It's the most wonderful time of the year...

I always miss Thailand. Some weeks just a little bit, some weeks I almost forget, but around Christmas it hits me the hardest. The explanation for that is simple: For many years, my parents and I traveled to Thailand over Christmas during my school holidays. Opening a gift and on a roof terrace or having dinner in a lovely garden setting in Bangkok on the 24th of December was the norm for me.
Ever since I started university, we stopped travelling to Thailand during that period, so Christmas went back to 'normal', whatever that means. We're home, the family comes together, it's cold outside - the usual.

And I love it -  I love Christmas and the whole holidays. But I was four years old on my first visit to Thailand, and since then we've been there regularly. Thailand has practically always been a part of my life - and I miss it. I miss the wave of humid heat that greets you as soon as you leave the airport. I miss the sound of the Thai language. I miss the noises and smells of Bangkok streets. I miss the peace and calmness of a temple, and the bustling business of the shopping centre next door. I miss the Christmas songs they play over and over, even after the new year. I miss the kitschy Christmas decorations. I miss the fake trees and the ability to put them everywhere - I once saw a decorated tree inside of a big fish tank. I miss the smiles of Thai people, and the way they ooh and aah in a group. I miss the food, and the way it is shared, even in restaurants. I miss the markets where you can buy everything you don't need. I miss the fact that there is always something new to explore behind a corner. I miss the cool coffee shops where you can get overpriced sweet ice coffee in modern surroundings, and for a second you could be anywhere in the world. I miss the announcements on the Skytrain and the underground. I miss the people, and their positive energy. I miss sitting in a taxi, exhausted after a long day, being stuck in traffic for over an hour and listening to the radio. I miss our friends, and exploring new things with them. I miss the beaches. I miss Thailand.

Ten years ago the horrible Tsunami destroyed so many lives, not just in Thailand. We were in Bangkok during that time, so we weren't affected physically. But it still left a mark somewhere, somehow. I feel connected to Thailand. So much so, that I start to see similarities between Thailand and wherever I am all the time. The Christmas market in Sopron reminded me of Thailand. Kalymnos as a whole reminded me of Thailand. I'm starting to think that places don't have anything to do with Thailand, I just try to create a connection in my mind, to feel closer to a country I love that sadly is quite far away. I also seek out traces of this country everywhere I go - London being the perfect example. While I was studying there I visited the Thai temple in London, Wat Buddhapadipa. It's is amazing how authentic it feels - like a small piece of Thailand, in Wimbledon.

On my latest London visit we went to a restaurant called East Street, just off Oxford Street. It does a variety of Asian food, also Thai of course. I walked in and the smell of Thailand welcomed me. It was a wonderful feeling to be surrounded by all things Thai, but also slightly sad, knowing I'm not actually there. Nostalgia would probably be a fitting description.   

The food was excellent and, considering you are in central London, almost cheap. The atmosphere was lovely, nothing fancy, but not too hectic either. And the big bonus - on the ladies toilet they were playing recordings of the announcements from Bangkok airport. I felt right at home!
This was just one of my new London discoveries from my last trip - I will write about the others very soon.



 

As you have noticed, this is not your standard Christmas post. But I do wish everyone happy holidays and a happy new year too! Sawadee pee mai kha! May it be the best one yet!

    

The 5 stages of travelling

It has started again. The days have grown shorter and darker, and no one knows whether it's ten in the morning or four in the afternoon since it's always grey outside. The sun got shy and only shows itself sporadically. It has to be November.
It's the beginning of a period that makes you want to stay in bed all day. Christmas is the light at the end of the tunnel, but we all know that there's another tunnel just behind it, leading us at least until the end of February.

But there is always the option to escape. London has been calling out to me for some time now. After my return in the summer I had enough of all things British for a while, which surprised me, actually. But I should have known that it wouldn't last long. Soon the yearning to go back to this magnificent city grew so strong I just had to book a flight. It was a win-win: It would shut up the voice inside of me and help me through the November depression. So in a weeks time I'll be spending four glorious days in London (an I'll definitely report back).

But it got me to thinking about the power of anticipation, and about the steps involved in planning a trip, so I present:

The 5 stages of travelling

(or, my 5 stages anyway...)

1. Deciding to go
It's easy to dream about leaving your everyday routine, even just for a weekend. But it's quite a different thing deciding to go. This crosses the line between fantasizing about something and actually doing it. The rest is all fun and games, or as Tony Wheeler, founder of Lonely Planet said: 'All you've got to do is decide to go and the hard part is over. So go!'

2. Where to?
The choosing of a destination is one of the best parts of travelling. The world is literally waiting for you to decide what to explore next, and everything is possible. That is until you find out how expensive the flights are and that everything is already fully booked.

3. The Anticipation
Ah, the fun begins. Once you know where you'll be and how much time you'll have, it's time to start the research. I never plan out every minute of every day, but I still like to know what there is to see and do. So I would look up the major attractions, find out what neighborhoods might be fun to explore, and maybe even pick out a café or restaurant to go to. I also like to make the effort and at least learn how to say 'hello' and 'thank you' in whatever language is spoken at my destination. Depending on how much I'm looking forward to the trip, or on how much time there is in between the present and the departure date, I'll go a bit further. I might read stories or watch films set in the soon to be visited place, listen to music connected to it, look up customs or think of what I will bring back home. These steps vary, depending on whether it is a first-time visit to somewhere new and exotic, or whether I'm returning to an already familiar place.

4. The actual trip
There are a lot of stages within this one, maybe enough to write a different post soon, but the actual trip involves them all, from packing, to the journey, to the arrival, the days (or weeks if you're lucky) of living a different life, to the return back home. This is the part where you realize, no matter how much you've prepared, everything will be different anyways, and it will still be amazing, maybe even just because of that.

5. Home again
I wrote about this stage already here. This seems to be the hardest part, for me at least. It's not that you feel sad because you're back home - unless you're 'home' is a horrible place, but let's assume it isn't - it's just that the past days, weeks, months, we're so incredibly exciting, and you've felt so alive, that it seems strange to go back to doing anything that doesn't make you feel like that all the time. But if you've done it right, this will only inspire the next trip, and you can start this lovely process all over again.

Greek impressions

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending my summer vacation on the Greek island of Kalymnos. It's a fairly small island, one hour by ferry off Kos, known for natural sponges and mountain climbing. Now, personally, I don't have a need for either of these, but that didn't stop me from having a lovely and relaxing time. The weather was perfect, and the combination of hills and sea remains one of the most impressive images for me. Greek people were as friendly as I remembered, the food still delicious and the sea as clear as could be.

For whatever reason, I feel connected to Greece. I don't know if there is something more meaningful behind it, but actually, I think it makes perfect sense. The Greeks are the founders of almost everything that makes us human. They are one of the oldest civilizations in the western hemisphere, so in a way we all have a little bit of Greek in us. The language is beautiful and fragments, sometimes even entire words, can be found in a lot of other languages. As cheesy as this sounds, going to Greece feels like doing something good for my soul. It brings a kind of tranquility, like tracing something back to its inception, that's hard to duplicate.

Apart from all of that, it simply is  a beautiful country. The day before I left, my roommate and best friend asked me what Greece is like. I told her the first thing that came to my mind: 'It smells different.' I'm sure, every country, or city even, smells different. (I wrote a little something about this before here) But Greece is special. Just by leaving the airport in Kos and taking that first deep breath I knew where I was. It's the combination of the warm, slightly humid and sunny air, mixed with saltiness, dirt, and herbs - brought by the breeze that's usually a constant present.

We spent our days driving around the island, stopping at viewpoints or by the beach, swimming in the sea, eating all the local delicacies, soaking up the sun and generally living the island life. It reset my inner peace and balance. It also became clear to me, once again, that I am a 'Stadtkind' (city-child). I need everything that makes a city what it is in order to survive. Now, I'm not saying that I couldn't enjoy the peaceful country life for some time, but in the long run, I need the business and the overall vibe a city creates. Kalymnos wasn't void of people, but often we were alone on a certain beach, at a church or museum, or at any other site. This added an almost hypnotizing feeling to an already enchanting experience. I leave you with some photos in an attempt to recreate the magic for you all! Enjoy!

City Love II

 

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Venice is one of these cities - even if you have never been there, you probably have an image of the city in your head. It is one of its kind, there truly is no second city like it (although it has inspired some recreations, but more on that later...). Because of its unique character, it is often used as a backdrop for adversting, fotoshoots and films, and that is one of the main reasons it is so well known worldwide. A lot of people see it as a tourist trap, a city you visit once and then you can cross it off your list. I have been to Venice many, many times, and I still don't get tired of it. It's not a mega-city like London, Paris or New York. It's a place full of history, almost like a live-in museum, that still operates as a functioning, modern-day city. Most of all it is a beautiful place, where you want to stop and admire your surroundings every other minute. Once you've done the tourist thing you can start exploring the sideways, back alleys and empty squares, and that is where the charm of Venice is at its strongest.

Do you know this feeling?

Whenever I get back from traveling, I always feel kind of weird for the first couple of days. Do you know what I mean? Transportation today has made it easier than ever to cover long distances in a very short amount of time, so sometimes I think the mind is trying to catch up with your body. Having breakfast in one place and dinner on a different continent seems just a bit much. So the three-day post-travel daze is more than understandable, it actually is necessary. People aren't machines. We need to adapt to changes in our environment, and if those changes are happening too fast, we get disorientated. It is a rather difficult state to describe - there is the cliché of being neither here nor there, and there definitely is some truth to that. When we leave our home, we often expect the place to have changed while we were away. But that hardly ever happens, as Alain de Botton laments in his book The Art of Travel: 'I returned to London from Barbados to find that the city had stubbornly refused to change. I had seen azure skies and giant sea anemones [...]. But the home town was unimpressed.' (243) This expresses beautifully how we desperately try to uncover a physical manifestation of a mental change, however small it may be. De Botton goes on saying the following:  'When we are in a good mood and it is sunny, it is tempting to impute a connection between what happens inside and outside of us, but the appearance of London on my return was a reminder of the indifference of the world to any of the events unfolding in the lives of its inhabitants.' (243) And if our home didn't change, we hope we ourselves did.

 

As soon as I got back to Vienna, I immediately felt truly at home. I was grateful to be back, to see my friends and family and to walk around in the beautiful city of Vienna. But that doesn't mean I didn't feel different. Everything felt familiar, but still new and fresh. I don't have the eyes of a tourist, but it is still not the same as it was before. Is this a desirable goal? People often want to be changed by their travels. It seems that a time abroad, however short it may be, is deemed a success if it comes with some personal changes. Why is that? And more importantly, what comes after that?

I already mentioned the short-term effects of traveling, as I experience them. That strange feeling for a few days, of being somewhere familiar yet new, a kind of limbo state, we usually snap out of and return to our daily lives as we lived them before. And this is even true for the shortest weekend trip. So what would it mean for a 10 month period spent abroad? Is the effect multiplied? And it what way -duration or intensity of the experience, or maybe even both? Odysseus didn't recognized his hometown after sailing the seas for ten years, trying to find his way back after a terrible war. Now, I'm not comparing myself to Odysseus in any way, but I believe that people can relate to this unfamiliarity of the familiar. It actually connects to Freud's notion of the Uncanny ('das Unheimliche'). A state in which the familiar suddenly seems foreign or alien, which leads to an unsettling feeling of discomfort. In a horror film, for example, this would be the scene where the protagonist visits a playground in the middle of the day, and everything seems as it always is, until suddenly the swings start moving, or the see-saw screeches. Freud defined it as a 'class of the terrifying which leads back to something long known to us, once familiar'. (Freud, p. 1). He also made it clear that it differs from the feeling of fear.

I wouldn't say that me being back home has been uncanny as such, but it illustrates my feelings rather well. You can be afraid and terrified in a completely new and unfamiliar situation, but you can only experience the uncanny as long as something in that situation is well-known to you. It goes back to the childhood fear that everyone in your family is a monster and wearing a mask - it's a shift from somewhere you feel safest in the world, to a place where you suddenly don't. And this can only happen if you feel safe to begin with. How does that connect to me right now? I'm trying to express that I do feel like I am right where I belong at the moment, but that it still feels different - and I can't quite put my finger on it yet. Then again, I'm not just returning from a two-week vacation in Spain, but from almost a year in London. Maybe I just haven't adjusted to the speed of traveling yet, and my mind is about to catch up with my body any second now.

Resources:
Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel (London: Penguin Group, 2014)
Sigmund Freud, The “Uncanny”. (First Published in Imago, Bd. V., 1919; reprinted in Sammlung, Fünfte Folge)

The Normal Heart

This is going to be a slightly different post for me, so please bear with me. A couple of days ago I watched the film The Normal Heart by Ryan Murphy based on the play by Larry Kramer. Now, first off, I just have to say that I usually don't enjoy tragic or sad films, even if they are supposed to be amazing in every other way. If I read about a film or series that focuses on people being sick or abused, battling cancer or taking care of a sick loved one, I often refuse to watch such productions. I believe that there is a lot of suffering in this world, and sometimes seeing it on a big screen just gets too much. Haneke's Amour is an example - I put off watching it because I don't need to be reminded how elderly people die, and just how horrible it is. When I eventually did see it, I was moved because it is an incredible film, but also very sad. I just wanted to hug my mum.
But when I stumbled across an interview with the (amazing!) cast of this film on YouTube (I mean, who doesn't love Matt Bomer?), I was immediately drawn in and knew I had to watch it. What's it about?

It starts in 1981 in NYC, and we meet our protagonist, Ned Weeks, played by Mark Ruffalo. It shows how the first cases of AIDS were discovered, how it was called 'gay cancer' then, and how no one knew what was happening, why it was happening and how to stop it. And how reluctant the government or the Mayor were in speaking about the situation, much less doing something against it. Ned befriends Dr. Emma Bruckner (Julia Roberts), who takes care of a large number of these first cases and who is looking for someone to assist her in the fight against the disease, someone within the gay community. That's how Ned meets Felix Turner, played by Matt Bomer, who is a reporter at the New York Times, and who Ned tries to convince to write about this epidemic. They soon fall in love, and it is such a pure and innocent love that we wish for the film to just end there, because we can all guess what's to come. Felix falls ill. And Ned, already fighting aggressively before, has even more reasons to make some noise and to get the whole population and the government to listen. He never stops, crosses several lines and accuses the government of conspiracy.

It is a powerful film - and it is hard to watch. Because you know it really happened, and because it was not that long ago. The love story at the centre of the story is beautiful, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. I can only imagine what this film will do to someone who lived during that time, or who knew someone then or now affected by this disease. A couple of years ago I saw a play in London, called Holding the Man. When buying the tickets, we had no idea what the play was about. In a nutshell, it's a love story between two men, who are then both diagnosed with HIV in the mid-eighties. Towards the end of the play, one of them dies, which is shown in detail on stage. It was not only tragic to watch, the reaction by the audience brought it to another level. There were a lot of same-sex couples in the audience, and you couldn't help but notice how the performance on stage affected them. I imagine that some of them maybe remembered what it was like back then, maybe even lost someone they loved, or knew someone who was battling the disease. (Just to avoid any misinterpretation, I know that AIDS is a disease that everyone can get and that is has nothing to do with being gay.) Seeing how that audience reacted, how moved they where by it, showed just how real a story like that is. It created a connection between fiction and reality.

But back to A Normal Heart. The film reminds us that at the beginning nobody knew what to do, but also how people were afraid to actually do something. AIDS was unknown and the fact that it only appeared in gay men at that time made for a very political situation. It should remind us that everybody deserves to be treated the same in every way. And what kind of power fear itself is.
It also displays the connection and communication within the gay community. It seems unimaginable that the group of activist had someone they knew dying every other week. What kind of life is that? Not knowing how or why? And with no end in sight? Tommy, one of these activists (Jim Parsons) talks about that at yet another funeral: 'This is our social life now'. It seems very realistic that they start to turn against each other. They were so angry with the whole situation, and so unsure of what to do, feeling alone and defenseless, isolated from the rest of the world. There is this one scene, which illustrates that point. They are starting to set up the office of the GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) when suddenly there is a woman at the door. She talks to Tommy about how she lost her best friend to AIDS the night before, and how she wants to help, even though all her lesbian friends said 'what have you guys ever done for us'. This reaching out by one woman marks, I believe, a turning point in the story, and it is also a truly moving moment.

As Felix becomes sicker, Ned takes care of him in an extremely loving way, at the same time wanting him to fight more than he can. The film doesn't try to be crass or shock the viewers with horrific images more than necessary. It is as much about the political story as it is about the personal one. It also demonstrates beautifully and tragically how in the end all we have is each other. In an actual crisis, it is people that we need to get us through, first and foremost. People to care, to hug, to cry with, to listen, to understand. And it is those people who will then communicate with other human beings to get attention, get help from outside, and fight with and for us.

Also, apart from this being an important story to tell, the setting, acting and directing is spectacular. It's one of those movies where you tell yourself you'll just watch the beginning and then find it impossible to stop. Ruffalo and Bomer are immediately believable as a couple. Both their acting, Ruffalo becoming angrier and louder throughout the film and Bomer getting weaker, thinner, quieter, is truly amazing. They become their characters. Taylor Kitsch is hardly recognizable and gives a wonderful performance, Jim Parsons shows that he is more than Sheldon from The Bing Bang Theory, and Julia Roberts reminds us of her performance in Erin Brockovich, fighting for what's right. The rest of the cast is just as amazing. It seems that everyone gave their all to make this film possible (which, incidentally, would be a story of its own). It really is a piece of art.

It is not a depressing or sad film. It is joyous, moving, powerful and it makes you want to fight for something. For justice, for peace, for the rights of people.

Now, if I haven't scared you away, you can watch the trailer here.

Trippin' time!

As the cherry on top of quite a year, me and my roommate decided to end my Erasmus experience with a trip to South Wales! During my stay in the UK I have visited surprisingly few places outside of London, being quite happy and content, and most importantly busy, exploring 'just' the city. So I wasn't too specific about where we should go, as almost everything would be new to me anyway! We chose the Gower Peninsula in South Wales, as a kind of centre from which we could explore the surroundings. We rented a car from Heathrow, and after waiting for a very long time - apparently at the speed of Hertz - we were on our way to South Wales, and had a classic roadtrip experience: Sunshine, lovely views, stopping for coffee, singing our hearts out!

 

We had found a lovely cosy house as our base, and we felt at home immediately. The first evening was spent exploring one of the most famous sights close by, Rhossili Beach. It was quite a welcome to the area.

 

 

 

On our second day we decided to visit the area around Pembrokshire. We especially enjoyed the village of Tenby, wich has a beach on both sides of the town.

 

After that we went for a walk in the area of Stockpole, and found one of the most beautiful beaches ever - Broadhaven. We walked through the waves, dug our toes in the sand, sat in the sun and watched the tide come in. It was very peaceful and calm.

 

And to finish off that amazing day, we went to the beach where secenes from the final Harry Potter film were filmed. It's called Freshwater West, and it would have been more impressive if we had seen it at low tide...but it was still quite a view.

 

We then had a day of fog, rain, wind and general darkness, where we went on a drive through a National Park, but mainly we realxed at home and rewatched episodes of Sherlock. Fortunately the weather cleared up on the next day and we were able to explore further areas of the Gower Peninsula, the most beautiful being Three Cliffs Bay, with rather dramatic views.

 

On the next day we drove back to Heathrow and my experience abroad came to and end. This trip has not only been the perfect end to my Erasmus experience, but also a lovely experience exploring a new part of a country I still have only seen a fraction of, and of a country I definitely will return to. It was also great to find out that me and my roommate could travel together, since being friends doesn't always mean that travelling together is a good idea. But we got along so well and I hope it wasn't the last time we travelled together.