Service-Learning at Calvin

So, it's been a while since I have written anything on this blog, a whole year in fact. I am hoping that will change soon, but I am a lot better at hoping than doing.

This is just a quick plug for Calvin's Service-Learning Center blog. It is just starting to gain momentum thanks to one of our student staff members, Bryan Kibbe. The blog is a great glimpse at some of the theory and discussion around the work we do in our office. I encourage you to check it out: www.servicehyphenlearning.blogpsot.com.

I’ll Follow You into the Dark

I am sitting n my room with Dora and Nate. Nate is packing and Dora is telling us about her Scotts-Irish Presbyterian ancestors. We are listening to Death Cab for Cutie and waiting for dinner. Tonight is our final night in Hungary.

I will miss Budapest. I will miss the 49 tram, the gyros kiosks, the Karoli labyrinth, Kalvin tér, the Christmas market, the bridges, the Danube, the bakeries, the cheap wine, the Unicum, the trains, and the people.

I will miss my group. Good friends. Good roommate. Good professor (and wife). Watching American TV, getting backrubs, playing rook, going to concerts, going to ballets, exploring the city. Late night walks, cups of coffee, good talks, and lots of laughter. And thanks to Dora, a little bocsi here and there.

I will miss who I am here.

When in Vienna...

Another weekend abroad, and all is well.

This weekend, I went to Vienna with Kyla, Mary, and Christy, and we stayed at Kyla’s older sister’s flat. A few highlights:

On Thursday, we went to the Belvedere, an old royal estate, now home to many the famous art pieces, including pieces from two of my favorite artists, Klimt and Schiele.

Christy and Mary in the gardens of the Belvedere.

My favorite Schiele piece, Four Trees.

That evening, we went to a bar/living room/music venue, where Kyla’s older sister, who is a concert pianist in Vienna, and two of her friends from Sweden and Iceland did a musical/dramatic interpretation of a folk story. Imagine twenty or so Viennese, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, gathering together for an innovative artistic performance. Very Euro-hip if you ask me.

The next day, Chanda, Kyla’s sister, took us to a few of the tourist sites in Vienna, including the illustrious historic summer residence of the Austro-Hungarian royalty, summer home of the robust Queen Marie Therese herself. While there, we ate Viennese coffee and cake in a renovated part of the estate a top a hill that overlooked Vienna. It was basically a café in a glorified 19th Century Viennese breezeway.

The breezeway.

That evening we went to the opera and saw Mozart’s The Magic Flute, which, despite standing for three hours and being able to see only part of the stage, was quite beautiful and impressive. I had heard a few pieces from the show before at my dear friend Karianne Pasma’s recital at Calvin. In my humble opinion, Karianne blew the Viennese Papagena out of the water.

The opera house café.

We celebrated American Thanksgiving the following day with a bunch of American ex-pats residing in Vienna. However, before celebrating, I found myself in an Austrian engineering plant drilling holes with a French engineer. Let me explain. Chanda’s boyfriend, Olivier, awoke Saturday morning and told her in his French accent, “I want the boy.” I was then told that I was to go help him in the shop, while the women stayed at home and baked pies. After proving my masculinity by playing with drills for a while, we headed to a store three times the size of a typical US Sam’s Club, and bought approx. 125 euros worth of alcohol for the subsequent party. After the hunters returned home to the gatherers who had successfully thrown together a couple tasty pumpkin pies and a mean potato dish, we packed up and headed to the host of the shindig's house. The day was glorious and included a 14 kilo turkey, stuffing of three varieties, a number of potato dishes, cranberry sauce, vegetables, rolls, and among other things, a whole lot of alcohol. I certainly had my fill of champagne, wine, and vodka, which made for an ever-so but not too delightful Thanksgiving.

The next day, we heard a little more Mozart, this time being sung by the renowned Vienna Boys Choir during Sunday Mass. We had to stand for the hour long service, but the angelic voices and the free show was worth it.

The choir.

After Mass, we went to the Christkindlesmarkt, a.k.a. the Christ-child Market, which Vienna is famous for. I had some tasty punch, part of a chocolate pretzel pastry, a Viennese bratworst, and lots of Christmas cheer.

The punsch.

Other highlights of the weekend include eating a gourmet Indian and gourmet salmon dinner made by our French chef Olivier, watching the first season of That 70’s Show, good coffee, and mucho fun.

And of Budapest?

I haven’t written recently, or much at all, about how everyday life in Budapest is going. Though things are picking up with the closing of a semester, school remains quite easy, especially with classes only on Monday and Tuesday. I just finished the book, The Polish Complex, by Konwicki, for my Eastern/Central European literature class. I really enjoyed it, probably my favorite book yet for that class. My art history class is always so interesting because I have never studied art in any capacity. I also really like my Christianity and literature course both because we are studying the intersection of my two disciplines and because I enjoy the different perspective I get from being in a class with mostly Hungarians and taught by a Hungarian prof.

To past the time, many of us have been playing all sorts of card games, my personal family favorite being Rook. We also have stayed caught up on our two American television shows, namely Grey’s Anatomy and LOST. We go out for drinks once or twice a week usually, depending on whether or not we are around on the weekends. We are all getting along surprisingly well, considering a small group of distinct personalities all within close quarters. We do most of our own cooking, though occasionally we will indulge ourselves in disgustingly tasty American fast food. Some of us fall into this temptation more than others…

We have had a lot of visitors, family and friends, from the states come these past few weeks, especially this week due to Thanksgiving. Last week I presented a paper at my university’s American Culture Week called “North American Muslim Women and the Struggle for Identity.” It went well, and I felt good about it. Last week, I also went ice skating which was so fun, partly because we were skating right outside a castle and partly because Karin taught us some figure skating moves.

All in all, I think a lot of us have gotten into some semblance of a routine here in Budapest, as much as one can when taking a light course load in a foreign city with many exciting things to offer. However, despite the excitement and fun, it will be good to be home. I miss family and friends, easy communication, a nice library, my professors, Common Ground, Schuler’s, and the West Side. While the Danube is remarkably beautiful with its impressive bridges, beautiful cityscape, and Margarit Island, it still can’t replace my dear old Grand River, friend of the fish-ladder, the s-curve, and the winding Kent trails.

Wining and Dining.

This past weekend, our group went to the northeastern part of Hungary, not only the epicenter of Hungarian Calvinism but also, more importantly, the Tokaj wine region. So, along with a couple visits to some Hungarian reformed monuments, i.e. churches, schools, and alike, our group had the pleasure, and believe me, it was pleasurable, of going to three different wine cellars and tasting a grand total of 17 wines. For Calvin and Professor Fetzer’s sake (this is for you Dr. Serge), I should say the emphasis was on tasting, though in reality many of us took this opportunity to practice good, Christian stewardship by not wasting any of the wine. Many of us are Dutch after all and, therefore, are going to drink what we paid for. Needless to say, even if we weren’t in beautiful wine cellars centuries old, spending time with beautiful people in such a beautiful country, the amount of wine consumed would still have ensured an enjoyable time filled with much laughter.


While in this region, we stayed at health facility, equipped with pool, hot tub, steam room, weight room, and sauna. We had a lot of fun relaxing and playing games in the pool. I have to let my pride get the best of me a moment by informing everyone that, though many people tried to dunk me under the water at our health facilities, often times six or more people trying to do so at once, I held strong and steadfast, asserting all sorts of masculine energy, and was never dunked once (though I did get scratched up pretty badly).

Good weekend. Three cheers to Saraspotok, Debrecen, and Tokaj for the good times they provided this weekend and three cheers to Calvin College for using my tuition dollars to buy me 17 glasses of wine. You got to love Hungarian cultural experiences.

Praga.

Well, it’s been a while since I have updated, but I will try my best to recount a few recent experiences and memories, starting with Prague.

A little more than two weeks ago, our group went to the land of the Czech Republic, home to the Bohemians, a few marionettes, and the city of Prague. While there, many adventures were had by all. Here are but a few examples with some accompanied pictures.

The City.

Kyla, Mary, and I in Prague.

• We observed the astronomical clock which, when all was said and done, was not worth observing. Imagine a huge crowd of people, heads craned upward and cameras poised, all waiting to see a large, glorified coo-coo clock. In my opinion, the only fun of the astronomical clock is gawking at the gawkers.

The Clock.

The Gawkers.

• We went to a castle that was quite large and quite impressive and has a lot to see. I saw the childhood home of Madeline Albright, the home of Mozart as portrayed in Amadeus, a road akin to Diagon Alley, the changing of the guard, and a beautiful gothic church.

The guard.

The Church.

• We went to the Mucha museum. I didn’t know much of his work before going to the museum, but upon leaving, I had gained a special appreciation for his art. My favorite was this advertisement for the play Medea.
• I had my first love affair with mulled wine, and I will never be the same again.
• I went to a semi-creepy marionette museum, where we learned a little bit of the history of the puppets, saw a few in action, and decided to imitate the beauty which they so wonderfully embodied.

My marionetted friend and I.

• And finally, my favorite experience in Prague was the dance club that I went to both Friday and Saturday evening. This is not just any dance club, but a five-story themed dance club, which each floor having a different music genre and atmosphere: the first floor was hip-hop, r&b, and pop—your typical US clubbing music, the second was techno, the third oldies, the fourth discotek, and the fifth chill. It felt very good to get my dance on with some dear friends in such a fun place.

Say no to mono.

A week ago today, I was exploring the city of Sarajevo for the first time—well, actually, I was sleeping in my hostel, recovering from a very long overnight train from Budapest to Sarajevo and getting ready to explore the city.

Last week Tuesday night (after some excitement in Budapest on the 23rd, the anniversary of their famous revolution against the Soviets), Nate, Dora, and I headed out to the lands of Bosnia and Herzegovina, ready for some good times in Sarajevo. Our train ride was far from enjoyable, which I guess can be expected of an Eastern European night train. We were woken up multiple times by border guards and ticket men, and then, at about 1:00am, we had to transfer to a bus because the rail was under construction. We got off near the Croatian-Hungary border, and were told to leave our bags behind and go push the bus that was mysteriously failing to start. A bit peculiar we thought, so we decided it would be best if one of us stayed with the luggage while the others went to push. This proved to be quite sagacious considering that the minute we arrived at the bus and the minute the drivers realized that we had someone attending to our bags the bus magically started.

Well, with little sleep, we did eventually arrive in Sarajevo in the wee hours of the morning. We walked around a bit, found our hostel, enjoyed the beautiful weather, got some Bosnian coffee at a café (which quickly became a favorite), and then headed back to the hostel for an afternoon nap. A word about Bosnian coffee: Bosnian coffee is much a kin to that of the Turks in that both resemble sludge. Somewhere during the course of history, these lovely people decided that it was a waste of time to separate the grounds from coffee, and thus began the art of Bosnian/Turkish coffee. It was, however, quite tasty and the experience was only heightened with the Turkish delight that was served with the coffee.

The coffee and delight.

The first morning sun.

The next few days involved a lot of relaxation and good conversation. Dora and Nate are great travel buddies because they like to take things easy and don’t feel pressured to see everything. One of my favorite experiences during our stay in Sarajevo was climbing through a neighborhood in the surrounding mountainside of Sarajevo. Once we reached the top, we beheld the most amazing view of both the city and the surrounding countryside. It was one of those moments in time which you wish you could suspend indefinitely or that you wish you could bottle up to share with all those back home because you know you probably won’t ever be able to communicate how spirit penetrating the beauty of the moment was. It was one of those. Anyway, our decent from the hillside was also a beautiful experience as the Muslim call to prayer began to sound from the many different minarets in Sarajevo. Together the melodic chanting joined in a harmonious cacophony, which was so captivatingly beautiful and mysterious—I guess just another experience to add to my questions about the beauty, truth, and goodness in other religions.

A Muslim cemetary.

The countryside.

Nate, Dora, and Sarjevo.

One of the most interesting and haunting parts of the trip to Sarajevo was the scars left by recent history. On Friday, we went to a museum of recent history and learned so much about the Baltic Wars and the siege of Sarajevo. We saw pictures of massacres that took place only a little more than ten years ago in squares we drank coffee in, markets we shopped in, and streets we walked on. As we walked through the city, there were still bullet and shrapnel holes left in the edifices of many of the buildings and homes. It was quite disparaging to see the pain and hardship the Sarajlijas went through with so little help from the West. Some historians actually call the first year or so of the seige the honeymoon period because the people of Sarajevo figured the West would soon come to help them; however, as time went on, they realized that was not the case. Despite all of this recent history of Sarajevo, the people seem to have such a strong spirit of resilience.

Bullet and shrapnel markings on the edifices of Sarajevo.

By the end of our time there, Sarajevo had quickly become my favorite Eastern European city. The trip, however, was cut a little short because our friend Nathan started getting a pretty bad soar throat. On Friday, his throat was closing and he could barely speak. We took the night train back on Friday, and Saturday night, Dora and I ventured off with him to find a hospital where, after running about the hospital and finally finding a doctor that could help, we learned that he has mono. He is feeling a lot better now and is now only feeling weary, but Dora and I shared a bottle of wine with him one night, meaning that we are prime candidates (not to mention that he is my roommate) to catch it as well. I guess we’ll see what happens and roll with it.

I hope you are all well. This weekend I am off to Prague and will try to update when I get back. Enjoy the fall wherever you may be…

Our favorite square of Sarajevo.

København

What does having classes only on Monday and Tuesday plus an anniversary of a revolution plus an annual fall break over Halloween and All Saints Day add up to? Answer: Approximately 2.5 weeks of no school.

I rang in my long break with a family reunion with my Aunt Irene in Copenhagen, Denmark. Aunt Irene is my long, lost pseudo-aunt who I had never met until last week. She is an amazing, fun, eccentric, energetic, quirky, insightful, well-traveled, extremely hospitable, beautiful and an altogether surprising woman.

My Aunt Irene and I.

Our day of arrival, Irene picked up Dora (my travel buddy) and I from the airport and took us out to dinner at an Indian restaurant. I had ginger chicken: spicy deliciousness. Irene then retired, and Dora and I went off to explore the capital of the Danes. We ended the night with a little television and wonderful sleep in Irene’s make-shift rainforest room—a room replete with exotic plants and photographs of exotic frogs. Irene’s apartment has a beautiful location on a marina only a ten minutes walk from the main city square.

Dora and I having a night on the town.

Dora in the rainforest.

The marina by Irene's flat.

Day two consisted of a rousing 12-mile walk around the city (no exageration). Irene took us all over the city, showing us all sorts of buildings and sights including the famous little mermaid statue, an old prison, the palace of the queen and prince, a couple old churches, Hans Christian Anderson’s room, the theatre house, etc. We ended our time with Irene at a lovely planetarium where we watched a documentary on the destruction of the coral reef. Five highlights from the movie: a) sitting down b) the Crosby, Stills, and Nash soundtrack c). Liam Neeson’s narration d). learning about the coral reef and the effects that global warming and deforestation have on it e). feeling one with the fish. That night, Dora and I went to a café along the marina, drank good coffee, read, and wrote in our journals.

Den Lille Havfrue
(The Little Mermaid)

The palace of the crown queen and prince.

The ponds of Copenhagen.

Dora and I had day three of Copenhagen to ourselves and decided to take a relaxing stroll through the different parks and gardens of the city. My favorite was reading on a bench overlooking a lake while drinking coffee from 7-11 and eating chocolate rum frogs. When we came home for a small dinner, we found that Irene had bought us both Hans Christian Anderson storybooks—very, very wonderful. And we concluded the night in the old harbor of Copenhagen with some very expensive beer.

Me by a windmill and Dora telling me do a pose to the phrase
"Hats off to the dutch."

The botanical gardens.

Our final day in Copenhagen began with Irene showing us around Christiana, a very liberal intentional community in Copenhagen that has become very controversial in the city. We then walked around town a bit more with Irene, who bought us gourmet dark chocolate covered marshmallow and marzipan and warm lattes. She concluded her showering of gifts and treats with a huge dinner at the Hard Rock Café in Copenhagen: she wanted to be sure that I got myself an American hamburger to tide me off until I got back to the states. After the fun with Irene, Dora and I spent more time exploring the city and concluded the night with coffee and reading at a couple different cafés.

Oh yes, and who could forget our breakfasts... Every morning at 10am, Irene had a huge plate of eggs, bacon, and poppy seed almond rolls accompanied with French pressed coffee waiting for us. Delicious.

I could not have imagined a better time in Copenhagen, nor a better Aunt Irene. All in all, I fell in love with Aunt Irene and her enchanting city.

Oh yeah, I found the love of my life in Copenhagen.

of pécs, marzipan, and ballet dancers.

well, this is a post long in coming. i am going to try to make multiple posts in the next few days and try to chronicle some of the more recent fun and craziness i have been experiencing.

let's start with dear ole pécs.

approximately 2.5 weeks ago, i went to the lovely city of pécs located in the southern part of hungary. what would bring a lad like myself to such a place? just one of the best ballet companies in eastern europe. it's no big deal. some of my hungarian friends here in budapest had said that pécs in and of itself was beautiful but add to that their famous ballet company in their national theatre, and it becomes a must see city of hungary.

and so, jackie, dora, christine, eric, and i went to pécs, and good times were had by all. we went to a beautiful city park, saw some old churches, visited a marzipan museum, went to an exquisitely delicious ice cream place, experienced an extraordinary ballet, and stayed up to the wee hours of a very cold morning in the not so luxurious train station of pécs.

the ballet was a highlight for me. we had prime seats, the hunchback of notre dame has always been favorite story and the dancers were amazing. it was so beautiful to see emotion and story given so much life through the mere movement and mastery of the human body. needless to say, it made me wish that i were billy elliot.

i like pécs.

some pictures:

The main square in Pécs

Eric, Christine, Me, and Jackie in the city park.

Delicious things (and Christine).

Christine doing ballet in the basement of an old church.

Me next to a life size, marzipan Elvis.

Some photos of the ballet borrowed from http://pecsibalett.hu/eindex.html.

Come back soon to hear about Copenhagen and Sarajevo, mono and Aunt Irene.

inbetween: defined.

today my professor asked why my blog was entitled "In the Inbetween." it comes from a previous blog entry (june 17, 2006, to be exact) that i wrote while interning in seattle this summer(you can link to that blog on the right).

this is part of what i wrote:
"In other news, I continue to learn more and more about who I am, what my gifts are, and how I fit in this place called the world. It seems like I am at last feeling like a whole person. The past few years have been somewhat difficult times of asking tough questions, most of which I still haven’t found the answers too, and it feels good finally to feel some sense of peace with the way things are. Granted, I still long for the day when all will made new, when we will finally reach unity, when justice has its final word. But until then, I am feeling more and more comfortable living in the inbetween…"

with all the changes that i am going through, especially with graduating this year, it is easy to get caught up in what is to come. moreover, the brokenness i see in myself and in the world can, at times, be paralyzing, causing me to ask god why and making me long for the new kingdom. granted, change, asking tough questions, and longing for the kingdom are all good things, but they are all things that can distract from the beauty of the here and now, the simple wonders of of the time in between what was and what will be. it is my prayer that as i journey through life, a life likely filled with both joy and sorrow, i will walk through the terrain of the inbetween with a deep rooted peace, a peace undergirded by a hope in the kingdom to come and a knowledge of god's faithfulness in the past.

and yes, i know that inbetween is technically two words. english majors are warranted a few neologisms.