Category: Uncategorized

By Melanie Katz, FCLC 2020

I have had three very different internships during my time at Fordham. I have worked in different fields, in different positions, in different environments, and for different bosses. My experience with internships has taught me a lot about myself, how I work best, what I do well, and what I want to do. The most important thing that I’ve learned, though, is what my work and my talents are worth.

The summer before my junior year, I decided that I wanted to stay in the city and do an internship. I applied to stay on campus, and began sending out my resume to anyone I could find. No one responded. I didn’t get a single interview after applying to more than 15 internships. So I looked into part-time jobs, determined not to return to my hometown and my old retail job for the long summer months. I found one, and it was enough to help defray the cost of living in New York all summer, but I still wanted an internship. Finally, at the end of June, I interviewed for an internship with a start-up events company. Scott, my potential new boss, promised me tons of hands-on experience, and that I would be paid a commission. Of course, I was thrilled when he offered me the position. 

I realized too late that my new boss Scott was a pretty skeezy dude. A few weeks into the internship, when I had not met anyone else on “the team,” nor had I done anything but send emails directly to people’s spam folders, I began to understand that this internship was not what I had been led to believe. Looking back, I should have quit as soon as I realized I was never going to do anything more than listen to my boss lecture about business, but at the time, the thought didn’t occur to me. I had made a commitment to work through the summer. In the end, I never did anything that even remotely resembled “hands-on experience,” and I was not paid a cent. I didn’t even get school credit. When I described the internship to my friends come fall, I was surprised to find that I was angry. I eventually realized that I was angry because I had been wasted. In my interview, Scott had been impressed with my skill, education, and work ethic, but he brought me on to copy and paste content from one document to another and hit send. My time, labor, and talent had been wasted.

During my junior year, I began the application process again. I knew that I needed credit from an internship in order to graduate, so I once again sent my resume to anyone who would take it. This time, I got an interview with a company that I actually cared about. I was hired as an intern at GLAAD, a real company, with real work to be done. I was so excited. I got to work in their beautiful downtown office, helping to further their goal of fair and accurate media representation for LGBTQ+ people. I helped plan and execute the GLAAD Media Awards, the televised award show that GLAAD has been producing for 30 years. And even as an intern, I didn’t just get coffee. I attended script readings and meetings with the CEO. I greeted celebrities and was introduced to donors. I shook so many hands. My work felt meaningful, and my effort felt justified and appreciated. Though I wasn’t paid, I had a sense that I was valued because my work was valuable.

This past summer, I began the search anew. I ended up with two part-time jobs and another internship. This time, I got to work with a small theatrical producing company as an assistant. By small, I mean the company consisted of just two people. I was wary, after my first internship with a small company, but this new job seemed legit. My new bosses had impressive experience in their field, and I had to sign a contract and an NDA before they could even tell me about their projects. And once I started working, it was clear that this time, a small company meant that I would have real responsibility. I was trusted with quite a bit of work, from research and accounting to creative choices about production and marketing. I proved to my bosses and to myself that I was good at what I did. 

At the end of the summer, I was paid the stipend that we had agreed on. On my last day, we discussed my plans for the future, and when I expressed a desire to find another job for the school year, my bosses offered to give me freelance work as long as I was willing to take it. They said that I was the best editor they had worked with, and they were willing to pay me to keep producing their materials. They agreed that my skills and my labor were valuable. 

I know now that I am talented, and I deserve to be paid fairly and treated with respect. Of course, that’s something that I already knew was true in theory. On paper, I’m smart, well-rounded, all the things that you’re supposed to be. But it took the negative and positive experiences that I had in my internships to help me understand that in practice.

By Esmé Bleecker-Adams , FCLC 2021

Yes, that was me you might have seen trying to fit several large cardboard trees through the turnstile last month (and yes I know it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve seen on the subway by far).  

I first got involved with the West Side YMCA theater arts department through a technical theater class for teens when I was in 11th grade. As part of the class, we helped backstage with the Kids Company productions; my first show there was “The Sound of Music.” I was assigned to assist the costume designer, who has been a wonderful mentor, and I’ve returned to be a wardrobe assistant for seven more musicals since, most recently “Newsies” this past November.  

This semester I also designed props for their Teen Theater production of the Oresteia Duology (the cast wasn’t large enough to perform the whole trilogy), as well as props and costumes for the Studio Production of “The Addams Family”. These were new experiences for me because I had never worked on props before, and because I had never been in charge of any part of the production process before. It was a challenge for that reason, but a good place to start because neither show was overly demanding in terms of the cast size or volume of materials that I was responsible for. 

I will return to my experience working on these particular shows, but I think it’s worth a digression to advocate for the value of a strong arts education. I was incredibly lucky to have great art teachers and art classes throughout my time in New York City public schools, and I know how much it has shaped me personally (I’m a visual arts major now, after all), but working with the Kids Company has given me a new and wider perspective on the importance of exposure to and experience with the arts at a young age. The cast members are mostly in middle school. They come from school to rehearsal; they have tests and projects due on the same day as performances. It must be exhausting, but many of them have been in every show for years now. Anyone can see it means the world to them. It’s a place where they can connect with other people their age and relate to each other through common interests and creativity. 

Things can be chaotic backstage, but once the performers step out of the wings, they never fail to impress me with their level of focus and professionalism. The Studio Production cast was a little younger, mostly elementary school students. When I sat in on a rehearsal, I wasn’t sure if they were ready to use costumes and props, on top of remembering their lines, cues, choreography and blocking. For a few of them, it was their first show, and it seemed like a lot for us to ask of them, but you never know what people are capable of until you trust them with it, and I’m happy to report that they proved me wrong. The pressure of a live audience helped to focus the cast, and this group proved to be incredibly responsible and proactive about making sure that they had what they needed onstage. 

Their excitement made me excited too. When I walked into the rehearsal I had been met with a flurry of questions about the costumes. Backstage the students of three different classes who were performing that day buzzed around nervously, and it wasn’t long before their giddiness had me grinning too. Energy is infectious, and one thing I’ve learned from helping with stressful quick changes is that I have to try to project a calm front, even if I’m far from calm inside, because the calmer I can be, the calmer the actors can be, and that makes things run more smoothly for everyone. 

No matter the concern, first you respond “we’ll make sure it’s taken care of,” like a reflex, and second you worry about how to actually make that happen. 

I enjoyed sourcing props and costume pieces and also getting to make a few things myself. It was a good balance of different types of thinking that went into the process. The creative side: we needed an ancient Greek libation bowl, and since the constraints of budget and era prevented authenticity, I made it from a disposable cardboard bowl and acrylic paint. The organizational side: I made a detailed Excel spreadsheet, which went unused as I reverted to my natural state of scribbling lists in seven different notebooks and carrying all of them around with me. The thrifty side: I tried my best to buy only what was necessary and take advantage of the costume closet, the prop closet and occasionally my own closet for the rest (the latter was the source of Grandma’s costume, if that says anything about my personal fashion choices). 

My favorite thing about technical theater is being a small part of something bigger and getting to see from behind the scenes how it all comes together to make the magic happen during the show. When I watch a show now, I think about these things. I notice how many different costumes each person wears throughout the production, and how much time they have to change from one to another, or which side props enter and exit from and how set pieces travel from one place to another. 

My favorite thing about technical theater at the YMCA specifically is getting to work with a fantastic group of people: the designers and technicians, the arts administrators, the stage crew, the parent volunteers and most of all a fantastic group of children who have taught me so much. I am constantly amazed and humbled not only by their talent, but also by their dedication and commitment, and I’m honored to play even a tiny role in this opportunity for them to express themselves and do what they love.

by Elizabeth Doney, FCLC ’21

Click here for Elizabeth’s reflections on a weekend trip to Vienna.

 

Throughout the month of November, the former Eastern bloc countries commemorated the thirtieth anniversary of the collapse of the Soviet Union. I’m in Prague this semester, and many of my classes have focused on contemporary Czech political history in advance of the anniversary of the Velvet Revolution. We read the writing of Václav Havel, visited a photography exhibition from the photojournalist Jan Šibík, and reflected on the current state of this young democracy thirty years on. The Velvet Revolution took place over a period of about ten days, though it was the product of years of dissent throughout the Eastern bloc. Many of the key events took place on and around November 17th, so that day was chosen as the official anniversary.

On the 17th, my friends and I headed to the National Avenue, where a student protest in 1989 was violently suppressed, sparking the Velvet Revolution. The area was dense with booths and people of all ages, and we were given pins for the occasion – red, white, and blue ribbons and buttons that said “30 let svobody,” or “30 years of freedom.” There were Czech musicians playing, lectures from historians, NGOs like Amnesty International passing out pamphlets, and a number of different memorials. At the National Theater there is a memorial to Havel, the playwright and leader of the dissident movement, where people left candles and flowers. Further down the street, there was also a memorial to the students who were killed in the demonstration, which was so completely surrounded by wreaths and candles that it was hard to see the structure itself.

We followed the crowd from the National Avenue a few blocks over to Wenceslas Square, where many of the major demonstrations of the Velvet Revolution took place. There, the City of Prague hosted a concert of many of the bands who were blacklisted under communism, along with a number of younger Czech musicians. Politicians and intellectual leaders, including many former dissidents, spoke about their experiences and the lessons they learned in 1989, and they played a video from the Dalai Lama talking about Havel’s legacy as a leader in nonviolence and human rights. They sang “A Prayer for Marta,” a song strongly associated with the Velvet Revolution, and the Czech national anthem, and at the end the whole crowd jangled their keys, a reference to a tactic used in the 1989 protests to signal the death of the regime. Once the concert ended, there was a light show displayed on the National Theatre which honored Czech history and celebrated the progress made in the past thirty years. 

It was very special for me to be able to witness this moment in Czech history, especially since I’m only here for a short time. The memory of authoritarianism is still very recent for many Czechs, and many locals don’t like to talk about their experiences under communism. During the anniversary weekend, however, people were outwardly emotional in engaging with their history and were willing and eager to share their reflections with us. There is division amongst Czechs regarding the current administration, which has been criticized for corruption and prior attachments to the Soviet secret police, but this commemorative event reflected a unified commitment to human rights and a robust civil society.

by Elizabeth Doney, FCLC ’21

 

My name is Elizabeth, I’m a junior in the Lincoln Center Honors Program, and this semester I’m studying abroad at Charles University in Prague. It’s been a very busy few months for me, but I’ve been able to make time for a few weekend trips to other parts of Europe. I mostly travel with the friends I’ve made in my program, but a few weekends ago I took a trip by myself for the first time. I decided on Vienna, booked train tickets, and packed homework to keep my mind busy when I wasn’t out in the city. I worried that I’d enjoy the things I saw less because I wouldn’t have anyone to share them with, but I planned to stay very busy in hopes of staving off the loneliness.

Immediately, my well-laid plans started to shift. When I got to my seat on the train and pulled out my laptop, I learned that our academic portal was out of service due to a virus, and I started to get increasingly anxious at the prospect of having to pass a four-hour train ride without any work to keep me occupied. As I went to put my laptop back in my bag, I glanced out the window and saw vivid colors flashing by. The Czech countryside had turned shades of gold and crimson with the fall weather, and I hadn’t even stopped to notice. Mindfulness is not an area of strength for me, but the scene outside the window was so picturesque that I didn’t want to pay attention to anything else. The four hours flew by and, having lost the crutch of my homework, I actually spent time with myself. I gave myself permission to stop thinking about school, fellowships, and internships and instead to reflect on myself and all of the special things I’ve experienced recently while I watched the scenery pass me by. 

Once I arrived in Vienna, I left my backpack at the hotel and challenged myself to lean into the discomfort of being alone. When I went out for dinner, instead of hiding behind it, I kept my phone in my bag and focused on taking in my surroundings. I went to museums and lingered as long as I wanted in front of the art, and I even stopped in a café to write in my journal about my impressions of the city. As I sat on my train back to Prague and reflected on the weekend, I was excited to see all of my friends again, but I was also surprised by how much I’d enjoyed traveling on my own. I’m someone who puts a lot of pressure on myself to be hard at work all the time, but setting aside time to think and breathe was refreshing. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fit in another solo trip before returning to New York, but I’m trying to remind myself more often to stop and appreciate the moment I’m living.

By Rose O’Neill 2021

Click here for Rose’s first reflection on her work at ABT.

The upcoming Metropolitan Opera House Season of American Ballet Theatre has so much good programming to choose from!  At the top of my list are Romeo and Juliet and La Bayadère–the first two ballets in which I performed as a supernumerary, an extra in the ballet.  While I am drawn to watch these performances because of the fond memories I have of being a part of them, they are worth seeing in their own right.  The crypt scene of Romeo and Juliet is heartachingly beautiful and La Bayadère offers impressive choreography, particularly Gomzatti’s fouettés and Solor’s variation.  La Bayadère has only four showings and since every single cast announced for this ballet is phenomenal (and different), I am considering watching each one!  Of the eleven performances of Romeo and Juliet, I am particularly excited to watch Sarah Lane and Joseph Gorak in the lead roles, as I absolutely loved them in Theme and Variations this past season.  

To celebrate its 80th anniversary, ABT is offering ABT Then and ABT Now performances.  I have already been lucky enough to watch the ABT Now offerings, and I am eagerly awaiting a chance to see the ABT Then programming, most of which I have not yet seen performed by ABT.  The ballets on this agenda are Theme and Variations, Jardin aux Lilas and Fancy Free.  I am intrigued by the Edwardian setting of Jardin aux Lilas. Fancy Free, the first ballet Jerome Robbins choreographed–and the inspiration for the musical On The Town–promises to be a fun watch.  

Of Love and Rage, choreographed by Alexei Ratmansky, is having its New York premiere in the spring.   Set in ancient Greece, the work has an extremely intense storyline, as evidenced by the title.  I am expecting this ballet to encapsulate ABT’s dual objectives of preserving the classicism of ballet and fostering new innovations for ballet.  Jane Eyre, which had its American Premiere last year, is back at ABT for the second time this summer.  I am hoping to watch a performance starring Devon Teuscher and James Whiteside, as they were the ones who danced the roles of Jane Eyre and Rochester during the American Premiere.  

At this point I’ve already touched on at least half of the ballets being performed in the spring, but there is one more that needs to be mentioned.  Though Giselle is one of the most classical ballets, I have yet to see it.  Luckily for me, ABT will be dancing it this season, with multiple must-see casts.  I am especially excited to watch the performance in which Hee Seo, Cory Stearns, and Devon Teuscher take the lead roles.  I am also hoping to attend principal Stella Abrera’s farewell performance in the title role of Giselle.  

Here’s to hoping my interest in ballet is not of financial detriment to me!  Fortunately, there are some student ticket discounts; two years ago I was able to buy tickets to Whipped Cream for only $14.50 apiece.

by Anonymous

Click here for Anonymous’ previous reflections about ICE.

So, unfortunately, I’m not able to tell you much about the work I’ve actually been doing with HSI since most of it involves ongoing investigations. But I’d still like to give you a sense of the type of cases the agency deals with, so what I’m going to do is tell you about the ones that are…wait for it…

Which, admittedly, isn’t as fun, but it’s still pretty interesting!

Since I’m interning at the New York office, the majority of cases are prosecuted in either the Southern District of New York or the Eastern District of New York. Press releases are frequently released from both of these courthouses and the HSI website. All of the cases discussed come from one of these three sources; links will be provided below if you want more information!

The first case I want to talk about is rather high profile – the conviction of El Chapo. HSI did the investigation in conjunction with the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), the U.S. Marshal Service (USMS), the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), and the New York Police Department (NYPD). Due to the transnational component of El Chapo’s crimes, HSI’s involvement in the investigation was critical. HSI’s New York Division tasked the case to its El Dorado Task Force, a group that primarily deals with financial crimes and is made up of individuals from multiple different law enforcement agencies. Due to the work of the Task Force and the other investigators, Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman Loera was extradited to the United States and was prosecuted by multiple courts for his crimes, one of which was the Eastern District of New York. His charges, according to the HSI website, included drug violations, a murder conspiracy, firearm violations, and a money laundering conspiracy. It was determined that Guzman Loera was the head of the Sinaloa Cartel, an organization based in Mexico. The cartel trafficked cocaine, heroin, and marijuana from Central and South America to the United States using submarines, carbon fiber airplanes, trains, and tunnels while also laundering money and peddling weapons between Mexico and the United States. Additionally, Guzman Loera utilized hitmen and committed his own brutal attacks in order to ensure that the Sinaloa Cartel continued to prosper. Guzman Loera was convicted of his crimes after a 12-week trial in 2019.

(Links: https://www.ice.gov/news/releases/joaquin-el-chapo-guzman-found-guilty-all-charges-us-court; https://www.ice.gov/cornerstone#tab4)

A more recent case prosecuted by HSI, and one radically different from the El Chapo investigation, was the charging of Ruless Pierre on November 6, 2019. According to the Southern District of New York, Pierre is accused of securities fraud, wire fraud, and structuring charges. Pierre is alleged to have acquired over $2 million through his consulting firm by lying to people about how much money their investments were expected to return. Under this pretense, he also falsified records showing that these investors’ funds were growing, the reality being that he lost almost $1.4 million after engaging in day trading. Pierre is also alleged to have spent the investment money he didn’t lose on personal expenses. Additionally, he is accused of embezzling over $400,00 from hotels by which he was formerly employed. Pierre could face a sizeable chunk of time in prison if convicted of these charges: while he would only face a maximum sentence of five years for the structuring charges, the securities fraud and wire fraud could land him in prison for 20 years.

(Link: https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdny/pr/rockland-county-man-charged-running-multimillion-dollar-ponzi-and-embezzlement-schemes)

On a different note, David Jones was convicted in October by the Southern District of New York to 30 months in prison for defrauding people on a dating website. The HSI investigation showed that Jones would engage users on a dating website posing as an adult, have them share explicit photos with him, and then claim that the account belonged to a minor. In order to avoid the family from filing charges, Jones would claim that the user needed to pay the minor’s family a substantial amount of money. At the end of the day, Jones and his associates made off with over $40,000. Following his prison release, Jones will be required to forfeit $27,066 and pay $41,459.51 in restitution.

(Link: https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdny/pr/south-carolina-man-sentenced-30-months-prison-participating-scheme-defraud-users-dating)

Homeland Security Investigations, beyond having its own cases, also aids in many other investigations. For example, HSI aided the FBI and U.S. Secret Service with their prosecution of Andrei Tyurin, a Russian Hacker who, according to the Southern District of New York, engaged in computer intrusion, wire fraud, bank fraud, illegal gambling offenses, and hacking offenses that affected a number of American companies between 2012 and 2015. Tyurin pled guilty to these crimes on September 23, 2019 and will be sentenced in 2020. The maximum prison sentence he could face is 30 years.

(Link: https://www.justice.gov/usao-sdny/pr/russian-hacker-pleads-guilty-involvement-massive-network-intrusions-us-financial)

As you can see, the cases HSI deals with are extremely varied. This is hardly surprising, though, since HSI’s prosecution capabilities are one of the most diverse in law enforcement. The types of cases that HSI handles are incredibly broad, meaning that there’s hardly ever a dull day!

by Celia Patterson FCLC ‘21

안녕하세요! Hello from Korea! My name is Celia, and I am currently studying abroad in Seoul. This is my first time visiting Korea and my first time in Asia! My experience in Seoul has been great and I feel so lucky to be here. Recently, I have been discussing with my family back home the Korean concepts of nunchi and kibun and the role they play in our lives. 

Nunchi (pronounced noon-chee and written as 눈치 in Korean) literally translates to eye measure. Euny Long, the author of the New York Times article that brought the term to my family’s attention, defines it more clearly as “The subtle art of gauging other people’s thoughts and feelings in order to build trust, harmony and connection.” I have learned that nunchi is an important part of Korean life and in learning about it, I have found that I wish it was just as important in the U.S. Nunchi places value on emotional intelligence and the rare ability to understand others’ emotional experiences and needs. You do not have good nunchi, but quick nunchi, if you are able to rapidly and accurately read an entire room of people to assess the atmosphere. 

Another Korean word related to societal peace and balance is kibun (pronounced kee-boon and written as 기분 in Korean). Kibun literally translated means “mood,” but the word contains much more meaning than that. Linguist Arika Okrent explains that kibun is “…your state of mind with respect to your place in the world.” Social harmony and positive vibes are important in understanding kibun. The word teaches us to respect others’ kibuns and to act accordingly. If a person is in a bad mood, we should try not to make that mood worse through our own actions. With the concept of kibun, we can help both others and ourselves to preserve good moods and improve bad ones. 

I hope that you find these two terms as interesting as my family and I did and that you try to implement them in your own life. I know that this knowledge will be one of the best things that I bring home from Korea. If we all try to cultivate quick nunchi and a firm understanding of kibun, then I hope that we can achieve greater social harmony and personal happiness, making both ours and others’ lives better. 

Links:

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/02/opinion/sunday/nunchi.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share

https://www.pri.org/stories/2015-06-17/orange-new-black-said-we-did-story-korean-word-kibun-so-now-we-have

by Matthew Skibiel, FCLC ‘21

Achoo!  

Bless you, right? Not really.

Learning a language is one thing, but learning a language in another culture is something entirely different.

My first month in Bogotá, I made sure to respond to every sneeze—of friends, strangers, even my own—with a cheery “salud!”  That is how I was raised; it would never occur to me to do otherwise. Nobody, however, ever blessed me back. Not a single salud.  To this day, I do not think a single Colombian has ever responded to a single one of my sneezes. “The nerve!” I would think to myself.  

One day, I could not stand it anymore.  I did not understand how the entire Colombian population I had encountered, from the mountains of Bogotá to the beaches of Cartagena, could be so apathetic in the face of another’s sneeze!  In class, two friends were talking face to face, and the one sneezed, but not a word came from the other.  

“Excuse me,” I asked, “why is it that you do not bless each other when you sneeze?”  

They laughed, “why do you?”

I was stupefied.  Why do I? I remember salud being on the very first vocabulary list I ever received during my first Spanish class in middle school.  I really thought about it. Why do I? Why do I bless people when they sneeze? What could that even mean?  I remember reading an article online about it being a short prayer pleading that God protect the sneezer from sickness or death.  It comes from the original phrase “May God bless you.” Interesting.

In Spanish, the response we learn for someone who has sneezed, salud, directly translates to health.  I learned in middle school that it can also be used as a toast before a round of drinks, though Colombians seem to prefer a more ritualized: 

¡pa’rriba, pa’bajo, pa’ centro, pa’dentro!

Up, down, to the middle, now inside as the glasses trace the path of the cheers.  I had to learn that cheer here, as my simple “¡salud!” never seemed to suffice with my Colombian friends.  (If you ever travel to Colombia, you are already two steps ahead. You can thank me later.)

So, what is my point in saying all of this?  No, I am not looking for a pity salud to make up for my several, several sneezes which went unblessed.  My point is something every person learning a language should know: learning a language is not memorizing vocabulary lists.  Learning a language is not being able to recount grammar rules, nor is it the ability to produce perfect orthography. Most importantly, and I cannot stress this enough: you never learn a language.  Instead, you are always in the process of learning.  

This process is painful; trust me.  It is embarrassing. I remember telling one of my high school Spanish teachers that I had 17 anuses (that cursed ñ can make all the difference), and more recently I asked for a penis instead of a straw at a restaurant here in Bogotá.  Here’s a tip: always search the proper term for straw when traveling to a Spanish-speaking country.  A simple Google search could save you tons of embarrassment; in Colombia, you would say un pitillo.  Look, now you are three steps ahead.  You are so welcome.  

More funny anecdotes, you ask?  Sure. On my first day of class, my teacher asked what I believed to be “who here is from outside of Bogotá?”  I shot my hand up; surely as the only gringo in the class I was the furthest from being a rolo: someone from Bogotá.  

“From the United States!” I exclaimed.  

“Oh, you bike all the way from the United States every day for class?” she asked.

“What,” I replied audibly, in English.

As it turns out, she asked who rode their bike to campus.  I was mortified. How I understood what I understood: that remains completely beyond me.  I switched out of the class that exact same day.  

As demonstrated in my sneezing epiphany, a language is not just which words to say; a language also encapsulates a culture, which implies proper words to say, proper actions to perform, and when to say or do them.  I learned Colombian greetings and farewells the hard way as well. One day, I was invited to a family celebration of a daughter who had just graduated. The whole extended family was there; there were Germans, Spaniards, Canadians, and Colombians from every stretch of the country.  And there was me, the American. Imagine my shock as every woman came up to kiss me hello, and I was advised to stand to shake every single man’s hand present. Keep in mind, I knew probably about 4 of the 50 people attending. I got the hang of it though, and soon I knew exactly how to turn my cheek to greet the women, and I understood when to stand and just how to shake the men’s hands with a polite mucho gusto.  Then came the time to say goodbye.  I was so confident, until I was approached by a very old man.  Caught up in all the farewells and decepted by my confidence, I kissed him.  On the cheek. He looked at me, and I looked at him. There was an awkward pause, and then he left.  Everyone at the table laughed; men typically do not kiss each other on the cheek unless they are related: especially not older, more conservative men with complete strangers.  This poor guy received way more than what he expected, and I received enough embarrassment to think each farewell or greeting through thoroughly before executing it. No vocabulary list could have saved me there; I had to live it to learn it.  Dear reader, I do believe you are five steps ahead now. Just go ahead and book your ticket, you are now an expert in Colombian etiquette.  

Amidst all this embarrassment, however, I found a bit of relief atop Monserrate, a chapel 3,152 meters above sea level with an amazing view overlooking the massive city of Bogotá.  Remember what I said about learning a language as an unending process? Just ask native speakers. My sister had come to visit me, and atop the mountain we decided to order two fruit juices.  Sidenote: the fruits here are superb. My sister decided on blackberry, and I decided on soursop. As the waitress poured the blackberry juice, she forgot which I had ordered.  

“Guayabo, cierto?”  she asked.

She turned beet red.  Not only had she confused the fruit—guava for soursop—she had put an o at the end of the word instead of an a: the word for the fruit is guayaba.

“Hangover, right?” she asked.

I did not find it to be that embarrassing; a simple o instead of an a is really not that big of a deal.  She seemed to think so. She apologized several times, and nervously laughed during the entire encounter.  My sister asked what the confusion was, and I explained.  

As I explained the simple mistake, I realized how many times I had done the exact same, and how embarrassed I had been.  As I said, the difference between the words year and anus is a simple ñ versus n.  Año and ano are really so similar.  Looking back, my mistake ordering a straw was part of this same learning process, but now I can order a straw in any Spanish-speaking country knowing exactly what I am actually asking for.  Really, test me. I have made a multitude of mistakes throughout my years of learning this language, but so have the people learning it as their first language.  

So yea, maybe I have kissed a very old man, and maybe my professor that day thought I could easily take home the gold in an Olympic cycling event.  Often times I have to smile at the Uber driver, pretending I understand exactly what he is saying, when in reality I only catch a total of three words in an hour long conversation.  I was surprised to discover that you address your professors by their first names, as I had avoided addressing them at all up until three months into the semester. And I will not even begin to explain how confusing it is that three thousand five hundred pesos equals one American dollar, so a bottle of soda shows up on the bill as 6.500 COP.  I am thankful for these experiences, however, as I recognize them as steps in a long learning process.  

I just hope I relearn to say “bless you” when I get home.

by Amy Chang, FCLC ’21

Hallo! (I know, my German skills have soared since I got here..)

As an International Studies major and a German Studies major, I’ve always thought that Berlin was the natural choice of city for my year-long study abroad plan, and after more than two months here, I can say definitively that I’m glad I came here. 

First, the basics: I’m studying with a program at Freie Universität, which is one of the largest public research institutions in Berlin. The program this semester is about 160 people large and consists primarily of American students who want to study political science and the humanities from a European perspective. I am enrolled in Intensive German, which means 3 hours of German language instruction every morning from Monday to Thursday. I am also taking 3 subject courses: Themes and Issues in Transatlantic Relations, Migration Dynamics and Controversies in Berlin and Europe, and Contemporary Germany from a European Perspective. 

I’m currently living in a studio in a student apartment located an hour away from the FU satellite campus where our program’s classes are held, which means I get to use three forms of public transport to get to class every morning. (Thankfully, the public transport here is practically utopia compared to the MTA – no ticket barriers, clean seats and timely trains a slightly less grumpy commuter make!) Per the tradition of German universities, all students here are commuter students, as there are no residential halls on campus as in U.S. colleges and universities. 

As far as European capital cities go, Berlin is by far one of the most affordable and historically engaging places to be. When I’m not stuffing my face with doner kebab and currywurst, I’m exploring one of the many museums and memorials the city has to offer. I was especially excited to learn that 2019 marks the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall on November 9th. In between writing my term papers that comment on this very event, I’ll have the opportunity to witness a momentous landmark in European history, and it will be a blast to hop around the various festivals in the city this weekend. 

My program, FU-BEST, has played no small part in providing us with a myriad of unique experiences in Berlin. I (or half of my face) had a brief moment of fame when our German class went as audience members to the central studio of ZDF, one of the largest public news stations on German TV, for their morning news segment. Another remarkable experience through FU-BEST was our recent visit to the Foreign Ministry, which involved a lecture and Q&A session on current transatlantic relations from the former German ambassador to Washington D.C., Klaus Scharioth (2006 to 2011). The lecture was exclusively for students in our program, because the professor for my Themes and Issues in Transatlantic Relations course worked as a diplomat in the foreign service with Dr. Scharioth, who has been his friend for more than 30 years. Later that day, we took a private tour of the Bundeskanzleramt (Chancellor’s Office) for a “behind the scenes” look into Angela Merkel’s office and daily duties, where the original handwritten notes for JFK’s famous “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech are on exhibit. 

My German listening skills have certainly improved since my arrival in August, but speaking has proven more of a challenge, as the majority of Berliners can speak English better than I can speak German and often switch to English after hearing me stumble through basic sentences. In my studies, I am continually impressed by the ability of German nouns to span nearly the width of a sheet of printer paper; one of my new favorites is “Vergangenheitsbewältigung,” which is a uniquely German term that means “coming to terms with the past:” namely, Nazi war crimes in the 20th century. It has been fascinating to contrast the American attitude towards patriotism with the ambivalent feelings of Germans on the subject; you can find American flags on the lawns and porches of every block in the suburban U.S., while most Germans pale at the thought of waving their flag, which usually only appears atop federal buildings.

I could go on for ages, but as the semester draws to a close in four weeks, I’m sure I’ll have a wealth of new experiences and insights to share for the next blog post. Until then, tschüss!

by Emma Quinn, FCLC ‘20

I have lived on campus for my entire time at Fordham, and so I never had to deal with a commute to class longer than a walk across the plaza. When I studied abroad in Dublin, however, I lived in international student housing off-campus, and so getting to class became its own adventure.

 There were a few ways to get to class. I could walk, which was free but slow, about a half-hour trip. If it was raining, I usually took the bus, which was fast but cost €1.70. It also involved putting money on my Leap Card, which for some reason could only be reloaded at convenience stores that only took cash. My favorite way to get to class, though, was on my bike.

I’m lucky that most of my family still lives in Ireland, and so my aunt lent me her bike while I was in Dublin. It was purple and only had one gear, but I loved it. I spent €40 on a lock to make sure that no one would steal it, even though the lock probably cost more than the bike. 

My morning commute would start in the bike shed. I would kick the door open, then frantically try to back my bike out of its stand and make it to the door before it swung closed with a heavy clang, which I usually failed at. After sighing and unlocking the door from the inside, I was on my way. 

Once I made it out of the building, I had to walk my bike up a hill, through the parking lot of a tech startup and up to the main road. At this point, I finally got on my bike, and after dodging a bus or another commuter, I was on my way.

 Dublin is much more bicycle-friendly than New York. Where there weren’t designated lanes for cyclists, they shared with the bus lane. Buses may be big, but their drivers tend to be much more careful than an average car driver. I never worked up the courage to run red lights like the Irish commuters, but I also never got hit by a car, so I considered my biking skills perfectly adequate during my time abroad. 

My commute was more or less a highlight reel of Dublin tourism. I began by passing the Guinness Storehouse, which was directly across the street from my student housing. After a few months, you get used to the smell of hops never entirely leaving the air. I would turn left and head towards Dublin City Center. After passing the Lidl, the grocery store with suspiciously low prices and delicious chocolate chip cookies, I usually got stuck at the red light next to Christ Church Cathedral. It’s amazing how quickly the awe of seeing a nearly one-thousand-year-old building fades when you’re running late for class.

When the light finally turned green, I continued on my way, next passing Dublin Castle, the center of the Irish government since the Vikings ruled hundreds of years ago. It was nowhere near as elaborate as Versailles, but that’s not really the Irish style anyway. 

The final stretch of my commute was straight through Temple Bar, the heart of tourist Dublin. Even in the early hours of the morning on my way to class, I had to keep an eye out for tourists wandering into the street, if not just blatantly jaywalking. It was always crowded, the Times Square of Dublin, although it lacked the blatant capitalist sentiment. Instead of being bombarded with ads, visitors are bombarded with overpriced beer and mediocre folk music. 

After about fifteen minutes, I would arrive at Trinity College Dublin. It’s a little mind-blowing to attend a college that was founded before the Pilgrims arrived in the new world. I would hop off my bike and walk it through the arched entranceway, usually having to dodge a few tourist pictures in the process. I locked my bike to the fences just inside the campus and headed to class.

 Now that I’m back in New York to finish my senior year at Fordham, I can’t help but miss my daily bike ride a little. It was incredible to see so much history in such a short time. But it also made me realize how I had stopped noticing all the incredible New York landmarks on my doorstep: Lincoln Center, Times Square, Central Park, the Natural History Museum. All are as close to where I live on campus as the sights of Dublin were to my housing there. By going abroad, I think I learned to appreciate all of those places from a fresh perspective.