think the mind is trying to catch up with your body. Having breakfast in one place and dinner on a different continent seems just a bit much. So the three-day post-travel daze is more than understandable, it actually is necessary. People aren't machines. We need to adapt to changes in our environment, and if those changes are happening too fast, we get disorientated. It is a rather difficult state to describe - there is the cliché of being neither here nor there, and there definitely is some truth to that. When we leave our home, we often expect the place to have changed while we were away. But that hardly ever happens, as Alain de Botton laments in his book The Art of Travel: 'I returned to London from Barbados to find that the city had stubbornly refused to change. I had seen azure skies and giant sea anemones [...]. But the home town was unimpressed.' (243) This expresses beautifully how we desperately try to uncover a physical manifestation of a mental change, however small it may be. De Botton goes on saying the following: 'When we are in a good mood and it is sunny, it is tempting to impute a connection between what happens inside and outside of us, but the appearance of London on my return was a reminder of the indifference of the world to any of the events unfolding in the lives of its inhabitants.' (243) And if our home didn't change, we hope we ourselves did.

As soon as I got back to Vienna, I immediately felt truly at home. I was grateful to be back, to see my friends and family and to walk around in the beautiful city of Vienna. But that doesn't mean I didn't feel different. Everything felt familiar, but still new and fresh. I don't have the eyes of a tourist, but it is still not the same as it was before. Is this a desirable goal? People often want to be changed by their travels. It seems that a time abroad, however short it may be, is deemed a success if it comes with some personal changes. Why is that? And more importantly, what comes after that?

I already mentioned the short-term effects of traveling, as I experience them. That strange feeling for a few days, of being somewhere familiar yet new, a kind of limbo state, we usually snap out of and return to our daily lives as we lived them before. And this is even true for the shortest weekend trip. So what would it mean for a 10 month period spent abroad? Is the effect multiplied? And it what way -duration or intensity of the experience, or maybe even both? Odysseus didn't recognized his hometown after sailing the seas for ten years, trying to find his way back after a terrible war. Now, I'm not comparing myself to Odysseus in any way, but I believe that people can relate to this unfamiliarity of the familiar. It actually connects to Freud's notion of the Uncanny ('das Unheimliche'). A state in which the familiar suddenly seems foreign or alien, which leads to an unsettling feeling of discomfort. In a horror film, for example, this would be the scene where the protagonist visits a playground in the middle of the day, and everything seems as it always is, until suddenly the swings start moving, or the see-saw screeches. Freud defined it as a 'class of the terrifying which leads back to something long known to us, once familiar'. (Freud, p. 1). He also made it clear that it differs from the feeling of fear.

I wouldn't say that me being back home has been uncanny as such, but it illustrates my feelings rather well. You can be afraid and terrified in a completely new and unfamiliar situation, but you can only experience the uncanny as long as something in that situation is well-known to you. It goes back to the childhood fear that everyone in your family is a monster and wearing a mask - it's a shift from somewhere you feel safest in the world, to a place where you suddenly don't. And this can only happen if you feel safe to begin with. How does that connect to me right now? I'm trying to express that I do feel like I am right where I belong at the moment, but that it still feels different - and I can't quite put my finger on it yet. Then again, I'm not just returning from a two-week vacation in Spain, but from almost a year in London. Maybe I just haven't adjusted to the speed of traveling yet, and my mind is about to catch up with my body any second now.

Resources:
Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel (London: Penguin Group, 2014)
Sigmund Freud, The “Uncanny”. (First Published in Imago, Bd. V., 1919; reprinted in Sammlung, Fünfte Folge)

The Normal Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 08 Aug 2014 11:24:00 +0000

This is going to be a slightly different post for me, so please bear with me. A couple of days ago I watched the film The Normal Heart by Ryan Murphy based on the play by Larry Kramer. Now, first off, I just have to say that I usually don't enjoy tragic or sad films, even if they are supposed to be amazing in every other way. If I read about a film or series that focuses on people being sick or abused, battling cancer or taking care of a sick loved one, I often refuse to watch such productions. I believe that there is a lot of suffering in this world, and sometimes seeing it on a big screen just gets too much. Haneke's Amour is an example - I put off watching it because I don't need to be reminded how elderly people die, and just how horrible it is. When I eventually did see it, I was moved because it is an incredible film, but also very sad. I just wanted to hug my mum.
But when I stumbled across an interview with the (amazing!) cast of this film on YouTube (I mean, who doesn't love Matt Bomer?), I was immediately drawn in and knew I had to watch it. What's it about?

It starts in 1981 in NYC, and we meet our protagonist, Ned Weeks, played by Mark Ruffalo. It shows how the first cases of AIDS were discovered, how it was called 'gay cancer' then, and how no one knew what was happening, why it was happening and how to stop it. And how reluctant the government or the Mayor were in speaking about the situation, much less doing something against it. Ned befriends Dr. Emma Bruckner (Julia Roberts), who takes care of a large number of these first cases and who is looking for someone to assist her in the fight against the disease, someone within the gay community. That's how Ned meets Felix Turner, played by Matt Bomer, who is a reporter at the New York Times, and who Ned tries to convince to write about this epidemic. They soon fall in love, and it is such a pure and innocent love that we wish for the film to just end there, because we can all guess what's to come. Felix falls ill. And Ned, already fighting aggressively before, has even more reasons to make some noise and to get the whole population and the government to listen. He never stops, crosses several lines and accuses the government of conspiracy.

It is a powerful film - and it is hard to watch. Because you know it really happened, and because it was not that long ago. The love story at the centre of the story is beautiful, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. I can only imagine what this film will do to someone who lived during that time, or who knew someone then or now affected by this disease. A couple of years ago I saw a play in London, called Holding the Man. When buying the tickets, we had no idea what the play was about. In a nutshell, it's a love story between two men, who are then both diagnosed with HIV in the mid-eighties. Towards the end of the play, one of them dies, which is shown in detail on stage. It was not only tragic to watch, the reaction by the audience brought it to another level. There were a lot of same-sex couples in the audience, and you couldn't help but notice how the performance on stage affected them. I imagine that some of them maybe remembered what it was like back then, maybe even lost someone they loved, or knew someone who was battling the disease. (Just to avoid any misinterpretation, I know that AIDS is a disease that everyone can get and that is has nothing to do with being gay.) Seeing how that audience reacted, how moved they where by it, showed just how real a story like that is. It created a connection between fiction and reality.

But back to A Normal Heart. The film reminds us that at the beginning nobody knew what to do, but also how people were afraid to actually do something. AIDS was unknown and the fact that it only appeared in gay men at that time made for a very political situation. It should remind us that everybody deserves to be treated the same in every way. And what kind of power fear itself is.
It also displays the connection and communication within the gay community. It seems unimaginable that the group of activist had someone they knew dying every other week. What kind of life is that? Not knowing how or why? And with no end in sight? Tommy, one of these activists (Jim Parsons) talks about that at yet another funeral: 'This is our social life now'. It seems very realistic that they start to turn against each other. They were so angry with the whole situation, and so unsure of what to do, feeling alone and defenseless, isolated from the rest of the world. There is this one scene, which illustrates that point. They are starting to set up the office of the GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) when suddenly there is a woman at the door. She talks to Tommy about how she lost her best friend to AIDS the night before, and how she wants to help, even though all her lesbian friends said 'what have you guys ever done for us'. This reaching out by one woman marks, I believe, a turning point in the story, and it is also a truly moving moment.

As Felix becomes sicker, Ned takes care of him in an extremely loving way, at the same time wanting him to fight more than he can. The film doesn't try to be crass or shock the viewers with horrific images more than necessary. It is as much about the political story as it is about the personal one. It also demonstrates beautifully and tragically how in the end all we have is each other. In an actual crisis, it is people that we need to get us through, first and foremost. People to care, to hug, to cry with, to listen, to understand. And it is those people who will then communicate with other human beings to get attention, get help from outside, and fight with and for us.

Also, apart from this being an important story to tell, the setting, acting and directing is spectacular. It's one of those movies where you tell yourself you'll just watch the beginning and then find it impossible to stop. Ruffalo and Bomer are immediately believable as a couple. Both their acting, Ruffalo becoming angrier and louder throughout the film and Bomer getting weaker, thinner, quieter, is truly amazing. They become their characters. Taylor Kitsch is hardly recognizable and gives a wonderful performance, Jim Parsons shows that he is more than Sheldon from The Bing Bang Theory, and Julia Roberts reminds us of her performance in Erin Brockovich, fighting for what's right. The rest of the cast is just as amazing. It seems that everyone gave their all to make this film possible (which, incidentally, would be a story of its own). It really is a piece of art.

It is not a depressing or sad film. It is joyous, moving, powerful and it makes you want to fight for something. For justice, for peace, for the rights of people.

Now, if I haven't scared you away, you can watch the trailer here.

Trippin' time!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 12:45:00 +0000

As the cherry on top of quite a year, me and my roommate decided to end my Erasmus experience with a trip to South Wales! During my stay in the UK I have visited surprisingly few places outside of London, being quite happy and content, and most importantly busy, exploring 'just' the city. So I wasn't too specific about where we should go, as almost everything would be new to me anyway! We chose the Gower Peninsula in South Wales, as a kind of centre from which we could explore the surroundings. We rented a car from Heathrow, and after waiting for a very long time - apparently at the speed of Hertz - we were on our way to South Wales, and had a classic roadtrip experience: Sunshine, lovely views, stopping for coffee, singing our hearts out!

We had found a lovely cosy house as our base, and we felt at home immediately. The first evening was spent exploring one of the most famous sights close by, Rhossili Beach. It was quite a welcome to the area.

On our second day we decided to visit the area around Pembrokshire. We especially enjoyed the village of Tenby, wich has a beach on both sides of the town.

After that we went for a walk in the area of Stockpole, and found one of the most beautiful beaches ever - Broadhaven. We walked through the waves, dug our toes in the sand, sat in the sun and watched the tide come in. It was very peaceful and calm.

And to finish off that amazing day, we went to the beach where secenes from the final Harry Potter film were filmed. It's called Freshwater West, and it would have been more impressive if we had seen it at low tide...but it was still quite a view.

We then had a day of fog, rain, wind and general darkness, where we went on a drive through a National Park, but mainly we realxed at home and rewatched episodes of Sherlock. Fortunately the weather cleared up on the next day and we were able to explore further areas of the Gower Peninsula, the most beautiful being Three Cliffs Bay, with rather dramatic views.

On the next day we drove back to Heathrow and my experience abroad came to and end. This trip has not only been the perfect end to my Erasmus experience, but also a lovely experience exploring a new part of a country I still have only seen a fraction of, and of a country I definitely will return to. It was also great to find out that me and my roommate could travel together, since being friends doesn't always mean that travelling together is a good idea. But we got along so well and I hope it wasn't the last time we travelled together.

Wanting what you can't have?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 12 Jul 2014 19:07:00 +0000

My Erasmus experience is coming to an end. I find myself wandering around this great city of London, feeling all sorts of things. First of all, almost all of my friends have already left. It feels strange not having people to call up and meet, at the same time, London makes it easy for you to not actually be alone. High streets, bookshops, cafés and museums are your friends!

Secondly, I can't believe how quickly the time passed. I'm sure everyone says that, but it is still true. I still remember my first days here, trying to find a place to live, the first time I set foot on campus, the first time I had class. I also remember all the excitement connected to that. Everything was new and there for me to explore. Which brings me to my next point:

Are we all just domed to want what we can't have? During my time here, I thought about home a lot. I found myself missing Vienna in all its glory, missing the Viennese dialect and of course my friends and family. Now, having not even one week left in the UK, I do look forward to going home, but I am also feeling something else - is it nostalgia already? It was always my dream to one day live in London. And now I have done that. Was it everything I'd imagined it would be?

No.

But it was all sorts of other things, and I don't regret it one bit. And I might not realize it yet, but I will miss this place a lot. But the questions remains - will we ever be content with what we have? Before coming here, all I wanted was to live in London. During my stay I longed for my hometown. And now? I can already see myself missing London like crazy, and telling myself what kinds of things would be possible there. But is that true? Is it only possible there? Or is that just something we tell ourselves as an excuse for not doing what we could do? This was one of the things I promised myself to take from this experience: The things you are looking for are available almost everywhere, you just have to look. And more importantly, you just have to go and do! I will admit that this will only be applicable for cities or towns of a certain size, but the same principle applies everywhere: Don't use your location as an excuse not to do something you really want to do!

Wow, that got really motivational and inspiring at the end... but some things just have to be said! This can also be seen as my way of saying that I will continue this blog even after the whole Erasmus thing! So I hope you'll stay for the ride! xxx

City love

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 01 Jul 2014 14:26:00 +0000

Whenever I am out and about, there comes a time when I get hit by a smell that reminds me of another city I love: Bangkok.

This usually happens at the most random places, with no apparent source. So I could be walking to class from Euston Station - and BOOM - I feel like I'm walking down Sukhumvit Road. Do other people experience this as well? This will happen about once a week, only with Bangkok, and it always brings a smile to my face.
Especially when London was a wet and dark city, thinking about Bangkok seems like a getting warm hug, that creates an unusually strong longing for that crazy, sticky and smelly city.
When people ask me what I love about Bangkok, I never quite know what to tell them.

Maybe it is something you have to experience once to understand it. The city has a certain magnetic power, and it holds this power long after you have left the country. One of the most striking characteristics of Bangkok is its combination of old and new.

Old temples are found right next to tall Apartment blocks, run down houses next to modern offices. You can go from shopping at Armani, to having a bowl of soup sitting on a small plastic stool next to the highway, then hop on the Skytrain gliding through skyscrapers and visiting a holy shrine. It really is a city of contrasts. I send much love to this wonderful city!

I'm back! :)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 23 Jan 2014 14:07:00 +0000

Hey everybody! It has been a long time, but I'm back!!! Since my last post I had a birthday, three visits, bought two Christmas jumpers, flew home and back and wrote seven essays. It's been a busy time, and I didn't find the energy to write, but I intend to change that! Until then I'm going to leave you with some impressions from both London and Vienna!

Snippets of the week #3

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 13:17:00 +0000

This week has been dominated by a very touristy event: a visit to the Tower of London. Otherwise I made myself a breakfast with a taste from home, had Thai food at the Borough Market did some book shopping on King’s Road, and had some interesting bus experiences.

Pad Thai @ Borough Market

Eggs with Pumpkin Seed Oil

The Tower of London is a huge place, and it’s very tiring because you are basically climbing stairs up and down the entire time. But the architecture alone is extremely impressive, and so is the history. The weather was gorgeous, the sun was out and it was the perfect fall day!

Customer Service

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 23 Oct 2013 14:58:00 +0000

Me, going into a shop, trying to top up my phone plan.

--Hi, I’d like to top up my phone please.

--What do you want? (Not in a mean way, but not in a very friendly one either)

--I had a 20 £ Freedom Freebie (that’s the actual name of it, I’m not making up funny-sounding words here) and I’d like to renew it for this month.

--Okay. Our system had problems this morning, so it might not work.

--I’m sorry?

--Our computer system in all our shops crashed, so it might not work.

--Okay… (unsure of what else to say)

--I’ll check. (I’m terribly sorry that you have to do something for my money)

--(stares at screen) Yeah, It doesn’t work.

--Okay…(still unsure)…so…

--Just come back – maybe in, like, an hour?

--Ah, okay…thanks!

Now I already had the urge to switch to a different network provider, but then I’d have to change my number and so on, so I decided against it. I went back into the shop about 45 min later, and there was a different girl there.

--Hi! I was here earlier, they told me to come back – I wanted to top up my phone, but there was a problem with your system-does it work now?

--Yeah, Yeah, want do you want?

--I’d like to renew my 20 £Freedom Freebie (I cringe on the inside every time I have to say this out loud.)

--Okay…(stares at screen)…that’s 20 £.

I give her the money, she hands me a receipt.

--There you go!

--(confused) How does this now work?

--Just call this number (circles number on receipt) and follow the directions.

--Ah, okay, thanks! I’ll try it right now, just in case.

She looks at me with a bewildered expression, which I ignore. So I call the number (still in the shop) follow the directions, enter the 12-digit code – and it doesn’t work. So I try again, same thing happens. So I go back.

--I’m sorry, but it doesn’t seem to work.

--Yeah, we had some problems with our system today, just try again later, maybe every 20 minutes until it works.

Ah, thank you – I have no plans today anyway.

Snippets of the week #2

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 21 Oct 2013 16:58:00 +0000

Coffee Coffee Coffee

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 19 Oct 2013 21:21:00 +0000

I love coffee. It’s as simple as that. I didn’t used to like it, in fact, when I was about twelve years old, we had a school assignment where we had to write a short text about our likes and dislikes. I wrote that I find coffee disgusting, and couldn’t imagine ever liking it. Oh, well.

I also love coffee shops. Actually it’s one of the things I enjoy most about travelling. Travelling is usually about exploring another culture, country and city. You are exposed to a lot of new experiences, which can be overwhelming. Entering a coffee shop takes all that insecurity away, and you always feel at home, even if the coffee is terrible. Because a lot of the time it really isn’t about the coffee, but about the atmosphere and the people. This story is about all of the above.

In August, while vacationing with my family in Thailand, we went to the Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok. It’s the biggest weekend market in the world, and anyone who has ever seen it will agree with me, when I say, it’s a rather crazy place. You can get everything there, and that is not an exaggeration. From food to clothes to artwork, to things like artificial flowers, pets, kitchenware and scented candles and oils. Amidst all this, there also is coffee, in all of its variety. So I stumbled upon a teeny tiny place called Koko Drip. It had a very calm atmosphere within this busy market, and as I later found out, the shop had just opened a week before. The coffee was lovely, and so I decided to buy some to take home. And it wasn’t your ordinary coffee, so much I can tell you. Here's what it looked like.

Instructions

Instant coffee, but not instant.

Result

Snippets of the week #1

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 06 Oct 2013 23:22:00 +0000

Things I heard, saw, thought or made up -and random pictures.

“I can’t get the lights to turn on, it’s pathetic, but we’ll have to do this in the dark.”

How important are first impressions? I think, that even though I’m studying at one of the best universities, apparently, they still have the same problems as my home university in Vienna. Not enough tables in the classrooms, clogged toilets, and incredibly smart, intelligent and wise people (university teachers), who experience technical difficulties. “I wanted to show you this presentation, but it’s not working, it seems like no one used this projector ever before.” I find this quite comforting, it makes it all seem less daunting and intimidating.

People are the best part of life. Apart from coffee, obviously. No, seriously, people are amazing. And they amaze me. For example, how can anyone say: “I think this story is about an honest parrot…” and say it with a straight face? She was really serious, and I started to wonder: How can we know that a parent is honest? And: Has anyone ever called a parrot dishonest? It makes quite a good insult, I think. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You dishonest parrot!”

"Two for a fiver!” Columbia Road Flower Market. Gorgeous sunny weather, masses of people and a very nonchalant atmosphere. That’s what Sundays should be about. The vendors praise their products and shout “Three for a fiver!” right in your ear. “People are just standing here without purpose, and without flowers in their hands. What’s wrong?” As the day gets longer, the prices go down, and the flowers remain beautiful. And if you wait long enough, you’ll hear: “Three for a fiver!”

An afternoon in the park

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 29 Sep 2013 19:10:00 +0000

It might have been the perfect park experience. Is there such a thing? I was never really a park person, I didn’t spend much time in them back home - somehow there was always something wrong, always something that made them not the place to stay. But I always wanted to be the person who goes to the park to read a book. So I decided to try it out. And, surprisingly, I loved it.

I went to Queen’s Park, in an attempt to get to know my new area. It was a lovely day, the sun was out, and people were enjoying it. I picked up a latte at a bakery, and strolled down to the park. I was greeted with the clichéd image of traditional park life. Parents pushing their sleeping babies, dogs pulling on leashes and kids climbing on trees. Girls giggling, nannies chatting and teenagers telling each other secrets (“You really can’t tell anyone, it’s a real deep secret.”). Squirrels nibbling, toddlers crawling through the grass and during all of this the sun was shining through the treetops. Quite kitschy the whole thing.

So people who know me also know that I am not a kitschy person. But I really enjoyed this idyllic scene. I really wanted to sit down and read my book. And so I did. Not the most exciting story ever told, but still a pretty important one for me. I got a couple hours of peace and quiet after two rather stressful and hectic weeks of moving to London, finding my way around university and meeting people from all over the world. I enjoyed all of those experiences, but it’s good to know that I have a calm place to go back to.

This seemed like a good way of starting this blog, which will hopefully consist all sorts of ideas, experiences and thoughts. I hope you stick around!

Julia