Wanderlust Magazine
150
description
Wanderlust Magazine is collaborative travel magazine for students studying abroad. This was created along with three other students with whom I studied in Trier Germany for five months. We explored experimental typographic layouts and utilized our own photography to make up this magazine.
Transcript of Wanderlust Magazine
W A N D E R L U S Tnoun:a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.
5
from Kansas City, MOage 21
from ChiCagO, iLage 22
from KentuCKy, iLage 23
from Kansas City, Ksage 25
C O N T R I B U T O R S
The Tourist
The German Speaker
The All American
The Wise One
S a m f IN e
j e S S I C a m a R a k
a N d R e w S pa l d IN g
j a R e d BeRg e RO N
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W A N D E R L U S T
LET US SHOW YOU HOW TO GO ABROAD, THE RIGHT WAY.
T a B l e O f C O N T e N T S
Features
Deparments
Photo Essays
44 WA R & P E A C E12 E R A S UMU S L IF E
6 8 10
p e O p l e22 24 26
e N T e R Ta I N m e N T
I T ’S a l l fa l l IN g d O w NLast May, I took a trip with
my mother to Palermo as a
way to reconnect with our
Sicilian heritage. Through the
ups and downs of traveling,
the trip turned out to be an
experience that strengthened
our bond forever.
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I boarded the plane in
Charlotte, feeling very
anxious. I was taking my
final steps off the airplane
ramp, knowing that the
next time I am breathing
in a breath of American
air, it will be all different.
T he S e a S O N S h av e C h a N g ed & S O h av e w e
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140 142
S T y l e136 138
a R T & C U lT U R e
98 Q U IE T & S T IL L 126 P O O R & C O L O R F UL72 F IR E & E NE Rg y
g R eeNeR g R a S S e SI am sitting on a train right
now. In a few minutes it will
leave Trier for Saarbruken.
This is the first day of my
most anticipated adventure
yet. I am heading to France
to see the best bouldering in
the world: Fontainebleau.
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Prior to coming to Berlin,
I knew little about the city
and what it had to offer. I
knew a bit about its history;
I knew that Berlin was a city
that had been rebuilding
and reinventing ever since
the wall had fallen over two
decades ago.
BeR l IN: I C h l IeBe d I C h
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6 8 10
TRIER GERMANY: Known as the oldest city in Germany,
is a moderately small town located in the Mosel region
of the Rhineland – Palatinate State. Four Americans
traveling from Lawrence Kansas had no idea the amount
of exposure and cultural diversity was in store for them in
this seemingly traditional German town. This small town
environment proved to be full of cultural diversity thanks
to something called the Erasmus Programme. This
European students exchange program has given over two
million European students the chance to study in another
country in Europe.
In Trier, all international students referred to themselves
as ‘Erasmus’. The Trier 2011 crew consisted of students
from Mexico, Greece, France, Hungary, Czech Republic,
Slovakia, Slovenia, Venezuela, Egypt, India, Poland,
Finland, Jordan, Palestine, Turkey, Switzerland, and the
United States. They spoke mostly English amongst one
another, while practicing German, and teaching one
another how to say ‘cheers’ in their native tongue.
This rag–tag crew of twenty–something year olds from all
over the world came to Trier determined to enjoy every
second of their time abroad. They threw themselves into
every fun, outlandish opportunity imaginable, whether it
was a six day party binge, a day trip to the nearby town of
Koblenz, or a road trip to Amsterdam. One thing that is
certain, is that they enjoyed time together the right way.
Trier is a university town, home to both the University of
Trier, and the Fachhochsule Trier, where this particular
group of students attended. In a city with over 20,000
college students between these two universities, there was
hardly a dull moment for this Erasmus group.
A Journey of Souls with
E R A S M U S I N T R I E R
by saMantha Fine
p e O p l e
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W A N D E R L U S T
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H-ALL-O
georgia sotiriadi & anna Mavraki / athens, gReeCe
peOple
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Katya Zeßovec / VODiCe, sLOVenia
Manolis Barbas / athens, gReeCeeszter nyékhelyi / BuDaPest, hungaRy
Cassandre Chavez / LYON, FRANCE
Most students lived in one of two dorms which were within
a five minute walk from one another. This allowed them
to really grow into a little community, learning from
one another. They did everything together, and shared
cultural differences with one another. Group meals
and dinners were a regular occurrence, as they eagerly
demonstrated their (sometimes lack of) cooking skills of
their country’s cuisine before beginning a night of fun.
There was always a special occasion to celebrate, whether
it was a giant party with over one – thousand people, or a
birthday party. Even if this wasn’t the case, they would still
find something fun to do. The clubs would be open until
three or four in the morning, and if it still seemed to early
to go home, the nearby bar, Chrome would still be open
until the sun came up.
Q: Favorite thing about trier?A: Friendly atmosphere and beer!Q: Favorite Memory?A: The 4-day festival at Zurlaubener Ufer.Q: something you learned while on erasmus...A: Too many to mentionQ: Most unexpected thing that happened?A: That I actually passed most of the courses.
Matti Uusitalo / TAMPERE, FINLAND
Q: something you learned while on erasmus...
A: I LEARNED TO OPEN MYSELF
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Manolis Barbas / athens, gReeCe
Borbála Kovács / BuDaPest, hungaRyDwyght Bryan / MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
Over twelve different countries of students
come together to make up the erasmus student
group out of the Fh trier. Most students chose
to spend an entire year studying in trier, while
others still have not left.
Q: something you learned while on erasmus...
Q: Favorite thing about trier?A: That NO ONE knew Greek!Q: Favorite Memory?A: The last BBQ in the Cusanus dormsQ: something you learned while on erasmus...A: Your mother tongue is not necessary to make good friends!Q: Most unexpected thing that happened?A: All of Erasmus people in Trier!
A: THE GERMAN LANGUAGE, AND I LEARNED THE BEAUTY OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES AND CULTURES, AND HOW TO SAY CHEERS IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES.
Georgia Sotiriadi / ATHENS, GREECE
thirteen trier erasmus embarked on a near 250 mile
(400 kilometer) journey to amsterdam in two camper vans.
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peOple
“ I f e l l I N
l O v e w I T h
T R I e R , T h e p e O p l e ,
& T h e l I f e
e X p e R I e N C e S ” -Rafael Lopez de Cardenas, MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
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a photo essay
The abroad experience would not have been complete without
the Erasmus students in Trier. Our time was spent getting to
know one another in our dorm, or out at the bars. We explored
Trier, traveled together, and grew together during our time
abroad. This essay is filled with images captured on an iPhone,
and shows real moments we treasured the most while abroad.
SAMANTHA FINE
Fire & Energy
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Buying food and beer to BBQ outside at the local market, netto.
you are almost guaranteed to see a familiar face here.
TYPICAL ERASMUS SATURDAY
13:00 WAKE UP
15:00 BBQ & FUN OUTSIDE
14:00 STOCK UP
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18:00 RECONVENE BACK AT DORMS
7:00 sunday SHENANIGANS
the nightlife in trier offered something for everyone. Party go-ers
could find a relaxed, low key place to drink, live music, or a sweaty
dance club, all within walking distance of the dorms.
24:00 HIT THE TOWN
Far too often, did nights out with friends end after six in the morning. these erasmus students found
this stereo on the street on their way home from being out on a saturday night. as a homage to their
night and erasmus life, they threw the stereo in the river during on the walk home.
hitting the town erasmus trier at the grüne Rakete
as erasmus students, we loved sharing our culture
with one another. Often, people would cook food
typical of their homeland. here, our german
mentor cooked us an enormous spread of typical
german food, wine, and beer.
Fun in the streets outside the dorm.
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the night time shenanigans end here at the dormitory, Martinskloster at around 7 aM
O f O U R l I v e S
WE ARE ALWAYS LOOKING FOR HOME. Not our physical
home, but things that remind us of it. Places, people, any-
thing that makes you feel at home. The further from home
the more intense that search and desire can be. In Ger-
many for a semester, thousands of miles away from what I
call home, I was searching for little things that reminded
me of my life in Louisville, Kentucky. For everyone though,
home means something different.
There are an endless number of little details that make
up my memories and past experiences, but some I craved
more than others. I constantly sought out my favorite food
(Mexican) during my stay. This was one of my biggest
gripes about Europe, Mexican food was near impossible to
find. The Turkish people and food were their equivalent;
the continent’s largest and most controversial immigrant
population from a southern country that wanted to be
looked at as an equal. Continuing this analogy even fur-
ther, they even had the European version of Mexican food:
the kebab. Eaten in a rolled, tortilla-like bread, often late
at night coming home from the bars, they are cheap and
loved by everyone. However, no Mexican. It’s not as though
they didn’t like it. In fact, almost all Germans I talked to
loved it, and it was even requested that I drive to a near
by American army base to buy for my friends Taco Bell.
Apparently it was one of the only Taco Bells in the country
but the base could only be accessed by Americans. Another
Item that reminded me of home was hot sauce. One of the
things I missed most about home was basketball. Watching
it, playing it, everything. I never realized until that spring
how much I really loved the sport. I would stay up til five or
six in the morning to watch my teams play. But even more
than watching, I needed to play. At school I would play as
much as I can, and at home almost everyday. With friends,
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Searching
F O R H O M E
by anDReW sPaLDing
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W A N D E R L U S T
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strangers, anyone who just happened
to be around. I had always taken for
granted having a goal in my backyard,
and the hundreds of courts and parks
everywhere. How all my friends were
ready at a moment’s notice to drop
what they were doing and play a game.
In Germany this was not the case. I
searched constantly just for places to
play. Most times it was futile, while soc-
cer pitches were abundant, basketball
courts, or even goals, were incred-
ibly scarce. I would ask all the locals
if they knew of any, and during my
walks around town I would scour the
streets and back alleys for any signs or
clues. I finally did find a court about a
mile or so away from our dorm in the
back courtyard of a concert venue. I
would frequently jog up there to play,
hoping others would be there but to
no avail, so I would end up shooting
y O U S T a y a N d
p l a y w I T h
e N T e RTa I N m e N T
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unnatural. You don’t realize how much playing and watch-
ing a sport as you grow up impacts even the basic bodily
movements in it. I watched from some bleachers for a min-
ute, laughing on the inside, and went home. As comedic
as it was, I had found a potential court almost next door.
So a few days later I returned with the basketball that I
had searched out and purchased weeks before. I found
the gym empty and the door unlocked, so I started shoot-
ing around. The gym seemed to be for private clubs and
I planned on leaving politely if anyone showed up. I shot
around for about an hour when the door opened and in
walked a few of the same old men from the game the other
day. I was bummed about having to leave and figured I
would shoot for a couple more minutes.
around by myself. I took a long bus ride and hike across
town up to the University campus to check out a rumored
court. When I arrived I discovered a single goal in the dirt,
with no one around. I left and went home.
One day though walking back from the market I heard
bouncing. The smacking of some sort of ball against wood,
coming from what appeared to be a gym almost right next
to our dorm. I had always assumed it was a private club fa-
cility and had never gone inside, but this time I decided to
take a look. Inside I found a hilarious sight. A group of old
men were wildly running up and down a basketball court,
dribbling sometimes, sometimes running with the ball, fir-
ing up erratic shots, disregarding many rules which I had
previously thought were important to the game. It was
clear these men had not grown up with the sport. Their
movements, while sometimes athletic were awkward and w I T hU S .
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Fire & Energy
While I was doing this one of them approached me and
asked something in German unintelligible to me.
“Sprecken sie English?” I asked.
“A little.” He said.
I apologized for being on their court and said I would
be leaving, but as I turned to retrieve my ball he said,
“You stay.”
“What?”
“You stay and play with us.”
This sounded funny to me, playing with a bunch of old
German men, some of whom appeared to be in their
70’s or 80’s. So I asked, “Are you sure? I can leave, it is
no problem.”
“Yes, you can play with us. But you first. Stretches.”
He went into the locker room to change and more men
joined him. Some were younger thankfully, perhaps in
their 40’s. I kept shooting around as they started a slow
saunter around the court that turned into a jog. After one
lap, the man who had invited me to play waved at me.
“Come. If you play, you most join us.”
I guess this was the price to a basketball game, one that
seemed ridiculous, but I was desperate, so I fell into place.
Trying not to overtake them, I followed them around and
around finally feeling at home.
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Fire & Energy
S e a S O N S
C h a N g e d
T h e
S e a S O N S
h a v e
C h a N g e d
& S O
h a v e w e
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STUDYING ABROAD: a personal account of expectations, and the reality that followed. By saMaNtha FINe
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Fire & Energy
I lefT fOR The ChaRlOTTe dOUglaS
INTeRNaTIONal aIRpORT aT 8:20 pm ON maRCh
1ST. I waS TO aRRIve IN The fRaNkfURT
aIRpORT aT 10:45 am The fOllOwINg day.
I BOaRded The plaNe IN ChaRlOTTe, feelINg
veRy aNXIOUS. I waS TakINg my fINal STepS
Off The aIRplaNe Ramp, kNOwINg ThaT The
NeXT TIme I am BReaThINg IN a BReaTh Of
ameRICaN aIR, IT wIll Be all dIffeReNT.
e X p e C T a T I O N S R e a l I T y&&
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e X p e C T a T I O N S
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Expectations vs. Reality
N e wN e w
h O m e
EXPECTATIONS ARE A FUNNY THING.
I try not to have them when going into a new situation.
This is nearly impossible before leaving for a foreign
land for five months. Day dreams turn into obsessions of
what it might be like; my room, friends, possible romantic
relationships, school, and language. However, the reality
is quite different.
Home sickness has never been a part of my vocabulary. I
adapt well to new situations, and I didn’t expect this to
be any different. I figured my room would be similar to
freshman year in dorms at college. I thought the dorm,
Martinskloster, would be one giant community.
The most natural thing to do in a new place is to try
and settle down, and make living in a new space as easy
as possible. I was originally told my room was close to
the street. When first opening the door to my room, I
was shocked at the reality of just how close it was. I was
uncomfortable being that close to the street, and felt that
it was a threat to my safety. Reality set in, and I was not as
comfortable as I have been in new situations in the past.
.
the view out my dorm window, right along a busy street.
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This initial reality changed drastically as I grew comfortable in my new
surroundings. Its humorous now to think that I was concerned with my safety.
In the end, I loved my room. My street-side window was a gateway into the
dorm for friends living else where. Because of this location, I constantly had
visitors; friends that would just walk up and knock on my window. While I
never new most of the people on my floor, I did have three best friends that in
my hall, steps away from my door. Some of these friends I would have not been
as close with if we did not share a hallway.
The lifestyle was much different than freshman year dorms. It was quite the
opposite; I have never felt more independent in my living situation thus far in
my life, and I really enjoyed it. It allowed me to really grow as a person, develop
a very self sufficient attitude. It felt like I had my own one bedroom apartment,
yet I was steps away from friends. It was the best living situation I could have
asked for.
to make my room feel more like my own, i decorated
the walls with various post cards and random things
i found, or collected from my travels.
the view out my dorm window, right along a busy street.
“MY STREET-SIDE WINDOW
WAS A GATEWAY INTO THE
DORM FOR FRIENDS LIVING
ELSE WHERE”
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TRIER, GERMANY: MY NEW HOME FOR THE NEXT FIVE MONTHS
I had not done a lot of research on Germany or Trier before
taking off to live there. My interests were concentrated
outside of Germany, and I was hoping to spend most of
my time traveling. I knew Trier was small, and my concern
was with large European cities that were famous for
monuments and tourism.
The reality of life in trier far exceeded my expectations
of this old, ancient city. I fell in love with Trier, and all
that it had to offer me in just five short months. The size
of Trier ended up really allowing me to enjoy my abroad
experience. Because the city is on the smaller size, there
seemed to be less foreigners in the city than there would
be in a large city. This allowed me to immerse myself
more into the German culture. I was able to push myself
outside of my comfort zone. I found myself wandering the
city whenever I had time, taking in my surroundings and
enjoying Trier. There was typical German architecture,
along with really beautiful surprises, such as our school.
.
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“I WAS ABLE TO PUSH
MYSELF OUTSIDE OF
MY cOMFORT zONE”
Fachhochschule trier, university of applied
sciences, art and Design Building
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W A N D E R L U S T
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a view from the Fh trier, showing all of trier from on top of the hill where
the school sits. From this view, you can see all of trier, and all of the
important monuments. trier sits on the Mosel River , a major river in the
Rhineland-Palatinate state of germany.
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COMMUNICATION, UNDERSTANDING, AND TIME
Moving to a city where I could not initially communicate
was very intimidating and exciting. I had tried to learn
Spanish in the past, and only succeeded in understanding
when I was immersed in the language. I assumed being in
Germany would effect me in the same way, that I would
pick up on cues, and eventually learn German. I expected
myself to be able to understand conversational German
before my five months were over. I was prepared for major
language barriers when I first arrived in Trier. To an
extent, that was some what true for the first few days. I
thought Germans would know little English, much like
the little Deutsch that I knew.
l a N g U a g el a N g U a g e
The crude reality of this, was that I actually had to make time to learn in order to
do this. Simply being around German speakers would not automatically imprint
the language in my brain. I was enrolled in a German class, and I thought that
would be enough. I should have studied at night when I had nothing to, but I was
too busy trying to find something to do, trying to enjoy my new surroundings.
Once I was ready to sit down and learn German, I was already too far behind. I
waited too long.
Germans are wonderful with English, which also fostered my inability to quickly
pick up the language. The international group of students spoke mostly in English.
Without taking time out of my daily life to practice German, it was impossible to
quickly learn. My only regret of my abroad experience, was not taking more time
to take advantage of my surroundings by learning the language.
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“ONcE I WAS READY TO SIT DOWN
AND LEARN GERMAN, I WAS FAR
BEHIND. I WAITED TOO LONG”
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T R a v e lT R a v e l
THE JOURNEY, NOT THE ARRIVAL, MATTERS.
This T.S. Elliot quote is something I could not begin to
comprehend until experiencing the life of a student
traveler abroad. Before arriving in Germany, I had a
list of countries and cities that were mandatory for my
time abroad. They included, Paris, many cities in Italy,
Switzerland, London, Dublin, Krakow, Amsterdam, a vast
array of cities in Spain, and Morrocco. I had the attitude
to go to as many places as possible no matter how much
time I spent there and what I had to do to make it happen.
While I did not make it to all of the places I intended to,
I made it to a decent amount of them, and then some.
While abroad, my priorities of the places I wanted to see,
and what I hoped to get out of each visit, quickly changed.
I was no longer interested in quantity of places visited, but
quality. I enjoyed taking in the culture, getting to know
some locals, and really experiencing the city for all that
it has to offer. My interest in Western Europe faded as my
fascination in Eastern European countries grew.
The way in which I traveled, chose what to see, and where
to stay also changed drastically throughout my five months
abroad. I learned how to travel from fellow Europeans. I
took a carpool service from Prague to Frankfurt called
Mitfahrgelegenheit rather than taking the very expensive
and time consuming train. I originally stayed in hostels
I had booked in advance. This changed into staying in
rented apartments located in a prime area of the city, or
simply figuring out accommodations upon arriving in the
city. The most surprising thing of all, was what I was able
to take away from all of this traveling. I learned a lot of
independence, and grew to adapt and feel comfortable in
any situation I was thrown into.
this map represents where i expected to go, where i actually went, and the
cool places i did not plan to visit. the tan color represents places i didn’t
expect to go, black is for where i actually went, and dark grey for the two
places i expected to go but didn’t make it to visit.
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Expectations vs. Reality
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“THE JOURNEY, NOT THE ARRIVAL, MATTERS”
T R I e R , C O l O g N e , C O C h e m , p a R I S , k R e I S a U , w a R C l a w , v e N I C e , R O m e ,
l I N d O S , a m S T e R d a m , k O B l e N z , B e R l I N , p R a g U e , l O N d O N , d U B l I N ,
B a R g a , f l O R e N C e , l U C C a , S O m m O C O l O N I a , B R U g e S , a m S T e R d a m
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T R I e R , C O l O g N e , C O C h e m , p a R I S , k R e I S a U , w a R C l a w , v e N I C e , R O m e ,
l I N d O S , a m S T e R d a m , k O B l e N z , B e R l I N , p R a g U e , l O N d O N , d U B l I N ,
B a R g a , f l O R e N C e , l U C C a , S O m m O C O l O N I a , B R U g e S , a m S T e R d a m
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a photo essay
SAMANTHA FINE
The most desolate, intriguing, beautiful and surprising place I
visited. The town is only reachable on foot, or by car. I arrived
with my cousins after driving on dirt roads up the Tuscan
mountains. Sommocolonia is an important battle site of World
War II. The first African American to receive the Medal of
Honor was killed here, after calling a suicide mission to protect
the people of Sommocolonia from the advancing German Army.
w a R
p e a C e
&
My cousins own a three – hundred – year old mill house deep in
the mountains of tuscany. the image above is just around the
corner from their front door. a lot of history has taken place in this
area. sommocolonia is just a short drive up the mountains from
the cottage pictured here.
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Fire & Energy
S O l I T U d e
T R a N Q U I l I T y
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S O l I T U d e
B e a U T y
sommocolonia, the tiny romantic town with the most
beautiful view in all of tuscany. this ancient town was
originally occupied by the Romans. the town today has
fewer than fifty residents. From the hilltop, you can see
for miles into the mountainous country.
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Fire & Energy
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the ruins of this World War ii battle are no a
monument to those who lost their lives.
w a R m a S k e d
B e a U T y
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J E S SIC A M A R A K
It’s all falling downLast May, I took a trip with my mother to Palermo to reconnect with
our sicilian heritage. Through the ups and downs of traveling, the trip
turned out to be an experience that strengthened our bond forever.
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Fire & EnergyIt’s all falling down
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PALERMO IS A PLAcE
WERE MANY OF THE
BUILDINGS ARE OLD
AND TORN APART,
BUT AFTER A WHILE
YOU BEGIN TO SEE
THE BEAUTY IN THE
ANTIqUITY AND
HISTORY OF THE cITY.
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T H E S Y M BOl Of SIC I lY
the triskelion motif is the ancient symbol of
sicily. it consists of three bent human legs and
is attributed to the triangular form of the island.
to this day the symbol can be seen all over the
city, painted on buildings and in souvenir shops.
PA l E R MO’ S Pl AC E I N SIC I lY
Palermo is the cultural, economic and tourist capital of sicily.
People are attracted to the city for its gastronomy (the art of
food) and Mediterranean weather. Palermo is also known for
their romanesque, gothic and baroque architecture.
fA MOUS SIC I l I A N DE S SE RT
the famous Cannoli dessert is a tube-shaped shells of fried pastry
dough, filled with a sweet, creamy filling usually containing ricotta
was created in sicily. they range in size from “cannulicchi,” which
is no bigger than a finger, to the fist-sized proportions typically
found in Piana degli albanesi, south of Palermo, sicily.
bonjourno
65
M Y C z EC H/ I TA l I A N H E R I TAGE
As a child, my parents instilled a
strong sense pride for family heritage
in my brother, sister and me. My father
told us stories passed down from his
parents and grandparents about the
original Marak family who immigrated
from the Czech Republic to become
farmers in Oklahoma. I cannot count
how many times he has explained to
us during long road trips and fam-
OM I NOUS I M PR E S SION S
After landing, our first impression of
Palermo was actually quiet comical
and typical of my mother who often
embodies many attributes of the typi-
cal Italian woman. When we stepped
out of the airport terminal there was
something about the ambiance that
made her feel uneasy and the further
along we went the more the feeling
grew. We took a taxi to our hotel, lo-
cated in the shopping district of Pal-
ermo, which according to the hotels.
com description was a well-lit, high
traffic tourist area. I attribute my
mothers fear and the ominous tone
of the city to the “everything is falling
down” look and feel of the buildings.
It also didn’t help that it was late at
night and we were alone in a city
BenvenutofA M I lY BON DI NG A BROA D
About three months into my study
abroad experience in Germany my
mother decided to fly over for a 10
day European adventure. Growing up
in an Italian-American family there
was one place she absolutely had to
see: Sicily. Like mother like daugh-
ter, my mom also remembers hearing
stories from her parents about the
original Fiorella family who lived in a
small village called Vallelunga in cen-
tral Sicily. Stories about our heritage
are not only important to my family,
but also to families all over the world
because they shape our identities and
are central to the way we relate to oth-
er people and our surroundings.
T H E BEGI N N I NG Of T H E JOU R N E Y
I remember flying from Pisa to Pal-
ermo with my mother by my side and
being able to see the island approach
as we came closer to landing. That
moment marked the beginning of a
journey that would strengthen our
bond forever through the ups and
downs that go along with traveling.
I know how much it meant for my
mom to be able to visit Sicily and how
much it would have meant to my late
Grandma who was never able to take
the journey. I am grateful to have had
the experience during my lifetime.
ily dinners how to properly spell and
pronounce our original Czech and
Italian names. My father has always
tried to expose our family to new cul-
tures through music, food and art. It
is his appreciation for all things exotic
that has sparked a wanderlust inside
me that I am forever grateful for.
I ATTRIBUTE THE
OVERALL OMINOUS
TONE OF THE cITY
TO THE EVERYTHING
IS FALLING DOWN
LOOk AND FEEL OF
THE BUILDINGS.
Vallelunga, Sicily
Located about 60 km southeast of
Palermo, Vallelunga is a small flat
town crossed by many rivers. it is
outstanding for the cultivation of
typical agricultural products such
as almonds, olives, and grapes.
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It’s all falling down
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W A N D E R L U S T
l E f T
a butcher prepares the
fresh meat of the day
BE l OW
arms and legs hang
from shop windows
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It’s all falling down
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W A N D E R L U S T
known in movies for crime scenes and
the mafia. Let’s just say our imagina-
tions got the best of us. When we ar-
rived at the hotel we were greeted by
what my mom likes to call an “Igor”
character at the front door.
As we walked into the quiet Bed and
Breakfast we realized that we were the
only guests in the building. We put
our bags down in our room and went
out for dinner to collect our thoughts
on the situation. During our walk, ten-
Come stai?sions were high, so we sat down at the
first restaurant we could find about a
block from the hotel. We took a seat
at a patio table where we had a clear
view into the restaurant and at our
surroundings. Inside there seemed to
be a family party going on. There was
a large man who looked like the own-
er of the establishment sitting sternly
in a wooden chair with one eye pres-
ent at the party and the other intently
watching his perimeter. It looked like
a scene from the Godfather. It was so
Mondello Beach, Sicily
Located about 10 miles outside
of Palermo, the beach actually
began as a swampland village.
in the early 1900s it was drained
on behalf of several wealthy aris-
tocrats to create a beach retreat.
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It’s all falling down
W A N D E R L U S T
6969
evenings activities unfold. I began to
make other connections to my Roman
Catholic, Italian-American family dur-
ing my time in Palermo. I saw familiar
religious iconography like crosses and
crucifixes hung from picture frames
and around people’s necks. Although
my experience growing up in Kansas
City was a much more watered down
version of Italian culture, I felt com-
fortable and at home in Palermo
when approached by new Sicilian
foods and cultures.
A N E W DAY
The next morning we woke up and
looked out the window to see dozens
of men, women and children walk-
ing past holding shopping bags and
eating ice cream cones. We laughed
again about how ridiculous we were
the night before and realized we have
nothing to be afraid of. That day we
took a bus about ten minutes west of
Palermo along the coast to Mondello.
We bought a few Peroni’s and enjoyed
the afternoon in front of the crystal
blue water and creamy, white sand.
Most of the beaches in Europe are a
constant stream of entertainment for
Americans because we are not used to
excessive amounts of PDA and spee-
dos and Mondello was no exception.
Nonetheless we had a relaxing time.
stereotypical my mother and I found
it quite hilarious actually, which re-
leased some of the fear we were feel-
ing earlier in the evening. The first
meal of the trip actually turned out to
be the most delicious, so in the end
we are grateful we let our emotions
lead the way.
Meet Antonio FalconeNickname: antonio Banderas
Birthplace: Palermo, sicily
Religion: Catholic
What is one thing most people don’t know
about Palermo? there is more to do than
follow the map and go to all the tourist
attractions. the best day for me in Palermo
would to take a trip to Mondello Beach and
go kite surfing. i love the atmosphere there
and it is refreshing to be outside of the city.
What do you love most about your city?
Living near the open-air market, i love being
able to walk out the door and have fresh
food, produce and fish at my fingertips.
if you were a tourist in Palermo what would
your favorite site be? i would have to say, the
Palermo Cathedral for its beautiful sculp-
ture inside and ornate architecture outside.
it is a source of pride for Palermo locals.
Bene, grazie!
G A ST RONOM Y C ON N EC T ION
The family restaurant in Palermo re-
minded me of my families barbecue
restaurant in Kansas City where we
used to also throw birthday and holi-
day parties. I always remember my
Grandma would always plop down
in a wooden restaurant chair like
the man in Palermo and watch the
OF cOURSE MOST
OF THE BEAcHES
IN EUROPE ARE
A cONSTANT STREAM
OF ENTERTAINMENT
FOR AMERIcANS
BEcAUSE WE ARE NOT
USED TO ExcESSIVE
AMOUNTS OF P.D.A.
AND SPEEDOS.
WHAT WE FOUND
WAS ONE OF THE
MOST AUTHENTIc
AND INTENSE
ENVIRONMENTS
WE HAVE EVER
BEEN A PART OF.
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It’s all falling down
71
W A N D E R L U S T
71
THE NARROW STREET
GOES ON FOR MILES
BETWEEN TABLES
LINED WITH FRESH
SEAFOOD, VEGGIES,
FLOWERS, cLOTHES,
SOUVENIRS AND
SMALL TRINkETS.
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It’s all falling down
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W A N D E R L U S T
M Y MOM & M E
the last evening in Palermo was a combi-
nation of many of my favorite things: art,
italian music, beautiful scenery, good wine,
good food, Mediterranean weather, new
friends and, last but not least, my mom.
Arrivederci
THROUGH THE UPS
AND DOWNS, HIGHS
AND LOWS OF OUR
TRIP MY MOTHER
AND I cREATED
MEMORIES AND A
BOND THAT WILL
LAST FOREVER.
E x Pl OR I NG T H E M A R K E T
The next morning, we woke up a bit
later than usual and decided to spend
our last afternoon walking through
the open-air market a few blocks from
our hotel. What we found was one of
the most authentic and intense envi-
ronment we have ever been a part of.
The narrow street goes on for miles
between table tops lined with fresh
seafood, vegetables, specialty drinks,
souvenirs, flowers, clothes and trin-
kets. The entire scene is overhung
by store front awnings and resident’s
laundry hung on wires swooping from
building to building.
It turns our new friend Antonio lived
at the end of the market and he coin-
cidentally saw us on our way out while
standing on his balcony. He yelled
from his the second floor, “Diana!”
Out of luck, I turned around and he
came down. We ended up taking a
second tour of the market with Anto-
nio by our side. He pointing out typi-
cal food items from the area and in-
troduced us to his friends. It was nice
to have a personal tour guide again to
explain things to us that we may not
have noticed or realized on our own.
I T ’ S A l l fA l l I NG DOW N
It was actually who pointed out that
Palermo is a place were many of the
buildings are old and torn apart, but
every once in a while you come across
something absolutely stunning like a
stain-glass window in the middle of
the market that is perfectly preserved,
full of vivid color and fine handy
work. The juxtaposition between the
new and old in Palermo is something
my mother and I began to notice
more and more during our last days
in Palermo.
S AY I NG G OODBY E
For our last night in Palermo, we met
up with Antonio and his friends one
last time at a gallery opening. The
space was typical of Palermo, but
beautiful at night because the arch-
ways were lit from below to create a
soft golden glow on the building. The
ambiance was unbelievable and the
entire place was swelling with robust
Italian music and artsy locals. I could
not have asked for a better last night
in Palermo.
The next morning we had to begin our
journey back home. Looking back, I
realize that it was through the ups and
downs of our trip that strengthened
the bond I have with my mother for-
ever. We started a tradition and creat-
ed a friendship through traveling that
will last forever. I hope this is not the
last trip we take together.
56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 75
Fire & Energy
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W A N D E R L U S T
Experience flamenco in
the Gypsy quarters of Sacromonte
at the famous “Cuevas de la Rocio”
in Granada, Southern Spain.
a photo essay
JESSICA MARAK
f I R e
e N e R g y
&
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SETTING THE SCENE
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Fire & Energy
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W A N D E R L U S T
THE ENTR ANCE
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Fire & Energy
LOUD
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W A N D E R L U S T
MOVEMENT
THE INTRO
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Fire & Energy
THE BUILD UP
Q U I E T M O M E N T S
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83
Q U I E T M O M E N T S
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85
W A N D E R L U S T
85
TH
E
CL
I-M
AX
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Fire & Energy
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W A N D E R L U S T
THE FINAL POSE
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Fire & Energy
G R E E N E R G R A S SG R E E N E R G R A S S
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0 9 : 1 7 a . m . | | 6 / 2 4 / 1 1
1I am sitting on a train right now.
In a few minutes it will leave Trier
for Saarbruken. This is the first day
of my most anticipated adventure
yet. I am heading to Fontaineb-
leau France: the best bouldering in
the world. (Bouldering is a type of
rock climbing on boulders instead
of cliffs. No ropes are used and the
climbs are short, perhaps only ten
feet, and but more difficult that
longer climbs). Ever since I be-
came involved with climbing I have
heard of, seen, and longed after
pictures and videos of the magical
forest in the French countryside.
It is for these two reasons that even
when I could recruit no other souls
to join me on this expedition, I em-
barked nonetheless. It is a pilgrimage
of both climbing and culture. I had
been planning this for years. As soon
as I heard that it was possible to study
in Germany, I knew that one day I
would return to France, and seek out
Fontainebleau.
The idea of traveling through Europe,
camping outside, and hoping every-
thing works out is daunting. Perhaps
this is why no one else was interested.
Now I have a feeling of excitement,
a N d R e w S p a l d I N g
Thin trunks shooting up from a car-
pet of leaves, light piercing the woods,
thousands of boulders dotting the
glowing landscape, and begging to be
climbed.
To get there I must travel through Par-
is. The last time I was there was 2000.
I was ten and my family was spending
three weeks traveling around France
and visiting my French family. I am
half French and although none of
my immediate family currently reside
there, I still think of it in some ways as
my homeland.
W a N D e R L U s t
56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71
2be bad, but a broken ankle alone in
the forest could be a disaster. How-
ever this inherent danger of traveling
and camping alone is part of the fun.
A reflection of climbing itself, where
most of the time you are safe and joy-
ful but, somewhere, in the back of
your mind, you know that something
could go terribly wrong at any time.
But, life is danger. Protecting yourself
at all times leads to a boring and un-
fulfilled life. You must face and over-
come dangers to know what you are
capable of.
Another of my concerns, and pos-
sibly what I am most afraid of, is the
loneliness. I am perfectly at home in
the forest, in fact sometimes more at
home than anywhere else. I am not
home being alone though. For small
stretches I find pleasure in escaping
others, but in general, I crave human
contact. This will be a test. A test of
mental fortitude, and moral/physical
exploration.
I have never kept a diary before, and I
prefer to call it a journal, sounds like
journey, and more adventurous. I will
try to use this as company and explore
my sometimes painfully self aware
thoughts… like right now, trying to
think of a good quote, and “What
we do in life, echoes in Eternity.”
— Gladiator
Left Saarbruken, heading west. Some-
how, no matter where in the world
you are, west feels like a new fron-
tier. Is it because once it actually was
a new frontier. Europe didn’t know
about the new world across the sea
to the west. China was disconnected
from the west/Europe. Once America
was born, we looked west for mystery,
gold, adventure and the unknown.
As a kid I took vacations each year
with the family out from Kentucky
to Colorado. When we left there was
an unexplainable anticipation. We
were going into the wild, away from
normality and the static lifestyle the
east represented. Now as soon as we
1 0 : 3 0 a . m . | | 6 / 2 4 / 1 1
enter France, almost immediately the
land has changed to a cornucopia of
gold, tans and greens. The sun has
emerged, and the blue sky reflects in
my window. There are fewer houses,
towns are farther apart. Rolling hills
rise like islands from an ebbing sea
of wheat and vegetation. My attempts
at poetic prose do not do the scen-
ery and the feelings it evokes justice.
Some times I have a moment of clarity,
in which I realize that, in that second,
if I were to die, it would be okay. Only
because at that moment, the world is
perfect. Then I think there is so much
I won’t get to do in the future, and I
realize that even if a moment feels as
if it can never be surpassed, inevitably,
it will be.
This land is a serene hybrid of wheat
fields and grain elevators of Kansas,
86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97
Greener Grass
91
W A N D E R L U S T
91
3and the rolling hills and trees of the
Italian countryside. Other than the
mountains, does a better place exist?
I am now sitting, my back to a rock,
in the shade of pine trees. I arrived
yesterday at 3:15 and sought out food
and a hotel. Originally I had planned
to stay at a cheap campsite, or just
sleeping in the forest. But after the
long journey, I decided my pack was
to heavy and since I was already going
through the trials of being solo in the
wilderness, I might as well sleep and
shower in comfort. Wandering the
streets for about 45 minutes, I saw two
boys around my age going the oppo-
site direction across the street. I could
tell they were curious about me and
then after we had passed each other
100 feet or so, one of the shouted
“Pardon Moi” and ran over. “Tu parley
anglais?” I said and explained my situ-
ation. They told me about Fontain-
bleau and walked me to a hotel. It was
going well. After checking in sampling
a local beer, I struck off into the forest
to find my El Dorado. The climbing
was amazing. It went off in every direc-
tion, like nothing I had seen before.
This was my mecca. Quickly though,
I realized I was out of shape and out
1 1 : 0 6 a . m . | | 6 / 2 5 / 1 1
of practice. This lead to some frustrat-
ing mental consequences mental con-
sequences. I would see a boulder, that
I could have climbed six months ago,
try it, and immediately realize that it
is not going to happen. It is difficult
to accept that you are physically lim-
ited, while the mind still believes you
are capable.
The other difficulty comes from being
alone. I am not patient. I never have
been. When you go bouldering with
a group, patience is forced upon you.
Everyone takes turns trying to climb
the boulder, and you must wait while
ROLLING
HILLS RISE
LIkE ISLANDS
FROM AN
EBBING SEA OF
WHEAT AND
VEGETATION.
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14
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2019 13
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2
TRIER
5 COCHEMGERMANY
OOSTENDE/BRUGGEBELGIUM2 KREISAU
POLAND6HEIDELBERGGERMANY
COLOGNEGERMANY4
3 BAUMHOLDERGERMANY
Feb March
1 ARRIVEFEB 17ARRIVEFEB 17
DAYS SPENT TRAVELING IN YELLOW
HEIGHT = DISTANCE FROM TRIER
FONTAINEBLEAUFRANCE18 PARIS
FRANCE19METZFRANCE20HEIDELBERG
GERMANY17
June July
DEPARTJULY 9DEPARTJULY 9
VENICEITALY 14RIGA
LATVIA11 PRAGUECZECH REPUBLIC
HEIDELBERGGERMANY12 MUNICH
GERMANY16
BAMBERGGERMANY13 SALZBURG
AUSTRIA15LINDOSGREECE9KOBLENZGERMANY10
ROMEITALY8
April May
7
COUNTRIES VISITED
TOTAL DISTANCE
METHODSOF TRAVEL
*PLUS CANADA(on flight back)
10
ANDREWSPALDING
10,85117,463
MILESKILOMETERS
DAYS IN TRIERDAYS TRAVELING 75
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OOSTENDE/BRUGGEBELGIUM2 KREISAU
POLAND6HEIDELBERGGERMANY
COLOGNEGERMANY4
3 BAUMHOLDERGERMANY
Feb March
1 ARRIVEFEB 17ARRIVEFEB 17
DAYS SPENT TRAVELING IN YELLOW
HEIGHT = DISTANCE FROM TRIER
FONTAINEBLEAUFRANCE18 PARIS
FRANCE19METZFRANCE20HEIDELBERG
GERMANY17
June July
DEPARTJULY 9DEPARTJULY 9
VENICEITALY 14RIGA
LATVIA11 PRAGUECZECH REPUBLIC
HEIDELBERGGERMANY12 MUNICH
GERMANY16
BAMBERGGERMANY13 SALZBURG
AUSTRIA15LINDOSGREECE9KOBLENZGERMANY10
ROMEITALY8
April May
7
COUNTRIES VISITED
TOTAL DISTANCE
METHODSOF TRAVEL
*PLUS CANADA(on flight back)
10
ANDREWSPALDING
10,85117,463
MILESKILOMETERS
DAYS IN TRIERDAYS TRAVELING 75
65
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Fire & Energy
54
stares at me. Silently shouting to try
again. Daring me to give it another
go. If I succumb I quickly become
tired, and risk injury. It is imperative
to wait between attempts. But how do
you wait, when there is nothing and
no one to wait for. This mind set has
caused me to look for climbs that are
too easy. Ones I can do on the first try.
It eliminates the need for waiting, but
also the satisfaction of failure followed
by success. I have just eaten lunch,
and will now try to climb the most dif-
ficult boulder yet. Hopefully patience
will prevail.
Well Patience did not need to pre-
vail. I sent the problem on the first
try. Which was a bit anti-climactic al-
though still with some satisfaction.
Walking down the back of the boulder
I was reminded how pointless climb-
ing is. On almost any climb or boul-
der it is very easy to simply walk up the
back of the rock. Climbing and boul-
dering are based around choosing the
hardest route you can do on a rock
face. Why? Why make it difficult? The
answer is that there is no enjoyment
to be derived from the easy path. The
joy comes from the challenge and suc-
ceeding over it. The more difficult
Paris. It is hot. Il set fraud, in French.
The forecast was rain, but in a stroke
of luck, my one and only day in the
greatest city on Earth is bathed in sun
shine. With this is the heat. The worst
kind of heat: city heat. In the forest,
country, or really anywhere except
the city, heat showers down but is ab-
sorbed into the earth, and dispersed
amongst nature. Even in the desert.
In the city heat strikes concrete, as-
phalt, glass, metal, and other man-
made materials. It strikes these and
is shot back up into anyone unfortu-
nate enough to be outside. It bakes
the sidewalks, as crackling mirages
ripple on black top. Smoke and cars,
noise, and crowds, all add to the sense
of hot oppression. And still, Paris is
beautiful, it is near impossible to spoil
this city’s allure. There is something
uniquely charming about it. The his-
tory and beauty are everywhere, some-
how still surviving amidst the tourists
and high rises. You have to work hard-
er to find it; harder even than eleven
years ago when I first met this city. Yet
the spirit of Paris is still there. The city
of lights, love and France. Liberte,
Egalite, Fraternite.
There is something strange about
travel. Riding trains frequently, I am
the challenge, the more satisfying the
success. Is this a cheesy obvious meta-
phor for life. Probably. There are of-
ten easy ways to a goal. But they lack
challenge, satisfaction, and experi-
ence for the future.
I finally met some other people climb-
ing this afternoon. Two Danish guys,
who let me join them for climbing for
0 4 : 2 3 p . m . | | 6 / 2 5 / 1 1
THE ANSWER IS
THAT THERE IS
NO ENJOYMENT
TO BE DERIVED
FROM THE
EASY PATH.
Greener Grass
a while. We didn’t speak much, but it
was an extremely needed interaction.
Another example of how much we
take for granted. Basic human inter-
action, and conversation are things
we assume will always be there. But
when they are removed, the vacuum is
almost unbearable.
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W A N D E R L U S T
6drawn to those moments of connec-
tion between people. You glance out
the window, or at a passenger getting
of the train. For instance: eye contact,
a human connection. Then gone.
They leave, the train moves on, and
you never see that person ever again.
They continue with their lives, mov-
ing towards some distant destination,
you will never know. I imagine life
as a path. Each person on their own
path, constantly weaving in and out
of new experiences and locations. All
the time, people’s lives/paths cross
ways. A friend or someone you are
close to simply parallels your path for
long stretches of time. I try to visualize
then, imagining a trail behind some-
one, for their whole lives.
A few times on my travels I have met
people, become friends for a day, two
days , or even a few hours. I’ve be-
come very close to people I’ve known
less than twenty four hours. You meet
someone at a campsite, they travel
with you for a day. You converse,
share experiences, and stories. Then
the next day; gone. Never to meet
again. I am often painfully self aware
of this, even while spending time with
those people. But to bring it up vio-
lates some sort of self imposed blind-
ness to the transience of these en-
counters. People generally don’t like
to be reminded of the temporariness
of travel-friendships. To most, there
is no end in sight, until you’re past
it. And what do you say? How to you
interact with someone, you will only
see for a few hours or days. The first
instinct is to be guarded, treat them
like the stranger they are. But I am
of the opposite opinion. It is a per-
fect chance to tell secrets, or discuss
matters that would be taboo amongst
friends or family. These people don’t
know you, your friends, or your life.
You can self reflect and converse with
no fear of lasting repercussions. They
will take the knowledge of you, but
have nothing to do with it. No one
they know will care, and they will most
likely forget all of it anyway.
So next time you make eye contact
with someone on a bus or out a win-
dow, or at an airport, try to imagine
where they came from, where they
are going, and savor that split second
where your paths intertwine.
I pass now through the valleys of Lux-
embourg, my journey almost at an
end. It was a success by all standards.
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the idea that since it is not fun, it will
seem longer. Stretching my life, in my
mind. So right now on this train, wait-
ing and wanting for home, minutes
turn to years, and I find solace in that.
I view it as a twisted sort of optimism.
If you are having fun take comfort in
that, although it will be over soon; if
you are not having fun, try to embrace
the feeling of having more time. I can-
not decide if I hope these next twelve
days will go fast or slow. Which is more
important to me: home, or my final
time of studying abroad? Most likely
I will flip between these emotions,
subconsciously seeking that other
greener grass.
looks on their faces, when they saw the
American at their party were priceless.
Seeing them and having human con-
tact again was incredible. They spoke
English mostly to me, and I under-
stood some French, but it reminded
me of a common scenario, I have en-
countered here. A feeling of loneli-
ness amidst a crowd. Whenever I am
with a group of French, German, or
any other nationality they make an ef-
fort, generously, to speak English, but
inevitably the conversation returns to
their native language. I do not feel
that it is fair to expect them to use
English, so I do not press for it. It is
ironic though that these are possibly
the most homesick moments, more
so than alone in the forest. To be in
the middle of a conversation, amongst
friends, yet unable to understand or
contribute, is a unique and painful
feeling. I want so badly to join in the
discussion, (I love talking) and yet
cannot join. I sit there alone with my
thoughts.
I am very excited to be returning to
America in twelve days. I do know how-
ever, that once back in the USA I will
miss Europe. This “grass is greener”
paradox is difficult to grapple with.
I try to force myself to enjoy my re-
maining time and push the thoughts
of home to the recesses of my mind.
This only heightens my awareness
of the situation. They say truthfully
that “time flies when you have a good
time.” In addition to this sensation, I
constantly have an awareness of my
own mortality, and the knowledge
that every second, is one that you will
never have again. Because of this, I
seek to live the fullest, greatest life,
and enjoy every second. So I try to
make myself happy in the most diffi-
cult, boring, or painful moments, with
SUBcONScIOUSLY
SEEkING THAT
OTHER
GREENER GRASS.
Greener Grass
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yOuR tRue tRaVeLeR FinDs BOReDOM RatheR agReeaBLe than PainFuL. it is the syMBOL OF his LiBeRty-his exCessiVe FReeDOM. he aCCePts his BOReDOM, When it COMes, nOt MeReLy PhiLOsOPhiCaLLy, But aLMOst With PLeasuRe.
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– aldOUS hUXley
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The tiny town of Kreisau Poland played host to the
2011 European Arts and History Forum. 90 students.
9 universities. 10 days stepping back in time.
Q U I e T
S T I l l
&
a photo essay
ANDREW SPALDING
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1
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“Krzyowa”
“Kreisau”
“Creisau”
3
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CZESC
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CZESC
G R E E N
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B L U E
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Von Moltke’s chapel
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Berlin: Ich Liebe Dich
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rior to coming to Berlin, I knew little about the
city and what it had to offer. I knew a bit about
its history; I knew that Berlin was a city that had been
rebuilding and reinventing ever since the wall had fallen
over two decades ago.
Someone had told me that the city was comparable
to New York in the 90s but this information was useless
for me. One, I had never been to New York and two, I was
certainly in no way old or mature enough at the time to
even care about what was happening then. I had no idea
what to expect and I was completely okay with that.
At the t ime, I was spending a semester abroad
studying on the west side of Germany in the old city of
Trier. I was half way through the semester when I decided
to make my first visit. It would be safe to say that I spent
more time traveling than actually participating in my
studies while I was abroad. And honestly, I would not
have had it any other way. That’s not to say I was not
learning though, because I was. I was learning through
experience. I was learning through interaction. I learned
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from different people and different culture. From
different places and different histories. I was learning
how to really live. How to go out and get around on my
own. I was learning about myself, who I was and where I
wanted to be. I was embracing and soaking in everything
I could. I just figured that this was my one (and perhaps
only) time in Europe and it only made sense to make the
most of it.
There seemed
someThIng speCIAl
ABouT fIgurIng ouT
A new plACe on
your own.
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Berlin: Ich Liebe Dich
l iked that I d idn’t k now
much about this city I was
getting ready to go to. I was needing
something to look forward to. Not
knowing made things a bit more
exciting, a bit more adventurous.
I suppose I could have done my
research, put together an itinerary
and sought out all major tourist
dest inat ions . But for whatever
reason, that did not appeal to me.
Instead, I wanted a more laid back
approach. I kind of just wanted to
wing it. It seemed a lot more fun to
go out and figure out a new place on
my own, by myself. That was the plan
at least.
Plans changed though but I
couldn’t complain. One of my dudes
was going to meet up with me. Steve
was an old friend of mine. We had
gone to college together a few years
back. We lived on the same f loor in
the dorms, we had been neighbors
before he transferred schools in
2008.
He w a s com i ng o f f a f i ve
month spell traveling up and down
southeast Asia and I found out he
was making his way to Europe. It had
been awhile since I saw him last and
when I found out he was making his
way to Europe, it only made sense to
meet up. We set a plan to meet on the
31st of May. He flew into Frankfurt, I
met him by train, and from there we
began our trip to Berlin.
A fter a lready feel ing l ike a
seasoned traveler, visiting a handful
of cites and countries, seeing this
and that, I started analyzing the way
in which I was traveling. My f irst
few trips I was just wanted to go out
and see as much as I could in a short
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amount of time just for the sake of it.
It made sense though. I was thrilled
when first got to Europe. Everything
around me was new and foreign. But
as I began to settle down in Trier, I
started thinking about all that I was
missing; all the things a city has to
offer that go beyond the hotspots
and tourist traps. Before I was only
getting bits and pieces, never fully
embracing the true culture and
energy of a destination. Sure, I saw
a lot of amazing things and went to
some incredible places but I wanted
something more. By the t ime we
made our way to Berl in, it was
time to slow down. I wanted to feel
connected the city I was in. I wanted
something different. It was time to
really get to know and understand a
city and the people. I wanted to take
in everything it has to offer. It was
time to explore, get lost and just live.
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Berlin: Ich Liebe Dich
ittle did I know what would
come from this trip. Within
the f irst few moments of being in
this city, I knew there was something
special about it. It seemed as though
it was a being of its own. A vibrant
city that beamed with culture, history
and the arts. It was edgy. It was alive.
It seemed to have it all. Dare I say this
place was the epitome of cool? It was
by far one of the coolest places I had
been to and I had only there a day.
Having been deemed “poor but
sexy” some time ago, I could start
to see why it had gotten that name.
Sure, Berlin had its fair share of
poor areas where unemployment was
a little high and it faced a healthy
nat ional debt , but you couldn’t
get around the greatness of this
city. It was a cheap place to visit for
being such a major city. I could only
Roaming some clean streets.
i want to get grimey.
imagine how affordable it would
be to live here. With low rent and
a laissez - faire economy, it was a
world city that had a special creative
energy to it due to its attractablity,
affordability and tolerance.
After spending the f irst night
in a hostel, we wanted to find some
better k ind of accommodat ion.
Something much more easygoing.
And we did just that. We had found
an apar tment on cra igsl i st .oeg
out of places. Apparently a lot of
people rent out their extra rooms
or apartments if they are away for
awhile or gone for the weekend. And
it was cheaper than any hostel we
looked it.
It was more than perfect. The
renter was a young British-Canadian
girl named Lacey. She was a yoga
instructor/writer named and was
K R E U Z B E R G
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such a nice host. She gave us a quick
tour around the area the day we
arrived and after that we were more
or less on our own for the rest of our
time here. We were in Kreuzberg.
Sitting in east-central Berlin,
Kreuzberg is one of Berlin’s most
eclectic districts. It was a district
filled of contrasts. It was a district
that was filled with culture, a sort of
melting pot of people teaming with
bohemians, artsy-fartsys, creatives,
punks, alternatives, hookers and a
large Turkish immigrant population.
Once a poor area of Berlin, it
was evident that gentrification had
taken over in the western parts of
the district. You could see clean walls
that were once-upon-a-time covered
with graffiti. You could see newly
renovated apartments and lofts, the
set up of dot-coms and agencies.
And you could see the younger
crowd that seemed to come from
wealthy backgrounds. I could tell a
bit of it’s charm had gone in certain
areas. But only a little. There was still
plenty special about it. We had our
home base to call our own. It was the
perfect way to experience the city,
the lifestyle. For a few days, it was like
we lived there.
Roaming around, seeing the
Turkish flohmarkts, smashing on the
delicious falafel and döner kebabs
second to none from street vendors,
hearing the hustle and bustle of the
people, making multiple trips to
Gorlitzer park and watching it as it
filled with people living life, crossing
the Oberbaumbrüke back and forth,
that fortress of bridge, walking along
the famed East Side Gallery, listening
to the pulsating beats that crept into
the air as the sun began to disappear,
following those sounds into clubs
and walking out just to see the that
the sun had risen. It was all too good.
Our apartment was in a prime location, with
nearby sites including gorlitzter park, the east
side gallery and the Jewish Museum
Flohmarkts are cheap and inexpensive.
Perfect for grocery shopping and a nice
reminder of why the city is so great.
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here was no way of missing it. It would be hard
to not see the 1.3km stretch of painted wall
murals. The East Side Gallery was an international
memorial of freedom and made for a nice walk. The
Gallery itself is filled with over a hundred paintings
by artists from around the world. Each unique in
its own way. Some were well kept, some had been
defaced and others were crumbling down. It was
nice to see a place where art was used an expression
for a unique point in t ime of the history of a
separated Germany.
E A S T S I D E G A L L E R Y
Berlin: Ich Liebe Dich
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Smothered with graffiti in its entirety, surrounded by a sculptural
garden, Tacheles is a graffitti-riddened, counter-culture of a temple in
Berlin. Today it continues to be a home to more than a hundred sculptor
and artist squatters. Unfortunately the fate of the building remains in
the air as it faces the threat of being torn down.
a photo essay
JARED BERGERON
p O O R
C O l O R f U l
&
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Poor & Colorful
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Poor & Colorful
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Poor & Colorful
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THERE IS ALMOST ALWAYS A STORY that goes along
with any tattoo. Some may be extravagant. Some may be
important. Some may be absurd or just plain stupid, but
there is always some kind of story. Mine was a rather simple
one; I wanted something to take home with me from
the time spent abroad. I wanted something permanent,
something that would last a lifetime, something that
I could keep with me and always be reminded of the
incredible experience I had.
Of course the wanting-a-tattoo part was easy. I had been
wanting a new one ever since I got my first two-and-a-half
years ago. It was true what they say; you cannot just get one
tattoo. It was the making it a reality part that was difficult.
For one thing, a quality tattoo meant it was going to cost
a nice sum of change, which I did not have. And then
there was the dilemma on deciding what to actually get.
For some this may come easy. For others, it can be quite
difficult. After all, the idea is to have it with you the rest
of your life.
I suppose if you are really indecisive; saying “screw it”
and leaving it up to the fate of the tattoo artist could be
your best bet. However. you need to be sure you trust your
artist. Take enough time to do your research. Visit as many
studios as you need. Go through the artists’ books. Be
familiar with the work the artist has done. Scrutinize it.
Be critical. It would be to safe assume that a shitty tattoo
artist typically equals a shitty tattoo. Look for consistent
line quality and lettering work. Ask friends. Ask family
members. Word of mouth may even be the best way to go.
Leaving a mark
A g U I D E TO T H E P E R F E C T S O U V E N I R
by JaReD BeRgeROn
a RT & C U lT U R e
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a RT & C U lT U R e
It’s the method I used and it worked out perfect for me.
I as lucky when I found my tattoo artist in Germany. I
came about my him by happenstance. I was out one night
in Trier and was talking to a friend at a local bar who had
spent a semester in the states studying at my university a
year-and-a-half ago. After a few Bit Burgers, we got on the
subject of tattoos (he had some badass tats himself) and
he told me of a friend of his had done a couple of his
tattoos and that this friend also happened to live and work
in the same town we were in. He passed along his friend’s
business card to me and the next day I made a call and set
an appointment to meet Sebastian Winter.
After meeting with Seb and shooting the shit for awhile,
I found out he was a former illustration student who had
graduated from the same school I was studying at in Trier.
He was a laid back, easy going guy who made bitchin’
tattoos and sang, or rather screamed, in a hardcore,
German punk band on the side. A look through his work,
made it evident that he had strong, clean line work and a
unique style that was clearly influenced by the traditional
Americana style of tattoos. He was just what I was looking
for. I had found my tattoo artist. Before leaving my
meeting with Seb, I left a couple pictures as reference
and told him to just do his own thing. Having always
appreciated tattoos as an art form; the skin as a canvas,
the tattoo machine as a brush, I saw this as an opportunity
to get someone elses artwork on my body. I had complete
confidence in what he would come up with.
I knew I wanted an owl motif for some time and after
being abroad, it made even more sense and became
more indicative of what it meant to me personally.
And the pain begins.
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...The plaCeS I
had gONe aNd The
eXpeRIeNCeS I had
Metaphorically, it applied to my life style, a creature of the
night. But more importantly was its symbolic meaning.
It stood for wisdom, vision, knowledge and transition. It
represented the pivotal point in my life. It represented the
near six months I had spent abroad and the impact it had
on me. It represented the people I met, the relationships
I made, the places I had gone and the experiences I had
that helped open my eyes to a whole new world.
When the day came to begin work, there was a certain
anxiety that came over me. I was excited for the mental
battle I was about to face. Like mind over matter, it was
about finding that happy place and controlling the
threshold of pain that goes with getting a tattoo. All and
all, the tattoo took 8.5 hours and two sittings, not mention
it cost a hefty sum that was worth every last coin. I could
not have been more satisfied with the final piece. It was
the perfect keepsake, the perfect souvenir.
IT RepReSeNTed
The peOple I meT,
The RelaTIONShIpS
I made...
(top) getting set up. lots of paper towels, spray
bottle, inks and tattoo machine. (middle) close
up of some bloody ink. (BOTTOM) checking out
the stencil, making sure it fits right.
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STUDYING ABROAD WAS ONE OF THE BEST DECISION
I ever made. While in Germany every second of the day,
from the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep I
was challenged. Whether it was at Coffee Fellows trying to
buy an iced coffee and getting a coffee with a scoop of ice
cream or simply going to trying to make a typeface in Al-
phabet class. At first it was difficult to adjust and I was con-
stantly exhausted, but by the end I felt satisfaction when I
could successfully order a vegetarian kebab at Ali Babas.
On my way to class, I would pass by a preschool and try
to translate and understand the little kids conversations at
recess. When I arrived at class Professor Hogan would go
to each student and speak to them individually about their
alphabet design. When he came to my desk he could tell
straight away from my sketches that I had no idea what I
was doing. Usually this would have discouraged me, but
being abroad made me less intimidated by failure because
I was constantly humbled by all the things I didn’t know
and all the words I couldn’t say. Hogan knew I had a lot to
learn, so he took out a pen and paper and drew the perfect
outline of the lowercase letter “R.” I was completely blown
away by his skill and ability to draw such an effortless letter
form. At that moment I knew that type design was an art
from that I would not learn in one day, but through pro-
cess of trying to create a typeface I learned so much about
typography that has influenced my style as a designer.
Being abroad away from the people who know me best al-
lowed me to delve into new passion and develop a design
style that I could call my own. Each new place I went and
with each new challenge I faced I grew more confident in
myself and became a stronger more knowledgeable design-
er in the process.
Learning
F R O MT H E B E S T
by JessiCa MaRaK
S T y l e
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145
2.
1.
2. LEARNING FROM THE BEST
I accredit my typographic style as a graphic designer to
the time I spent studying Alphabet design in Germany
with Professor Andreas Hogan. While learning to create
my first typeface at the Fachhochschule in Trier I was in-
spired by my peers impeccable use of subtle clean type
combinations. I was attracted to the simplicity and intel-
ligence behind their work. Since then I have developed a
love for “perfectly simple” styles and incorporate it into
my life in every way.
1. USING NEW TECHNIQUES
At the “Kreisau Endowment for European Understanding”
workshop in Poland I took a paper sculpture class where
I was challenged to think three dimensionally and work
with my hands to translate a difficult theme into a cohesive,
conceptual work of art. The workshop taught me that I can
use my design skills in more ways than I thought. It took
me trying a completely new medium to realize I should
not limit myself to traditional ways of designing thinking.
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3. 3. THINKING & SKETCHING
On every journey from departure to destination
there is always down time, whether it is on a train,
plane, or even bus. While abroad, I took those
moments to put pen to paper and draw whatever
I was interested in at the time, whether it was
whimsical doodles of girls with pretty hair or de-
tailed plans and charts of my school project. The
sketchbook became a part of my day to day pro-
cess. It helped me managed my time more and
become more efficient when it came to design-
ing because I had all the thinking written in my
notes, so all I had left to do was make.
The typeface used in this maga-
zine is called DIN. It has been
defined by the German standards
body Deutsches Institut für Nor-
mung since 1936. DIN is a realist
sans-serif typeface that is widely
used for traffic, administration
and business applications.
aaDIN TYPEFACE
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CHEERS!prostyamasna zdravíkippispriekasantésalute
147
German: An informal goodbye amongst friends.
t s c h ü s s
