Headed down south to the land of the pines

And I'm thumbin' my way into North Caroline

Starin' up the road

And pray to God I see headlights

I made it down the coast in seventeen hours

Pickin' me a bouquet of dogwood flowers

And I'm a hopin' for Raleigh

I can see my baby tonight

So rock me mama like a wagon wheel

Rock me mama anyway you feel

Hey mama rock me

Rock me mama like the wind and the rain

Rock me mama like a south-bound train

Hey mama rock me

Runnin' from the cold up in New England

I was born to be a fiddler in an old-time stringband

My baby plays the guitar

I pick a banjo now

Oh, the North country winters keep a gettin' me now

Lost my money playin' poker so I had to up and leave

But I ain't a turnin' back

To livin' that old life no more

So rock me mama like a wagon wheel

Rock me mama anyway you feel

Hey mama rock me

Rock me mama like the wind and the rain

Rock me mama like a south-bound train

Hey mama rock me

Walkin' to the south out of Roanoke

I caught a trucker out of Philly

Had a nice long toke

But he's a headed west from the Cumberland Gap

To Johnson City, Tennessee

And I gotta get a move on fit for the sun

I hear my baby callin' my name

And I know that she's the only one

And if I die in Raleigh

At least I will die free

So rock me mama like a wagon wheel

Rock me mama anyway you feel

Hey mama rock me

Rock me mama like the wind and the rain

Rock me mama like a south-bound train

Hey mama rock me

Blog Ho!

So I'm in Europe again, which means, among other things, that I should probably start blogging again in order to keep you updated on my crazy crazy life. I have an extremely reliable internet connection here in my beautiful apartment, so I feel like this process should be a lot easier than it was at the lovely Résidence Gandhi in Brussels.

Ahh, where to begin? I've only been here in Paris for a bit more than two weeks, and I already feel as though the States are a distant, yet fond, memory. I found my car keys and old cell phone in my backpack the other day, and was surprised at how foreign they appeared to me. I love keeping up with family and friends, but I tend to see them as individuals, fully disconnected from my visceral memories of America. In this sense, the cars, the open spaces, the grocery stores and malls, are all suddenly difficult to conceptualize.

Many things have been written about Paris by Americans, and I feel as though their statements could all very well be true. This is not to say that Paris is easy to describe or to judge at first glance. Rather, I intend to say the opposite: The city of Paris is so vast, so multifaceted, that it constitutes a completely different experience at every turn. Each neighborhood could take years to fully explore, and the distance between each metro stop feels like a whole universe of colors and smells and people. I think that's the first thing that struck me. Paris is so full of people, of every possible nationality and style and language. Wikipedia says that over twelve million people live in Paris, and I don't find that hard to believe at all. Coming from Chapel Hill, with a grand total of 54,492 residents, it's easy to see why I might have been surprised by the way the city is quite literally alive.

And that's to say nothing of Paris itself. It's maybe a 25-minute walk from my apartment to Sciences Po, and on the way I pass innumerable monuments and buildings and gardens with cultural significance. In Paris you need to keep your wits about you when you're walking around, firstly in case you miss one of the architectural wonders of the world, and secondly in case you step in dog crap. While it may be the most beautiful city ever built, it is still a city, and that's something that I say to forewarn anyone who will visit in the near future. Apparently the Japanese have a word, "Parisu shinduromu", for a very real psychological condition that befalls tourists who have over-romanticised the City of Lights. Thankfully, I've visited Paris before, and even did a stint in far-grittier Brussels (see below) that conditioned my expectations. It's not a clean city, but that's not the point.

I say this to explain my first week in Paris, which was altogether the most stressful week of my entire life. I arrived in Paris with one suitcase, a couple hundred euros, 4 days of a hotel reservation, and a lot of prayer. I knew two people in the whole city, and had a very limited amount of time to find an apartment. The city is massive and public... There's no personal space, no privacy, and it costs money to do anything. As you might be able to imagine, this was a recipe for a pretty intense time. However, I relied on my language skills, my extremely supportive network of contacts, and the grace of God... and He delivered in a big way. Without major complications, me and my roommate Eric were able to sign on an apartment together on the fourth day. Judging from the horror stories propagated by many of my peers, it was simply a miracle.

The night we signed on the apartment was a turning point for me. It coincided with the beginning in earnest of the Welcome Program, which organizes exchange students into small classes and instructs them in french language and methodology for two weeks. I met quite a few people through the welcome program, and the events they planned were just awesome. I began to discover Paris by night, which is a different and even more enthralling experience altogether. The city began to appear less impersonal to me as I discovered more about my quartier and Sciences Po. I suppose this next little chapter of my acclimation culminated with a night at Queen, a famous (and extremely entertaining) gay club. The pictures are on facebook, for those who dare... (Transvestite cowgirls!) Since then, everything has been really crazy and fun.

Now I'm finally here, relaxing in a beautiful apartment while the city hums around me. Though this post has gotten quite long, none of what I've written can accurately describe the experience that is Paris. Hopefully during the course of my adventures I'll be able to better explain the nature of this overwhelming city. Paris isn't a passive entity... It demands your attention. With my classes starting today, and the excitement I've begun to feel for the rest of life here, hopefully I'll be able to keep updating you with these posts. More to come!

Much love,

Ian

Tu sais que ça ira...

All good things must come to an end. I am aware that this post seems abrupt, seeing as how I have neglected the blogosphere for a few weeks. The casual observer would certainly estimate that I have been too engaged in my pursuits here in Brussels to post. This is only partly correct: I have been engaged in pursuits both within the city's confines and abroad. Further exacerbating these conditions was a steadily declining availability of web access during the last few weeks of the program. Nevertheless, I will attempt to summarize some of the madness that has occurred in the past few weeks. Perhaps this summary will be divided into several posts, in an effort to create a series of retroactive facsimiles. I face a distinct challenge: The past few weeks have been so overwhelming that an account of their events will certainly neglect important details. Nevertheless, I press on with this effort, as I reiterate my statement that these posts will one day serve to enhance my self-awareness.

I left off in Bruges. That weekend was really an important one, as it proved to me that intercity travel was not only a possibility, but rather an exciting prospect to pursue during the coming weekends. Bruges was the tip of the iceberg! Once we had mastered the confusing destination/arrivals board at Centraalstation, we felt a sort of manifest destiny awaken within us. Our goal was not even constrained to the Benelux: we sought to go beyond! The U of Washington program organizers had planned an overnight excursion to Luxembourg to see the European Investment Bank and the European Court of Justice. It was in Luxembourg that me and a few others (namely Kyle, Ashley, Jill, and Kristina) discovered that we were a very unique group of travelers indeed. We established a tacit accord, a mutual agreement to which we were inextricably bound by nature of our impetuous thirst for adventure. In so many words:

1. No grumpy gills. This is to say, nobody is allowed to be grumpy. (see also Negative Nancy).
2. Collective European translation services. I speak French, Kyle, Ashley, and Kristina speak German, and Jill speaks Spanish. We all speak English, although we may never agree on the pronunciation of "bag".
3. Reasonable expenditures. We agreed to keep the budget below 1% of GDP (lol i'm an EU Studies dork)
4. Magical Crazy Event Discovery Powers. We all seem to have them.
5. Sleep is Irrelevant
6. If we visit a city, we must traverse it in its entirety, without a break (see Grumpy Gills).
7. Kristina has a GPS receiver somewhere in her brain. She points, we follow.

So with these important preconditions in mind, we arrived at the magical fairytale land of LUXEMBOURG. Those of you who are unaware, be informed: I LOVE LUXEMBOURG. For the sake of time, I won't delve into the detailed history of Luxembourg (I am the world's preeminent expert on the subject). Below is the highly abridged version.

The Story of Luxembourg

A few years after the dawn of time, extremely pleasant people with good taste in beer and cars took up settlement in a mountainous region. They couldn't agree on a language, so they decided to speak several. Included in this long list was their own made-up language--inherited from elves and squirrels--called Luxembourgish. (Yes, it exists.) They dug into the sides of their mountains and discovered caves, rendering their tiny town strangely defensible. Many years later, they constructed beautiful castles and churches. Disney princesses soon took up residence, and having no princes to marry, they sought men of noble character and stature to take their hands in fairytale marriage. In a great crash of thunder, the voice of God came down upon the people, and a crown descended from the heavens and rested itself upon the bravest and classiest individual in the town. Thusly, the coronation of the first Grand Duke of Luxembourg came to pass. He immediately engaged in a variety of Dukely activities, including swimming, water polo, tennis, and reading. Savage barbarians came to their town and attempted to pillage and plunder, but the Grand Duke knew the secret to quell their fury. He commissioned the wisest men of the town to devise a secret recipe: a brew so well-crafted it would instantly render its victim completely satiated. Thus, the magic of Bofferding was born.
The modern history of Luxembourg continues this proud tradition of rich, effete dudes courting hot babes in Lamborghinis. This story is of course not without conflict. In the 20th century, Hitler attempted in vain to stomp out the carousing of the Luxembourgers, as it was distracting his army from their mission of global conquest. Unfortunately, the Luxembourgers cried out with the glorious proclamation of a thousand gilded trumpets the motto that stays with them to this day: "We want to stay the way we are!" (this is the real motto of Luxembourg.) And Hitler could do nothing to stop the 27 well-mannered Luxembourgish soldiers from the indomitable defense of their mountain passes. Hitler later took Paris and decided it was nowhere near as charming as Luxembourg. To this day, the Grand Duke of Luxembourg rules with an iron fist and a fat wallet. Visitors to Luxembourg are welcomed with open cash registers and a hearty yet indecipherable greeting in Luxembourgish.


Alright, that tale really took it out of me. Expect an account of our adventures in Luxembourg, and perhaps some mention of our foray into the Bundesrepublik as well, in the next scintillating post. Aren't you glad I'm posting again?

Picture time

So if you read my last post you would have seen that I promised pictures. Well now they're on facebook. Enjoy!

In Bruges

It has been a long time since I have written one of these scintillating worldwide-interweb articles, but we are all chilling in the logement for the afternoon with nothing better to do. I suppose you (and I) should be excited about my lack of posting, because it's a strong indication that I was busy actually doing fun things.

And such fun things have indeed been brought to fruition! After our interminable classes on Friday (the last of which was actually quite interesting and entertaining*) we went out on the town to explore and enjoy more of the local culture. Most of the time we hang out in Ixelles and Elsene--two neighborhoods near the south of the city, and at least 6 metro stops from the real heart of the city. We finally took the metro to Gare Centrale/Centraalstation and got out near one of Belgium's most beautiful churches. I was overwhelmed, since most of the stuff around the campuses don't exceed 2 or 3 stories. It was some kind of basilica or cathedral built from white stone (most of the others are brick), and when contrasted with the low-slung kind of Dutch-style row houses all over the city, the thing really blew my mind. Anyway, we proceeded to walk around for quite a while until we found a restaurant right by the Grande Place/Grote Markt. I had Stoemp Bruxellois which is a specialty of Belgium: a kind of mashed potato-vegetable-bacon casserole, with black and white sausage. Upon further inspection, and much to my chagrin, I came to realize the "black" sausage was... Dieu me bénissez!... a blood sausage. I tried it cautiously, remembering the rillettes and blood sausages i was persuaded into choking down in France. This was not only the best blood sausage I have ever had, it rivaled kramarczuk's brats in my book! Such a pleasant surprise, especially when combined with the hoegaarden blanche. My epicurean adventures would not end there, but let's leave it at that for the moment. We went out later to a place in Ixelles and did the laid-back European kind of nightlife thing... It was lovely.

*Interesting and Entertaining: The afternoon speaker was from the EP's communications division. He spoke 13 languages fluently, and had some knowledge of 5 more. He was Czech, and related to us some extremely salient personal history about how his perception was altered by the Prague Spring 1968 and the fall of the Iron Curtain. He was by far the most genuine speaker of the bunch, and the rationale for his support of the EU has resonated with me much more than the other, more bureaucratic, characters. To see his office's amazing lip sync video, which was produced as an advertisement for the Sakharov prize, check out the link.

Anyway, let' s continue. The next morning we woke up bright and early (using the term "awake" as loosely as possible) at 7 in the morning (1:00am my time) and proceeded to hop 2 metros and a train to fabulous Bruges. NB: In French it is spelled Brugges but the dominant language there is Dutch so in the interest of fairness I will respect their dactylic method. The train ride was exactly an hour, so it was a pleasant experience if not for the fact that I was still about 98% asleep. The next thing I remember, I had my face in one of the most delicious cappuccinos of my life. It made everything else infinitely more enjoyable. And dang, we did a lot of stuff! Shopping on the little side streets, lunch in a cafe outside the big belltower that the guy falls from in the movie... (Did you know? If you actually see the thing you'll realize it is impossible for him to have fallen on the ground because of the tower's construction... look at the pics below. He would have been skewered on a parapet.) Where was I? A chocolate museum with chocolatier demonstrations, a brewery tour, (best tour I've ever been on!) a canal boat ride... the list goes on. And of course what else could we do? We had to have waffles and real Frites Belgiques with a huge dollop of fresh mayonnaise on top! These aren't so much Belgian specialties as they are Flemish specialties. In Brussels it's not as emphatically advertised. Anyway, the pictures I'll post will give you a much better idea of the experience. Yes, I have pictures! Ooh la la.

Today we went to a kind of flea/junk market for a while, but as is customary in the low countries, it rained intermittently all morning and prevented us from doing much. We did manage to walk around and finally got a good view of some of Brussels' most beautiful structures. Tomorrow is the Belgian National Holiday. Hopefully I'll get some sweet pictures of military demonstrations and perhaps a couple shots of the King of Belgium (descended from King Boudewijn I, it is apparent that this dude doesn't mess around.)

I'm really getting more settled, and it was beyond exciting to get to travel to another destination within the trip I'm already on! It helped make Brussels seem more like our place of residence and not just a kind of extended hotel stay. Bruges is unfortunately quite touristy, but aside from the Grote Markt and the Mannekin Pis, Brussels is quite formal and doesn't lend itself well to busloads of Germans, Japanese, and Americans. You will see the occasional fat guy in a Yankees hat, but they just don't conglomerate like they will in other cities. Plenty of people visit here, but it seems to me that the infrastructure is not suited to tour-on madness. Brussels seems almost like a secret, only a couple hours from both Amsterdam and Paris, and yet not nearly as exciting to the average traveler. When you see the pictures you may get a better idea of why I think I may like it better than the others.

Anyway, happy birthday to my brother Graham! He is 17 today, and only 365 days away from being a college-bound 18-year-old rapscallion. I hope you like your gift, Graham! I'm looking around for a late present too... hopefully I'll figure it out before I leave. The Czech guy explained to us that in Czech, as a result of Radio Free Europe and USO productions, all say "Ahoi" when greeting each other or when departing. So, to conclude the written portion of this super-epic marathon post, Ahoi!

Portrait of the Scholar as a Young Man

It's raining here in Brussels. Our coffee plans were only partially foiled, since outdoor tables were a little too wet for comfortable seating. Nevertheless, we made it to class and had a nice breakfast beforehand. We just heard from the European Commission's Directorate-General chairman for aviation policy. His talk was pretty much the most interesting one, in my opinion, although it's hard to pick favorites. I'm probably going to write one of my research papers on aviation policy. It's amazing how the Open Skies agreements have blown up in the past 15 years... and even in the last 3 months, step 1 of a 2-part EU-US aviation integration process has been put into practice. I'll probably write something that criticizes the DG for being slow to recognize resistance by trade unions, despite planned conferences in 2008 and 2009 for US-EU labor relations harmonization. I like how this blog has devolved into a space for me to expound upon my classes... I suppose if you are in colloquia from sunup to sundown, (this 30-minute break notwithstanding) your focus tends to gravitate towards that area of your life.

I'm here in the EU studies center at ULB-Solbosch. It's about a 25 minute walk from the dorms, unfortunately, but the cool thing is that the center is surrounded by the Japanese, Kuwaiti and Saudi Arabian embassies. Every time we walk by, the return trip is accompanied by some angry-looking Green Beret type guys from the Saudi compound. Americans are so popular!

I've really written a lot recently, in part because this is pretty much my only connection to the outside world. Nobody ever gets on Skype (hello family?!) so besides Facebook and email, it's pretty slim pickings. I talked/briefly typed to Wyatt yesterday, but the Internet in my room only sends packets every 30 seconds or so. Usually my connection has sent around 100,000 packets and received maybe 1500. Oh well. Sorry dude!

If you want to talk to me for real, I am usually online starting at around 7pm (US East 1pm). So, if you have an afternoon to kill, me donnez un appel!

Again, apologies for the picturelessness. This is, after all, only my 3rd day of classes. Wait til the weekend!

Be encouraged! Heb 4:15-16
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

I've been convicted by my shortcomings in the past few weeks, but not a shameful conviction. I'm really coming back to these verses just because they are exactly what I need to hear: that my personal history is not some stone edifice, but something that Jesus has himself comprehended in His life as a human and is capable of washing clean. That's where confidence in Christ stems from: That's why we can hold fast to grace and mercy. I won't lie: This experience has been somewhat trying. But that's the only way you learn, both in academics and in spirituality. Encouragement is everywhere I turn.

Anyway I'll probably write more later. It will be awesome to read all of this after I'm back home--in a way, this blog is as equally important to me as it is to those keeping up with my adventures. Like my friend Lara from High School, who frequently checks up on posts from years and years ago, I expect to reference these events with fondness.

Have a beautiful day, and good morning! (6:40am east coast)

Ian

A Thousand Words is Worth a Picture

So, I have taken two pictures so far. One of them was of a sign, and the other one was of some food I ate. I'm aware that I have failed the general blog community... (the blogmunity?) but have no fear, the pictures are on the way. Internet is almost as precious here as cheap food, so I suppose in a way I am being forcibly weaned of my tremendous and horrible addiction to all things Internet.

Anyway, I promised last time that I would talk about the group. Dang, it's hard to believe so much has happened between then and now! I feel like I've finally gotten a chance to settle in a bit. I'm sitting in my new friend Ashley's room (the sacred room of wifi heaven) while she and some of my other hallmates sit outside and try to finish our interminable readings. The readings we get assigned are really beastly. Down the hall, some ULB students (the real Belgian ones) are listening to some kind of Techno jam and giggling like Francophone hyenas. I've only met them when I accidentally forgot to close our awkward shared-room shower apparatus thing, and one of them walked into my room to inform me of my error. That was in no way startling... :P

Let's discuss some of the coursework, shall we? I know my Dad reads this thing, so I would like to expound upon strictly academic matters for at least a few sentences. Our reading has referenced 5 of my present, past, and future professors: John Stephens, Liesbet Hooghe, Evelyne Huber, Gary Marks, and Milada Vachudova! It's pretty cool to know I have direct access to some of the field's most influential scholars. The seminars here are intense and extremely informative, and the 18 students in the program are all destined for amazing things. It's seriously like an introduction to a junior grad school cohort. I have never felt so free to express my dorkiness! My other new friend Kristina from the University of Colorado has been giggling at our seemingly impenetrable textbook all night. Example number two: We had a presentation this morning at Bruegel, a Brussels think tank that specializes in economic policy recommendations. After the presenter had finished his talk, we proceeded to ask him questions for an hour and a half. That's like a tuesday-thursday block of genuine, honest dorkiness flowing from all over the room. The dude was an academic, so he didn't run away crying after the first half hour, but I commend his resiliency. I would have made an excuse about time and ended the session.

Anyway, hopefully that gives you a pretty concise illustration of the way the courses are. We are just now blossoming into our fully dorky selves, after a somewhat tense feeling-out process during the first day. Considering we're in classes for roughly 6-7 hours daily, it didn't take many days for us to get acclimated.

I'm probably going to Brugges this weekend! (don't tell me I spelled it wrong: I speak French, you Dutch crazies.) Me and a few other people I have gotten to know pretty well are going to take a train and chill there for a day. This weekend is Belgium's National Holiday, intended to celebrate its independence and its bizarre bilingual federal identity. We're hoping to get back in time to witness some crazy fireworks, street parades, and intense techno dancing. I'm really glad that the Wisconsinites are so friendly... it seems to be all of the eclectic University students with the Wisconsin kids in one camp, and all of the Washingtonians on the other. I don't blame them, they all knew each other to begin with, but whatever. Their loss: All of the cool people hang with us and we know it. I'm just kidding! As a scholar of the EU I know better than anyone not to play geographical or regional favorites. In fact, a speaker today commented that it is now taboo in EU discourse to say "in my home country". The substitute is "In the country I know best". Somehow, (and there is empirical proof for this, thanks to the intense research of people like our program professors), this actually helps European delegates to be less motivated by the internal affairs of their home countries. What do ya know.

I think I am getting a Midwest accent again (as I feared) due to my proximity to Wisconsinites. I need to wake up every morning and say 5 southern expressions including such proper nouns as Bojangles, Sweet Tea, and Overturned Truck. Not to mention I have been pretty much Frenching it up (linguistically, not physically) with everyone I meet, so who knows what kinds of hurdles my Broca's region faces in this bizarre city. It's very much a cross between Amsterdam, a smaller city like Antwerp, and Paris... kind of dirty in some districts, full of charming and off-kilter little avenues and roundabouts, and generally teeming with people of every persuasion and nationality. The EU district is pretty amazing: Glass and steel everywhere, reminiscent of a futuristic Washington DC. It's really striking. As I mentioned earlier, pictures of these places and others are coming soon. I really hope to work the camera when we go to Brugges. We might stop around in other places too, like Ghent and who-knows-where. I'm happy to translate for whoever requests it... the Carrefour discount food mart is pretty daunting for most. I bought a cheap plastic bowl and a tiny fork, and I have been cooking pasta in the kitchenette on our floor. Did I mention the logement is named "Ghandi"? It's pretty funny because the architectural style reminds one of his days spent starving in a prison cell. No frills!

No problem though. I felt a little down at the beginning, if only for the fact that I knew no one. But now that I'm making friends and really starting to engage the course material and the city, I've been overwhelmed by excitement! I'm pretty thrilled for the three-day weekend, in which we will travel and celebrate with the locals. The next weekend is Luxembourg, but I'm planning on renting a car with some of the German-speakers and heading over into what is supposed to be a beautiful area in Germany for a day. The next weekend, qui le sache? Maybe Paris, maybe somewhere else... Thanks to the Schengen Agreement and many other free-market policies I have been studying, free movement in Europe a breeze!

Anyways, I haven't had an extraordinary amount of time to think about other things (namely personal reflection.) I suppose I'll set out some time tomorrow, assuming our reading is light. Tomorrow morning, coffee and croissants at a charming café with some lovely ladies!

Well, that's it for now.
Hopefully St. Ashley will grant me access to her pearly gates of wifi freedom later.

Peace and love!
Ian