Thinking Home for the Holidays

Bruges Grote Markt at night

The full football crew

Pre shaving No Shave November

Post shaving on shave December

Bruges at night

Gabe, Liam, Tim, Matt, Matt, Stack, in Bruges

Matt, Stack, Gabe, Liam by the ice skating ring in the Grote Markt (Bruges)

Brussels Grote Markt lit up in lights

A cheers at Delerium for the Rome Crew's visit

Brussels at night under Christmas lights

Tim, Stack, Matt, Me, Liam, Gabe, Matt outside the Grote Markt

Bruges at night

Bruges Grote Markt lit up in lights

Gabrield (in from Rome) and I playing with our pipes

My table at Thanksgiving dinner

Me, Francesco, Matt, Endy, Nick, Matt, Thibaut, Liam, Tim

The National Anthem started here...

...then carried here...

...and ended here.

(Fake) cheering on our team


The aroma of a turkey basting, or mashed potatoes cooking, or apple pie baking is quiet possibly what makes Thanksgiving the greatest of the purely American holidays – rivaled only by the loud bangs and bright flashes of the fireworks on the Fourth of July. One of the largest testaments to its allure is that the day before Thanksgiving is the largest travel day in all of America – and the day after is the greatest shopping day. However, what truly makes that November Thursday so special for everyone – especially college students – is that it brings together families in a selfless atmosphere with no other intention but to spend time with one another. Perhaps this is also why it was one of the largest homesickness causes in the Loyola Nachbahrhuis. It seemed as if in the week building up to Thanksgiving, every American in the house had a family story to tell, or a recipe to describe, or a tradition to explain – it’s just that type of sentimental holiday that strikes everyone deep down inside.

So for those among us, myself included, whose minds were drawn across the Atlantic this Thanksgiving, we took special care to try and bring the American celebration here to Leuven. The festivities began with the arrival of 23 former Nachbahrhuis residents in Leuven. The “ole’ timers” were celebrating their 5 year reunion since having left Loyola. Apparently, the rule for people returning to Leuven after 5 years goes something like this: current Loyola students can’t pay for a drink. That’s right we welkommen’ed the alumni who proceeded to keep the drinks coming on the first night we ran in to them.

The next morning, Thanksgiving, the friendly affections of the night before were erased, as the current Loyola students took on the former in the only game that should be played on Thanksgiving – football. Shaking off some of the headaches caused by the night before, the two groups battled for half a game, ultimately ending in a 21-21 tie, when we decided to end the game amiably. One of the main highlights was the spontaneous, and humorous, belting of the National Anthem. It was in the middle of a play, that those of us on the sidelines realized that we hadn’t paid our country homage before the game. The song started as a joke, and a murmur, but eventually grew to a loud screaming as we all placed our hands over our hearts and shared in America’s favorite song. However, the humor arose, when the players on the field, in the middle of a play, were spurred by our patriotism, and almost in unison, stopped playing, turned toward us and placed their hands on their hearts and sang along. I supposed that could be the first, and last, spontaneous national anthem that began midway through a game. Though that would not be the last time we saw the alumni, it was one of our most prized memories with them. We were thankful for their visit and even more so for their generosity. I suppose it will be up to us one day to “pay it forward” and shower Loyola students with a couple of free drinks, and a free football.

After the game with the Alumni ended, the current Americans, and Europeans, started up a second game, where we prized ourselves in showing the Europeans how to throw and catch an American football. I think by the end of our second round of play most of the girls and the Europeans felt pretty involved – a sign that I had at least tried to spread the wealth around as quarterback.

Despite our now long beards courtesy of No Shave November (in which we also had a Shave December – design contest on November 30 into December 1 to see who could shave the best thing into their beards) the gentlemen in the group still managed to dress up class for Thanksgiving dinner. Later that night, the Loyola Nachbahrhuis gathered for a second time to celebrate the staple of the Thanksgiving tradition – a meal together. There were about 74 of us, including Professor Forni and her family, as well as Christel and her husband, that gathered for dinner at a local restaurant within walking distance (though what in Leuven isn’t) from our huis.

Matt and I did our part to explain the significance of Thanksgiving to the Europeans, as we put on a performance at the beginning of dinner, practicing our improv comedy: one…word…at…a…time. Matt began, and I followed, each of us only allowed to us one word to try and describe the story and the other forced to play off of the formers word choice. We also had Liam and Nick, act out what we were saying – forced to do the bidding of whatever randomly came out of our mouths. By the end of the performance we had quite a few chuckles and received a nice ovation – perhaps that’s a sign of our skill, or just European hospitality – and afterwards a number of people asked us how long we had to rehearse to learn our lines. To which we impressed a number of them when we replied, “No, we just didn’t it right on the spot, we didn’t practice that” – hopefully that means our comedic futures are bright.

Though the meal wasn’t quite a Thanksgiving celebration in the traditional sense, our dinner did include some turkey and some mashed potatoes, followed by homemade desserts which various members of the huis put together – with everything from speculous tiramisu, to homemade apple pie. The meal was filling to say the least, and a nice way to celebrate a Belgian Thanksgiving.

We had hardly recovered from our food coma from Thanksgiving, when the Nachbahrhuis played host to the largest amount of people this semester. Rome invaded Belgium for the first time since the Roman Empire, as 15 Loyola students studying abroad in Rome (and 1 from Ireland), came to visit the capital of the EU. The huis was literally overflowing with students, as we had to utilize all the pillows from our couch, and the couch itself, to accommodate the large number.

With the large group of Romans used to wearing t-shirts and jeans, winter arrived in full fledge in Belgium. What had been 60 degrees the week before was now at its warmest 40. Not to mention, for the three days that we hosted visitors, it rained freezing rain for two. The Belgian winter is a nasty thing: full of cold rain, dark skies, early sunsets, and biting winds. Unfortunately it arrived as we were trying to show off our homeland to our friends.

However, with the arrival of the Belgian winter, also came a special treat – the arrival of Belgian Christmas decorations. Slowly the cities of Belgium have begun to be engulfed in the red and green lights of the Christmas season; turning what are typically stone cities into bright and beautiful winter wonder lands.

The Christmas celebration became most evident with our travels throughout Belgium. We took the Rome students to Bruges on their first full day here. The small circular city is what every visitor to Belgium should walk away with as a visual in their mind. I didn’t think that Bruges could get any more magnificent until I saw it lit up in the colorful lights of Christmas. As we approached the Grote Markt in the center of the city, we could already hear the chatter and rustling of the Christmas market. As horse drawn carriages – sporting Christmas wreaths and on rare occasions Christmas lights – clicked and clacked their way around the cobblestone streets, we wandered into the Belgian Christmas festival. With an ice skating rink in the middle and a slew of tents surrounding it, the Christmas celebration was a welcomed addition to our typical Bruges experiences.

While Tim took the Rome students up the Belfry for a look from the city from above, Liam and I scouted out the Church of the Holy Blood. Though we had missed it in past endeavours, we were lucky enough to find that during advent, the relic of the Holy Blood has different hours, and we happened upon the church when the Relic was on display. Liam and I both viewed holy relic that is believed to be a vile of Christ’s blood that is now crystallized. Then we quickly called the others to get them there before the church closed.

Having finished at the church, we ran into the other half of the Rome group and then spent the next hour and a half just enjoying the bright lighted scenery as the sun went down and darkness descended on my favorite of Belgian cities. In our remaining time, we toured some of the Belgian back roads, stopped in a couple of chocolate and beer shops, and caught a couple of beautiful glimpses of the city lit up at night. With that, we grabbed a Belgian waffle in the train station and headed back an hour and a half to Leuven.

The next morning, after grabbing breakfast at Nosh, a local bagel place, we headed in to see most of the Italian group off. They were flying out early Monday morning, but wouldn’t be able to get to the airport in time if they stayed with us, so they were going to sleep in the airport overnight (apparently a common theme among cheap college students). Needless to say, we didn’t waste their last day and night in Belgium we took them in to see the capital of Belgium, and Europe for that matter – Brussels.

Brussels was magnificently lit up in Christmas lights. Following the advice and guidance of Tim, we traveled up from the train station to catch a couple of views of the city from above. The bright lights emanating from Grote Markt in the center of the city cast shadows on the clouds above which were blocking out the moonlight. After taking in our fair share of panoramic views of the city lights, we headed into the center of town to see the Grote Markt up close and personal.

Blue and red were the theme colors of the lights that decorated Brussels’ Stadhuis. We arrived just in time to catch a spectacular light show that the city had sponsored and put on. There was also a full sized nativity in the town square accompanied by a variety of different artist’s tents and souvenir shops. We then took the Romans down to be disappointed by the undersized Manneken Pis, though he was decorated in Christmas Garb.

After getting scammed at a relatively cheap tourist dinner place, we ended their trip in town as we end many trips with students that want to see Belgium, at Delerium Café, home to 2004 beers. Most of the guys there enjoyed their time with the vast selection of beers, and even I tried a new one: Delerium Christmas.

Yes, if there was one common theme on everybody’s mind over the past week, it’s been the idea of our eventual trip home for Christmas. The holiday season has brought everyone’s minds back to their own individual homes. Though I consider my little room here in Leuven, where I sit tapping away on my laptop, to be my current home, there will be nothing more satisfying than wrapping myself up in a blanket on the green and white striped couch in our living room, with snow falling outside (hopefully), and the aroma of Douglas Fir complementing my father’s Christmas CD’s playing softly in the background, back in ole’ Rutherford – home for the holidays.

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In these next couple of lines I’d like to fulfill my own family Thanksgiving tradition of naming some things I have found myself thankful for over these past couple of months:
For my loving family (extended and immediate) who continue to support me (and pretend that they’re interested in my stories) throughout my first semester abroad.
Especially for my parents, who have supported me in my trips, shown real interest in what I’m going through and have made this year (emotionally and financially) possible for me to try and find myself while traveling the world.
For my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandma who continue to keep in touch and bring a smile to my face with their updates and e-mails, Facebook messages and Skype calls, and packages, especially the packages ; ).
For my wonderful girlfriend, Monique, who has done more to support my decisions and help me over the past year than I could have ever asked for and who continues to support me even though I drive her crazy and I’m so far away.
For the Nachbahrhuis, with all of its residents, those staying and those leaving us after this semester, it surely has been an interesting adventure starting our time here abroad, but one that I wouldn’t want to take with a different group of people.
And finally, for my readers, my family, friends, loved ones, strangers, who pay attention to my adventures humoring me and pretending as if my life is more important than it actually is.

To everyone:
Thank you. Happy (belated) Thanksgiving and have a Happy Holidays!

Traveling to the Spainland

Puerta de Alcala

Catedrale de la Almundena


Me infront of a statue outside the Palacio Real

The Catedrale

Little girl donating money to a band of street performers

One of the Plazas

Doing work in the airport

Statue of Goya outside the Prada

University of Alcala building where St. Ignatius studied

Me posing as Sancho Panza outside Cervantes' house

Matt posing as Don Quixote outside Cervantes' house

Plaza Cervantes

Puente de Alcanatara in the background

Me with Cervantes

Toledo at night

Puente Alcanatara

Sunset over the Spanish countryside

View from Puente de San Martin

Catedrale in Toledo

View of the valley around Toledo

One of the narrow streets that actually got sunshine

Toledo

Pond in Parque del Buen Retiro

Beautiful Spanish Architecture

Matt and the Bear eating out of the tree in Plaza del Sol

Statue in the center of Plaza del Sol

Plaza Mayor

"Fat Spiderman" and I "fighting"

Catedrale Madrid

Bright interior painting in Catedrale

Palacio Real

Palacio Real from the Jardines de Sabatini


Week of 11/19 - 11/27

Upon my arrival in the Madrid Barajas International Airport, I came to one very distinct conclusion: two years of Spanish was not nearly enough. As I walked up to an information booth, attempting to find out where I could find the metro lines, the only thing that ran through my mind was “habla, habla, habla.” So as I approached the booth, I said the first thing that came to mind: “io habla angles.” That’s correct, not only was I unable to relay my thoughts and objectives, but I also managed to combine the only three languages I’ve ever studied – Italian, Spanish, and Dutch.

Needless to say, we did eventually manage to find the train and got where we were going, but that story serves as a precedent for the rest of the trip, as I sought to try and uncover any and every Spanish word or phrase that I could.

This past weekend, Matt and I took an independent trip to visit my roommate Brian Checchio in Alcala, Spain (just outside of Madrid). The trip started out a bit stressful – up until I sat in my seat on the Ryanair runway at Brussels Charleroi, I was sure we weren’t going to make our flight – but eventually got underway nonetheless. Having been our first trip with Ryanair, we were both in for a different type of flight experience. We spend a majority of our time in the airport feeling as though we were constantly being tested by the staff to see if they could find any reason to charge us extra. However, once we were on the plane, from that moment on, we had a much more relaxed and enjoyable experience on our journey through Spain.

By the time we arrived in Madrid, the sun had already set, and we began our trip out from the Airport to Alcala. Luckily for me, numbers are universal and train schedules are second nature (thank you St. Peter’s Prep and 2 and half years of commuting). Having asked for help at one of the information dockets and with two train maps and a sticky note full of directions on it, Matt and I eventually found our way out to Alcala (about 40 minutes outside of the heart of Madrid). Expecting to find Checchio at the train station, we were surprised to find our old sketch comedy friends Suzy and Ashley ready to greet us and bring us back to the dorms. Checchio had fallen ill earlier in the week and was unfortunately unable to travel with us and show us around, however, he did provide us with a welcome place to stay and a bit of instruction on how to get the places we were looking to see.

After staying up until the 4am catching up, we woke up the next morning around noon, and began to scrounge together our stuff to go and see Madrid. After arriving in Madrid, we took the metro up to Plaza Espana, on the opposite end of the city, our intentions being to progressively walk back across to the train station back to Alcala. As we exited the train station, the bright sunshine greeted us and was a welcome warmth in comparison to the cold weather that had begun to seep in back in Belgium. The small plaza directly opposite the state house building (which was unfortunately under scaffolding) was a buzz of activity, with rows of white tents selling everything from jewelry to pottery to soccer jerseys. With the shouting of Spanish vendors, most of which was incomprehensible to me and my red-haired partner-in-crime, we wandered through the maze of items, taking an occasional gander, but then passing through.

Out of the back end of the Plaza, we caught sight of the bright white stones and beautifully cultivated gardens of the Palacio Real (the Royal Palace). The sun was beginning to set behind the wedding cake shaped building, casting the sky into a bright white that made it hard to tell the difference between structure and sunshine. As we sauntered over to the Palace that houses the royal family, we wandered into the Jardines De Sabatini, which lie right next to the Palacio.

The beautifully manicured gardens were a maze of knee high bushes and tall looming trees. There was such a relaxed, sedated atmosphere in the Jardine that the grinding of my sneakers on the white gravel was clearly audible. Near a park bench, a man wrestled a ball away from his dog and then tossed in the opposite direction, sending the pooch into a frenzy of panting, drooling, and white dust. A young couple sprawled out in a picnic under the cover of a tree, enjoyed a sandwich while joking back and forth to each other in the tenderest of Spanish. The garden was a quiet sanctuary for the people visiting it, belying the crazy city that surrounded it.

From the Gardens we headed over to the Catedrale de la Almudena. The Catedrale is located directly next to the royal palace and on certain occasions (weddings and funerals within the royal family) the gates between the two buildings are opened and there is a procession from one to the other. However, for us common folk, there was an entrance on the other side of the building. The interior of the church was one of the simplest designs of any church I’ve ever seen. However, its beauty laid in its simplicity. Most of the churches that we have seen over the past couple of months have been white washed (as a result of a movement in the Catholic Church in the 1700’s to remove the colors from the painted walls). However, the Catedrale de la Almudena was handsomely painted in a modern style. The ceilings, covered in bright blues and reds, were unlike anything I had ever seen in any other church in Europe. The sharp and jagged design of the paintings also accentuated the beauty of the modern paintings with the medieval architecture. This was made the most evident by the modern painting of Jesus and the disciples that adorned the Alter. It was truly a magnificent sight – one of my favorite churches in Europe.

After hitting the Catedrale, we headed back across town to the Plaza Mayor. As one of the main town squares of Madrid, the plaza was coated with a variety of small shops and cafés. Completely encased by buildings, the Plaza was full of tourists and locals, flowing in and out of shops carrying plastic bags full of recently purchased meals or souvenirs. Dotted throughout the streets in the Plaza were a variety of different street performers, sitting, standing, or posing with bins in front of them and jumping, dancing or screeching as spectators walked buy, usually dropping a coin or two into their buckets. Our favorite amongst the street performers was one that we had been warned about by Checchio, known as “Fat Spiderman.” Matt and I scrounged up some change and were able to take a couple of different pictures in a variety of humorous poses with him – which ultimately brought a much needed lift to our slightly lagging legs.

After having walked through the Puerta del Sol and past the famous bear eating out of a tree, we ended our day of sightseeing in Madrid at the Puerta Alcala and the Parque del Buen Retiro right next to it. The park was beautiful in the late evening sun. Despite the fact that the sun was fading into a sky of yellows and reds – the same colors as the autumn tree leaves that covered the trees’ branches and the park’s floor – the park was full of activity. The main Estaque in the center of the park was a large man maid pond that had row boats with everyone from older couples to groups of teens in them, floating slowly around the water, as a saxophonist played in the background. It was during that walk through the park, that I finally came to a realization about my affinity for this Spanish city. Everything about it, from its architecture, to the colors, to the people, was beautiful, and I couldn’t realize why it all seemed to blend seamlessly into one perfect picture of Spain and then it hit me: the World Wars.

Now maybe it’s just my history oriented background, or perhaps just my obsession with the World Wars since I’ve been in Europe, but there was something about Spain that just hit me differently than most of adventures through other European cities and I think it was that there were no scars from WWI or WWII. There was a reason that every piece of Madrid seemed to fit perfectly into the next. Even buildings of different styles and architecture fit perfectly, old buildings with new, old roads with new streets, ancient arches with local apartments. Perhaps it was just the Spanish sense of style, or my excitement of taking a trip to a city on my own, but Madrid appeared to me to be one of the most stunning places I had traveled to.

On day two of our adventures in Spain, Matt and I took a trip from Madrid to Toledo – about a half hour trip by high speed train. As we wandered out of the Toledo train station, we had no idea where to head. I realized for one of the first times in my life, that I hadn’t really had everything I was going to do planned out in my head before we arrived – but more importantly I realized that I was still fine with that. That day in Toledo, we basically walked off of the train with no intentions in mind. With excitement I realized how cool it was that we could be that confident to just show up in a new city, and make a day of it, with no plans in mind – not even a map.

We had traveled south, which was evident by the warm, humid air that forced my long sleeve shirt off my back, as I tried to cool down. As the bright sun glistened off of the beads of sweat now dripping off my forehead, we followed the masses into the city – which was a good thing because I almost had us heading in the wrong direction – in search of a map shop. My confidence was lifted when we caught site of the four black spires of the Alcazar. The tips of the towers jutted into the sky over the horizon, almost fighting with the haze of the grey and blue sky.

As we began to climb (a common theme throughout the day) we finally caught sight of the Rio Tajo which snaked around 3/4ths of the city’s walls – creating deep valleys on either side of its banks. And as we approached the Puerte de Alcanatara, we caught our first sight of the beauty of ancient city of Toledo. The city was built high on top of a high rock-faced peninsula and only has 3 bridges that enter directly into the city. We came in through the closest bridge to the train station – the Puerte de Alcanatara.

The sun was hazed out, and the area around the city was quiet, as we crossed the bridge. As I gazed from the bridge out over the valley and up at the giant rock city I couldn’t help but make comparisons between the ancient city and some of the scenes from the Lord of the Rings movies. We wandered into the city with the rest of the tourists across the 10 foot wide bridge build out of white stone, cameras in hand, snapping pictures the whole way.

Toledo is truly an ancient city that has roots that date back to 192 BC. Emperor Titus Livius brought Toledo into the history books when he exclaimed: “Toletum ibi parva urbis erat, sed loco munito.” Or translated from latin: “Toledo is a small city, although strong due to its location.” The age of the city becomes evident once you get behind the city walls. Thin, narrow streets, with buildings looming overhead blocked out the sun for most of the afternoon we spent roaming through Toledo. The streets run in a nonsensical pattern, one colliding with the other at awkward angels and with very little street signs. Matt and I often found ourselves a bit confused when trying to navigate the city.

Most of the roads are so narrow that buildings will often have little 3 inch cuts in the walls at about waist height in order to allow for cars with side view mirrors to fit through. The roads are made of tiny black and white stones, not cobblestone, in the shape of rectangles. I could feel the rounded edges of the stones even through the soles of my shoes. Even the open spaces such as the town square or some of the mini plazas have giant buildings surrounding them. I came to a simple conclusion, Toledo is a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare.

However, the claustrophobia of the city’s center quickly evaporates as you view the city from afar. Having traversed the city, after seeing everything from the Cathedral, to the Greco Museum, to the Goberno Militar, we had finally arrived on the opposite end at the Puente de San Martin. We crossed the bridge and caught the view of Toledo from the opposite end, as the sun was setting behind us, lightening up the city brilliantly in the evening shine. The views of Toledo are what the city is most famous for, and it is a fame well earned.

Tired after a long day of climbing up and down mountainous and narrow city streets, we headed back across the city and to the train station for a train back to Madrid. Fighting our exhaustion, we arrived back in Alcala with just enough time to enjoy a bit of Calimocho – Spanish student delicacy which combines coca-cola with cheap Spanish red wine. However, it didn’t take us much convincing to get to bed that night, and we promptly passed out, not to awakening for 10 straight hours.

Our last day in Spain, Matt and I had a relatively relaxed day. Though we weren’t flying out until early Monday morning, we still needed to head up to the airport by the end of Sunday night because the train schedules wouldn’t have allowed us to get to the airport on time the following morning (a flight which entailed us sleeping in the airport food court). We visited the city of Alcala during the day. Alcala holds a couple of different claims to fame, one being that it was home to Cervantes, the famous Spanish author, well known for his tales of “Don Quixote.” We traveled into the center of the city to the Plaza Cervantes, where there was an outdoor concert. We walked through the Plaza (though we didn’t know we were in the right place) and ended up getting lost for a little bit. However, in getting lost, we managed find Cervantes house as well as to find ourselves amidst a Sunday afternoon festival.

After gathering our bearings, we stumbled upon the square we were looking for all along, and found the main University building of the University of Alcala. I had wanted to see it because it was the same place where St. Ignatius had studied during his years of schooling in Madrid. We enjoyed a sandwich in front of the University and then began to make our way back to Madrid.

When we arrived in Madrid we took a trip back across the city and strolled down the main street, which looked more like 5th Avenue in Manhattan than the beautiful small Spanish streets we had enjoyed on our first trip into the city. We then headed over the Prada, which is the much smaller and less diverse Spanish “Louvre” – at least that’s what the Spaniards refer to it as. After 5:30 on Sundays, the museum had free entry, so Matt and I enjoyed the museum with the true college student mentality: cool free stuff.

Before heading back to the airport for our night of limited sleep, we stopped at a small café for dinner. I imagine the two of us looked cute together touting oversized backpacks in the midst of our “No Shave November” beards, struggling through the English language. At this point I was able to put together enough Spanish to ask the waiter if he spoke English properly. Unfortunately when he answered “No” we found ourselves going through a whole new batch of experiences just ordering things off the menu that sounded good in Spanish – though I don’t think either one of us was ultimately dissatisfied with our meal.

After dinner, we caught the last metro out to the airport and spent the night doing work in the 24-hour food court. Boarding our 6:45 am flight the next morning, we ended our adventures through Spain – a trip well worth it.