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By kennatim

Yes, Belgium. Although I am studying in Dublin, this weekend I visited my cousin and awesome tour guide Megan who lives in Brussels. I have loved every second of my Irish experience, but Brussels has exceeded my expectations outright. Here are my top five spots in Brussels.

Honorable Mention: Maison Antoine is steps away from my cousin's apartment. French fries originated in Belgium and no one does them better. This place is to Belgium as Pat's Cheesesteaks is to Philadelphia.

5. The view from the Military Museum-our first stop in Brussels after the airport was this giant structure in a park that looked interesting. Turned out part of the building was a very interesting military museum. For the extra curious, there was a corner door that lead to some stairs. At the top was one of the most amazing views I have seen of our new city we were set to explore. It also helped that we had a beautiful sunny afternoon, which in Ireland happens as frequently as finding a leprechaun.

4. Musical Instrument Museum- a very interesting musical audio tour exploring the world of instruments. Only two euro for students for an extensive museum! The view at the cafe at the top is also grand. A nice Belgian beer with a view goes quite well with a day full of music!

3. Grand Place- the city square full of tourists with selfie sticks. Very neat to walk around, but what was even better was the walkable streets surrounding this area, the same area you might have seen on postcards from Brussels.

2. Delirium- right at the end of the alleyway near Grand Place is a bar that once set a Guiness World Record for over 2,000 beers offered. With 3 floors and a large Belgian beer selection, the best part of one of Europe's most popular bars is the wide variety of clientele: from older Belgians to international students and everything in between.

1. Random yellow waffle truck- I've heard good things about Belgian waffles. But I never expected an authentic Belgian waffle to be this good. My cousin instructed me to find a truck, as trucks make them fresh, and eat it plain like a true Belgian would. With a gooey inside and crispy outside, consuming the waffle was an otherworldly experience. I don't think I will ever be able to eat an Eggo again.

By jdippel529

This past weekend, I went to Amsterdam along with a couple of the students from my program. Long story short, I loved it. The people, the food, the architecture, and the museums were all wonderful. I think its safe to say that the Dutch culture captured my heart. The most memorable part of the trip, however, was seeing the Anne Frank House.

I first learned of Anne’s story in middle school, when we were assigned to read The Diary of a Young Girl. From then on, the story of Anne Frank and her years hidden from the Nazis during the Holocaust had become a part of history for me. I felt a connection to Anne because she was this young, teenage girl who was able to create this incredible empathy inside of me even long after she was gone. Never, until I came to her museum in Amsterdam, did it really occur to me that she had this effect on people of all genders, ages and places of the world.

Most of my time abroad has consisted of learning and adapting to differences in culture, but at the Anne Frank House I experienced something entirely different. People from all countries and walks of life had come to this very place in Amsterdam to pay tribute and learn more about Anne. Even the audio tour guides came in about 20 different languages. As you walk through the house, however, all of these differences suddenly fade. When you reach the room Anne shared with Fritz Pfeffer, for example, the color of your skin, the language you are speaking, doesn’t matter. All that matters is the eerie presence of Anne and her work; work that ended up shedding a light upon the lives of Jews during the Holocaust. It is hard to ignore the greatness in that room. That feeling of a common journey most definitely contributes to the overall power and experience of the Anne Frank house.

There is this one point in time, when you are leaving the annex, in which you come to a display with Anne Frank’s first and original diary. That simple red and white-checkered diary of a 15-year-old girl is what brought a whole world of cultures together in one, little house. To me, that is an extremely rare and remarkable power we don’t see often enough.

By desansky0826

IMG_6714Annyeonghaseyo (Hello)! So far it is the end of two weeks here in Korea and my love for the country has grown. The first week of school went well. All of my professors speak excellent English and can demonstrate a wide array of knowledge in both English and Korean. The engineering courses here require a chapter reading a class, which is challenging due to the content, but is overall manageable. Being a girl in an engineering class in Korea leaves me in the minority. Most of my classes are 95% boys, but luckily I have my friend Sabrina from GWU here with me to attend them all. I have had no trouble making Korean friends in classes. I have mainly noticed that they won’t talk to you unless you talk to them first, but when you do talk to them they are very enthusiastic and friendly. The grades here work on an A-F system like the US. I have heard from previous students who went on this exchange program that there is no homework given in classes just midterms and finals. This turned out to be incorrect for my classes and I have to do chapter summaries, practice problems, and then midterms and finals.

Monday through Thursday I have school from 10:30am to 5pm. I usually try to go to the international student gym in CJ House at 8:45am because it is only open until 10am and then again at 6pm. It is quiet the struggle forcing myself out of bed to walk uphill to do some basic workouts, but the security guard from CJ House and I have now become friends because of this. Classes are usually an hour and fifteen minutes long, unless they are a lab course. At the end of last week we had a KUBA cheering orientation. At this orientation, the KUBA buddies took their time teaching us the cheers KU students chant at sports games. These cheers are usually aimed at the KU rival Yonsei University. They are hilarious including translations like “Yonsei gets drunk on beer” and “your mascot is a bird.” There were only 20 cheers that we learned out of the possible 100 cheers. Cheering was great but something I was not prepared for was the dancing. At least half of the cheers we were taught included fast-paced head banging and group jumping. The next day I was so sore that turning my head became an issue. At the end of this 2 hour event my new KUBA t-shirt was soaked in sweat, but it was a good time.image1 (1)

Additionally, this past weekend my GWU friends and I won three day club passes to go to Gangam. Yes, that is Gangam from the PSY song and it is considered the super-city part of Seoul. If I were to compare this to New York, Gangam is Manhattan and Anam, the area we live in, is Queens. We went all three days, met some fun people, and danced all night. We went to a club bar on Thursday, Club Syndrome on Friday, and then Club Eluis on Saturday. Korean clubs play typical house music in one section and then American rap music in another, such as Beyoncé or Rihanna. Dancing at these clubs was great and being able to recognize other international students there made everything even better. The clubs were about 5% international students and 95% were Korean; however this made no difference because everyone was really into having a good time. After a club we would typically go get food afterwards, and my friend John had an argument with our new French friend John Paul about America culture. The general perception of Americans from John Paul is that they are crazy, fried chicken-loving, gun owning, idiots. When I asked my KUBA buddy what Korean people thought of Americans she said that they think they are crazy, yet very friendly people. The consensus amongst others was also that Americans are crazy. This perception is not too bad and actually fits in well with the work hard play hard attitude of the Korean people. At least three times now I have seen Korean students sitting in circles in Hana Square, the science and engineering campus, taking shots of Soju after class at 5pm, which seems crazy to me.

image2 (1)This week the US ambassador to South Korea was razored by a political extremist against US-Korean joint military efforts. This seemed to be a big deal to CNN but to the Korean college students I asked, it seemed minor. They agreed that it was just an extremist protesting and not public thought. Currently, it is a Wednesday and I am sitting in a coffee Café called DaVinci and I had a garlic cheese sandwich. I tend to eat American food for lunch and Korean food for dinner here. The whole room is packed with Korean students getting lunch in between classes. They usually order food here family style so that everyone can share. A simple ham, egg, and cheese and coffee here in Korea is 3,500W like 3 US dollars, while in Carvings at GWU it is at least $5.50. The students are loud and happy. Shout out to my sister Yanina, I have not yet met a single Kim, but hopefully these stories satisfy what you call the DailyKim. Anyways, more adventures are still to come next week! Annyeoungkyeseyo (Goodbye)!

By kaandle

While I'm sure there are many stereotypes of Americans in Germany - loud, in a rush, rude - two stand out above the rest.  First and foremost, our desire for small talk and discomfort with silence are duly noted by the German population.  They prefer stoic silence over meaningless conversation.  "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" is unsuitable for elevator rides with strangers. However, with this being said it is important to note the U.S. sided stereotype - Germans are a hard and unsocial people - is very untrue.  The value is on meaningful conversation. Quality over quantity kind of thing.  Talking for talking's sake is uncommon, and quite honestly, refreshing.  There is no need to fill silences and pauses to gather your thoughts before speaking aren't immediately filled with another comment to keep the conversation flowing.

The second is a bit more difficult to define.  Throughout the past month, especially when traveling to other German cities like Dresden or Hamburg, the common response from a local after saying we're from the States is "why are you here?" This is not an inquiry about what we are studying or if it was the culture that enticed us.  Instead it is a surprised statement with a hint of disdain.  At the moment I am still uncertain if the surprise comes from an opinion that Americans are generally uninterested in Germany and therefore seeing people spend long periods of time within its borders is thought of as unusual or if they are utterly unaware of how interesting Germany can be.

Regardless of German expectations we are actively working past our cultural differences and misunderstandings.  The group's native German friend group is finally expanding past host parents and student assistants! It may take a little stepping out of our comfort zones, but bridging the gap between German and U.S. customs is an exciting adventure.

By kennatim

I have had a hard time determining how the Irish really feel about Americans. Obviously, being American myself, opinions are probably held back. In my classes, my peers often attack U.S. foreign policy, but in conversation, everyone mentions their cousin on Boston, or wonderful holiday to New York City. It almost seems as if the Irish do not want to like Americans, but with the overwhelming influence of American pop culture here, from Burger King to House of Cards, it is impossible not to.

Being in a modern, international city like Dublin made me figure the consensus I have been witnessing is skewed. I thought that opinion skew would change when I made my way to Cork City. Cork is about three hours by car southwest of Dublin, much more off the beaten path, with rarely an international flight out of the airport. Though still one of Dublin’s larger cities, I considered it to be a better representative of the small town nature of Ireland outside of Dublin. Is location on the southwest coast is a bit remote and many Dubliners poke fun at the distinctive Cork accent. This was going to be real Ireland.

As soon as we got off the bus, I found the Cork accent to sound much different than I was expecting. The international influence was very surprising, and the “Cork accent” to me was any accent that did not sound Irish. I totally underestimated the cosmopolitan nature of the city. We met some Eastern European friends, stayed in an Airbnb with a Portuguese woman and German man, and ate at a restaurant owned by Brazilians. By the way, the food in what I thought was a quaint little Irish town made Dublin look like my middle school cafeteria.

We had a great time exploring churches, the waterfront, the nightlife, and even got a chance to kiss the Blarney Stone at Blarney Castle. I learned that Ireland is truly a modern, living, breathing organism with a large variety of people and places that might not necessarily agree on anything, let alone their views on Americans. I have never felt uncomfortable, and with my red, white, and blue backpack I purchased here (getting ridiculed by my American friends, no doubt), that is saying a lot. So if you are looking for an international experience, or just looking for really good Brazilian food, look no further than County Cork.

By practiceyogadistrict

If you know me you know that I like everything to be chronological, organized, and in order. And to my great chagrin, this post isn’t. Mai-pen-rai, ka. (means ‘no big deal’ or ‘it doesn’t matter’ in Thai).

A few weeks ago, over a three-day weekend, I went with a few friends on a grand adventure to Khao Yai National Park.

The adventure began right from jump. To get to the park, we had to take a bus to a small city that was closest to the North Entrance of the National Park. The city was called Pak Chong. We boarded a night bus to Bangkok and were told that it would go through Pak Chong. Side-note-- busses in Thailand are incredible! It was like flying first class. Big chairs that leaned all the way back, small individual TV screens, and free food. Not quite as smooth a ride as flying is, however. All of us slept a bit, but tried to keep our eye on the time. We knew it was about four or five hours to Pak Chong. Though we asked the driver to tell us when we arrived in Pak Chong, we weren’t sure that request was communicated perfectly. After about four hours, the driver told us that we are at our stop, so we all proceed to schlep our backpacks off the bus, and the bus whizzed away. We gathered our surroundings. There we stood on the side of the highway at two in the morning under a ‘Khao Yai Outlet’ sign. By no means were we anywhere near the center of the city where we were planning on sleeping before heading to the park the next day. We tried calling the number of the cheap motel where we had made reservations, but the call wouldn’t go through. There seemed to be not a soul around. Luckily, on second glance, we saw a small security shack that lay a few meters back from the highway, and by some small miracle, inside the security shack was a security guard. The poor poor man must have been more than a little alarmed when a mob of young Americans were knocking on his window asking in Tenglish (Very poor thai/English) how to get into the city. We certainly looked desperate enough, so he tried calling a taxi service for us. Of course in a small city, there was none running at 2am. Finally he communicates that he got us transportation and it will be by shortly to pick us up. Ten minutes later, a car probably two-thirds the size of a Toyota Prius rolls up. I am almost certain the security guard had just called a friend to come get us because he didn’t know what else to do with us. The man requests 700 bhat (probably 4x the normal price) to drive us to our motel in Pak Chong, and so the EIGHT of us agreed, and crammed into his tiny tiny car.

Once we were in Pak Chong, he drove us down an alleyway, and lo and behold, there was our motel/hostel. The rooms smelled so strongly of sewage it was almost unbearable and the two mattresses stacked in the corner on the floor were covered with a stained sheet and a moth-eaten blanket. Mai-pen-rai! It was only to get a few hours of shuteye until the next morning when we would take the song-towe to the national park. However, I was immensely thankful for my little cocoon-sleeping sheet that I had brought along from America that made a small barrier between the ratchet bedding and I.

The next morning we made it, with a little less drama, to the park entrance. Four of the girls who already had planned to camp in the park continued on in while myself and the other three friends I had traveled with sought out accommodation. After several failed attempts we ended up staying in the accommodation closest to the park; what was six neon bungalows all in a row. They were clean and had air conditioning—all we needed.

After dropping off our bags, we proceeded to the park entrance, paid, and then asked the attendant how to get to the visitors center/ park headquarters that was 14kilometers away, the place we knew all the hiking trails branched off of. Casually she remarked, ‘hitch-hike.’ We asked again, and again she said ‘you hitch-hike.’ Surely, I thought, there must be a bus! But no… We hitch-hiked, and ended up having to hitch-hike in the park any time we wanted to get anywhere. Though the first time we were very reluctant, it ended up being a blast and only adding to the adventure! It never took us too long to catch a ride, and several times the folks that picked us up spoke English. It was neat to get to meet so many different people this way. We met a business man from Bangkok who had a free day and wanted to just drive through the park and soak up some of the nature. We also met a Thai dad and his son who had downs syndrome. We talked with them about movies, and it was sweet to see in such a short encounter the tender care the father had for his son.

On that first day we made it (after hitch-hiking) to the visitors center/ park headquarters by about noon. We grabbed a map, looked at trail descriptions, and wanting to get in a good, long hike in the afternoon, we immediately asked the man at the desk how to get to the trailhead for an 8-kilometer hike to a waterfall. The man shook his head and said we needed a guide and it was too late in the afternoon for that hike, we didn’t have enough time. We figured it’s less than 5 miles, and we are all strong women who have hiked plenty in our lives, we can do five miles before 5 pm! So, using the piece paper that was a poor excuse for a map, off we went to seek the trailhead for the long 8k hike. The start of the hike was off of a smaller 1k-nature walk that was paved, so we started there. Each time we came upon something that looked like it might be a trail, we tried walking on it for a ways, and then when it came to bush-whacking we decided to turn back. Finally, after several other attempts, we succumbed to hammocking in the Eno Hammocks my friend Hunter and I had brought along. It wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon, though we were a little bummed to not get a big hike in.

That night, with no restaurant at the bungalows to eat at, the owner, who also took pity on us four farrang who had no mode of transportation, loaded us in the back of his truck and drove us a few miles down the road to a restaurant called Khao Yai Cowboy. The place was western themed; hence the name, with tarnished pictures of James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Native Americans, and galloping horses hanging on the walls next to massive racks of antlers and long horns and old fashioned lamps. The tables were made of beautiful raw wood, and all surrounded an open dance floor and a stage. I felt as though I could have been at a cool bar in the American Southwest. What made me not forget that I was in Thailand was the food (I ordered some bad Chinese food) and the music.

About halfway through our meal, a band shows up to the restaurant and begins to set up the stage. The four of us were all looking forward to the live music. They begin to play a set of classic rock and bluegrass/country music. Keep in mind however, that these are Thai men singing with Thai accents. Often times they would just imitate the sound of the lyric, but not quite get the full word. Not only that, but the restaurant owner’s two children, my guess is they were ages 3 and 5 or so, began casually performing with the band up front, the little girl dancing, and the little boy hitting the bongos. The highlight was when the main singer began yodeling and two of my friends got up to dance.

We began our second day early. It was our only full day in the park, so we wanted to get the most out of it that we could. We hitch-hiked our way up to the visitor’s center determined to do the 8k hike, at any cost, even if we had to get a guide. Turns out that the guide was not such a bad idea. Our guide was named ‘choke dee’ which means ‘good luck’ in Thai. He was incredibly handsome and looked like he was in his late 20s, maybe early 30s. Turns out he was actually in his early 40s. He claimed all the sun and carefree hiking is what kept him young. I’m sure he was right. He wore heavy-duty hiking boots and tough-looking pants. I on the other hand wore my open-toed Chaco sandals and a pair of running shorts. Good choices.

He led us to the trailhead, one of the semi-trail-looking trails that we had passed the day before but actually decided not to try walking down the day before because it was so overgrown. He prayed before we started the hike, then right after he prays proceeds to pull out a machete and a pistol from his backpacking backpack. It had just gotten real. In the past hikers had come across tigers and hyenas, so that was what the machete and pistol were for… just in case. Luckily we had no need for them. Hikers had also come across elephants and gibbons on the trail, which we unfortunately did not encounter.

Half of the time on the hike my mind was thanking God that we didn’t try this trail the day before. Every twist, turn, and bushwhacking section we encountered I became more and more grateful. The other half of the hike I was marveling at the beauty of the verdant forest. Giant palms crossed our path, massive vines wound up trees and hung down to meet us on the ground, and the sun shone through leaves the size of a platter. It was gorgeous.

As we neared the end of our hike, Choke Dee took us to a hidden waterfall. It had no sign of other tourists—all ours! We jumped into the little watering hole screeching as all the sweat, dirt, and blood from the hike washed off. Choke Dee showed us how to climb up the waterfall, and we scaled the slippery rock and plunged into the pool below time after time. Having the guide was absolutely worth it. After snacking and drying off we continued on the last kilometer of the hike to Khao Yai’s most famous waterfall where our hike ended. Though it was big, it seemed much less exciting after our thrilling private waterfall that we had enjoyed. We also didn’t want the hike, or the weekend, to end.

The travel home was a little bit less eventful that travel to get to Khao Yai. Though we got lost trying to find the bus station, I had a map written on my hand by a local man who tried to help us very lost farrang (westerners) in the market, and we sprinted across a six lane highway, we made it home safe and sound.

It turns out very little planning makes for some great stories. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

By Ashlyn

It's difficult to believe that I've already spent two months in Copenhagen. It seems like only a few weeks ago that I was saying goodbye to my parents at the airport. "The time is going to go by so fast," my mother told me before I left her at the security checkpoint. "Make the most of every moment." I promised I would.

Two months later, I wonder if I have truly done what I promised that I would do. Lately, I have found myself falling victim to the tyranny of routine. I don't explore as much as I used to. I prefer to run from class to class, then curl up indoors with a cup of tea instead of walking around in the cold Copenhagen air. It has been weeks since I've visited the palaces, or walked along Nyhavn harbor, or had a pastry in a cafe and people-watched out the window.

Am I becoming bored? I began to wonder. Many of my friends from back home have told me, "You can't be bored in Europe! You're abroad!" But that, of course, is not true. You can be bored anywhere. You could probably be bored at the top of Mount Everest.

But boredom is more often a side-effect of comfort. I have been guilty of staying in my comfort zone lately -- of staying in when others are going out, of going to the same tried and true places and seeing the same tried and true sights. I have slept in instead of waking up early to see the sunrise; I have stayed in to watch Netflix when I could be exploring Copenhagen's nightlife.

Now, with only two months left to go before I return home to the United States, I am realizing once more that there is too much to accomplish here to sit on my laurels and let time slip by. I need to push myself. It can be difficult, especially in a school setting, to find the energy and time to force yourself to leave the house or library and search for adventure. But with time so short, and the days going by so quickly, it is important to remember that every moment is precious. (That sounds pretty cheesy. It's true though. A lot of cheesy things are true when you're studying abroad.)

So I'm going to try to regain my sense of adventure now, halfway through my time in Copenhagen. I want to explore, to see things that I've never seen before, and to meet new people. This week I will be touring a local brewery and going to a Danish family's birthday party -- two exciting events that I am hoping will jump-start my plan of action!

For those of you planning on studying abroad in the future, don't feel guilty if you begin to get "bored" in the city that you choose. If you don't want to go out every weekend, don't. If you feel tired some nights, stay in. Just make sure you keep track of time -- the months go by quickly when you're away from home, and one morning you might wake up next to your packed suitcase and wonder why you didn't accomplish more while you had the chance!

view from lotte market
View from Lotte market

Annyeonghaseyo (Hello)! My first week in South Korea has drawn to a close and I love Seoul. Seoul is efficient, clean, English-friendly, and modern. As I stepped off of the tiring 14 and a half hour plane ride from DC, I was greeted by my three friends from GWU, Mike, John, and Alissa, who flew in from New York. We walked through immigration and were instantly greeted by KUBA buddies. Since we attend Korea University, KUBA is a student run organization that stands for Korea University Buddy Assistant. They took us to a waiting area where we got our first whiff of Korean air. The bus ride to campus took about an hour, and after not sleeping for a day, my roommate Alissa and I fell asleep as soon as we got to Anam Global House, our dorm.

The next morning we woke up at 3:40 in the morning and could do nothing but wait for a socially acceptable time to actually be awake. We had no Wi-Fi here for about 5 days. That day we met up with Ernest, another GWU friend, and Mike and John at their faraway dorm called Crimson House and went to this amazing place called Gwangjang market. There we wandered through small stands of various Korean cuisine and had giant fish cakes for only 2$. We continued our wandering through a Korean Museum and mall. The malls here have no hallways. You literally walk from one store to the other in a matter of a step. The metro is clean, always on time, and made in a way as to ensure the safety of its users in every way possible. On the metro, I noticed my first cultural difference. There is no notion in Korean of “excuse me” so people essentially just push past you if you block their way. I guess the only real danger on the metro train is the occasional small Korean grandma elbowing you in the stomach as she decides to walk by.

me in front of ku
In front of Korea University (KU)

On day two we had an international student orientation with our KUBA buddies. I was placed in group 5 with another GWU friend, Sabrina. My KUBA buddy’s name is Sinhye. What I found to be difficult in Korea was remembering the names of all of the Korean people I was meeting. They had no issue remembering my name but I had an issue with theirs. My buddy’s name was pronounced as “She-Ney.” She is rather tall for a Korean girl around 5’7 and is a philosophy major. Today, I actually found out that she was in my philosophy class and she sat next to me. I also met some Australians, Swedes, Chinese, Canadians, and other Americans. Later that night we truly explored Seoul and the area’s bar scene. Drinking is legal here from the age of 19 and my GWU friends and I tasted some of the alcohol we wouldn’t be able to try in the states.

Day three consisted of orientation round two and setting up our student card. Essentially all of us sat in a room for an hour and signed our name 17 times to random things. Nobody really knew what we were signing since we don’t know Korean, but I have faith in the KUBA buddies. Something that shocked me was how prominent the drinking culture here is. On the orientation pamphlet it said “Introduction to Soju” after “Fried Chicken and Beer.” Soju is the hard liquor of Korea. It is 17% alcohol and cheaper than some bottled water. The area KU is located is called Anam and the street that runs through Anam is packed with bars, restaurants, gaming rooms, karaoke bars, and shopping. Literally everything one needs can be found there. So for orientation that night we went out with our KUBA buddies around Anam and learned a multitude of drinking games. Korean drinking games use numbers and rhythm so it is very easy to mess up. I ended up coming back to the room after 5 hours around 11pm but the KUBA buddies just kept going. Day four was a rest day after a night out. My friends and I went to explore Seoul Forrest. Seoul Forrest is so interesting in that it sounds so large and prominent but it had high rise building popping out of it.

The King's Palace
The King's Palace

Day five was the last day of orientation and we went out to the King’s Palace. It was a cold day but the scenery was terrific. We also saw the president’s house. Park Geun-hye is the first woman president of South Korea and has been in power since 2013. When I asked one KUBA buddy what he thought of her he said that he disagrees with her welfare policy. My bus group got to see a Korean cooking show and the we went to a market place where we sat on the floor and ate many little plates of food. The food in Korea is very meat and vegetable based. Kimchi, fermented cabbage, is served with literally everything. The meat here is delicious. Bolgogi lives up to its grandeur. The red sauce is on almost all foods. The food is spicy but not everything is spicy. We tried this snow dessert that was good, but too healthy for us American brownie lovers. To be honest Korean food is tough to get used to for me. That was another aspect of the culture shock of how much different the food here actually was. Sometimes, I crave salad and chicken. I definitely miss cheese and having a fridge in my room to be able to keep milk in it.

On day six, I was invited to an international student’s 21st birthday gathering. We went and ate at a restaurant and then went to a karaoke bar. My friend John and I lost our voices to Wrecking Ball. On day seven, I went to walk around Seoul with Mike John, and Alissa and we got delicious Korean BBQ. Later that night we went to the party district called Hongdae and there we went to an American club. The next day my GW friend Jesse and I went to Homeplus. In simpler terms, Homeplus is like Korean Walmart,  except they have everything from groceries and electronics to Prairie dogs for sale. Later that day we went to a large section of Seoul, Myeong-Dong, in which Koreans do their clothes shopping. There were many skin care stores as well as clothing stores. The street food was so great. My dad told me to try Korean strawberries and they were fantastic, you can really tell that the US uses preservative chemicals. I also probably had my favorite food in Korea there, which was squid on a stick. It was cooked on a grill and given in a mayonaisy and soy-ish style sauce. It was excellent. Then we went to a cat café. That was an experience that I loved. Being a cat lover and having left two cats at home, it was a great feeling to have kitties all around you while we drank tea.

Today was my first day of classes. I have met so many international students that I even recognized some faces in class. The English of the professors’ is excellent. However, in Philosophy today one professor spoke entirely in Korean and only at the end did Jesse and I learn that it was so that the Koreans in that class could become more comfortable. Overall, I am looking forward to becoming a local here, even if it is not permanent. Annyeoungkyeseyo (Goodbye)!

 

By Ashlyn

I celebrated my first Danish holiday last week! Fastelavn, celebrated the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, is the Danish version of Carnival - or Fat Tuesday, or Pancake Day, or whatever else you're used to calling the holiday before the Lenten season begins.

Danish Fastelavn is similar in some ways to Halloween in America. Children (and adults) dress up in costumes to celebrate. One of the day's events is to hit a big barrel that is tied up in a tree. The barrel is very sturdy and wooden rods are used to hit it. Inside the barrel is a huge amount of Danish candy. Children take turns whacking it until the barrel is smashed open and all the candy flies out. Toffee, caramels, gummies, and black licorice are usually among the candies inside. (Chocolate candy is not as popular here as it is in America!)

Another tradition is fastelavnsboller - pastries that are specifically eaten on this holiday. The buns are filled with cream or custard, baked, and then drizzled with a warm chocolate topping. They can be found at bakeries around the city, but the home-baked fastelavnsboller are definitely more delicious!

The history of Fastelavn isn't quite as sweet and sugary as what's celebrated today, though. The origins of the barrel-hitting game come from an event called "hit the cat out of the barrel." A live black cat was sealed into the barrel and the barrel was struck until the cat leapt out -- then the cat was chased through town and beaten to death. Gruesome, yes, but the whole ordeal was meant to ward off bad luck and evil spirits.

Another interesting tradition is the "fastelavnsris," which is a bundle of sticks given to children before the Fastelavn celebration. The children use the sticks to "flog" their parents (gently) on the morning of Fastelavn, and are then rewarded with fastelavnsboller. This tradition is said to originate from the practice of flogging children on Good Friday to remind them of Jesus' trials before death. Today fastelavnsris are sold in grocery stores and are usually strung with candy and jingle bells and other fun treats.

Want to celebrate Fastelavn at home? The following is the recipe for fastelavnsboller. These sweet treats take a bit of time to prepare, but the results are worth it!

Fastelavnsboller

For the Dough:

  • 25 g yeast
  • 1.25 dl whole milk
  • 1 egg
  • 50 g sugar
  • 1 tsp. salt
  • 175 g soft butter
  • 450 g flour
  • A pinch of cardamom

 For the Custard:

  • 3 egg yolks
  • 2 tbsp. sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla sugar (or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract)
  • 2 tsp corn starch
  • 2 dl whole milk

Directions:

Whip the yolks, sugar, vanilla or vanilla sugar, and corn starch in a bowl to begin the custard. Heat the milk in a saucepan until it boils and then pour the heated milk into the bowl, whipping all the while. Pour the entire mixture back into the saucepan and allow it to boil for one to two minutes, beating continuously. Allow the custard to cool completely.

To begin the dough, warm the milk until room temperature. Dissolve the yeast into the milk. Add the egg, sugar, salt, butter, flower, and cardamom. Mix the ingredients and allow the dough to rise until it has doubled in size.

Roll the dough out on a floured surface until it is 1 centimeter thick. Slice the dough into squares 3 by 3 inches large, then put a small spoonful of cooled custard in the center of each. Fold the corners in like a dumpling and press the dough together with your fingers to seal it. Flip the buns over and place them on a lined baking sheet, giving enough room for them to expand.

Bake the buns in the oven at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from the oven, glaze with melted chocolate and then enjoy.

By kaandle

One of my favorite things to do in Berlin is dance.  The best part about this statement is that it has so much diverse potential.  For instance, this past Thursday I ended up in one of the last standing dance halls from the 20s, Clärchens Ballhaus, which keeps its original decoration, serves delicious food, and has an hour before the floor opens to everyone where participants can learn the dance style of the night.  It was truly a unique spot and I've already made a mental note to go back and give tango or salsa a try.

Simultaneously, you can walk down any street, duck into a cellar bar or club and see people bobbing around to whatever DJ/live band/solo act is performing that night.  And while the style and location of your dancing may change, the really wonderful thing about the people dancing in Berlin, the thing I would love to see in the US when my time here is done, is people dancing entirely for themselves.  No one is hindered by what the people around them might think or if what they do is "sexy".  Dancing is mostly a solitary act.  Think of how you dance when you're alone in your room blasting music or when you catch yourself mindlessly moving along to a beat - it's what wants to come out - how your body naturally wants to move.  This is how Berliners dance and it's awesome.  Going to a dance venue is just as fun for dancing as it is for people watching.

Now let's quickly talk about clothing.  I am a person that loves to be comfortable.  Seriously - ask anyone.  I have a Stitch (as in Lilo and...) onesie that can best be described as a blanket that never falls off and I would wear that thing out every night if my housemates would let me.  (Don't worry, it's made its way into public regardless).  But since that's not usually an option, I really love a night where I can wear jeans with a big ol' sweater for a night in the town.  In DC that may not fly everywhere you go, but here in Berlin I've yet to enter an establishment and feel underdressed.  Like dance for yourself, it's dress for yourself.  Maybe this can find its way to the States, but if not I fully intend on doing it anyway.