After a brief stop back in Paris (shoutout to my dad for navigating driving through the Arc de Triomphe in rush hour), it was on to Luxembourg and Luxembourg City. Here we met the most wonderful tour guide, and former college roommate, Anouk. She whisked us away to see the key sites of the beautiful city. An interesting fact about the layout of the city is that there is a “uptown” and a “downtown” but not how we typically think of it. The original castle and city was built on the top of the hill, with the peasants living below in the valley. The city is absolutely stunning with tan stone buildings and extremely clean streets.
Arguably the most nerve-wracking day of the entire trip was when my mom and I had our day in court. Well, not exactly. As part of the path to Luxembourg citizenship we needed to submit our applications, along with our birth certificates to the Luxembourg government. The process was incredibly slick. We were in and out in an hour and everything is signed, sealed, and delivered.
The most beautiful place in all of Luxembourg (in my biased opinion) was the town my ancestors left in the 1840s. The town of Wormeldange is set on the valley of the Moselle river with Germany just across on the other side. The lush green countryside reminded me of Fond du Lac county. It makes sense why so many immigrants from this part of the world chose Wisconsin to be their home.
The 72 hours of May 22, 23, and 24th were what one might call, a whirlwind. The morning of May 22nd I woke up in my college apartment in Milwaukee like I had for the past 8 months. After a wonderful, but generally uneventful graduation ceremony (except getting a nice diploma holder), my parents, brother, and I loaded up the last of my apartment, turned in the keys, and I left campus for the last time as a student.
May 23rd was a ritual I have come to love. Mad-scramble-packing. You would have thought I packed earlier, but with finals and final adventures in Milwaukee, I hadn’t thought things through. Then it was off to the airport.
Paris
Notre Dame Cathedral still a long way from being openThe Mona Lisa is really that smallNote the decorative scaffolding behind me. Created to blend in.
To begin this great adventure we landed in Paris, the City of Love. Admittedly, I did not have very high expectations of Paris, mainly stemming from historical documentary “Filthy Cities: Revolutionary Paris” from my high school AP Euro class. So with that imagery in mind, the city was practically sparkling by comparison. The architecture, food, and historic air of the city makes you forget that you are in a major center for commerce in Europe. At the end of our first night we settled onto the dirt/grass in front of the Effiel Tower at sunset to see it light up. And in one of those classic, movie-moments, the fog of jetlag cleared and the reality that I was once again on the other side of the world, embarking on an adventure set in while staring at the dazzling lights.
The next few days consisted of adjusting our bodies to the time change and the meal time changes as a 7pm dinner would be quite early for the French. We also spent a day at the Louvre art museum. While not a huge art aficionado, I can not recommend this museum enough. The art in the collections are also pieces of history from ancient Egypt to Napoleon III’s apartment. Also the Louvre, I met up with my friend Cansas (my roommate from an internship in summer 2021) who was visiting Paris as part of a young adult tour group. A major theme on this entire adventure is that my world is getting smaller. [Another fun fact about the Mona Lisa is that we were there a week before a man threw a cake at the glass as a form of protest. Let them eat cake I guess?]
Chateau du Pin
It has been 5 months since the peaks of the towers first came into my view, and I still cannot find the words to describe this week at Chateau du Pin. I felt like a Disney princess walking through the gardens, like a true local getting a fresh baguette from the town vending machine, and like a historian learning the story of this great house. I am so incredibly grateful for my parents who kept such wonderful, adventurous friends in their lives that I now got to hear all their stories and experience this together.
This is certainly a place I would like to go again and bring any and all friends who would like to join me!
Loire Valley and Normandy
“Basically Hogwarts”Da Vinci’s House
*a special note on Normandy*
Two of the most impactful and profound days of this entire trip occurred on June 2nd and 3rd, just 3 days from the 78th anniversary of D-Day. Some aspects of these days were familiar with most travel days; lots of time driving, quick sandwich stops, occasional photo ops. But so much was so different. Even writing this 4 months later there is a chill that goes through my body and tears to my eyes remembering standing on the beaches, reading descriptions of heroics, and saying prayers for the brave people who sacrificed their lives. There are a few moments and takeaways that stand out as especially profound I would like to share, but this in no way minimizes the significance of other sights and experiences in Normandy.
Anecdote number one begins back at home on Sunset ct. Growing up, a few doors down was Mr. Miller, a World War II veteran. While he passed when I was young, I have some memories of sitting at his house and remember stories that he told from his life. Through random research, my dad learned that Mr. Miller’s brother-in-law, Mr. Mueller also fought in World War II but did not make it home. We were able to find his grave in the Brittany-American cemetery. It was moving to feel that personal connection and also reassuring that our servicemen are being so well cared for. Their final resting place is kept in pristine condition, celebrated by local organizations, and overlooked the most gorgeous farmland.
The other memory that really hit me (and my family) in the heart was realizing how young these men were. At the cemeteries, the headstones only said their name, position in the military, home state, and date of death. However, in the museums and on some of the monuments the reality was written out. The brave men who never got to come home and grow old, were my age or even younger [according to one source, the “average age of death was 27 but more 19 year olds were killed than any other age”]. No more could my mind be disillusioned that these were grown adults, but kids. Kids my age and younger. The reality that the majority of the graves we saw were of men between the ages of their kids (26 and 22) hit my parents as well.
I know that I will continue to learn from the stories of D-Day and I will certainly never forget the bravery and love our service men and women have for their families, their country, and their freedom.
After an extended hiatus, I figured it was time to update the blog. Admittedly I feel a bit silly recording my travels down like this, but I see it more as a historical record of sorts (rather than an attempt at being a travel blogger). Also, as anyone can attest, my artistic abilities remove scrapbooking as an option to record memories. So here I am, piecing together photos, receipts, and journal entries to remember what occurred each day of the most incredible trip of my life (to date) and what I have been up to since.
I have also decided to “rebrand” this public diary/journal/scrapbook to better summarize this stage in my life. My parents have always described the years between leaving college and having kids as The Odyssey Years. So I have decided to embrace this title and lean into the uncertainty of the future. Included here is the highlight reel of my latest adventures.
If you saw the news this weekend you may have seen a story or two about the long lines in major US airport as people were getting screened for the virus. WELP. That was me. After a redeye from Bilbao to Munich and then 10 hours from Munich to O’Hare I found myself in the inexcusable mess that was the customs and health screening process. All in all it took 6 HOURS between getting off the plane and exiting to the baggage claim. I can rant on and on about how awful this was and how paranoid I was the whole time (everyone around me were coming from Germany or the UK or France, not a hotspot like Northern Spain, I was constantly worrying if I was asymptomatic) but now I am just happy to be safely home and through that whole ordeal. I am so incredibly grateful for my dad who was waiting for 7 hours to drive me home to Madison.
First views of the US of AOne cool thing was that my tweet of the crowd did make a dent in the Twittersphere and a BBC reporter actually contacted me for my statement, still waiting to see if my bland, un-dramatized version of the story is posted anywhere.Emerging from luggage claim
I avoided human contact as much as I could throughout the night and am now in 14 days of self-isolation/quarantine in my house. I am allowed in my bedroom, the upstairs bathroom, and the front living room. Right now both my parents are working from home as an extra precaution.
Last time “walking” through the main hallway of the university
A scary Friday the 13th indeed. Late Thursday night I received the inevitable email from Marquette saying that they advise me to return to the United States. Between that email, the president’s announcement, and my dad’s spreadsheet of cases in Spain, the call was made to United and my flight was booked for Saturday morning. That meant that I had one more day in Bilbao and one last day with all the amazing friends I had made. Naturally this meant a photoshoot in the university until the security guards told us to leave because the whole block was getting shut down.
Please enjoy some random photos of friends and school
The whole squad in front of the Language department
Photo with our Spanish teacher (photo taken from Polina’s Instagram)
I am sitting on a bench next to the Guggenheim museum of art. It is 8:19 and there is someone taking very professional photos of the sunrise streaming through the mist that is shrouding the whole city this morning. It feels like the whole city is holding its breath, which I know is one of those cliques for writers when they want to set up a dramatic, pivotal moment. In the case of Bilbao, it seems like everyone is holding their breath to avoid coughing or breathing in a beast. I haven’t written a blog post since ______ because any update about classes or adventures paled in comparison to the greater event unfolding. The uncertainty has felt debilitating at times but knowing that so many people are looking out for me has helped me figure out the next right thing to do.
They say that your semester abroad seems to go by in the blink of an eye, yet you will remember it for the rest of your life. While I don’t think this is the situation anyone envisioned for that statement, it is incredibly accurate. I am afraid that my time here will be over sooner than anticipated yet the experiences here will stick with me for the rest of my life. When you ask me about my time in abroad, I won’t be able to ramble off a list of the places that I went and the monuments I visited. I will simply smile, and try to think of where to start. My goals of study abroad were to improve my language skills, learn more about the Spanish culture, and create relationships with people different from me. My language skills certainly have improved although I can’t quite say I am fluent from two months. The Spanish culture here is unlike anywhere else. The combination of Basque and Spanish, historical and modern, traditional and industrial has made for fascinating discussions and endless questions to contemplate. And the people. I never imagined that I would be sitting in class and becoming so close with people from every corner of the globe.
So it has been a bit since a post because the days are now pretty routine from week to week. This past weekend was quite fun including a dinner with the Deusto choir and a visit from my friend, Claire, who is studying at SLU-Madrid. It was so nice to see a familiar face and to travel Bilbao like a tourist for the weekend! It made me realize how comfortable I am in the city and how far I have come from getting lost my first weeks in the hostel.
We went to the best lookout of the city, spent over 3 hours at the Guggenheim museum, and did our own little Camino walking along the Bay of Biscay coast. The weather cooperated perfectly so the only time it rained this weekend was when we were exploring the world of modern art– and struggling to understand it.
Another update is that the corona-virus (COVID-19) is spreading in Spain with more than 20 cases in Madrid and some farther north as well. Here in Bilbao there is no public panic or any canceled events. The only thing I have noticed is that the major department store in town has run our of hand sanitizer. But don’t worry mom, I am taking multi-vitamins and avoiding clicking refresh on BBC’s live reporting of the outbreak.
One person or two? This was the only photo we could snag here before the security guard yelled at us.
Really cool abandoned house on a cliff overlooking the beach.
Dinner with the choir!
No filter here! Cool art exhibit that used lights to mute all color.
The view from the Guggenheim looking at Desuto, I had only ever seen the opposite.
Happy Carnival! This weekend in Bilbao there were endless events and parades going on to celebrate and party in preparation for Ash Wednesday this Wednesday. Last night we walked along the streets into the old town where everyone was dressed in costumes! The best comparison I could make was to Freak Fest at UW-Madison’s campus every Halloween. However, every generation was out in force and in costume and overall I saw very few scary costumes. Some of my favorites was a family King Kong (dad=building, baby strapped to dad=king kong, mom= woman on top, two older sibling=airplanes running around in circles around them), bunches of grapes sipping wine, and the group of adults who created the entire cast of Shrek (so I had to ask for a photo).
On the Plaza de Santiago there was free spirits that the older women around kept calling “el agua de Bilbao”. I was not a fan and quickly opted for actual agua from Bilbao. To top it off there was a parade, multiple stages with music around the city, and fair rides that were so fun!
I need to start assembling my squad for Halloween this year, clearly the bar has been set high.
The fountain with free “espiritus”. Honestly just a classy looking keg.
Did we scream louder than the little kids on the ride? Yes. Do we regret it? No.
I figured I should start by saying that there are no photos with this post. There was never a time where I felt that a photo could capture the experience. I encourage anyone (Catholic or not) to consider visiting this beautiful spot.
As I am sitting outside a chapel at Our Lady of Fatima, I found myself being quite critical of the large groups of people talking loudly, taking selfies, and ignoring the reverence of this holy place. But then I realized that all these people came here for a reason. There is no great entertainment feature in this small town an hour from Lisbon. There is no amusement or reward. Everyone here had heard a story about Mary talking to young children; sharing a message about the rosary, about forgiveness, and about praying for sinners over a hundred years ago. (If you want a quick overview of the story, this video has a good explanation)
My prayers today were for the discouraged. For times I have felt discouraged navigating a new culture or homesickness, for loved ones feeling discouraged in their work or personal lives, and for all of us who are feeling discouraged by the world around us. I hope that we can turn this feeling of discouragement into courage to take on the challenges we are given in life knowing that it is all part of a bigger plan.
Even sitting alone in a cold hallway brings me great joy knowing just around the corner are hundreds of people just like me who heard a story about children over 100 years ago and wanted to feel that presence themselves. Feeling part of something bigger is one of the most powerful feelings that truly help us all feel less alone. Besides that string of reflective moments, my pilgrimage helped me redefine my goals for my time abroad, my time this upcoming Lent, and my future as it stands today.
When I was touring colleges in high school my dad and I would check off an imaginary checklist of the basic things that every college tour mentioned (worth noting I never actually took a tour of Marquette). The main points were always the blue safety lights ☑️, lots of club options☑️, and a statue or seal that has some good luck/special tradition☑️.
European cities are kinda like that. Every city has its kobblestone streets, dozens of gimmicky souvenir ships, and an overpriced boutique cafe that is a must-stop place. Once you move past these standard features is when you truly start to get a flavor for the city. Walking around Lisbon this evening the flavor of the city really started to shine. Between the postcard stands and kobblestones were talented street performers, smoking roast nut stands, and an African dance school having a showcase in the middle of the plaza. This combination of cultures and arts brought the city alive in a way a cup of coffee never could.
This weekend I was able to meet up with Emily, a Marquette student, along with two of her friends studying at Loyola in Seville. Seeing a familiar face was very nice and on Saturday we went to the town of Sintra to see the most colorful palace I have ever seen. After that (and a few hiccups on the public transportation) we made it back to downtown Lisbon where we spent two hours on a sunset tour seeing the city by boat (special thanks to family friend and expert traveler Kay Jensen for the suggestion of Viator.com). This was such a unique way to see the city and was my highlight of Lisbon. On Sunday we did a half day pilgrimage to Fatima where we went to Mass, prayed the rosary, and truly felt the presence of this amazing place (post about Fatima to come). To end the trip I parted ways with my friends and just walked around the downtown streets before catching a bumpy flight back to Bilbao late Sunday night.
Palace in Sintra, Portugal
Emily
Captaining the boat
Actually just taking directions from the captain
Sitting on the boat over looking the old town of Lisbon
Lisbon reminded me of a cooler version of San Francisco, I say, having never been to San Francisco.
The Odyssey Years 