Salzburg

Rachel and I are loving every minute of our time in Salzburg. She has been very tolerant of my compulsive need to reminisce constantly (Oh, this is the beer we used to drink! Oh, this was my favorite chocolate bar! Oh, I remember this store with the really strange window displays - I can't believe I didn't remember that!) Of course some things have changed; it has been seven years after all. But, the mountains are even more stunning than I remember and the town hasn't lost any of its fairy-tale charm.

I only have a few minutes to post right now, but we have been spending our days in a relaxed pace of strolling around town, getting coffee or food, seeing sights like the cathedral and the fortress, and just enjoying ourselves. We go on a tour of the surrounding lakes district this afternoon. It is nice to be travling at a more leisurly pace and it is the perfect way to wrap our trip up. Tomorrow we fly to England, the next day we fly to Colorado (her) and New Haven (me), then on January 7th we both head home to Tacoma for a week.

Homecomings

Tomorrow we travel to Salzburg, where I lived for eight months in 1999-2000. I have not been back since and I view this homecoming with both excitement and trepidation. That was a very special year in my life and it will be strange to be there without the friends who made the year what it was for me. Still, I am looking forward to visiting my old haunts, eating my favorite foods, like bosna and strudel, and showing Rachel the city which is so meaningful to me.

I have been thinking a lot about the idea of home lately. Perhaps living out of a backpack will do that to a person. I realized that in the next two weeks I will visit almost every single place I have ever called home. Salzburg first, then a stop over in Cambridge, which has been my most recent home. Then onto Tacoma for a week, my home of homes, where I grew up and where my family is. I will probably take a quick trip down to Portland while I am in the northwest, my home while I was in college. Finally, back to New Haven, my current home, where an apartment of my very own is calling my name. The only home I will not make it to during these two weeks is Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, which was home for two years after college. Each of those places represents a special and important time in my life, and it will be interesting, and I think very meaningful, to retrace the geography of my life, especially as I begin to look toward what is next for me as I graduate in May.

A Czech New Year

We spent our last day in Prague with a fantastic four-hour walking tour. The weather has been tentatively holding out for us - cold but not unbearable. Walking tours are always fun if just for meeting the other travelers: a law student from Chicago, a guy from Connecticut doing peace corps in Albania, a nursing student, a film student, a guy who works for a charity in London - it is always interesting to chat with other backpackers. We stayed at the nicest and most unusual hostel I have seen, very sleek with key cards and uber-modern design. We hung out with some of our new friends in the hostel pub for the evening and got up early the next morning to catch our bus to Cesky Krumlov, a small town near the Austrian border.

Cesky Krumlov holds fond memories for me from when my girlfriends traveled here at the end of our year in Salzburg. The favorable exchange rate allowed us to live like queens and we ate in wonderful restaurants, went horseback riding, played cards in the palace gardens, and got our hair done. The hair part was the only bad part of our trip. Note to self: do not get your hair done when your are unable to verbally communicate with the hairdresser. That day was forever after known as the Czech Hair Disaster of 2000.

At any rate, it has proven to be a bit of a haven for Rachel and me as well. We have a private room for half the price of anywhere we have stayed yet. We joined in the town festivities for New Years by eating in a traditional Czech restaurant then heading to the town square. A DJ played an eclectic mix of Czech tunes with the occasional Aretha Franklin or Beach Boys thrown in. We drank mulled wine and danced with the locals until the countdown. At midnight, fireworks went off all over and the whole experience had a magical feel to it. We slept late today then spent our afternoon alternating between strolling through the town, window shopping, and taking cafe breaks for lunch, then coffee, then ice cream.

We are off to Salzburg tomorrow, which is the place I have been the most excited to visit.

Czech-ing it out

We've settled ourselves into our hostel in Prague and left Italy far behind us. We arrived safely in Siena in early evening on Christmas and our hotel felt luxurious. The only problem arose when we set out to find dinner. The down was absolutely shut down - nothing was open. For a minute I wondered if there was an asteroid set to hit the town and everyone knew about it except us. My fears were assuaged when we did stumble upon the only open eating establishment in town, which was filled to the brim with festive Italians. It was a last resort, but yes, I ate Christmas dinner at McDonalds. While we enjoyed our Christmas, it kind of feels like we missed the holiday completely.

Luckily, we had a little time to explore Siena before our bust left the next morning and Rachel got to see the highlights. We opted out of viewing St. Catherine's head on display in a box because I'm still creeped out from seeing it seven years ago. Make note: when I die, please do not preserve and display any of my body parts. That's just not my thing.

That afternoon we took a bus to San Gimignano, a tiny Tuscan village whose stunning views of the countryside alone made it worth the trip. The landscape here has been battered a bit by winter. All the colors seem to have been scrubbed out until the hills almost look like a sepia photograph, yet it is still beautiful. Our fun lodging was a bonus. Based on a tip from our travel book, we knocked at the convent and an older nun ushered us in and let us stay in the bed and breakfast wing of the old building. In our broken conversation, she seemed astonished at both the fact that I study theology and that Rachel is a farmer. Her half of the conversation, much to Rachel's delight, included numerous exclamations of "Mama mia!" We enjoyed strolling through the town until the cold drove us indoor and under our blankets, the only warm place in the drafty room.

We took a very early bus and train the next morning to avoid paying a reservation surcharge for our journey to Venice. The only thing I remember from my last visit to Venice was that it rained the whole day so I spent most of my time inside at at Jazz bar. This time, the rain held out but the temperature was bone-chilling. We weren't to be deterred, though, and continued to shovel gelato through blue lips with our numb fingers. Our modest hotel overlooked the Grand Canal and we spend hours strolling through the twisting and turning streets, dodging touristy glass shops. We also went to St. Mark's basilica where the gospel-writer is said to be buried, which was well worth the 1.50 entrance fee.

We left Venice on a night train and shared a couchette car with three young, bubbly Mexican women, two of whom have been working in England. One of the beautiful things of traveling is when different cultures seem to leave an imprint on a person, like hearing a Mexican say "cheers" to an Italian ticket guy. It made me wonder what ways my time in England has changed me, too. We had a blast talking with them. We arrived in Prague at 2:00 this afternoon and spent the rest of the day walking around the Old City. The weather is still cold (snow was on the ground in the countryside), but we're going to make a go of seeing as much as we can tomorrow, including a ghost story tour. We'll head to the small Czech town of Cesky Krumlov on New Year's Eve and then to Salzburg, my old home, on January 2nd. This week will allow us to spend a little more time in the towns we're visiting, which is a welcome change of pace. I can't believe that we return to England a week from tomorrow. Time is zipping by

Merry Christmas!

I didn't think we would have internet access on Christmas, but we found ourselves with a brief layover in Florence on our way to Assisi and the internet cafe was open. We had a plesant and very relaxing Christmas Eve in Assisi. Our hotel was lovely, if a little under-occupied. We strolled through the beautiful streets of Assisi's historic city and visited the tomb of St. Francis. St. Claire's church was, sadly, closed by the time we arrived. We enjoyed a delicious Christmas meal of ravioli in a charming restaurant before returning to our abode and, as we waited for the bus back down the hill, we saw all of Assisi laid out below us with a sliver of an orange moon dangling above. Our lazy celebration last night included hot showers, a bottle of Assisi wine with St. Francis' face on the bottle, lots of chocolate (in true Batie tradition), and CNN, which was the only English-language station our little TV received. We stayed up late laughing until tears ran down our faces as we shared memories of our childhood misadventures. While it didn't feel quite like Christmas, it was great to be together and it was a welcome night of pampering in the midst of our travels. It was nice to think of our family, cousins and all, together in Tacoma. We stopped by one of Assisi's large church this morning where Mass was standing room only. I enjoyed sharing the sign of peace with shy Italian children. We're off to Siena for tonight and will spend tomorrow night at a convent in a tiny town between Siena and Florence. After that: Venice.

I hope that, wherever you're reading this, you are enjoying Christmas and surrounded by those you love.

It is NOT begining to look a lot like Christmas...

I had wonderful intentions of writing a lengthy post with lots of great deatils of train rides through sunset-drenched French countrysides, pushy Italian grandmothers who let out extra rooms in their apartments, pasta, spiritual reflections, and so much more... but, by the time we've booked our next hostel online, checked bank statements (a depressing experience), and taken care of business, there is almost no time left to blog. I don't expect to get online in the next few days because I imagine that small Italian towns during Christmas won't have much open.

OK, I just caved in and just coughed up an extra 1.50 Euros to write more, so here's what we've been up to since Barcelona. After our night in Barcelona (I honestly can't remember what day of the week that is. I told Rachel today was Saturday and she couldn't believe it. Figuring out the day of the week usually takes at least 10 seconds and several finger-counting exercises, often soliciting help from the printed date on the train ticket as well.), we took a morning train to Carcassone, a small French town. The lone afternoon we had to explore proved enough time to enjoy the midevil walled town on the hill and the Christmas market, complete with mulled wine and nutella crepes, a diet which I am certain could sustain me for several months at least. We stayed at a lovely guesthouse run by some ex-pat Brits. We stay in guesthouses like this when hostels aren't availabe, which is often the case in these smaller towns. Although it only costs 10 Euros (about 13 American bucks) more each, we feel a little like royalty in the spacious room we have to ourselves.

After a good night's rest and stocking up on lost of snacks at the supermarket, which is really more like a convenience mart than an American supermarket, we spent the entire next day on the train to get to Italy. We arrived in Genova around 9:30 p.m., spent the night, then set off the next day for Cinque Terre, which consists of five small towns along the Italian coast. I visited there seven years ago and thought Rachel would enjoy hiking between the towns. (That's one of the main differences between my sister and me; she likes to hike, whereas seven years ago I took the local train and ate gelato on the beach while I waited for my friends to do the hike.) Rachel says it has been her favorite place so far. We did some hiking, enjoying the view of the colorful houses clinging to the steep cliffs above the vibrant turquoise water. We also enjoyed our first delectable (and cheap!) Italian meal, where full plates of pasta and a bottle of wine were less than ten Euros each. While we were walking to the youth hostel listed in our book, an older Italian woman who spoke about as much English as I speak Italian (= about three words) somehow conveyed to us that it was closed while the owners were on vacation. No problem! She, conveniently, rents out a room in her flat. After much cajoling and communication via hand signals, we followed her to her abode and decided to stay in the lovely apartment she rents out. She cut us a bit of a deal since it is the off season and we were happy to enjoy the beautiful view of the water and hillside. Cinque Terre was as beautiful as I remember, but I couldn't help but feel like we had missed the party because this warm-weather tourist spot shuts down in the winter. Enticing "gelateria" signs tauntingly led to borded up doorways and tourists were few. While it was nice to have the trails to ourselves, I kind of wished that Rachel could have been there when it was more alive, not to mention warmer. Yet, in spite of the ghost-town feel, and as if I were not already convinced of the tiny-ness of the world, as we were walking through a deserted tunnel one of the people walking toward us said my name. I was stunned to see Karen, who was an RA at the University of Portland the same year I was, walking toward me in a UP Pilots hat. We caught up a bit (and of course ran into each other again in Florence today). She's teaching English in Sicily and traveling for the holiday as well.

After staying in our luxurious abode and enjoying the lovely/bizarre light-up nativity scene in the hillside, we woke up early to walk to the next town over as the sun woke up the towns. We ate our requisite chocolate croissant breakfast and caught a train to Florence. We spent the chilly afternoon seeing the sights of Florence and shopping in the leather market. Rachel showed remarkable retraint, whereas I made a number of practical invetments, as I justified them. Our best find was a used English lanuage paperback store where we replenished our dwindling supplies of escapist literature (several of which, for me, had hot pink covers). Nevermind the fact that my essay drafts remain unedited. I still have two more weeks and plenty of time. (Please don't panic, Dad.)

As for the rumor that tomorrow is Christmas Eve, I don't know if I believe it. If it weren't for the strands of lights around these towns and the actual chestnust roasting over open fires (or electric grills), not to mention the biting cold, you couldn't convince me that it is the holiday. Santa came early in the form of some financial assitance for this trip, so the only present I have to put under the non-existant tree is a card a friend sent from school and instructed I not open until the 25th. While it is strange, it is also really nice in a way. Christmas hasn't been consumer-driven for us at all this year and I've been able to focus on the real meaning of it much more. I am hoping that tomorrow in Assisi will provide some time for spiritual reflection.

I wish I could say that we, in our young and vibrant state of life, are partying it up and enjoying the nightlife in all these wonderful towns. In actuality, we are usually in our rooms by about 7 or 8 o'clock (sightseeing takes a lot out of a person!), where we read until a respectable 10:00 bedtime, and still feel a little lazy when we wake up at 8 in the morning. Seriously, this is the life. In other news: even though Rachel and I have been occupying the same five square feet of space almost constantly for the last two weeks, we have yet to kill each other, although we do relish the times we get twin beds instead of a double. Today marks the halfway point of our trip and things continue to go well.

Quick Update

This must be brief because this intenet cafe is unbelievably expensive, but know that we are still alive and we are having a marvelous time! We hiked along the Italian coast today. Life is good. Tomorrow: Florence.

Plan B

After a week and a half on the rails, we've decided to adjust our itinierary for our next few weeks. Rachel prefers smaller towns to big cities and I'm eager to go to a few places where I've never been before. At the suggestion of Alberto, a well-traveled Italian whose aquaintance we made in Granada, we've decided to add Carcassone (France) and a series of small towns between Siena and Florence to our docket. In order to make time for this, we've decided not to go to Rome. We were originally going to spend Christmas there, but we realized that most of the museums and attractions we wanted to visit would be closed for the holiday. Rachel is less interested in the history and Roman Catholic stuff there, and I would really need more than just two days to do it right. I have been to Rome before, so I am willing to bypass it this time. Instead, we will be spending Christmas in Assisi, home of Saints Francis and Clare. We've splurged on a hotel and I think it will be the perfect way to spend the holiday.

Barcelona

Greetings from Barcelona, where the break-neck-paced Schwester-Euro-Extravanza '06-'07 continues! Not even head colds and sore throats could keep us from seeing Barcelona in eight hours today.

The remainder of our time in Granada was delightful. We went out for tapas with folks from our hostel on Sunday night, which was a great way to see some of the Spanish nightlife. My, how I love Sangria. Monday we went on a walking tour which was not particularly exceptional, but was a good way to see more of the town and learn a little bit about its history. We spent the remainder of our afternoon eating churros with chocolate at a fabulous plaza-side cafe and we had a vegetarian-suitable lunch at a Moroccan tea house. It was one of the better meals we've had since we've been here and the tea was fantastic. After a little down time at the hostel we went out for a few tapas before catching our night train. It was my first time traveling via hotel train and it was a comfortable way to spend the night. We shared our compartment with a young woman from Chile and were able to carry on a little conversation with our broken Spanish and her patchy English.

Once we arrived, we found our hostel, took showers, dropped off our ever-growing backpacks, and hit the town. First stop was the all-organic restaurant our guidebook recommended, which proved disappointing. Next, we went to the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's breathtaking cathedral-in-progress and the highlight of the day. I remember climbing the spiral stairs to the tops of the spires and being met with a view of the sun setting over the city when I visited here seven years ago and I was eager to return. It is still as moving as I found it last time. Rachel seemed to really enjoy it as well. Next, we visited a large market off of Las Ramblas where we found produce items that puzzled even my farmer sister. We spent hours wandering through the Gothic Neighborhood until we dragged our weary selves back to the hostel. We'll take it easy this evening and get to bed early in preparation for an early morning train to Carcassone, France tomorrow. Next stop after Carcassone is Cinque Terra, which is five small towns clinging to the Italian coast. I definitely can't complain.

Granada

I´m sitting in the mood-lit common area of our fabulous hostel, Rachel´s reading a book, and our laundry is spinning in the machine. We´ve spent the day at the Alhambra, which is more stunning than I remember it - and I remember it being pretty amazing. Here´s a recap of what we´ve been up to.

Our time in Paris was very nice, if a bit chilly. We stayed in a budget hotel a few metro stops out of town. We only had about a day and a half in the city when all was said and done. Our first day was very full. We started out at the Eiffel tower with coffee and crepes for breakfast as we wandered around the park at its base. We then went on to the Rodin Museum, which is one of my favorite places in Europe. There was a fantastic temporary exhibit of some of his sketches which gave me a whole new perspective on his sculptures. After some wandering around and getting lunch in the Bastille district we went to the Louvre, which consumed the rest of the day and into the evening. It is funny traveling with Rachel and discovering that we like the exact opposite things. We split up and she spent her time with the Egyptian artifacts, which didn´t do much for me, while I hung out with the paintings, which she found boring. Some of my favorites were Rembrandts portrayals of Bathsheba and Susanna, probably because I´ve been studying those stories in my Feminist Biblical Interpretation class this term. Our second day in Paris started with lugging our backpacks to the train station and locking them up. We spent the remainder of the day walking through the Latin Quarter and sitting in various parks enjoying the people watching.

We left on a 3:50 p.m. train for Seville and didn´t arrive until noon the next day. We had a type of sleeping train that had beds. It was aramshackleamshakle with six beds to a room, stacked three on top of each other, but it was luxury compared to the fold out seat compartments I remember from night trains in my past. I think Rachel was a bit puzzled by my joy at the cramped quarters.

We stepped out of the Seville train station into the sun and gladly shed our winter coats. Southern Spain is just as beautiful as I remember with antique painted tiles on every building and orange trees providing shade. Narrow streets twist and turn opening up unexpectedly into tiny plazas. Flamenco guitar strains floated up into our third floor window from a guitar shop down the street, the same window which provided a view of wooden tables and postcard racks in the courtyard below. Rachel started to get a cold around our train ride, so we took it easy in Seville, sleeping late and doing lots of walking around the town.

We took an evening train into Granada last night and have been enjoying ourselves here as well. We slept late again and set off to the Alhambra for most of the day. We´re taking a rest in our hostel before doing some window shopping, then we´re going on a tapas tour this evening. ¨Tapas¨ is Spanish for ¨Angela-sized portion of food.¨ I remember them being really tasty during my last trip to Spain, but we had awful luck with them in Seville. Hopefully they will be redeemed on the tour tonight.

Other than Rachel getting sick, we´ve only run into two other obstacles during our travels. The first is that, unlike when I traveled seven years ago, lots of the trains now require reservations, which cost extra. It has been nice to have seats guaranteed on the trains, but it has also resulted in unexpected expenses, which is a little annoying since we´re on a organic-farmer-and-grad-student budget. The other struggle has been, surprisingly, finding food. Rachel is a nut-allergic vegetarian who tries to limit her dairy, and we´ve had an awful time finding protein for her. It doesn´t help that neither of us eat fish. I´ve tried to convince her that my all-carb diet is a suitable alternative, but she´s not buying it. We´ve never been so happy to see a falafel place as we were this afternoon.

Overall, the trip is going well. The more I travel, the more I realize how small the world is. We learned this morning that one of the other women in our 6-bed dorm room here is from Tacoma. Even stranger, she already ran into someone else in our hostel who she had a class with at UW Tacoma. Crazy stuff.

Southern Spain in the Sun

Before I attempt to do a catch-up post about Paris and Seville, I have to say that we´ve arrived in Granada and we´re staying in the best hostel I´ve ever seen. It´s amazing what a difference this makes in our outlook (which wasn´t all that bad to start with). It´s good that we´ve already booked our night train in a few nights or we might stay here until January. This hostel is so fabulous, in fact, that it has free intenet, so expect a lengthy blog in the next day or two! But for now, off to bed.

Paris

Very quick report - we`ve had a full and wonderful day in Paris, starting with morning coffee and crepes in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower followed by hours upon hours in museums. Now we`re tuckered out and turning in. Tomorrow we`re going to spend the morning wandering around the Latin Quarter before leaving for Spain on a 20-hour train ride, so I may not be able to blog for awhile. Farewell Paris... Seville, here we come!

Stood up

This post must be short. Ah, how I long for the days when I had my own computer and didn`t have to pay for internet connections by the minute.

The rest of our time in Amsterdam was very nice. It rained the entire day, yet we persevered. The worst part was that we were stood up by not one, but two walking tour guides for two different walking tours. What bad luck! We made the most of our time, though. The Anne Frank House was as haunting as I remember from seven years ago. The most moving part for me was seeing the pencil marks on the wall tracing the children`s heights during their time in hiding.

We stayed at a Christian hostel during our visit. Perhaps a strange choice for Amsterdam, but I remembered the hostel I stayed at last time as so dirty and sketchy, that I welcomed a place that didn`t allow drugs inside. It was very clean inside and was one of the nicest hostels I`ve stayed at.

We took a train to Paris this morning. Rachel spent the train ride knitting a hat and listening to her ipod while I devoured a paperpack and neglected the essay drafts nagging from my backback. We are staying at a budget hotel for the next two nights. It`s not the Ritz but we feel like royalty having our very own room. We`re enjoying local cuisine and have been nibbling on the same wedge of Brie all afternoon. Rachel said she`d give me 20 Euros if I`d eat the rest of it because we`re so sick of it.

Tomorrow we plan to see all of Paris (wish us luck) before heading to southern Spain on Thursday afternoon.

Amsterdam

This must be quick because we're in a very expensive internet cafe. We're off and running on our Euro adventure. The last few days at Westcott were busy and emotional. I started crying Friday morning at the end of the Advent carol service, continued straight through mulled wine, mince pies, and goodbye hugs, and finally tapered off when Rachel and I were sightseeing in Cambridge.

We've had a great time in Amsterdam so far. We stayed on a houseboat B & B last night, which was lovely except for the time we spent walking aimlessly in a hail storm trying to find it. We strolled round last night soaking in the night life of Amsterdam which is, as you would expect, unlike anywhere else in the world. Luckily today has been sunny. We've been walking a lot and have spent most of the day in some fantastic museums and have seen beautiful works by Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Gauguin, and others. We'll wrap up the day with a comedy show tonight. Tomorrow we're going on a walking tour and will see the Anne Frank House.

Arrival!

Schwester arrived safe and sound today. We're laying low so she can recover from her red-eye flight. Tonight is the end-of-the-term formal hall and tomorrow we'll tour around Cambridge before leaving on Saturday.

Christingle

I just returned from the Westcott Christingle service. From what I’ve ascertained, Christingle services are tradition here in England, even though they have only really been celebrated this way since the 1970’s. We celebrated today because it is St. Nicholas’ Day, but one of my friends said they also have Christingles on Christmas Eve.

This service is designed for children, which were certainly there in abundance. I think kids are cute, but let me tell you - kids with English accents are about ten times cuter. Even cuter than that is when they are decked out in Santa outfits. I participated in the service as part of the skit which told the story of St. Nicholas. Our (female) Vice Principal played the part of St. Nick, complete with a poster-board bishop’s miter. I was one of the three daughters to whom St. Nick gives financial assistance. It was a humorous version of the story; the narrator’s explanation that the daughters’ poor father was worried that he wouldn’t have money for dowries and he feared that they “would have to remain spinsters for the whole of their lives” was met with their response, “Oi!! Has thirty years of feminism passed you by?” and “You’re just using this sketch to push the agenda of a white male patriarchal elitist hegemony, aren’t you?” In our version, St. Nick’s moolah ultimately goes to fund graduate school and entrepreneurial endeavors. I know, I know: typecasting.

The highlight of the ceremony is when the children (and, in this case, trans-Atlantic visitors as well) receive their Christingle. Apparently this symbol is Moravian in origins, but has been incorporated into English tradition by a children’s charity, which accepts donations in exchange for the supplies for the Christingles and for which people at Christingle services pray. The Christingle is made of an orange (the world) with a red band (Christ’s blood shed for us), four toothpicks of sweets (the fruit of the earth in the four seasons), and a tall white candle (Jesus as the light of the world come to us at Christmas).

It really was a charming service and I delighted in being part of it. As for the Christingle, I lit it long enough to take this picture… then I ate it.

Brimming

I have only a few days left in Cambridge and my heart is so full that it feels like a brimming cup. My lack of blogging in recent days is not because I have nothing to say, but because there is so much to say that it is overwhelming. I have to concentrate. Balance. Make lists. Pack. Finish essays. Keep level. If I stand back and think about what it means to leave this place, I fear I’ll overflow.

I don’t know exactly what this experience has been for me, nor do I think I’ll be able to understand how it has changed me for quite some time yet. But I do know, with absolute certainty, that this has been a very important time of formation for me – both as a person and as someone called to ministry. An inscription on the bell that is rung before prayer here reads “the one who calls is faithful” (1 Thessalonians). This has certainly been true for me. I felt called here, even though I did not know why, and I responded in spite of the emotional hardships of leaving YDS, relationships, and things very dear to me. God has been faithful, though, and I am emerging much richer than I was when I arrived. I was called here for a reason, I know that. I’m excited to see what that reason is someday.

This week is a collage of “lasts” and goodbyes. My last evening prayer at Margaret Beaufort and tea with the girls afterward. My last tutor group breakfast. Debriefing our experience as international students with the community here. Last formal hall. Last tutorial. Last nighttime bike ride. Last cooked breakfast (thank goodness for that one). The only “last” I haven’t seemed able to achieve is turning in that last essay - oopsies. I have felt so affirmed in being a part of these communities that these last few days have been very overwhelming. Each moment seems poignant, as though I’m already cherishing the memories as I make them.

Fear not, these emotional, transition postings will only last a bit longer. Soon enough I will return to travel-log mode and give full accounts of the Euro-Schwester-Extravangza. Stay tuned.

Small World

I just had coffee with Claire, a woman who was a resident on the second floor of Mehling Hall at University of Portland when I was a Resident Assistant there in 2000-01. We’ve just figured out she lives right across Jesus Lane here in Cambridge, where she has a fellowship to study neuroscience (smarty-pants). Seriously, she lives within a block of me; I pass her house every day. We had a lovely catch-up and compared notes on our efforts to re-create our Salzburg experiences by being here. I only wish we had realized we were neighbors before my last week in town.

Westcott Weekly Notoriety

An excerpt from this week’s Westcott Weekly, a satirical student-written publication:

"On the back of success in Manchester and forthcoming projects in Somerset, Westcott are seeking to engage in mission closer to home. A new bureau has been established which aims to secure the residency of international refugees by launching their glittering careers in popular music [profits helpfully diverted to the Development Office].

Our first initiative is to retain our American visitors. Noticing the huge gulf left in the popular music market by the tragic demise of the Spice Girls, it is our intention to harness their talents in a new Christian-pop music phenomenon: American Spice. This project will launch the careers of Blazer Spice, Deep South Spice, Kick-Ass Catholic Spice, Coxing Spice, and Sound-of-Music Spice.

Projects in the pipeline include a Canto-pop sensation for which we are seeking a Hong Kong duo. "

Guess which spice I am? Hint: it’s not Sound-of-Music Spice.

Euro-Schwester-Extravaganza '06-'07

When we were little, my sister and I decided that we loved each other so much that the word "love" was insufficient to convey our feelings. We invented a new word, whose rough translation means "I love you even more than 'I love you' means." (Sorry, I can't tell you the word; it's confidential. You'll have to make up your own word.) It is still a common statement at the end of our conversations and e-mails.

One week from today Rachel arrives from Colorado. We will be spending four weeks traveling together over the Christmas and New Year's holidays on the "Euro-Schwester-Extravaganza '06-'07," as I like to call it. She has never been to Europe before and I am eager to introduce her to his beautiful continent. We have very ambitious plans which include stops in the Netherlands (Amsterdam), France (Paris), Spain (Barcelona, Granada, and Seville), Italy (Cinque Terra, Florence, Venice, and Rome for Christmas), the Czech Republic (Prague and Cesky Krumlov for New Year's), and Austria (Salzburg). All in four weeks. We may sound nuts, but I think we can do it.

My sister and I are very close, but we are also very different. Take the way we've each prepared for this big trip, for example: I have researched hostels, train timetables, and bought plane tickets, compiled the information into a spreadsheet, and inundated her with e-mails about what she should and should not pack. Rachel, on the other hand, has lovingly knitted us each a warm hat or her own design and impeccable crafts(wo)manship for the cold trip, along with making us hand-sewn passport holders from one of our mother's old scarves. Rachel is a hard-working vegetarian organic farmer. I eat things like frozen chicken pot pies and prefer not to get dirty if I can avoid it. I'm at home in a musty cathedral, while I think she's probably more comfortable on a hiking trail. Despite these differences, though, I think that in the last few years we've found ourselves to be more similar than we ever expected to be.

She is two and a half years younger than I am, although, admittedly, I still treat her like she's twelve sometimes. I am acutely that we are in a small window of life when we are old enough to take a trip like this and appreciate each other as adults, but still young enough to have the freedom from life's weightier responsibilities (careers, children, mortgages) to allow us this opportunity. It is a very precious time and I expect that we'll cherish the memories of this trip for decades to come.

Gold Star

Yesterday marked the last day of classes. If you are surprised that the term seems to have gone by so quickly and if it seems to you like my classes started just last week, you’re not alone – it feels that way for me, too! Now I have a week to finish my essays, say my goodbyes, and pack all my belongings. I have a hunch it’s going to be a rough week.

I deserve a gold star for perfect attendance this term, too, which I think is a “first” for me. When the term is only eight weeks long, missing a class means missing 1/8 of the course. That’s powerful motivation to get your tush to class, even if you woke up at 4:00 that morning to catch a flight from Dublin.

Sorry, Yale friends, that you’re still in school. Sometimes I think I may have gotten the better end of this exchange deal…

The Hills are Alive

The very first thing I did when I arrived in Salzburg, Austria, seven and a half years ago was to drop my suitcase in my room and find The Sound of Music Tour. (The Sound of Music is set in Salzburg, you know.) During our year in Salzburg we watched the movie often, to the point where we knew most of it by heart. When we returned to the US, watching the movie almost seemed like watching bits of a friend’s home video.

Somewhere in the mean time, though, I lost touch with The Sound of Music. S.O.M. came to mean “School of Management” instead of its rightful meaning. The pattern on the curtains/play clothes faded in my mind.

I got back to my Sound of Music roots by attending the new musical production in London Monday night, and it felt like coming home. I had to remind myself that neither Julie Andrews nor Christopher Plummer were going to walk onstage, but once I accepted that, I really enjoyed the production. The set was very impressive, with large swastika banners unfurling throughout the theatre during the part where the Trapp family sing at the festival near the end. There was also a large flying-saucer-disk thing that tilted up and down to represent the mountain, giving tremendous depth and scale to the stage. (And yes, Maria did the requisite twirl through its “meadow” during her first song.) The intricacies of the set did prove to be a drawback, though, as the performance was interrupted and the curtain drawn for 15 minutes during the first act due to technical difficulties.

The only disappointing part was during the Lonely Goatherd song. One of the top five moments of the movie, hands down (and I just dare you to disagree with me), is the part where they sing, “soon the duet will become a trio” followed by tiny baby goat voice “lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo.” We used to demand that all people be silent during this part, and if a person dared to ruin the baby goat yodel, we would simply rewind and watch again until we could enjoy it uninterrupted. Alas, there is no baby goat voice in the London production; it is just sung like normal.

All in all, though, it was a delightful experience, and it made me very excited to return to Salzburg next month.

And mother superior definitely stole the show; I honestly felt like I really could climb every mountain when she sang to me.

Compline

My name finally came up on the prayer officiant rota and I was responsible for leading this evenings Compline. I'll admit, I was a bit nervous, as there seems to be more-than-moderate attention paid to liturgical precision here. There is a "right" way of doing nearly everything, including which candle of the two on the altar to light first. It is understandable in a house of ministry formation to be attentive to such details, but since I'm the kind of person who often only figures out the "right" way by stumbling into the "wrong" way, it doesn't make me feel particularly at ease.

It turns out I didn't have much to worry about. Compline is optional (as opposed to 7:40 morning prayer and 6:05 evening prayer) and only two other folks showed up. The cantor didn't even make it. Sure, I made some minor goofs in a few places, but I think it went fine. Now I feel more ready to lead Thursday morning prayer, where there are sure to be more people in attendance.

The best part: I even got to ring the call-to-prayer bell, something I have to restrain myself from doing every time I walk by that sturdy metal bell and taunting dangly rope.

St. John's Advent Carol Service

Weeks ago, based on a tip from one of the Westcott women who studied at YDS last year, I requested tickets to St. John’s Advent Carol Service. St. John’s is one of the beautiful old colleges here in Cambridge and it touts a boys’ choir just as renowned as the one at King’s. Last night I donned my snappiest attire and spent an hour and a half in Advent music bliss. The recording of last night’s service will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 next weekend, and I highly recommend it.

The Little Things

In true Thanksgiving tradition, I've been thinking a lot about the things for which I'm thankful. I'm overwhelmed by the blessings my life and have so many important things to be thankful for: a God who created me, knows me completely and - even so - loves me more than I can understand, a family which is overwhelmingly supportive and loving, meaningful and enriching friendships, education, the opportunity to travel - the list is endless.

There are so many big things to be thankful for, but there are so many little things as well. Here are the bits and bobs of my daily life in Cambridge that make me happy; for them, I am thankful:

The stretch of Sedwick Ave where I can pedal my bike really fast at night and pretend I'm seven years old again
The big pitcher of cream next to the puddings (desserts) that you can pour on anything
My big black Guinness mug filled with tea
Fresh towels
The tiny fireplace in my room
The little bits of lemon or lime that float in my G&T from the college bar
The rare occasion when they serve porridge for breakfast
Getting calls on Skype
Finding out that people read my blog
Bits of gossip from YDS
Things being described as "brilliant"
My striped gloves that make me feel spunky
Travelzoo Weekly Top 20 e-mail
My blinking bicycle lights, especially when I put them on the really fast setting
Cornish pasties
The old, nicked wood of my desk
Feminist Biblical Interpretation
That my lock on my door here says "Yale"
Thursday afternoons stretching into evening at Margaret Beaufort
Novels
My snooze button
Church songs I recognize
Trains - especially when I get two seats to myself
Curling up under my duvet at night
Facebook
New entries on my friends' blogs
Saturday mornings
McVitties carmel chocolate digestive biscuits
Half-sheets of scrap paper to write lists on
Postcards that I keep
My pashmina
Travel books
Silence
Knowing how to ride the bus
Being Catholic
Trying to talk in a British accent
Gospel choir rehearsal
Indigo Girls
No TV
Two pound coins
Going into the dining hall and knowing I can sit anywhere I want to
Rotas
Celebrity gossip
The wobbly stone in the walkway by my room which makes a satisfying shift and thunk when I step on it just right
The few flowers that stubbornly bloom in November
Timetables
The smell of fog
The bells that ring around Cambridge almost without ceasing on Sundays
My favorite jeans which are paper-thin in the knees
Notebook paper with 4 holes instead of 3
The almost daily e-mail conversations with my college girlfriends
Looking at pictures on my digital camera right after I take them
The bell calling us to prayer
My big red travel backpack with lots of pockets
My very own pigeon hole
Chips (French fries) from the take-out place dipped in mayonnaise
Knee-high socks
Shiny earrings
High-speed internet
Travel-sized bottles of lotions and shampoos
Ribbons marking places in prayer books
Tea-light candles in heavy glass holders

Feel free to add some of the little things that make you happy in the comments section.

Thanksgiving in Cambridge

Thanksgiving has been in the air here at Westcott. A group of Americans (5 of whom are here just for the term, another two of whom are doing their whole degree at Westcott) have been working feverishly to share our Thanksgiving celebration with the Westcott community. We felt that, this was our opportunity to do something in return for the community which has given us so much. Biscuits and pies were baked, American-themed decorations were hung, and Ian, Sara, Cheshire, and I spent Sunday afternoon making 70 turkey-hand placemats out of construction paper while watching a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

Last night we had a formal hall (one of our fancy dinners) complete with turkey, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce and mashed potato/sweet potato hash. We had pies and mulled cider in the common room where all the Americans shared a little about their Thanksgiving traditions back home and all were invited to say something they were for which they were thankful. I was really touched by how willing people were to speak openly about the blessings in their lives. Then we had a dance party until late. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Tonight we will have a bit of a Thanksgiving themed dinner at Margaret Beaufort, too. Susan, the principal who doubles on Thursdays as gourmet chef, is making turkey stir fry and pumpkin pies. I helped her with some of the prep work for a few hours yesterday afternoon. (I tried to warn her about my disastrous track record in the kitchen, but she wanted my help nonetheless.) In the midst of the academic chaos of the end of the term, those few hours of measuring, chopping, and washing were a welcome respite of calm.

I’m thankful to be able to celebrate the holiday with both of my communities in Cambridge – communities for which have welcomed me in with overwhelming hospitality. Communities for which I offer thanks this year.

Oh no!

I just went to the theatre to pick up our Wicked tickets for tonight and found out that Idina will NOT be performing. Instead, her understudy will do her part. Now I'm in an internet cafe, furiously trying to coordinate with my friends via e-mail about if we should try to exchange our tickets for another night or not. The problem is that we're running out of other nights.

Idina, if you're reading my blog, please, please, please change your mind and perform tonight. Or come up to Cambridge for a private concert. That would be acceptable as well.

{Update, November 23: Turns out Idina's understudy was probably EVEN BETTER than Idina would have been. The girl could sing. The show was magical and I'm very glad I went. It would have been worth it just to see Wicked with British accents - what a riot!}

Saturday in London

It's funny, but it seems like the times I least want to do something I end up enjoying it the most. At parties where I plan to just make a quick appearance, I end up dancing until 3 a.m., books I read because I've been goaded into it captivate me, and doing things out of a sense of obligation end up the most rewarding. Such was the case with my day trip to London on Saturday. I agreed to go with the group of international students since our esteemed colleague and leader went to the effort of coordinating it. I was tired, stressed out about the work I needed to be doing, and overall unenthused, but since I'd committed, I went.

It ended up being one of the best days in London I've had. The weather was clear, sunny, and warm, feeling more like early October than mid November. We started the day at Borough Market, where the people-watching amid the hustle and bustle was superb. It is one of the oldest continual markets in London and sits in the shadow of the flat which served as Bridget Jones' residence in the movies. We popped into the lovely Southwalk Cathedral where several of my friends here will be ordained before walking along the Thames to the Globe Theatre. I've wanted to see this recreation of Shakespeare's original playhouse for some time and it didn't disappoint (except that I wasn't able to find a suitable souvenir for my friend Erik's fabulous new theatre, the Horatio).

After lunch on the Thames, we parted ways. I ended up spending the afternoon with Frankie, a priest visiting from Hong Kong. We walked over the Millennium Bridge and climbed the 400+ stairs to the tip top of St. Paul's Cathedral, with London spread out below us far into the distance. We spent the remainder of the afternoon strolling through Regent Street, Oxford Circus, China Town (where Frankie treated me to my first taste of Chinese fried dough - yum!), and ended with a cup of tea at Leicester Square as the sun set over the city.

The day wasn't over, though, because we met up with the rest ofPiccadillyp at Picadilly Circus and headed to a Taize service at Westminster Abbey. This liturgy was part of the "Pilgrimage of Trust" where some of the brothers from Taize provide Taize worship for people who want to experience it but can't get all the way to France. Although we sat on the floor for the two-hour liturgy, the music was beautiful and it was a lovely way to end the day. Perhaps the highlight was listening to Rowan Williams (head of the Anglican Church - kind of like the pope for Episcopalians, my dear Catholic readers) preach with Isaac Newton's tomb as his backdrop. Rowan Williams sat only 15 feet away from me throughout the service and I got to shake his hand at the end. I would have shaken Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor's hand at the end of the service as well, but I couldn't find him.

It was a fantastic day which, even though I was tuckered out by the ride home, was well-worth the trip. I am actually off to London yet again today to visit CAFOD (Catholic Agency for Overseas Development), where the wife of one of the students here works and has graciously invited me to visit. Hey, I only have a few months left to figure out what I'm going to do with my life before the great Job Search 2007. Then tonight we have tickets to see Idina Menzel (one of my favorite actresses) star in Wicked, which I've been looking forward to for months.

The photos from my day in London are online now in the "London" album. You can also see pictures from Julia's fabulous birthday party under "Westcott Friends." photos.yahoo.com/angelabatie