My Study Abroad Soundtrack

            Throughout my experience abroad I have encountered many different kinds of music in different venues and situations. Music has been a part of my life here in London as well as in my travels throughout Europe. My love and appreciation for music has deepened and varied in style since my arrival.

            From my first week of classes I became aware of music’s importance in London culture. Through my interpretation of popular culture class I have witnessed, first hand, an individual who is more dedicated and entranced by music than anyone I have ever met. This class has taught me the history of rock and roll and how it came to be such a huge phenomenon across the world. Justin, our teacher, demonstrates his love for music through his lessons each week and his passion instills in me a greater understanding and appreciation for music from both the past and present.

            From outside the classroom, music is still a significant part of my daily life. Whether it’s bonding and listening to music with flat mates or enjoying the music played on a night out, there is always some type of soundtrack narrating our experiences. In the flat, the music played is a mix of songs from our past and popular songs of the present. On nights out, music has, for the most part been a collaboration of obnoxious techno beats and popular songs that are continuously overplayed and are eerily similar to nails on a chalkboard. However, I have been fortunate to discover various venues that offer great music. There is the Notting Hill Arts Club that has death disco and hip hop nights and Ain’t Nothin but the Blues Bar which has live blues music every night and is always a unique and enjoyable experience.

            Through my travels abroad I have been able to experience and look at music in a whole new light. No matter where I traveled, whether it was Portugal, Italy, or Greece, American music dominated the various bars and clubs. This phenomenon baffles me, especially because in most of these countries English is not the dominant language. My nights out, across the world, have all been encompassed by the same chart-topping American beats. It’s amazing, and a bit irritating, to see the influence that American popular culture has had world-wide. There has been one exception to these bars with corny American music and that has been Dublin. The weekend that we visited Dublin there was an Irish music festival going on in which every bar had amazing live music being performed. Those nights out in Dublin were some of my favorite during my stay abroad. I felt I was truly immersed in Irish culture and able to bond with the Irish citizens on a whole new level.

            So far my study abroad has deepened my love for music and given me an idea of popular music in different countries. My class, travels, and days in London all offer a unique view and perspective to the world of music. By far the best musical experiences that I have been fortunate enough to witness are the nights with live music. Live music enables you to relate to the performers and people you are with in a new way. I have loved all the live music I’ve seen, whether it was Irish, Blues, or hip hop and look forward to many more nights out that offer live music and new experiences.

Athens, Greece

Greece is somewhere I've always dreamt of visiting. I had visions of the picturesque beaches, and perfectly blue waters and couldn't wait to make these illusions a reality. Athens, Greece was the first stop on our spring break excursion and while some aspects of Greece and its beauty lived up to my expectations, other features left me feeling uneasy and completely out of place.

I planned my trip to Athens without any further knowledge regarding the city beyond the Parthenon being located there. Upon entering Greece, I was immediately struck by the desolate appearance of the city and its buildings and the looks of despair among many city-goers faces. It wasn’t until after my arrival that I came to understand that Greece was in the middle of a huge economic decline due to political and economic corruption. The past two years have left many citizens of Greece unemployed and the affects were notable throughout the city.

When I stepped off the metro and onto the streets of Greece I was dumbfounded. Where were the happy, smiling people I saw in Mama Mia and where were those picturesque beaches that I so longed to see? Graffiti and garbage littered the streets of Athens. Beggars and bleak street stand owners hassled us every step of the way to our hotel. On our first excursion out to the bars at night, we stumbled through eerily abandoned streets in an unsuccessful attempt to find the night scene we had heard so much about. Upon our first encounter with someone else on these streets, he appeared to be shooting up heroine so we quickly scurried away and on with our quest for the bars. Finally, we found a taxi driver who rescued us from the sketchy streets and safely delivered us to a small bar with Greek music blasting from within.

We were immediately struck by how friendly the people inside the bar were. These happy, friendly faces were in great opposition to the despair I witnessed on the streets just moments before. They chatted with us and helped us figure out where this mysterious night life really was located in Greece and even let my friend assist the DJ in the night’s music selections. This night lifted our spirits and gave us new hope in what Athens had to offer. The next day, after passing through the poverty driven streets, we reached a beautiful square in which we could see the Parthenon perched atop a massive mountain. After dining on the best Greek salad I’ve had in my life, we began our hike up the mountain.

This day where we climbed and explored the beauty of Greece was by far one of my favorites throughout my entire break. Gone was the despair and sadness that rang throughout the city. The view from the top of the mountain was completely breathtaking. We could see the entire city beneath us, along with the mountains and enticing blue sea in the distance. We explored the mountain for hours, never tiring of the beautiful views. Even after we discovered that we arrived a half hour too late and that the Parthenon was in fact closed, we kept our spirits high and opted to return again the next day.

That night we returned to our new favorite Greek restaurant for more delicious gyros and tazaki sauce. The previous night at this restaurant, we were treated like royalty and received endless baskets of bread along with heaping portions of gyros and fresh plates of fruit for dessert. The friendly service at this establishment led us to return to the same place for all but one meal during our stay. The next day we returned to the great Parthenon and were entirely satisfied with what we saw. After this we went to the Greek island of Aegina, where I was able to witness the great beaches and waters I had been longing for.

My stay in Greece has left me with mixed feelings. I now understand to not judge a city right from the start and also, to watch my belongings much closer while riding the metro, a realization that I obtained after my wallet was stolen from me. Even though the city is a bit scary and poverty ridden, the people are generous and friendly. Athens may be overrun by graffiti, bit there is still great beauty to be found, you just need to look for it.

Shoes.Shoes.Shoes.

Fashion week instills in me a deeper sense of appreciation and longing for the trends and perfectly put-together outfits that surround my everyday life here in London. Since my arrival in London, I’ve come to the dreadful realization that shopping, for anything that exceeds my life essentials, is out of the question. This insight has left me helpless and stylishly insignificant next to the fashionistas strolling the streets of London in five inch stilettos. Shoes have always been my weakness. Some think that it’s a bit of an obsession or an issue that I have, but I figure that since my petite size six feet haven’t grown since fifth grade, there has to be an occasion, someday, for every pair. And while my shoes aren’t even close to London standards, I can take comfort in the few shoes that were lucky enough to survive the long trek over to London. I have shoes for every occasion here, and while they may leave my feet blistered, wet, or cold, they help to add a little something to the simplistic outfits I’ve learned to accept during my stay.

My shoes and I have had quite the experience since our arrival in London. On day one, my Uggs were the first shoes to step foot on London soil. I soon learned that, yes, it does in fact rain quite frequently here in London and, to my dismay, yes mom, you were correct in advising me to leave my Uggs at home. My beloved Uggs may resemble a loaf of bread encompassing my feet, but they never failed me during the cold Wisconsin winters. These cherished shoes survived the rain; a little water damaged, but have yet to leave the apartment since that first day. To make up for the misfortune that the Ugg boots have faced, my Ugg slippers have stepped up and left me warm and germ free during my days in the brisk and, typically, less than clean flats.

Since the inevitable failure of my Ugg boots, I have learned to cherish and rely on my brown boots that I received this year for Christmas. These boots are the superhero of boots. They’ve survived the torrential downpours in London and have kept me warm through countless pound trips. I realized that these brown boots should not be taken advantage of and purchased some black boots on Portabella Road for only 15 pounds! They are, of course, fake leather, but I figured they would do the job. These boots served me well for about two weeks, but I soon learned that you really do get what you pay for here in London. They may have been cheap, but those few blissful weeks of the black boots may not have been worth the swamp feet I dealt with on numerous occasions due to the four holes deteriorating my newest member of the London shoe family.

When it comes to going out in London, heels are my go-to shoes. They instantly make me feel better about my five-foot-two height and dress up an outfit at the same time! They may not be the most practical of shoes, but they really are the most fun. These shoes have seen the best of times in London and I’m forever grateful for the woman at the British Airways check-in desk, who allowed me the few extra pounds so that they wouldn’t have to be sacrificed. I have my basic black booties, which have seen better days and may be fraying at the heels, but still do their job to the best of their ability. I also have the impractical stilettos that always seem like a good idea at the beginning of the night, but tend to take my nights to a whole different level. Such as the night where I wasn’t let into the club because I was told I was too drunk, when in reality I tripped in my four inch heels. I snuck in anyway bouncer, try not to be so naïve next time when it comes to shoes. These heels often leave me in pain and walking home barefoot, but the few extra inches truly are worth it when you’re standing next to a six foot tall supermodel.

Shoes are a girl’s best friend. You don’t need to worry about the extra double cheeseburger you ate the night before or your pants being too baggy because they haven’t been washed in weeks, which is pathetically realistic due to washing machine facilities that we have been equipped with. My shoes make me feel better about myself and help narrate my life here in London. I have my pink puma’s that accompany me on my runs through Hyde Park, my boots that keep me warm during sightseeing, my heels that go out on the town, and my slippers to spend days in bed sleeping, recovering, and keeping warm. Unfortunately, my style and closet haven’t been able to change much during my stay here in London, but I am grateful that my shoes are always there to add a bit of spunk to my outfit or comfort me through the less than sunny days. Hopefully someday I will return to London and splurge on the bright wedges and stilettos I see sauntering down the street, but until then, I’m happy with my comfortably worn-in shoes.

Chocoholics Anonymous

Food. Where do I start? My entire being revolves around food. From the moment I wake up and crave a delicious sandwich from The Sandwich Shop to my late night binges on McDonalds and one pound frozen pizza. Now my extreme love for food has been hampered a bit by the unnecessary prices upon my beloved Domino's pizza and Wheat Thins, but somehow I’ve found a way to survive…

Chocolate. How can anyone not love chocolate? I'm convinced that any single item of food would only be enhanced by the addition of chocolate. Now here is something that, to my physique's dismay, has not been effected by my pricey and posh London living.

Soon after arriving in London, I had one of my frequent chocolate cravings and discovered Cadbury chocolate bars. These heavenly candy bars are so dangerously delicious; my mouth starts to water just from thinking about them and they’re astonishingly only a pound!

Every once in a while I decide to take advantage of the fact that Cadbury chocolates are only one pound and I treat myself to Ben and Jerry’s half-baked ice cream. This delicious ice cream is almost too good to be true, but is extremely pricey so I try not to spoil myself with it more than once a week. For those sad days that Ben and Jerry’s is out of the picture, there’s always McDonalds hot fudge sundaes which are also just one pound!

This past weekend I had two of my most memorable food experiences yet in London. We had two pound trips where we went to Windsor Castle and Greenwich. After the trip inside the castle, we decided to take advantage of the local Chinese restaurant since we had yet to find good Chinese food here in London. After the delicious meal, where I jealously watched two of my friends devour the all you can eat special, I decided to push my stomach to the limits and caved for an advertisement in the nearby window: Warm waffles topped with two different kinds of ice cream and hot fudge, a chocoholics dream. After the waffles, crème brulee and nutella ice cream, topped off with hot gooey fudge, I was thoroughly satisfied with my day trip to Windsor Castle.

The next day brought me to Greenwich. Upon arriving in the city, we walked through a market encompassed in the aroma of ethnic delights. The entire tour my mind kept going back to that amazing place where I witnessed Thai, Chinese, Ethiopian, and Portuguese food. As soon as Brit told us that we were free to spend the rest of the day however we wished, I rushed back to the market. After a few hectic and glazed moments in which my mind and stomach battled with what to get, I settled on the Thai food, which gave me two different choices along with rice and a box the size of my face; why not? After this delicious meal that left me painfully full, I decided that I also had to try the brilliant kabob of strawberries and bananas coated in warm milk and white chocolate and sprinkled with almonds, hazelnuts, and marshmallows. This perfectly painted kabob was worth every penny and, after all, when am I ever going to be in this exotic little market in Greenwich again anyway?

My time here in London is overpowered by the constant reminder and craving for food. Whether it’s cookies from Ross’s market on my way to class or brownies and cookies made by my generous roommates in celebration of a birthday, I’m forever grateful for the chocolate in my life that has helped me to overcome the expensive food prices here in London. My body may not agree with me and my love for chocolate after my stay here in London, but chocolate will forever hold a warm place in my heart.

37 Hyde Park Gate

The flat located at 37 Hyde Park Gate can be described in many different ways: Posh and sophisticated, with a classic décor; out of place among embassies and multimillionaires, and the bonding grounds which provide the means for 42 strangers to become friends.

Once you venture inside the second floor flat, you’ve entered sorority central. Cat fights over food and the occasional bickering over dishes. You’d never know how much drama could erupt in a kitchen until you dare to enter flat 2.

The common area in the flat could be considered cozy, if it wasn’t for the frigid air that encroaches upon its occupants.  If only the picturesque fireplace would step up and serve its purpose.  However, the beautiful view that overlooks our front yard, Hyde Park, is enough to make you forget about the bitter cold.

The place that I’ve truly learned to call home is 2A. There’s nothing glamorous about this little cubby I call home, but the pen permanently stuck in the sink, ghost that occupies the bathroom, and the constant drip of water down the wall is something I’ve started to find comfort in. There’s never a dull day in our little room. The rare nights in are spent devouring ben and jerry’s ice cream and listening to our favorite jams from the 90’s, while nights out end with parties in 2A and sleepovers in our already too-small beds.  

Mornings are less than pleasant. Four girls attempting to get dressed in the morning is a bit of a struggle with the lingering eyes of the Dutch embassy peering directly into our room. If you’re lucky enough to not have 9:30 a.m. class, you’re pleasantly awoken by construction workers who are trying to tear the building down, but claim to be renovating the mysterious flat on the first floor. I’m convinced that my beloved 2A, which is conveniently located directly above these mad men, will collapse into their destructive hands any day now. 

The maids have learned to leave our room till last, with hopes that they will never again be greeted by the 2A hurricane that left our cubby in a disarray of pizza pans, oven mitts, bottles, and miscellaneous clothes.

The chaos and havoc that erupts in flat 2 of 37 Hyde Park Gate is something that has become a part of my everyday life here in London. I’ve learned to appreciate the cramped coziness of my room in 2A and to find comfort in the outdated bunk beds, the peeling paint on the walls, and even George, the ghost who lives in our bathroom. These odd flats where 42 strangers have been thrown together as roommates are now my home, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Transporting a Thought

            So there we were on the tube: a rowdy and enthusiastic group of American students looking forward to what our next adventure had to offer. I’ve never thought to think about our loud nature, but in this moment, as the rest of the passengers remained eerily silent, I could feel a blush of crimson spread upon my cheeks as the unspoken resentment spread throughout the passenger car. I’m an observer. I love to listen and watch people. Yeah this may seem a bit nosy or be distastefully referred to as “eavesdropping”, but I’ve learned a lot from my people watching. This day on the tube I can’t help but notice two posh Londoners staring and snickering among one another as they contemplate our brash and unruly American conduct.

            Why should the tube hold this unwritten code of silence? What has made the tube this place of silent contempt against those unaware of the British principals? I think back to America, a nation where I’ve spent the entirety of my life. Riding the bus in Madison there’s a mixture of contempt, haste, and yelling. Everyone talks over each other to be heard amongst the chatty passengers. I would love to observe these posh Londoners on a Madison city bus. Traveling throughout London I’m overwhelmed by a culture that is blatantly similar to ours, and yet at the same time remarkably diverse. The language barrier that by all grammatical measurements is minor is significant every time I use an “American” word and am scoffed at or receive a lingering glance glazed with confusion.

            My family is loud. Coming from a family of six you have to learn to scream over each other to be heard. Any London student would be appalled by the undignified speech that resonates around my kitchen table. My mother, maybe the loudest talker I’ve come across yet, would surely be exiled from the London tube. Being one of eight kids, she’s developed her booming and raspy voice that resonates in every room. This voice, that has comforted and scolded me throughout my life, would surely be received by silent disdain, painted on the faces of those superior London natives. What caused this unspoken hated for Americans?

            Is it merely our loud and unkempt voices, or maybe our polite disposition that is deemed suspicious by the people of this alien city? It is unnatural for me, along with many other Americans, to go about my day without the three simple words that dominate the American dialogue: “Please, thank you, and excuse me”. These three words are sparse and rare among my days in London. In instances where the light and friendly “cheers” is uttered as a substitute for, as far as I’m concerned, any word at all, I’m left feeling content and grateful for this friendly Londoner who proved to me that not all British people are without good manners. But what makes our American standards of manners good or superior? Are we the unusual ones for being friendly to all of those we encounter?

            I hope that my time in London and traveling throughout Europe will instill in me a sense of acceptance for these alien cultures that I yearn to understand. Maybe it’s not a matter of cultural superiority, but an understanding that we are all different and yet alike at the same time. One thing that I am certain of is that my loud booming voice and irritatingly American tendencies, which have been bestowed upon me since birth, will not be swayed by the glares of the posh passengers sitting across from me. Instead of being intimidated by this gossip and passing judgment, I return the critical glances with my expert American smile and opt to not change a bit for these skinny fashionistas. I find comfort in knowing that if the situation were reversed, their cynical sentiments would veer towards gratitude once encountering our overly polite dispositions in America.

Capturing A Moment

Capturing a Moment

            After less than five hours of sleep, I rolled out of bed on a Sunday morning and into the brisk London air, anticipating my tour of Little Venice.  After successfully taking the tube and meeting Brit, our tour guide, I waited for what seemed like an eternity for the rest of the group to arrive so that we could begin our trek to the boat. I had been looking forward to this boat tour for weeks and decided that the sleep deprivation from the night before was well worth the sights we would encounter on our tour of Little Venice. Little did I know that our charming boat tour was not going to turn out quite as expected.

            After the whole group was gathered together, we unfortunately started the walking tour that I was not previously informed of. I can’t say I remember much from the walking tour…besides the freezing cold temperature and Brit hollering at the group to gather closer together and insisting that the “little ones” get a first row position, as if they were missing out on something by being short and listening from the edge of the group. Brit led us to various spots on the walking tour, one being an ancient hotel that Sigmund Freud stayed at and many others that I wish I could remember. The walking tour eventually led us to the canal that we would be taking our boat ride down.

            The walk alongside the canal towards our boat consisted of rows of “houseboats” that looked like small rickety shacks on  water. At the end of the walking tour we reached another small and narrow boat that made me look around and wonder where we would be led next. It was then that I was informed that this was the boat we would be taking along the canal. After climbing down into the boat and sitting, much too close, to my friend in the three foot wide seats, we sat in the freezing cold boat waiting for it to fill up so that we could leave. As I was sitting there shivering, the boat finally glided away from the dock and past the island that Brit informed us was called “Rat Island”. Soon after, our boat slowed down and reversed so that a group of French passengers could board the “shack”. As the boat floated away for the second time we were bombarded by French chatter that screamed over everything that Brit was trying to tell us on the tour. We were surprised to hear Brit translate her language to French so that the other passengers could be informed of the sights and as soon as they heard their native tongue the chatter stopped and we heard a loud “shhhhhhhh” directed at the American students in the back.

            The sights consisted of old, attractive houses and a short sight of the zoo’s most boring exhibits. The combination of my attempts to stay warm on the freezing cold boat, crouching down by my knees and Brit’s soothing British voice soon put me to sleep. I was pleasantly surprised to be woken up at the end of the freezing boat tour and greeted by Camden market. We exited the dreadful boat and could not wait to get indoors. We thanked Brit, said goodbye, and after a short indoor break where I attempted to get the feeling in my toes back, walked back out into the cold on a search for the food that was overpowering the air. The ethnic food that we soon encountered was devoured within minutes and made me soon forget the miserable morning that led me to Camden market. The rest of the day was still unbearably cold, but the amazing food and unique shops made me realize why I love London and look forward to the unique experiences it has to offer.