tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89092886592317778802024-02-07T14:12:11.593-08:00Europe Meets DanFrom August 2007 through June 2009, I will be teaching English to high schoolers in Bratislava, Slovakia. This blog serves as a way for friends and family to keep in touch with me.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-40411077265039782192010-04-22T10:20:00.000-07:002010-04-22T10:35:23.600-07:00Easter Break - SloveniaOver Easter break, I had the opportunity to travel to Slovenia. This was the last country that I really wanted to visit before returning home. I had wanted to visit here because I had seen photos of friends who had visited and the country looked like a place I would like to see.<br /><br />Our first sight was Ljubljana, the capital city. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKU8S0_SHdzk3bovcyYtxGODPAPUb-VxsVzIISJzxw2EREKJsnrEDip-rBffEsNYlOVpLCRjzoYw-F5RdoMKb6-9ExJ5HeeJ4NP3YbQyUK114k_ajM9Y7j_GA5WLHIPwnqF2sj-Ugyr8/s1600/P4020091.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKU8S0_SHdzk3bovcyYtxGODPAPUb-VxsVzIISJzxw2EREKJsnrEDip-rBffEsNYlOVpLCRjzoYw-F5RdoMKb6-9ExJ5HeeJ4NP3YbQyUK114k_ajM9Y7j_GA5WLHIPwnqF2sj-Ugyr8/s200/P4020091.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463013809403634002" /></a>The city is remarkably small for being the capital. The city has just over 200,000 people. The first evening we were there, we just walked around the city, which did not take long as it has a small old town. Then we enjoyed a dinner at a local restaurant. My roommate Carsten, whom I was traveling with, said I had to try the horse steak. The meat was extremely lean. I enjoyed having that horse, but I don't know if I would have it again.<br /><br />The next day, we took a tour of the city, which turned out to be a very private tour of the city because it was only us and the guide. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUdJSTICjJNA6cP9hhQKDHLwkaawwfUvY3PEdqs7Ez3zQ-fNq23l4_TYjSK_2n3Z28B4ZNwq9e7e4lfdLHHNF20Wk729NFN4WbHGBZFxOUfUoE9xD1DhSxi38J2776nSdSXMbWUmY9Do/s1600/P4020106.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUdJSTICjJNA6cP9hhQKDHLwkaawwfUvY3PEdqs7Ez3zQ-fNq23l4_TYjSK_2n3Z28B4ZNwq9e7e4lfdLHHNF20Wk729NFN4WbHGBZFxOUfUoE9xD1DhSxi38J2776nSdSXMbWUmY9Do/s200/P4020106.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463014663910297826" /></a>I especially enjoyed our guide because he would break off into tangents while telling a story to tell another story or to make a mental note out loud. The tour guide took us through the city and up to the castle.<br /><br />In the afternoon, we left for Bled, a pseudo-resort town build around a lake. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrEKmYWaO-u460v9zOF5bqzG-YuULsYXQKatBVqgbao-hRUNZfbZARLhGKOZiTAX-4weZln32qiF9ePqF9zAJlOx7w-Lv18PE70yI56WK6n9w21UuwAgSr5TW2EaBjU-mrj6K6nsB2Pw/s1600/P4030170.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrEKmYWaO-u460v9zOF5bqzG-YuULsYXQKatBVqgbao-hRUNZfbZARLhGKOZiTAX-4weZln32qiF9ePqF9zAJlOx7w-Lv18PE70yI56WK6n9w21UuwAgSr5TW2EaBjU-mrj6K6nsB2Pw/s200/P4030170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463015785501813378" /></a> I appreciated our time in Bled because we were able to relax. The town has two attractions: a boat ride to a church on an island and a castle overlooking the town. The highlight of Bled was walking back from dinner and singing songs together. While we were singing, a lady approached us, and we thought she would tell us to stop singing. But then she joined us and began singing an easy Slovenian song that we could sing with her. She belted the song quite loudly. <br /><br />I am satisfied to have seen Slovenia. In Slovenia, many of the tourist shops have shirts that say, "sLOVEnia", and I can say that I felt the love in this country. I would be pleased to travel there again.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-85087383474517564522010-03-06T07:23:00.000-08:002010-03-06T09:22:04.017-08:00Spring Break - Sofia, BulgariaFrom Sunday, February 28 to Thursday, March 4, a friend and I spent much of my spring break in Sofia, Bulgaria. <br /><br />We arrived by plane in the evening to the Sofia airport. We had directions to the place we were staying, but we were not sure what the bus stop was. All we knew was it was the last stop. So we got on a bus from the airport. About twenty minutes later we started seeing familiar buildings and realized that the bus had come to the last stop without stopping for longer and then began the route back to the airport. So, we began the whole process over except we got off the bus this time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83O_hGRTVHZQZcdYxhTZL-yDbmVZF9pCQ9B96JZtpPDBcSQBQbw2GjIg4WJ9ZMeAryXVhEHhdSqNvjAvE2bMYtnBrIecmDUD7ggQzvwZoo6jIIfIR9CR6Ioi9x3VefryBM7puk2suqKM/s1600-h/DSC01318.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83O_hGRTVHZQZcdYxhTZL-yDbmVZF9pCQ9B96JZtpPDBcSQBQbw2GjIg4WJ9ZMeAryXVhEHhdSqNvjAvE2bMYtnBrIecmDUD7ggQzvwZoo6jIIfIR9CR6Ioi9x3VefryBM7puk2suqKM/s200/DSC01318.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445570789092657122" /></a><br />In the morning, we went to see the city. The city does not have many huge attractions, only a few churches. One of the big attractions is the Alexander Nevski Cathedral. Around it are many souvenirs and random junk. People were selling anything that might sell. Anything included cameras from 1980 to old money to old medals. Why would I want a camera from 1980? <br /><br />In the afternoon, we saw Boyana Church, which is just outside of the city. This church is was built in the 11-12th century. Inside it are dozens of frescoes. The tour guide tried to impress on us how significant these frescoes were because of when they were painted. He was an interesting tour guide. We were the only people in the church, which is the size of a bedroom, and he would pull us around from fresco to fresco. Considering that we were in such a small place and the only ones there, I did not see any reason for him to pull us around, but it was humorous anyway.<br /><br />Monday was Health and Happiness Day in Bulgaria and everyone was supposed to give red and white bracelets to their friends and family to wish them health and happiness. One is supposed to wear it until that person sees a stork or leaves on a tree. If the person sees leaves on a tree, that person should tie the bracelet to the tree. We bought a few red and white bracelets and gave them to our hosts and our hosts gave them to us. Around Sofia, there were hundreds of little stands selling these bracelets. They came in all shapes and sizes with all different sorts of things on them, such as ninja turtles or wrestlers or HelloKitty.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDy1DNuNGcv8EJoGMPMBjukW18LexuXTyqSOCmtpWN0XPNzx7TDGSZ4riaimZ8Aju3NbRjiuaSpTRoV-ON0kOy9r7Pkjt9tikPfkeHLnkAr2a-PetlDXVrLKRMyD1CDFIAdIEBGdGwi4/s1600-h/DSC01346.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDy1DNuNGcv8EJoGMPMBjukW18LexuXTyqSOCmtpWN0XPNzx7TDGSZ4riaimZ8Aju3NbRjiuaSpTRoV-ON0kOy9r7Pkjt9tikPfkeHLnkAr2a-PetlDXVrLKRMyD1CDFIAdIEBGdGwi4/s200/DSC01346.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445571001515258914" /></a><br />The next day we traveled out of the city to Rila Monastery. This place was fascinating because on the inside and outside of the church, the building was painted with pictures. I was amazed that the colors did not fade because of the sun, rain, and snow. It took five hours to go to Rila and back and we only spent two hours there, but it was worth it. Another highlight was the bus driver who took us. He must have known half of the people on the road. Every time he saw someone he knew, he would stop the car and yell, "Hey!" Then the other person would yell, "Hey!" Then they would go on their way. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVQAMHlnmOJnONGqs5lRjBtTC1UOd4n4KvEVTHk0MxwXT_ouxK3u80ZmAFKH1erHw31MavQ2TsOWH4xMLRPe-G51232IeRc2w8q-nSa8Kf8keRIf34oCTwPh7hlShshIFIjWWA4P1dFE/s1600-h/DSC01386.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVQAMHlnmOJnONGqs5lRjBtTC1UOd4n4KvEVTHk0MxwXT_ouxK3u80ZmAFKH1erHw31MavQ2TsOWH4xMLRPe-G51232IeRc2w8q-nSa8Kf8keRIf34oCTwPh7hlShshIFIjWWA4P1dFE/s200/DSC01386.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445571234193812306" /></a><br />Sofia is surrounded by hills and mountains, so on Wednesday, we went up to one of the mountains. We took a gondola up to another lift where skiers went higher. We just walked around the area and then had lunch. There were many people walking around. There was a lot of snow, so it was much different from being in the city where it was 50 degrees.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhaTaoOJLkBiQ6GJgUzmIoGxIZ9v3f4OBte3xg3W56QLSrTg7KYs-vJMIrs5mYQT9w2YDfBG32j-2MOhz0nvasz8bXyODmTdAUrNW6YfUxhGWYjrUfO2rNO_mGu81MdB03WfwCxY84sk/s1600-h/DSC01406.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhaTaoOJLkBiQ6GJgUzmIoGxIZ9v3f4OBte3xg3W56QLSrTg7KYs-vJMIrs5mYQT9w2YDfBG32j-2MOhz0nvasz8bXyODmTdAUrNW6YfUxhGWYjrUfO2rNO_mGu81MdB03WfwCxY84sk/s200/DSC01406.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445571383536776802" /></a><br />That afternoon, we went into the center of the city and found an outside concert. Wednesday was Liberty Day in Bulgaria, so there were many people with Bulgaria flags and such. After that, we saw that there was going to be a speech by someone during the National Assembly. So we waited around with a few thousand people, watched the military walk in, and then the president (we assume). After the president came in, we left. We didn't understand Bulgarian anyway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41Lrq8jtqxaLSODIuIqS077y1CtZKdXEXV0Lhs6ejCXbaAsrgHixNpSZLLUeHJ32RNYaDxhis-cqthg3tqgjEMc5SDXS4UbSTzEF1jnMm86TGyYXOD44xYWOIRegYvqyyWTDCZoy5Mg0/s1600-h/DSC01337.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi41Lrq8jtqxaLSODIuIqS077y1CtZKdXEXV0Lhs6ejCXbaAsrgHixNpSZLLUeHJ32RNYaDxhis-cqthg3tqgjEMc5SDXS4UbSTzEF1jnMm86TGyYXOD44xYWOIRegYvqyyWTDCZoy5Mg0/s200/DSC01337.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445571887882325970" /></a><br />In Sofia, one thing I noticed was that there are not many tourists. During our time there, I only recall seeing one person that could be considered a tourist. Also, the city was quite dirty. People did not seem to care about how much trash there was just lying around. Also, the alphabet in Bulgaria is Cyrillic, so reading signs and such is difficult and seeing brand names in Cyrillic can be funny. Finally, the city had these little tower for people to control traffic, but whenever I saw one, I kept thinking that a lifeguard was up there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkPYGAj3cW5n2HRFTVLvt7_2Rf9G2XaetYy4TmR-hVw7DNKPUSIIEE-_IcK1md0KksXCeRGnR4lj6MOL2qApjXy6hWEsbt_SkiGdSpIh_JsgtNeODL0btW-xng9733BuPo1zGIGMSa0I/s1600-h/DSC01314.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkPYGAj3cW5n2HRFTVLvt7_2Rf9G2XaetYy4TmR-hVw7DNKPUSIIEE-_IcK1md0KksXCeRGnR4lj6MOL2qApjXy6hWEsbt_SkiGdSpIh_JsgtNeODL0btW-xng9733BuPo1zGIGMSa0I/s200/DSC01314.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445571644918671746" /></a>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-21372791209148277672010-01-24T11:17:00.000-08:002010-01-24T11:54:27.769-08:00Fish Friday!This last Friday, I was invited to attend a dinner hosted by two of our African friends (one from Ghana, the other from Cameroon) and one of the Americans here who used to live in Africa. I was told the food was typical for people in Ghana. We were served Tilapia, banku (cornmeal in largely-shaped balls), and yams. Both the meal and conversation were out of the ordinary.<br /><br />The fish came straight out of the oven with head attached. Each plate had a fish. Before we sat down, we were told to put some banku and yams on our plates as well as sauce. When I sat down, I noticed that we had no silverware. "No matter," I thought. "They will bring the silverware." On the contrary, when someone asked, we were told we should eat with our hands. Isaac, the man from Ghana, explained that we should first grab banku and make it into the shape of a bowl resting on the index and middle fingers. Then we should dip this into the sauce and then grab pieces of fish. I was glad that I only ate with one hand and kept a clean mess, which seemed to be how the Africans were eating. My hands weren't any more dirty than if I were eating hot wings or even pizza.<br /><br />After dinner, I had the chance to speak with one of them, Samuel, who was from Cameroon. In the larger group of about ten, he was reluctant to speak. Though English is an official language in Cameroon, his native language was French. He could speak English conversationally but, naturally, was hesitant in doing so with a group of natives. <br /><br />I learned about his coming to Slovakia. He studies auto engineering at a local university. However, before taking these classes, he had to take two years of Slovak because this was the language that his classes were taught in. He said he spoke Slovak well, but many of the technical words he could not understand. I asked him how often he returns home. He said he has not returned home since he left four years ago. He explained that returning home is a big deal and he needs to have his bachelor's degree to return home. His parents would welcome him, but since they would have a celebration, he wants to bring something he is proud of.<br /><br />During our conversation, he lamented over the fact that he studies were more difficult than they could be because of the language barrier. Many of the students have a head start: they know the language. Samuel not only must know the material, but also must know the language that the material is in. After briefly explaining some of these difficulties, Samuel wanted to affirm his positive attitude toward his studies and life. He said, "It's like in life: If you don't think that you can do it in here (pointing to his head), then you can't do it no matter how easy it is." <br /><br />This positive attitude is a survival tactic at times in a foreign society. One has to be convinced that one can survive or that person must return home. This positive attitude doesn't come from nowhere, out of thin air.<br /><br />There are numerous people like Samuel who exist in every society, people who have come from another country or society looking for an opportunity. These opportunities pose roadblocks: knowing the language, knowing the ins and outs, knowing the people. Living in another society myself, I can only begin to understand his hardships. I have a school that has welcomed me with a job and a place to live, friends who have integrated me into life here, and supporters who encourage me. <br /><br />Understanding that we are dependent upon each other and others depend upon us, I can only encourage, hope for, and support these Samuels so that they remain positive and hardworking. Furthermore, I must thank those whom I am dependent upon: family, friends, and strangers.<br /><br />To finish this post, I want to leave with a quote from a sermon by Martin Luther King, Jr., a man whom I am dependent upon as well. <br /><br />"And don’t forget in doing something for others that you have what you have because of others. (Yes, sir) Don’t forget that. We are tied together in life and in the world. (Preach, preach) And you may think you got all you got by yourself. (Not all of it) But you know, before you got out here to church this morning, you were dependent on more than half of the world. (That’s right) You get up in the morning and go to the bathroom, and you reach over for a bar of soap, and that’s handed to you by a Frenchman. You reach over for a sponge, and that’s given to you by a Turk. You reach over for a towel, and that comes to your hand from the hands of a Pacific Islander. And then you go on to the kitchen to get your breakfast. You reach on over to get a little coffee, and that’s poured in your cup by a South American. (That’s right) Or maybe you decide that you want a little tea this morning, only to discover that that’s poured in your cup by a Chinese. (Yes) Or maybe you want a little cocoa, that’s poured in your cup by a West African. (Yes) Then you want a little bread and you reach over to get it, and that’s given to you by the hands of an English-speaking farmer, not to mention the baker. (That’s right) Before you get through eating breakfast in the morning, you’re dependent on more than half the world. (That’s right) That’s the way God structured it; that’s the way God structured this world. So let us be concerned about others because we are dependent on others" (from "The Three Dimensions of a Complete Life" by Martin Luther King, Jr.).Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-49639149147014009322010-01-17T06:45:00.000-08:002010-01-17T06:55:26.793-08:00Ski WeekThe first year students in our school have a week where they learn how to ski. That week is next week. Some of the students, however, opt not to go. Eighteen are staying this year. Because I teach first years, I do not have to teach 8 of my 20 classes a week. Twice next week I have to teach the students who remain.<br /><br />Here's a few questions I was asked this week:<br /><br />"Am you going on ski week?" - No, thank you. Whenever I ski, I feel like I'm going to fall off the mountain.<br /><br />"What are you going to do with not having your first year classes?" - Pretend that I get to have another week without half of my classes.<br /><br />"Professor, can we watch a movie while they are on ski week?" - No, what movie? "Simpsons" - No<br /><br />(I'm not really that mean. I only say, "maybe", but "no" sounds funnier.<br /><br />"Professor, will we miss you?" - Uh, I sure hope so, but I don't know if that's what you mean.<br /><br />"Professor, will...we miss you?" - Hmm, I think you need to think about that question for a minute.<br /><br />"Professor, will...you miss...us?" - Yes, of course. <br /><br />(See, I'm not that mean)<br /><br />But, as the mug that a friend of my first roommate in college gave me says, "How can I miss you if you won't go away?"Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-65325293550954108152010-01-17T06:29:00.001-08:002010-01-17T06:44:22.862-08:00SilvesterIn Slovakia, New Years Eve is known as "Silvester." Except for a few special holidays, each day corresponds to a name. For instance, "Daniel" corresponds with July 21. December 31st is the "names day" for Silvester.<br /><br />Some of my friends asked me if I would join them in going to a cottage near a town about an hour away from Bratislava. I was a bit reluctant to say that I would because the cottage that they stayed in last year did not have running water. They used an outhouse for a toilet. Not my kind of fun.<br /><br />Upon arriving to the cottage on the 30th, I was reassured: no running water or toilet in the cottage. Fortunately, we had a toilet and sink available to us just outside our cottage. <br /><br />One of the highlights of staying at the cottage was building snowmen. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZPoId9CLAF-mC-MroDj7sy9RVCuUjq5GlK4lm3IP40lZpmE1u7ewQD7DEOO8OSQeDN0CnmKLOM_WXfNqCqdvh8FYn_Kt2eYSg2kQHcPdQ6YLGcAmIRIcQzoUZ8CPtR5qAZyOGE78hOE/s1600-h/20778_547769483805_40401847_32356433_6187563_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZPoId9CLAF-mC-MroDj7sy9RVCuUjq5GlK4lm3IP40lZpmE1u7ewQD7DEOO8OSQeDN0CnmKLOM_WXfNqCqdvh8FYn_Kt2eYSg2kQHcPdQ6YLGcAmIRIcQzoUZ8CPtR5qAZyOGE78hOE/s200/20778_547769483805_40401847_32356433_6187563_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427717600843499682" /></a><br /><br />Not having built a snowman in years, I had forgotten about the weight of snow. I had wanted to build a gigantic snowman, a man-like snowman. We stopped rolling the lower third when we could not longer push it. However, I forgotten that the middle shouldn't be too heavy because we would have to lift it. It took three guys to lift it. We were quite proud of our snowman after giving it a few facials.<br /><br />To ring in the new year, we went into the small town - Piestany (Pi-esh-ta-knee) - for a small concert and fireworks. After having spent Silvester in Bratislava two years ago and in Piestany this year, I am convinced that Slovakia has no regulations on fireworks. Being in the town was like being in a small war zone. I always had to look where I was stepping and watching what others were doing around me. In Bratislava, kids would throw firecrackers into groups of people. Then everyone would have to scatter to avoid losing a leg.<br /><br />Another interesting part of the evening was the "dropping of the ball". Well, okay, there was no ball, and we had no idea when was the "official" new year. There was no clock nearby. So each group of people standing waiting for the "official" firework to begin had their own time. One group of people would count down and yell, "Happy New Year", and the group next to them would just shake their hands thinking, "Don't they know it's ten more seconds." This made for quite an interesting way to "drop the ball."<br /><br />The next morning we returned to Bratislava.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-34907847768181783722009-12-07T08:01:00.000-08:002009-12-07T09:16:38.849-08:00A Weekend in A VillageThis past weekend (December 4-6), I spent time at my friend Miro's house in a little village in South Central Slovakia, Pribelce. About 500 people live in Pribelce. Just walking down the streets, one could tell that everyone knew everyone else. When there was someone people didn't know, they knew that it must be a visitor. <br /><br />The highlight of the weekend for me was the Pribelce sandpit and the end of the pig killing.<br /><br />The Pribelce sandpit is monstrous. Unfortunately, my camera wasn't working, so I couldn't take a picture of it. Miro explained that about a million years ago, an ocean lay over the city. This is evident in the shark teeth that one is able to find in the sandpit. I looked for shark teeth but could find none.<br /><br />We were invited to a pig killing, but we showed up halfway through the process. The pig was already killed and the workers were busy stuffing meat into pig intestines to make sausages. The workers used a small device, almost like a gun, to shoot the meat into the intestines. It was a fun process to watch. They explained the whole process from the killing to the storing of the pork and sausages. It has inspired me to want to see the whole process.<br /><br />In my classes, we are reading "The Importance of Being Earnest" and one character says that when one is in the city, he entertains himself and when one is in a village, one entertains others. Surely that was the case this weekend, as we had to provide the entertainment for ourselves. There's no malls to walk in. There's no events to attend. <br /><br />Needless to say, I'm glad to live in the city.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-69614388075240531262009-12-02T04:27:00.000-08:002009-12-02T04:40:47.199-08:00In the Recording StudioOn October 8, 2009, a student came running into class asking if I could do her a favor. She asked if I would do a recording for Slovak Television on that day. She said she did not know what I would be recording, but it would be a voiceover. <br /><br />Considering it an opportunity that I might never have again, I accepted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuU5brR2x-Q2XOhKOAJguLC_pTJU8MXb5cXSYe8LiLLMZIeqCUudhcGhn9pozpvmKWK3ibUbicH2poYsBja70n6y8ounuUAMvxEIpiGWqnpIoAwpWOXe2s8B5B5PMpxWKHZbudOmtChE/s1600-h/dan+2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuU5brR2x-Q2XOhKOAJguLC_pTJU8MXb5cXSYe8LiLLMZIeqCUudhcGhn9pozpvmKWK3ibUbicH2poYsBja70n6y8ounuUAMvxEIpiGWqnpIoAwpWOXe2s8B5B5PMpxWKHZbudOmtChE/s200/dan+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410616340767614514" /></a><br />So I met the student at a recording studio. A script was prepared for me and another American to read. The script discussed the history of Bratislava and why a European congress should take place in Bratislava in 2013 for Oncological and Gynocological research. <br /><br />Though I am unsure who prepared the script, it was rather absurd at times. They wanted me to say things like, "Bratislava is a Mediterrean-type city." I told them that this was just ridiculous and untruth, so I could not say it. They did not object.<br /><br />The recording process was fascinating. The microphones were so sensitive that even shifting my weight might cause noise. It was also interesting how they would re-record parts that I made a mistake on. The producer would play back from where I did not make a mistake and then I would begin the script again.<br /><br />I had only read the script three times before recording, so it was difficult to read the text without making mistakes. <br /><br />Breathing was perhaps the hardest part of the whole process. I had to turn my head to the side to breathe because I felt that my breathing was too loud.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaehccYZXzpLuauFuODVj0a-0NgDnUb4saA2-PYF124jd6vISm6Z3aqRXAsJLhu33-8xd1jaEBliJpbtFUlgHwAh7GaRAoKQgaQqVJWu7RFhBzyeIUN7YhJdsQ9ZnsRpMiuTTfStGQoAs/s1600-h/Dan+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaehccYZXzpLuauFuODVj0a-0NgDnUb4saA2-PYF124jd6vISm6Z3aqRXAsJLhu33-8xd1jaEBliJpbtFUlgHwAh7GaRAoKQgaQqVJWu7RFhBzyeIUN7YhJdsQ9ZnsRpMiuTTfStGQoAs/s200/Dan+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410616210263506258" /></a><br /><br />Because I might never be in such a recording studio again, I had the student take a picture of me attempting to sing so that people might think that I was recording a CD. <br /><br />If you ever watch a video about a European congress taking place in Bratislava, you might hear a familiar voice. Just think: my voice will be heard by hundreds of influential people throughout Europe. I didn't know I was that loud.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-70423410486623919512009-12-01T07:47:00.000-08:002009-12-01T08:05:28.120-08:00Fall Break 2009 - Dublin, IrelandDuring fall break, five of us went to Dublin, Ireland. It was my first trip to an English speaking country. It felt much different knowing that we could speak English with anyone we met. We spent four days in the city.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4HbN1mFKeJQoquNXgzzQFPVleu4WjX9AtzyGm0j1PT5pZ84XdeeAtbGvE8WcLNnj6n6XADBd39DhHXBgUV8Iqz6aOkdxzt2k-oPowmqnkYAKhFXhYQ6aPOeLwhnc4NMQ9kGYB_M2OhM/s1600/021.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4HbN1mFKeJQoquNXgzzQFPVleu4WjX9AtzyGm0j1PT5pZ84XdeeAtbGvE8WcLNnj6n6XADBd39DhHXBgUV8Iqz6aOkdxzt2k-oPowmqnkYAKhFXhYQ6aPOeLwhnc4NMQ9kGYB_M2OhM/s200/021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410295461980022930" /></a><br /><br />Dublin is a city that likes to parade its various artists. All around Dublin are quoted from authors such as James Joyce and Jonathan Swift. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In the city, there are many signs that say "To Let." My first thought when I saw those signs was that it looks like "Toilet", only the "i" is missing. I was not sure how anyone else did not see the same thing until we found a sign in which someone put the "i" into it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTYYt-d8yTcW41mcYKRHHF_-g0JxEbZGa2jDNI42nlZtLnWvGaZmyItDfJZrbp6rB9d8pVEuRqL1a3zbzdt-ofuDFa8PBG2EIbYMJOBSaSedlmgRzpHcaeGTJDbacA9Wi4cvTx7us35A/s1600/022.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTYYt-d8yTcW41mcYKRHHF_-g0JxEbZGa2jDNI42nlZtLnWvGaZmyItDfJZrbp6rB9d8pVEuRqL1a3zbzdt-ofuDFa8PBG2EIbYMJOBSaSedlmgRzpHcaeGTJDbacA9Wi4cvTx7us35A/s200/022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410296139245839378" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The most famous attraction in Dublin is the Guinness brewery. The tour of the Guinness brewery begins with an introduction into the art of making beer. For Guinness there are four ingredients: barley, hops, water, and yeast. The tour takes the tourist through the process and shows different advertisements for Guinness over the years. The beer is celebrating its 250th anniversary.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZhRnn3HoBBqiLFswR5k5evq4SLbyzB1xUma86mpp1X97xuykFb_UYOIVShrXfNSFXowPwzXftdcpAD-qX-dVsupGyRIRmHIok3rehyphenhyphenRSGwfR4rp71KIApWb7scCm_OpDT37XtI6Y7-s/s1600/077.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZhRnn3HoBBqiLFswR5k5evq4SLbyzB1xUma86mpp1X97xuykFb_UYOIVShrXfNSFXowPwzXftdcpAD-qX-dVsupGyRIRmHIok3rehyphenhyphenRSGwfR4rp71KIApWb7scCm_OpDT37XtI6Y7-s/s200/077.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410296729827313458" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />On one of the days, we all went on a bus tour to see the countryside and the Powerscout Gardens. It was a rainy day, so it was difficult to enjoy being outside, but we did our best to do so.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToxmm-_fbWZdKsaHUVaP3NhZMdlolAmqgqIWXuGTTjEJqMRTxMvJqJ0njV1VomsNlGCdAd3WnB4pJgu6goq3DFFyzRwratVK_-ppXJtUX3BDJA3KwsFW5vMDNB56e1H2v8XvYnyHk4Ts/s1600/103.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToxmm-_fbWZdKsaHUVaP3NhZMdlolAmqgqIWXuGTTjEJqMRTxMvJqJ0njV1VomsNlGCdAd3WnB4pJgu6goq3DFFyzRwratVK_-ppXJtUX3BDJA3KwsFW5vMDNB56e1H2v8XvYnyHk4Ts/s200/103.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410297488905447170" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Another place we visited as Trinity College, the major university in Dublin. It was created so that the Irish would not have to go to England to receive an education. Interestingly, a dozen or so students receive a scholarship a year for speaking Irish. On the campus, there was a sign that said, "Please keep off the playing fields." We thought, "How can playing be done on the playing fields if people must keep off them?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFoHnHc1CnDhQ2DLQ3e1IowO1lIcef5aGS1_3tneeZMPgfwJJ9vZAl712BkahUOqEIA0S07Z0l535-fA6zJ3japGUiXq3QpXnlHqO5Qs-3UbHc7jd8zEdGcspefCyf3T-yFLF2XEmhyg/s1600/125.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFoHnHc1CnDhQ2DLQ3e1IowO1lIcef5aGS1_3tneeZMPgfwJJ9vZAl712BkahUOqEIA0S07Z0l535-fA6zJ3japGUiXq3QpXnlHqO5Qs-3UbHc7jd8zEdGcspefCyf3T-yFLF2XEmhyg/s200/125.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410298458716429794" /></a><br /><br /><br />One of my favorite things about Dublin was the friendliness of the people in the city. We are used to rude waiters while out to eat, but, in Dublin, waiters were there to serve us and not the other way around. We also had interesting conversations about life in Dublin from the perspectives of two restaurant managers/owners, something we could not imagine doing in Slovakia.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-82653079313727057142009-10-12T09:01:00.001-07:002009-10-12T09:14:40.281-07:00Fall UpdateGreetings again!<br /><br />The school year has started and I am back in Slovakia for one more year. This year, I am teaching three different subjects with five classes total. I am teaching Reading and Writing to first-year students, Introduction to Literature to second-year students, and British Literature for fourth-year students. I am pleased with the progress of my first-year students, who did not know much English coming into the year. They are getting very excited about learning English and the learning curve is quite steep, but they are doing well so far. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4mmd4y_yx7T_HUQolitdw31CuBAbH0wHEKR2t789ViIJGFipDpLTrhZkLQdSof4BSXsfOcp1cy2W3nCI9l-B0nm2OcgpHo7B_m-yAyQ4APcuAlfoE6HJmkeAUPdkfJIIvmRCue9x0RM/s1600-h/6774_1233276149517_1157550934_30740649_4783512_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4mmd4y_yx7T_HUQolitdw31CuBAbH0wHEKR2t789ViIJGFipDpLTrhZkLQdSof4BSXsfOcp1cy2W3nCI9l-B0nm2OcgpHo7B_m-yAyQ4APcuAlfoE6HJmkeAUPdkfJIIvmRCue9x0RM/s200/6774_1233276149517_1157550934_30740649_4783512_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391745353999064610" /></a><br />I have moved into an new apartment. I am living with two guys now, Jon and Carsten. They are both teaching at the same school as me. I knew both of them before we moved in, and we get along quite well together. To start the year, we had a grill that we borrowed from one of the other school apartments that no one was using. We grilled for three straight evenings. However, this did not make the neighbors very happy. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZr_affJ3Q5gWkvGbN6TVhWvhx-nv7i_NwyMG4gEBhRlsVSvlYxRKxbGp2-YzMdS6THanQX_9eXVBpM6-iCOpy2CWU5QnaeT4TFFbbokqJYWRWhlbEdPgWSq3crcXXgaMo1uQIWVrHhcE/s1600-h/132.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZr_affJ3Q5gWkvGbN6TVhWvhx-nv7i_NwyMG4gEBhRlsVSvlYxRKxbGp2-YzMdS6THanQX_9eXVBpM6-iCOpy2CWU5QnaeT4TFFbbokqJYWRWhlbEdPgWSq3crcXXgaMo1uQIWVrHhcE/s200/132.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391746389964231618" /></a><br />Last week, a student asked me to record something for Slovak Television. They wanted me to do a voice recording to gather support to host a congress in 2013 in Bratislava. So, I said that I would do the recording and went to a recording studio. It was quite an experience. They had me read from a script and whenever I made a mistake, the man recording it would have me start back from wherever I hadn't made a mistake and I would do it again. My voice might be heard all over Europe, imagine that. And I thought I was the quiet one of the family.<br /><br />Another interesting part of being in Slovakia has been the World Cup qualifying matches. Slovakia is one win away from going to the World Cup in soccer (some of my students would not be happy with me for calling it soccer). However, there is only one game left. They were only one win away for the last two games, and they lost one game and they tied another. The fans are starting to get nervous. It reminds me of a certain team from Detroit that nearly maybe should the playoffs.<br /><br />Well, that's all for the update from me. I hope all is well with you wherever you are!Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-92074465544902628282009-05-04T10:56:00.000-07:002009-05-04T11:15:28.608-07:00Baseball in Slovakia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDE1wGTtlMxn6HDhb1CjNZyu72pVtoIe5LXDaDARazMnpPs7b3du0wtleMdWWwqJZv_GbNzcHm3Fkbib3DDGbEmBpKn2mWJx_qc9sW_faQAJJN64iyheANh2x6sPqzvOwKWlHurOeOqU/s1600-h/DSC00860.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDE1wGTtlMxn6HDhb1CjNZyu72pVtoIe5LXDaDARazMnpPs7b3du0wtleMdWWwqJZv_GbNzcHm3Fkbib3DDGbEmBpKn2mWJx_qc9sW_faQAJJN64iyheANh2x6sPqzvOwKWlHurOeOqU/s200/DSC00860.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332029855059735106" /></a><br />For the last month, I have been practicing with a Slovak baseball team, "The Last of the Mohycans". Most of the players on the team are from Bratislava and one of the towns nearby. We have had practices most on Sunday afternoons. I got on the team because one of my former students asked me and my friend and colleague Jon to play. Our first tournament was Sunday.<br /><br /><br />We played in Nitra, which is about an hour east of Bratislava. One of the players picked Jon and I up at 9 in the morning and we picked up other players along the way to Nitra. Our first game was against Topolcany. I am not sure where Topolcany is but it is farther away from Bratislava than Nitra.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYcj-7P2JWBOOb8SHt7XBP7ngG8wCRmXe8AOfVHdHpb3hDdeq65fRnoPGRfP9PBLGAtz-atPQM5Er24tf7YJpXS4QlmeH-h2za84BUQaTiFxciWo0XJq7C7tGkQfm4AeloJu1JJ3BRrI/s1600-h/DSC00822.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYcj-7P2JWBOOb8SHt7XBP7ngG8wCRmXe8AOfVHdHpb3hDdeq65fRnoPGRfP9PBLGAtz-atPQM5Er24tf7YJpXS4QlmeH-h2za84BUQaTiFxciWo0XJq7C7tGkQfm4AeloJu1JJ3BRrI/s200/DSC00822.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332030566228549986" /></a><br /><br /><br />My teammates gave me nearly all the essential equipment for baseball: a jersey, a hat, and pants. Yet, I lacked baseball shoes, baseball socks, and a belt. If I looked as bad as I felt, it must have been pretty bad. I wore a pair of long white socks that my brother left for me when he came and a very old pair of running shoes.<br /><br /><br />I started out playing second base and eventually moved to first base. First base was a better choice for me because it's a little easier for me to catch the ball than to throw the ball. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbyYzthEG5e7am1ZWKfwqkXETYc3w9UPDbTMugutMScyGnuxQlWPvM3zRu9VKZxcoRXCjiFlvQYvrB4a2Dohr9oSceXAVRNWecXNfSSkYIgVBoWUSGsLU6Z3p1gIvyOcTFoII63_G1eo/s1600-h/DSC00824.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBbyYzthEG5e7am1ZWKfwqkXETYc3w9UPDbTMugutMScyGnuxQlWPvM3zRu9VKZxcoRXCjiFlvQYvrB4a2Dohr9oSceXAVRNWecXNfSSkYIgVBoWUSGsLU6Z3p1gIvyOcTFoII63_G1eo/s200/DSC00824.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332031306974519298" /></a><br /><br /><br />The game didn't go as well as we hoped. Our team could not hit the ball very well. Our pitchers had many walks and our defense had some silly errors. We lost 14-7 in six innings, I believe. It was a closer game than it seems. We had a chance to win until the last inning when they put four more runs onto the scoreboard (they didn't actually have a scoreboard, or a pitcher's rubber).<br /><br /><br />The second game was much better. It was so much better than I felt bad for the other team. I stopped caring about the score when it was 20-2. I know that we scored 2 or 3 more runs and they scored 2 more runs. Their pitchers couldn't throw a strike to save their lives. I felt bad for them. They couldn't hit the ball either (kind of like our team in the first game).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWdBFirLjpHHm_4MxrydVKsSsF07yqdUTMWAAs6d76wjF1V6YlkcITlgUSWwuqQ0yWHoB1UesVFP2JgAE_ghODEvrJ-G6vTwxaXBV5lsaKTy3bTvkhBZnaGU00M7DcR3CKol4LPj3ShI/s1600-h/DSC00868.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWdBFirLjpHHm_4MxrydVKsSsF07yqdUTMWAAs6d76wjF1V6YlkcITlgUSWwuqQ0yWHoB1UesVFP2JgAE_ghODEvrJ-G6vTwxaXBV5lsaKTy3bTvkhBZnaGU00M7DcR3CKol4LPj3ShI/s200/DSC00868.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332032885970057618" /></a><br /><br /><br />I am unsure when our next tournament will be, but it will be in a few weekends. We many things to improve before the next games. 1-1 is not a bad start for the season.<br /><br /><br />I will say that stepping onto the field felt strange. After my last game at Sexton six years ago, I never thought I'd play another inning again in my life. It felt good to hit the ball again. It felt good to throw the ball to first to get an out. It felt good to talk a little chatter while waiting for the pitcher to throw the ball. Too bad I was chattering in English and nobody could really understand what I was saying, except for Jon.<br /><br /><br />For those who want to call the Lansing State Journal and post my stats: I batted 3 for 4 in the first game with 2 RBIs, a double, and two runs scored. I was satisfied with my stats. In the second game, I batted 1 for 3 with two BBs, a HBP, and 2 runs scored.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-16317684086284387772009-04-18T00:19:00.000-07:002009-04-18T00:33:27.044-07:00Stockholm Day FiveToday we went to Vaxholm, an island with a fortress on a small island just 400 meters away from it. To get to Vaxholm, we had to take an hour boat ride. The ride was interesting because we could see some of the islands around Stockholm. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_rCDRZnGzn4guKb3fvBsZNuhAeN3I5EOPXgt_GeK5xH27J8kDTgVYuRUjGE9YWlShv0Q5Xi4HMtaUJ-q_BSqitYONwMDjCjqMuzyTzZJ3fvZhXgMZ6fjuEgvhb54qo0H5qsdBWCKcpg/s1600-h/DSC00744.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_rCDRZnGzn4guKb3fvBsZNuhAeN3I5EOPXgt_GeK5xH27J8kDTgVYuRUjGE9YWlShv0Q5Xi4HMtaUJ-q_BSqitYONwMDjCjqMuzyTzZJ3fvZhXgMZ6fjuEgvhb54qo0H5qsdBWCKcpg/s200/DSC00744.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325928637948527698" /></a><br /><br />We walked around Vaxholm for about 40 minutes before finding the tourist office, which we needed to find to figure out how to get to the fortress. We could not understand why a town would put their tourist information office in a place that it difficult to find and why they would not have good directions at least to find it.<br /><br />After seeing Vaxholm, we took the boat back to Stockholm. Upon arriving back in Stockholm, we went to the Mint Museum. It may have been the most interesting museum in Stockholm. The museum has the world's first banknote and the world's biggest coin, along with a one-trillion Deutsch Mark.<br /><br />As you can imagine, we had a lot of fun thinking about the world's biggest coin and how it was used and whether it was used as a shield at times or not. It's hard to tell how big the coin is, but it is rather like a shield. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0cXgZs66x4Y1QH0OWAMBqMoDrNOdGr3v500i5yY-zDwmLza_kFaRN7RyBlk4illuO4vzc6-P280_Xd0xGG8e8sPRkiC0OTp3CDJ6qNUzX8PYXO6mWdbWvfzI754V0s7wttlY4_oAAOOA/s1600-h/DSC00767.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0cXgZs66x4Y1QH0OWAMBqMoDrNOdGr3v500i5yY-zDwmLza_kFaRN7RyBlk4illuO4vzc6-P280_Xd0xGG8e8sPRkiC0OTp3CDJ6qNUzX8PYXO6mWdbWvfzI754V0s7wttlY4_oAAOOA/s200/DSC00767.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325930669743492882" /></a><br /><br />The one-trillion Deutsch Mark was from the 1920s when the exchange rate was 4,200,000,000,000 Marks to 1 US dollar. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjISwuOoQCRjXg1oCGs7zoazLYGG1Zlka06xWa41JfRbdR7Ynx9O46ztU27FmZwedBdC_V8GbQsPxHPPziU5Gj-XnIm6bJqRRXTGPJkilDKZiPeKnspLs3UVAp5Zrs9OUN25yT6XXJviXI/s1600-h/DSC00762.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjISwuOoQCRjXg1oCGs7zoazLYGG1Zlka06xWa41JfRbdR7Ynx9O46ztU27FmZwedBdC_V8GbQsPxHPPziU5Gj-XnIm6bJqRRXTGPJkilDKZiPeKnspLs3UVAp5Zrs9OUN25yT6XXJviXI/s200/DSC00762.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325929739499652994" /></a><br /><br />The following morning we left Stockholm and returned to Bratislava. Overall, Stockholm was a neat city to visit. It is not a must-see, but it is a relaxing city with nice people and a few interesting points.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-52444357253448197452009-04-18T00:14:00.000-07:002009-04-18T00:19:33.845-07:00Stockholm Day FourAs Stockholm is a city surrounded by numerous islands, we decided a bike ride around one of the islands would be nice. So we rented bikes and biked around one of the islands. It was good to see parts of the city that we normally wouldn't have seen.<br /><br />After riding bikes, we went to the Royal Apartments and the Treasury. We decided that neither of us like looking at the possessions of royal, rich dead dudes. They had such large rooms and it was a little extreme.<br /><br />In the evening, we went to an Easter service. The service was in English. There were maybe 30 people at the service and it did not feel much like Easter, but it was good to attend the service.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-71603874923246464722009-04-18T00:05:00.000-07:002009-04-18T00:14:12.988-07:00Stockholm Day ThreeI picked up my brother David at the airport in the morning. He looked pretty tired. He had been flying since around noon US time the day before. We dropped our bags off at a hotel and made our way to the Vasa Museum. <br /><br />The Vasa Museum houses the only 17th century ship, the Vasa. The Vasa sunk on its maiden voyage and was not found for 333 years when someone realized where it was. They brought it up from the seafloor and then fixed it up a little. The ship was very impressive. It felt like I was in "The Goonies." <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEPj3nbHFnNpdTBvHHD7Z19S_z6aT3LY6epVJOuE9EvH8YCUR3LuPZRqlm9VXQYgsNrTfsiLnR0w4WQ-1CanJKzcdeA1g5LlVs7eepCBHSYLVHboIJoSCTmKckuh7-Xk3twJnGeqoEUo/s1600-h/DSC00709.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEPj3nbHFnNpdTBvHHD7Z19S_z6aT3LY6epVJOuE9EvH8YCUR3LuPZRqlm9VXQYgsNrTfsiLnR0w4WQ-1CanJKzcdeA1g5LlVs7eepCBHSYLVHboIJoSCTmKckuh7-Xk3twJnGeqoEUo/s200/DSC00709.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325925211943430114" /></a><br /><br />David was a little tired from his flights and it was a nice day, so we took a nap outside the Vasa Museum on a patch of grass. After a half-hour nap, we went to Skansen, a large outdoor museum with old houses and such. It looked very similar to something you might find in an old western town. Walking around Skansen, we realized that this is not the place for young, hip guys like us. It seemed that we were the only people there who were not either under 10, over 60, or was with someone under 10.<br /><br />After this museum, we went into a few churches and then David was still tired, so we returned to the hotel for a nap. Then we went to dinner and got some Swedish meatballs. They were very delicious. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcE0_8veti84B3vk5eI-YIPShC5u0eboyTPTL2X1Bb0Jpnb2vMPB6b2llmfg-oXB1axrVWphZuzBHK2vpcnwhfX41vo9JgYnG-OgTS0En69WklUH9gzV4_Vil1XuKwUHw_rGtSItOTi2c/s1600-h/DSC00734.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcE0_8veti84B3vk5eI-YIPShC5u0eboyTPTL2X1Bb0Jpnb2vMPB6b2llmfg-oXB1axrVWphZuzBHK2vpcnwhfX41vo9JgYnG-OgTS0En69WklUH9gzV4_Vil1XuKwUHw_rGtSItOTi2c/s200/DSC00734.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325926173784110882" /></a>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-34628969849106827442009-04-17T23:56:00.000-07:002009-04-18T00:05:23.823-07:00Stockholm Day TwoThe second day in Stockholm began with a hostel breakfast, followed by a walk to the National Museum, where there was a special exhibit on Pre-Raphaelites. I enjoyed the museum, but it wasn't too exciting because I cannot quite remember much about it. <br /><br />After that, I walked around the old town and found the Mediterranean Museum, which I got into for free. They had some nice Egyptian artifacts and some idols put next to a mirror, which made it seem that there were twice as many. Neat trick, museum.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD47pFD_7SJNjBQCLeft60ukyPKvUN5Vcl-tglT6T5JTCAtwpY8mEgYdqsMnEnBIcs9LXWaDdtc3qO95n57mtWXArD1MxV3U_csyKB7K7ceEk96xho4PMvEsNMdKsFFTYueclgt3lZONs/s1600-h/DSC00680.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD47pFD_7SJNjBQCLeft60ukyPKvUN5Vcl-tglT6T5JTCAtwpY8mEgYdqsMnEnBIcs9LXWaDdtc3qO95n57mtWXArD1MxV3U_csyKB7K7ceEk96xho4PMvEsNMdKsFFTYueclgt3lZONs/s200/DSC00680.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325922984720378962" /></a><br /><br />I had wanted to go to the Arms Museum and walked there but soon found that it was closed. The day was nice, so I read a book outside for a little while. Since many of the smaller museums were closed, I decided to talk a walk through a park and found a hill overlooking part of the city. I sat upon the hill and watched a group of Stockholmies skateboarding for a while. Some were pretty good, but it was funny to watch some of them try the same trick over and over again and fail over and over again.<br /><br />That night, I tried to get to bed early because I had to wake up early the next day to go to the airport to pick up my brother. This didn't work though because I was sleeping in a 12-person dorm room. I'm not a fan of sleeping in these sorts of rooms. People just walk in and out and I am a light sleeper, so I never sleep much.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-4673494859469405112009-04-17T23:44:00.000-07:002009-04-17T23:56:06.602-07:00Stockholm Day OneOn April 9, I flew to Stockholm, Sweden. I had the desire to visit Stockholm after spending three hours waiting in the airport when I first came to Europe. I did not have a chance to see the city at all, so I wanted to return.<br /><br />I flew RyanAir, a low-budget airline similar to something like Southwest Airlines, and arrived about in a city about 80 minutes from Stockholm. Many low-budget airlines do not fly into convenient airports.<br /><br />I arrived into the city at around 4 p.m. and hoped to see a museum before heading to my hostel. However, I spent around an hour not knowing which direction I was going. I left a square going in four different directions and it wasn't until the fourth time that I got it right. I arrived at the museum just after it closed.<br /><br />The first day was a bit of a disappointment because I could not see much of the city or any museums; however, I noticed a little convenient store that I hadn't seen in years: 7-Eleven.<br /><br />According to Wikipedia, there are 77 7-Elevens in Sweden, most of them being in Stockholm. I was so amazed because it seemed at every 7-Eleven in Lansing closed and turned into a liquor store. I came to the conclusion that 7-Eleven went under. (Note: they didn't have real Slurpees. They have something similar to Slurpees, but they do not taste half the same. And I didn't feel like I could mix the flavors.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BUfyRxD6d8X1GMZLEMQVUi4qMefbxKaoQfPLhYaKtRuRIH_tOTaNpdPDrzZ1KIaSYtmJQXyNEXSwTkITsMw7fOFXd_xKBWPDXW87qpxv7q1PM5ADWy42dTvk8BdyB6-O6-2Ti9-zabs/s1600-h/DSC00659.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BUfyRxD6d8X1GMZLEMQVUi4qMefbxKaoQfPLhYaKtRuRIH_tOTaNpdPDrzZ1KIaSYtmJQXyNEXSwTkITsMw7fOFXd_xKBWPDXW87qpxv7q1PM5ADWy42dTvk8BdyB6-O6-2Ti9-zabs/s200/DSC00659.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325921525881479794" /></a>Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-36687826583991392052009-03-16T14:08:00.000-07:002009-03-16T14:21:58.338-07:00A Little Town in North CarolinaA paper that a student handed in today has brought a smile to my face every time I remember it. The assignment was to have a conversation with five people from five different countries and then write about those conversations and what was learned.<br /><br />The student wrote that she speak with a person from Britain, Czech Republic, Serbia, a country I cannot remember, and Usa (pronounced "oo-sa"). Over the summer, my parents and I decided we were going to try to learn as many different countries in the world. All I could say is that it's not in Europe. Remembering back to our studies, I could not think of a country named "Usa." On the paper, beside Usa, I wrote, "Where is this country?" <br /><br />In the paper, the student writes that the person she interviewed from Usa is from North Carolina. <br /><br />My first thought was: "Oh, Usa must be a little town in North Carolina." <br /><br />"Is that near Raleigh?" I was tempted to ask.<br /><br />Remember what two and two equals, I realized the mistake: Usa was America. <br /><br />Now I begin to wonder: who make the greater mistake - the student or me? The student did not capitalize all of the letters to USA and I assumed that the student would not make such a simple mistake. <br /><br />I have now decided to I might start calling America "Usa" from now on. Perhaps it will help me remember that we all make the silliest mistakes at times. <br /><br />Thank you to everyone in Usa who is reading my blog.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-55971557294873625082009-03-15T12:45:00.000-07:002009-03-15T12:56:42.573-07:00Some Things Are Just Hard to ExplainWords strain,<br /> Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,<br /> Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,<br /> Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,<br /> Will not stay still (from T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).<br /><br /> The residents of Bratislava must find it strange to observe a bearded man wearing a “There’s A Little Hero in Us All” hat and a Luther College sweatshirt running through their quiet neighborhood where no one runs.<br /><br /> This reminds me of my glorious days running Cross Country at J.W. Sexton High School and the neighborhood kids who used to ask, “What are you running for?” Our favorite response was, “The police (pronounced “pole-eece” like “fleece”).” The response was anywhere from, “Oh, shoot” to hearing nothing but seeing scared faces. Running from the cops seemed to be the only appropriate answer in a neighborhood where the only reason to run was that you just stole something. Explaining the sport “Cross Country” never worked. They always thought we would run 50-100 miles. Some things are just hard to explain.<br /><br /> Without a car or any other measuring device, I have no ability to track my distance, so my only way to track myself is by time. Before running, I put a particular number of songs, usually taking up 45 minutes to an hour, onto my mp3 player. Then I leave the apartment, turn on the music, and run until the music stops. Sometimes when I am running, the music runs out and I want to go a little farther. When that happens, I quickly put a few more songs on the mp3 player.<br /><br /> Usually, I run up a seemingly never-ending hilly street near my apartment and make my way back and forth up the hill before returning down the hill through side streets. I run up a street that looks enticing, then down that street. I see a street that I have never been down before and take that street. I see an elderly woman walking toward me, I turn around and run in the opposite direction before I can get the “why are you running?” look. I see a beautiful view of the reconstruction of the castle and then I leave the view. Remembering it and thinking five years is a long time to close a castle, I return to the view. I might run down a particular street three or four times in a span of ten minutes.<br /><br /> Usually near the beginning of my run, I make my way down one street that leads to a long flight of stairs. I run up these stairs like Rocky Balboa and, when I reach the top, instead of triumphantly throwing my arms into the air, I sigh and begin what would be a 20-minute mile until I feel like I will no longer die. Sometimes I say to myself, “Let’s do that again” and I take the windy road back to the bottom and find the stairs again. Twice is always enough.<br /><br /> “I just don’t understand why Americans run,” a Slovak friend said today. “It is bad for the knees and the hips.”<br /><br /> “If knee problems is that worst that can happen, the worst looks appealing,” I think.<br /><br /> “Running brings me some kind of peace,” I attempted to explain. I felt unsatisfied with my response and I imagine my friend did as well. <br /><br /> If I was to answer again, I would like to say, “One day, I will be lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube putting the necessaries into my body and a catheter removing the unnecessaries. One day.” Some things are just hard to explain.<br /><br /> Why do we run? Perhaps merely to see how far we can go. Everything, including getting out of this chair, has positives and negatives and we cannot escape the inevitable. Positives – I will be able to stretch my legs and relieve myself. Negatives – I might lose my train of thought. The inevitable – the feeding tube and the catheter.<br /><br /> A month ago today I received an e-mail inviting me to return to Bratislava for another year. Today, I must give my reply. <br /><br /> My contract is a one-year contract, renewable upon the desire of both parties. Originally, I had intended to stay in Slovakia for two years, thinking that if I invest one year in a place that I might as well invest two. I no longer think of staying as an investment but something that I desire to do and something that I think I could do well.<br /><br /> Most coincidentally, my class discussed Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” this Friday. How strange that I would be noting my intention upon which road I would travel this weekend? Some things are just hard to explain.<br /><br /> And both that morning equally lay<br /> In leaves no step had trodden black.<br /> Oh, I kept the first for another day!<br /> Yet knowing how way leads on to way,<br /> I doubted if I should ever come back (from: Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken”)<br /><br /><br /> When I am running, I often take a particular road and this road leads to another road that looks like it needs someone running on it and so on and so on. “Way leads on to way” and, before, we know it, we are somewhere else. Not three years ago, I was training for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon on the simple, flat streets of Columbus. Somehow, after taking a right on Mound Street, adding another kilometer to my run, instead of turning around, brought me to a street overlooking a city already an adult for hundreds of years while Columbus wasn’t even in diapers.<br /><br /> We might blame this road on Stony Lake Lutheran Camp to which I gave four of my “best” summers and a certain Filipino who taught me that it is possible to love two places on opposite ends of the earth at once and, anywhere you go, you are going to miss someone. We might blame this road on going away from home for college and looking at the world as more than 3320 Inverary Dr. We could obviously blame this road on my parents who I can never remember telling me to be back by midnight. <br /><br /> Though I create my playlist for a certain period of time, sometimes I want to run longer and I add more songs. Yet, I know that eventually I will become too tired to run. But, I am not so tired today. I could run up the seven-minute hill once more. I could convince the gardener who watches me run the stairs twice that I am a bit crazy. I could take in one more view of the red-rooftops of the city. A few more songs on the mp3 player will do. <br /><br /> Nothing can replace knowing that there is an empty chair beside the window at the dinner table for family dinners or an empty pew for the weddings of good friends or countless empty (“Dan-free”) hours that my friends and family spend doing many activities that I absolutely love. <br /><br /> Though we see little of each other, I think about my friends and family often. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at a plate of noodles and poppy seed at lunch and wonder what my family would say about it (For the record: Diane would probably stiffen her lip at the sound of the meal. David would probably remark about it sounding disgusting. Ma would probably be nice about eating it and then say she didn’t like it later. Pops would probably enthusiastically eat it because “you got to do what the people do here”). A day doesn’t go by that I don’t hear “Country Roads”, “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”, or “End of the World” and wish any one of my great friends would emphatically sing it with me. Some things are just hard to explain.<br /><br /> What if I had turned around instead of turning right onto Mound Street? What if I had stopped running after the second mile in Indy three years ago when I could have sworn my knee was going to snap? What if I didn’t cut off my locks of love (and the beard) two days later? What if I went to graduate school after Capital? What if I went home in July and got a teacher’s certificate and planted myself back in America? What if I stayed here another year?<br /><br /> What might have been is an abstraction<br /> Remaining a perpetual possibility<br /> Only in a world of speculation (From T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).<br /><br />Some things are just hard to explain.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-11224189750948050442009-02-20T12:40:00.000-08:002009-02-20T13:35:10.686-08:00GreeceSaturday, February 14 - Thessaloniki, Greece<br /><br />In December, eleven of us bought tickets to fly from Vienna to Thessaloniki and then tickets from Athens to Vienna.<br /><br />As this day was Valentine's Day, the airline we were flying on, SkyEurope, had a special promotion: come with the person you love to the ticket counter and show your love with a kiss and receive a free ticket. As three of us were about to go through security, we asked someone if we could receive a voucher for a future trip. We were told that this is possible. So there were three of us: two boys and one girl. One of us needed to find another girl to pretend to be in love with one of the guys. So the other guy, Allan, called over the nearest girl he could find and we tried to explain the situation to her. She was a Spanish girl named Karen. I realized that if I was going to get a free plane ticket, it would be me who would have to kiss her. She didn't seem to understand, or at least seemed highly skeptical. So we went to the ticket office and said we wanted to show our love to receive a free ticket. The lady at the counter just gave us a piece of paper to fill out and, thankfully, I did not have to kiss a complete stranger. A few days later, I received an e-mail that gave me a promotion code for a free plane ticket.<br /><br />Though there were eleven of us together, we each had different plans, some of which overlapped. I was going to be traveling with my friend Amy and we were going to try a project called "Couch Surfing." This is a website on the Internet in which people offer to host others in their apartments and houses. After arriving in Thessaloniki, we had trouble getting from the airport to the center of the city (In Greece, I found that information is poor for public transportation). So, we were supposed to meet our host at a certain time in front of a monument, but Amy did not quite know exactly what he looked like but knew his name. Then a car pulled up out of nowhere, and I jokingly said, "Looks like we're getting picked up." She laughed, but then two guys got out of the car and approached us and began to ask where we were from. We both figured these were our hosts, so Amy said, "Are you here for us?" We received a blank look and a quick end to the conversation. Eventually we found our host, Jairo, a Nicarguan who studies in Greece. He was a very gracious host, letting us stay in an extra room in his apartment. He showed us around the city and took us to a nice restaurant.<br /><br />Sunday, February 15 - Thessaloniki<br />Amy and I walked around Thessaloniki, seeing some of the sites, the Church of Demitrius and the White Tower. Then I met with some other people and went to an archaelogical musuem. It wasn't too great though. We learned here that nearly everything closes at 3 p.m. Public officials only work from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.<br /><br />In the evening, we found a nice restaurant that had some live music and one of the members from our group asked the musicians if we could sing a song for them. Everyone in the restaurant loved the song we played and asked us to sing another. I cannot imagine doing that in my own country or in the country I live in, but perhaps when we stepped out of our comfort zones, we were able to step further.<br /><br />Monday, Feburary 16 - Kalampaka<br />In the morning, Amy and I took a train to Kalampaka, a town just below Meteora, a complex of monasteries atop rock pillars (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meteora). I was blown away by the beauty of these monasteries and the view from them. Bond fans will remember that Meteora was featured in "For Your Eyes Only."<br /><br />The only downside to this day was my imprudence to think that we could find the path to walk back down to the city through the forest. One could either drive up to the monasteries or hike. We hiked up just fine but apparently didn't go the appropriate way, so when we were walking back down, we couldn't find the path. It was getting dark quickly and we bushwacked for about 40 minutes before realizing it was time to go back up the hill. The climax was a 15 foot cliff to which I said, "We could always jump down. It wouldn't hurt too much." Thankfully, we thought that one through. If we jumped down, there was no getting back up. I am able to laugh about it now with a few cuts from bushwacking, but my traveling partner Amy is still at the point of no longer questioning my every decision.<br /><br />February 17 - Kalampaka and Athens<br />We decided to stay the night in the town at a small motel. We walked up to the monasteries again and stayed on the path while going up and while going down. In the afternoon, we took a train to Athens. Amy and I planned on staying with a Greek family who we found on Couch Surfing. We arrived into Athens at 10 p.m. and had no idea where to go. We called Konstantinos, our host, and he told us to take the Metro to a certain stop and he would pick us up. Staying with Konstantinos and his wife Daniela, we were humbled by their hospitality. Their generously was at the point where I began to question why they were so nice. When we arrived at their house, we had Dominos with them and their 14-year-old daughter Anna. In the morning, they fed us breakfast and took us to the bus station. Why would they pick us up from the Metro stop? Why would they drive us to the bus station? Why would they feed us? We were complete strangers and they treated us like family, even better than family. To make matters worse, they did not grudgingly perform these tasks; they were happy to help us. I cannot say enough good words about their hospitality.<br /><br />February 18 - Delphi<br />Amy and I took a bus to Delphi to visit the site of the ancient oracle. We arrived only an hour before its close. Ancient Delphi is situated along a mountain range. It has a spectacular view and walking among the ruins brought us to wondering what life was like for a Greek during the days of the Oracle.<br /><br />February 19 - Athens<br />This was our only full day in Athens. We began with a walk around the Acropolis. I loved walking around the Acropolis, looking at the Parthenon and temples and theatres, wondering about what sorts of people walked through there and about Socrates and Plato and other great philosophers. The Acropolis is above a hill and was very windy, but one could see the whole city of 5 million people (the same as the number of people in Slovakia).<br /><br />February 20 - Athens to Vienna<br />This morning we saw the Athens Archaeological Musuem. There were many great statues, but Amy wanted to see the vases but the vase room was closed. I was determined that we get in to see the vases. So I asked the receptionist and he said no. Then I asked one of the art watchers (I am not sure what the title is but it is the person who just makes sure no one hurts the works of art). Two of them said that I should ask the receptionist again and say that I came from America to see the vases. So I asked him again and he said maybe but I had to ask someone else. I asked that other person and she had to ask someone else. Then that person said it would be okay. So that person had to go get another person to walk us through the vase musuem. In total, we counted seven people we had to go through to see the vases. Amy enjoyed the vases, so my persistance was worth it. In the afternoon, we flew back to Vienna.<br /><br />In summary:<br />The greatness of my trip is hard to explain, but I can say that this week in Greece was one of the best weeks that I have experienced. The people I met were gracious and hospitable. The sights of the cities were beautiful. I have learned many things from this trip and hope that I do not forget them too quickly.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-4488999137559488662009-02-10T11:17:00.000-08:002009-02-10T11:43:07.116-08:00Response to Pop QuizAs my religion students do not have textbooks, their homework is to study their notes that they take in class. This assignment is obviously problematic for those who do not pay attention in class, take notes, or at least copy their friend's notes.<br /><br />Knowing that some students would rather not study, I decided that I would give them a pop quiz. I warned numerously days before the quiz, hoping that perhaps they would catch the hint that I would be quizzing them soon. (Perhaps I hinted too many times).<br /><br />One of my students tends to behave poorly in class, bothering other classmates, eating random foods, walking around the room to give classmates these random foods. (Yes, yes, I know: I should have taken a course on classroom management). On perhaps two occasions has he positively contributed to the class.<br /><br />Today, I read the answers from his pop quiz and thought they were worth sharing:<br /><br />Question 6: Who were the Ebionites and what did they say about Jesus?"<br /><br />An appropriate answer: A group of Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% man and 0% God. They said Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecies and God adopted him as the Messiah.<br /><br />My student's answer: "They are stupid people with a stupid name."<br /><br />Question 7: "Who were the Marcionites and what did they say about Jesus?"<br /><br />An appropriate answer: A group of anti-Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% God and 0% Man. They also believed that two gods existed: the god of the Old Testament and the god of the New Testament.<br /><br />My student's answer: "A group of people who we would be better off if they never existed."<br /><br />(Note: Ironically, some would actually agree with my student)<br /><br />Question 8: "What did the Council of Nicea say about Jesus?"<br /><br />An appropriate answer: Jesus was 100% God, 100% Man.<br /><br />Or: See Nicene Creed.<br /><br />My student's answer (part 1): "He is loving, kind, etc."<br />My student's answer (part 2): "I am not interested in what someone says. It is supposed to be about my belief. You are destroying my belief."<br /><br />Puzzled by how to respond to his answer, I decided to talk to some of the other religion professors about what they would do. Knowing the student, each of them said they would write something such as "What belief is that?" or "Your belief that your god is not doing work?" One of the religion professors also said that this response is clique from people who don't actually want to work, don't know the answer, and just want to make the teacher feel bad.<br /><br />After thinking about the situation, I came to a few conclusions:<br /><br />1) My student picked the wrong question to say that I was destroying his belief. The other two questions would have been better to point out that I should quiz them only on the most vital points. This is a religion class on the history of Christianity. If he considers himself Christian, the answer to the question is his belief. All he had to do was say his belief and he would be right.<br /><br />2) I remember telling him that Jesus was not born in a vacuum. I will have to tell him that he was not born into a vacuum either.<br /><br />3) Low expectations bring happy results. I definitely didn't expect him to pass the quiz, but he did get two answers right.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-82660958094426413192009-02-05T07:47:00.000-08:002009-02-05T08:03:45.259-08:00Lyceum BallOn January 15, the students hosted a ball.<br /><br />When I asked if I would attend the ball, my first question was "what kind of dancing is involved?"<br /><br />The response: "You know, dances that take place at balls."<br /><br />This would mean that I would have to learn how to dance, real dances, not the Macarena or the Cha-Cha Slide or the Chicken Dance. So, one of the teachers at the school said that she knew someone who would teach us how to dance. We would learn the waltz, the tango, the two-step, polka, and a few others.<br /><br />The dance instructor spoke only Slovak except "quick quick slow...quick quick slow." Nevertheless he was very nice and these lessons (I took three of them) gave me an opportunity to practice my Slovak and my dancing at the same time. I got to dance with one of the teachers who only spoke Slovak. She taught me much on the dance floor, in the language of Slovak and dancing.<br /><br />The day before the ball, one of the students told me that she had a surprise for me and the other teachers at the ball. I thought, "this can't be good. Surprises = bad." Nevertheless, the surprise was that she danced a waltz with me as the first dance when it was just teachers and students together. On the dance floor, I forgot nearly everything.<br /><br />It was a good thing that I forgot nearly everything because it turned out that the ball was more of a dance than a ball. So after about 20 minutes of ball music, the DJ began to play disco music. (Note: disco music is not necessarily '70s music but music that people go out to clubs to dance to).<br /><br />Tomorrow, I will be attempting another ball. My friend Joe who rafts for the National Slovak Rafting Team invited me to his Watersports Ball. I went to this ball last year and they did do actual dances. I recall my dances to polka music. I will be bringing my dancing shoes.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-5117950762129176492008-11-19T08:37:00.000-08:002008-11-26T08:54:58.330-08:00My Lutheran Pilgrimage<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Dvw5FJZe-hgbRPW51VgPL9h1vJwYNPIAMrQSDrlIRXMNo3SFW-pCWL_mwdgpK82amM5zX202CaM7JIPmRqAVz3LC8whEtZ4ZnX9m6jwADWMMT0NFtXyHTm3IEIxBXhLYhyphenhyphenF5F9yb-0c/s1600-h/303.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Dvw5FJZe-hgbRPW51VgPL9h1vJwYNPIAMrQSDrlIRXMNo3SFW-pCWL_mwdgpK82amM5zX202CaM7JIPmRqAVz3LC8whEtZ4ZnX9m6jwADWMMT0NFtXyHTm3IEIxBXhLYhyphenhyphenF5F9yb-0c/s200/303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270409699212117090" border="0" /></a>The Friday before last, the assistant principal came up to me and asked me if I would mind going to Germany with some religion seminar students and students at the theological school. "Would I mind?" I respond. "Yeah, I'd mind. I'd love to go."<br /><br />So, the trip left last Wednesday morning at 7 a.m. Thankfully, I was only responsible for four students (see right).<br /><br />After several hours in the car, we arrived at our first destination, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSxGorb7K3phePnRuIK7q8e5sIENaW50kwTyxxl4zeDRrlT-BfRaybqPb0dmzOOWfpv7mW07pr47xRGPJRm4HOUj0epeEDl6H-fVI7hvrunqYPK95Ma1N-3UjrOJ2CA1GPkoUZaXuW2Q/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSxGorb7K3phePnRuIK7q8e5sIENaW50kwTyxxl4zeDRrlT-BfRaybqPb0dmzOOWfpv7mW07pr47xRGPJRm4HOUj0epeEDl6H-fVI7hvrunqYPK95Ma1N-3UjrOJ2CA1GPkoUZaXuW2Q/s200/012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270411191765378210" border="0" /></a>Dresden, which was controversially bombed by the Allies during World War II. Somewhere between 24,000 and 40,000 people were killed. The only place we visited was the Church of our Lady, a Lutheran church that recently reconstructed after it was destroyed only by the fire after the bombing. It is said that each bomb that hit the church bounced off of the roof. While rebuilding the church, they were able to use some of the old stones from the destroyed church. They attempted to recreate the church as close to the original as possible.<br /><br />We were only in Dresden for about an hour before we had to leave. We rode in a bus for another four hours before arriving at our final destination for the night, Allmanhausen. I don't know the technical term <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50QgVztpMD6oYDypmebVTk1rMJMIIEv0KKvnv4YBOzJ0sCsa9EODwLompph4JUJTKeuSLFj4Nyflmk0rZVpqsIvMgb_YE1-lq2gQ6POGh1i_14YG6mT0_xKJz6-Bt_R4m4nz3BoRhaQY/s1600-h/016.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50QgVztpMD6oYDypmebVTk1rMJMIIEv0KKvnv4YBOzJ0sCsa9EODwLompph4JUJTKeuSLFj4Nyflmk0rZVpqsIvMgb_YE1-lq2gQ6POGh1i_14YG6mT0_xKJz6-Bt_R4m4nz3BoRhaQY/s200/016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270422344944876690" border="0" /></a>for the place we stayed, but it was a mixture of a youth hostel and a youth center. During the day, the place was used for youth to come and have a place to "hang out." They served very large meals, which was much appreciated. The first night, at 10:30 p.m., we were greeted with a glass of champagne and a plate full of sausages.<br /><br />The following morning, we woke, had breakfast, and went to the Wartburg Castle. Like many castles, it stood upon a large hill and I imagined Luther riding up to the castle as Knight George, saying, "Well, if they find me here, there is no escape." This idea got me thinking about hiding places in general. Hiding is often the final option. Usually there are not escape routes from the places you escape to.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aolCr6dpGeg-6ol3KVDkJy_ksRxVyYlAcsW2F9B5P22hRXS5NXYoph7kAdviLsmd-tXouZ0cA70Mt6Q7OEIYaLKEBOvFNvCyVe_ONaywyDo_IM68T-cs-MMV7xvqkTK0Et03XzT9M-o/s1600-h/064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aolCr6dpGeg-6ol3KVDkJy_ksRxVyYlAcsW2F9B5P22hRXS5NXYoph7kAdviLsmd-tXouZ0cA70Mt6Q7OEIYaLKEBOvFNvCyVe_ONaywyDo_IM68T-cs-MMV7xvqkTK0Et03XzT9M-o/s200/064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273002225974277282" border="0" /></a><br />Not much of the castle was devoted to Luther; however, we did get see his study. It was a small room with nothing but a stove, a desk, a chair, and a picture of Luther as Knight George. I tried to imagine Luther sitting in that chair, translating the Greek Bible into German on that desk. Obviously the desk and the chair are newer than 1521, but something needed to be there. I imagined Luther throwing ink at apparitions of the Devil. One of my favorite pictures of the entire trip was of a drawing in Wittenberg in which Luther is translating the Bible at Wartburg and the Devil, hidden under the desk, is holding up a picture of a pope's hat and a naked woman. Luther looks very sternly at the Devil.<br /><br />Upon leaving Wartburg Castle, we travel to the Eisenach Luther House and a Bach House. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbsdDbSmc2HXzcoBhBxQd95XxeTtJlFj9C5nBcU-AduIkiacKTqgSWbICPrqd5-Q2VueU4OXKOI2rRFgGwEKfG7g1_7ufUVZjpPs9kn4xpe1dPQT5zJ2BjAMzKgf3ZgGup1j29SrWLvI/s1600-h/139.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbsdDbSmc2HXzcoBhBxQd95XxeTtJlFj9C5nBcU-AduIkiacKTqgSWbICPrqd5-Q2VueU4OXKOI2rRFgGwEKfG7g1_7ufUVZjpPs9kn4xpe1dPQT5zJ2BjAMzKgf3ZgGup1j29SrWLvI/s200/139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273002781473224658" border="0" /></a>The Luther House in Eisenach was rather unimpressive. The exhibition was small and the tour was short and general. Everything the tour guide told us we already knew. The Bach House, on the other hand, was more impressive. The tour guide played Bach pieces on ancient instruments. So we could relax and hear the music of Bach.<br /><br />The next day we traveled to Jena to some German seminary students. They took us around the city and told us a bit about Christianity in Germany. I learned that in Germany, there is a religious tax. To declare yourself a Christian, you have to pay a tax to the government. In Germany then, 1/3 of the people are Protestant, 1/3 Catholic, and 1/3 undeclared. Perhaps people do not want to declare a religion just so that they do not have to pay the tax.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCI4evkDlnepniJD8XO30LcDfAxhYWuruJq3fRCnIu8PFYeA0jDrjNotUL7lUFKLdo47BbVfv7ReQa09SJHnepoKeWn3QA2QyD8ndOJp51nAKwE4qJjQnT3BdUkoqf_MI3GqFPXQx1O8/s1600-h/206.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCI4evkDlnepniJD8XO30LcDfAxhYWuruJq3fRCnIu8PFYeA0jDrjNotUL7lUFKLdo47BbVfv7ReQa09SJHnepoKeWn3QA2QyD8ndOJp51nAKwE4qJjQnT3BdUkoqf_MI3GqFPXQx1O8/s200/206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273003510894658386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In the evening, we traveled to Erfurt, where Luther became an Augustinian monk. At the church there, we heard an interesting story. The place where Luther prostrated himself, taking his vows as a monk ("I will be the best monk that I can") were taken over the grave of a man who was important in sending Jan Hus to be burned at the stake. Before Hus died, he said, "They will roast a goose now, but after a hundred years they will hear a swan sing, and him they will have to endure." Hus means "goose." So a hundred years after Hus was killed, Luther, whom they call the "swan," "sang" his vows as a monk in Erfort.<br /><br />The following morning we traveled to the site of the 1525 Peasant's Revolt led by Thomas Muntzer. At this site is a panaromic painting of the battle. This painting was very impressive and I wish that I could have taken pictures of the painting but none were allowed to be taken.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrM3NocOe1tKqSEqH_1pK84IPYQdba-ADZcqo77so-KQMKLIc4mTF2LUMURQUprHGH-4RmZNBcEORRFgfWhxi7JzP4eH6rnSRXlkF9X00BVvNNyewT6aeihIX8f0ob7Vkm93ywF4na3Q/s1600-h/234.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrM3NocOe1tKqSEqH_1pK84IPYQdba-ADZcqo77so-KQMKLIc4mTF2LUMURQUprHGH-4RmZNBcEORRFgfWhxi7JzP4eH6rnSRXlkF9X00BVvNNyewT6aeihIX8f0ob7Vkm93ywF4na3Q/s200/234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273006406682889186" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In the afternoon, we went to Eisleben, where Luther was born and died. Here, we saw another Luther House. This one was on par with the first as the tour guide didn't seem to excited about her job.<br /><br />At night, we traveled to our final destination, Wittenberg. An ELCA center exists in Wittenberg that helps people set up tours to see Luther's sites. It was nice to meet people from my country.<br /><br />The following morning, we attended a church service at the Castle Church, where Luther posted his 95 Theses. The students complained about not being able to understand the whole service because it was in <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduo44IoG3L5Vx-htEVpyDZI6a5S9Z1SIpVEDuylWbqTqL_D3DEf27Ra_3qRY2akl_0sbsD_P7MtJbYzjhZj5fWugGgpTlvXriE5NMlivAf64HGfsbdJwiM3lEypVycwqn6dGPeNiLr9w/s1600-h/314.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduo44IoG3L5Vx-htEVpyDZI6a5S9Z1SIpVEDuylWbqTqL_D3DEf27Ra_3qRY2akl_0sbsD_P7MtJbYzjhZj5fWugGgpTlvXriE5NMlivAf64HGfsbdJwiM3lEypVycwqn6dGPeNiLr9w/s200/314.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273007856359504386" border="0" /></a>German. My only reply was, "how do you think I feel going to chapel in Slovak?" The Castle Church is the home of Luther and Melanchthon's bodies. After the service, I got to walk out of "The Door" (it's a new door now with the 95 Theses engraved on it).<br /><br />After church, we had lunch with more German seminary students and saw another Luther House. This Luther House was the best of the three. It had the most artifacts and information. In the evening, we attended an organ concert at the Castle Church.<br /><br />The following morning, we had a tour of Wittenberg, which included the church where Luther preached. Surprisingly, this church was smaller or seemed less important than the Castle Church. The Castle Church was the church that belonged to the university where Luther taught.<br /><br />That afternoon we traveled back to Bratislava. I appreciated the trip because I could touch the sites of part of my heritage. I had always been fascinated by Luther ever since I heard about him going crazy in his monastery cell. What was this guy like? Where did he live? What make him the way he was?<br /><br />As I wandered around these cities, observing Luther's sites and pictures of Luther and cakes with the Luther Cross iced on it, I began to wonder, "What would Luther say about all this?" I have a hard time imagining Luther accepting the fact that statues were created for him and houses made into museums for him. I have a feeling he would say something like, "You're wasting space. I have only done what anyone should have done and did try to do." Perhaps maybe this is what I would just hope that he would say. With that thought in my mind, perhaps I shouldn't be so fascinated by the guy as I am.<br /><br />All in all, if you want to see Luther's sites, contact the ELCA Wittenberg Center and they will help you.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-10780216145078163612008-11-11T11:56:00.000-08:002008-11-11T12:32:00.675-08:00Stužková<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnEKJZvHTB_yUT2q2csgAI2uDkbLSXIlVHiSvJ6b85bK0xFfaLkE_WA0n-kaEO5duhCUzzeFv_-lQApSNyn1P6XkV393jkC67hJRxIylkTF901GE1zN-CxwFq5LHyD8aBiFNwxoFp5_A/s1600-h/P1010945.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnEKJZvHTB_yUT2q2csgAI2uDkbLSXIlVHiSvJ6b85bK0xFfaLkE_WA0n-kaEO5duhCUzzeFv_-lQApSNyn1P6XkV393jkC67hJRxIylkTF901GE1zN-CxwFq5LHyD8aBiFNwxoFp5_A/s200/P1010945.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267492383834309714" border="0" /></a>Last Saturday, the half of the fifth-year students celebrated their Stužková. To explain Stužková, we can say it is a mixture of prom, graduation, and parent's night.<br /><br />The night began around 6:30 p.m. when the students entered into a reception hall in dresses and suits. Each of their names is called and each of them go to receive a green ribbon from their class teacher. This ribbon, I believe, symbolizes hope for the students in passing their exit<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsY8M8n-9jriMJeq6zBiLlmmUf2IjXloqA1_Q_CiTrONrrJ8bPrFFjfZmH9A-C5zAyNMwnbGkwjQ4SyDgP3y5BXpO1wbxV3BID1xSjrwaLj3OBvsdw9FuuGDom8kfcXxRgYEPGF0tbyU/s1600-h/P1010951.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsY8M8n-9jriMJeq6zBiLlmmUf2IjXloqA1_Q_CiTrONrrJ8bPrFFjfZmH9A-C5zAyNMwnbGkwjQ4SyDgP3y5BXpO1wbxV3BID1xSjrwaLj3OBvsdw9FuuGDom8kfcXxRgYEPGF0tbyU/s200/P1010951.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267493112326802674" border="0" /></a> exams. They are congratulated by their class teacher, the god teacher, and the vice-principal. The class teacher is the teacher who checks their grades and attendance over the five years. The god teacher is something like a god parent, we might say.<br /><br />Then the select students give speeches to their families and the teachers, and then the class teacher gives a speech, and then a parent gives a speech. Fortunately, I seated myself next to a Slovak colleague who could translate these speeches for me.<br /><br />After the speeches, the students dance with a parent and then dance with a teacher. We had to dance a waltz, and I had never waltzed before. So, prior to going to the reception hall, I ha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIYI8vfhasFaZOuRo4Gu9mHzDT3pjvQk_f0GC82A7qo9U7K-Zox2tVQelGL0LnuoCxVnGGbWahB7f3PIDaGOZozWgkksLbwNM0UJtorg_pJJXniCjf_hLP-WPA6UZDyoibbEZgegmIH8/s1600-h/P1010955.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIYI8vfhasFaZOuRo4Gu9mHzDT3pjvQk_f0GC82A7qo9U7K-Zox2tVQelGL0LnuoCxVnGGbWahB7f3PIDaGOZozWgkksLbwNM0UJtorg_pJJXniCjf_hLP-WPA6UZDyoibbEZgegmIH8/s200/P1010955.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267494085067382370" border="0" /></a>d someone teach me how to waltz in three minutes. I was excited to show off my skills. Nevertheless, when I walk on the dance floor with the student who was supposed to dance with me, she says, "You don't have to waltz. We can just move from side to side." This was a real heart breaker. Imagine me standing up there ready to show off my skills and she tells me to just move from side to side.<br /><br />Finally, after all the speeches and dances, we got to eat. It was past 8 p.m. The food was delicious. Dinner began with an appetizer: ham and whipped cream. When I think of good appetizers, I think of ham and whipped cream. Then we had soup, follow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoVS4wzsHfjWooChQJK-q98MREk8URl-iuKRSyF9-BlWCKWQ-8QtWds4MbRVA-fshf7aN2bSZKfkCR83vlwedasIehkx1eKua-qOT57IJhKEgVB2BNgUCxOHkAWajjXuKg-lEYMKMFmA/s1600-h/P1010958.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoVS4wzsHfjWooChQJK-q98MREk8URl-iuKRSyF9-BlWCKWQ-8QtWds4MbRVA-fshf7aN2bSZKfkCR83vlwedasIehkx1eKua-qOT57IJhKEgVB2BNgUCxOHkAWajjXuKg-lEYMKMFmA/s200/P1010958.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267494888362660882" border="0" /></a>ed by chicken and rice. I was satisfied with the meal. I'm not a good person to ask about how good food is though because I'll eat anything.<br /><br />After dinner was an informal program. The students performed many skits, dances, and songs. A few stood out. First was "Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2" by some students. The teachers said to each other, "Well, they don't need no education. So I guess no school on Monday then." The next was eight-person "song" routine in which one person begins the "song" by saying, in Slovak of course, what his job is like and then the next person fo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01ZayXJdS1ppojR-rV4mOhS3MhQbB6XHFhtdxxnZIh6bIyjeFJxnNjhGhY6bZHSoA5BfJXBDEi_oX6JVbf7H7NEGQQ63hxN74xfU0LJaj5wcjkS-CMTMJS1SlkQMalwxjeuJyd8f1POY/s1600-h/P1010981.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01ZayXJdS1ppojR-rV4mOhS3MhQbB6XHFhtdxxnZIh6bIyjeFJxnNjhGhY6bZHSoA5BfJXBDEi_oX6JVbf7H7NEGQQ63hxN74xfU0LJaj5wcjkS-CMTMJS1SlkQMalwxjeuJyd8f1POY/s200/P1010981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267496358198670450" border="0" /></a>llows but the first person continues as well. Imagine something like "Twelve Days of Christmas" but each day of Christmas is said at the same time. The best was probably the belly-dance routine. If you cannot see in the above picture, I am wearing a pink tie. I planned on wearing a blue tie, but I encourage by my friends to wear a pink tie. So I did. Nevertheless, a few of the students gave me a hard time about the tie. They said it looked "homosexual." Ironically, not a half-hour later, one of them was belly dancing in girl's clothes. Their dance <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZpm2-ExSyUrhi-1jW7Bo7XDEWsmeMasNvgO8BuED7K5RFKLwMqSS-i4bJgeediPN8vKNiX7fWNXPze89cPhjBJkCxjQGFKWIkNlQ7NEGS_SaRM26p4uMuqPHoLmGYo3YHvDvg-J1u9A/s1600-h/P1020003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZpm2-ExSyUrhi-1jW7Bo7XDEWsmeMasNvgO8BuED7K5RFKLwMqSS-i4bJgeediPN8vKNiX7fWNXPze89cPhjBJkCxjQGFKWIkNlQ7NEGS_SaRM26p4uMuqPHoLmGYo3YHvDvg-J1u9A/s200/P1020003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267497707628360754" border="0" /></a>was rather humorous and I made sure to point out the hypocrisy in what the student said earlier. Perhaps the student have learned something about stereotypes and the neutrality of colors through this experience.<br /><br />The informal program did not get over until after midnight, when a second dinner was waiting for us outside. The only thing better than dinner is having two dinners. The second dinner was similar to the first, but I didn't mind at all. After the second dinner was the dance which began around 1 a.m. and ended around 5 a.m.<br /><br />My roommate Larry was able to dance the entire four hours, non-stop; however, I was not this strong. I have to commend the guy. He's 61 years old and danced longer than anyone else, and, to put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence, he did all this dancing after losin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCqhfbKD8otd00S2VHne4mG6Wll-CCjHNd0SG0KjTTw8sDLiJ1PQ5Ev5m9sTfwsWDS8SPaXagZ-N1JAUO0hquoPrDgvqZBl5LQHRA5R1kxrudjub6cpXA1-VLdhUqHTWGMh-OVxKZRHw/s1600-h/P1020021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCqhfbKD8otd00S2VHne4mG6Wll-CCjHNd0SG0KjTTw8sDLiJ1PQ5Ev5m9sTfwsWDS8SPaXagZ-N1JAUO0hquoPrDgvqZBl5LQHRA5R1kxrudjub6cpXA1-VLdhUqHTWGMh-OVxKZRHw/s200/P1020021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267499202673098610" border="0" /></a>g his big toenail during the dance. How does that happen?<br /><br />At around 4 a.m., the DJ said the dance was over. Then the students started a chant which began with "one more song" and continued to "two more songs" and "three more songs" and so on until the DJ continued playing music. He stopped at 5 a.m. I was dead tired. As I looked around the dance floor, I noticed the number of students was doubled by the number of teachers. How does that happen? We're old. They're young.<br /><br />The dance part was nice because not all of the students danced and I had <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI_-RiY19YwLxFsMk2Mo3o8Aa-rw4PD4GR_PoJH9uC2d-Wc9vXppk0d3N3NR1rJPh7KjymZwtd6k7iNahekT_DpSv-sg8lqi5Vi9w7W9hiab0Ub4XAGCRhYyUrDy5YYyP17QEzYP0SFw/s1600-h/P1020028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI_-RiY19YwLxFsMk2Mo3o8Aa-rw4PD4GR_PoJH9uC2d-Wc9vXppk0d3N3NR1rJPh7KjymZwtd6k7iNahekT_DpSv-sg8lqi5Vi9w7W9hiab0Ub4XAGCRhYyUrDy5YYyP17QEzYP0SFw/s200/P1020028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267498414744207746" border="0" /></a>an opportunity to talk with them. With some of the students, I talked about the differences between prom and Stužková. This was an interesting conversation because one of the students studied in Canada the previous year and then got to experience both of these. From my observation, prom is very individual and Stužková is about the particular class of students as a whole. At Stužková, no one has a date. Their boyfriend or girlfriend might have been invited to sit with their family, but they do not come as a couple.<br /><br />I finally returned home at 5:40 a.m. The students were very thankful that we stayed with them until the end. My experience with Stužková is not over, however. Two weeks from now, I will get to celebrate with the other class. There's nothing I enjoy more than staying up until 5 a.m. with a bunch of students.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-51209516827903829892008-11-05T07:42:00.000-08:002008-11-05T08:56:27.536-08:00Crazy Professor Lichtenberger Makes A FunnyYesterday, I conducted a simple vote with my 3rd-year students, who study American Literature, asking them to write down which candidate they would vote for president if they could. As I expected, the majority of the students chose Obama. While talking about the election, I tried to remain neutral, pointing out the good and bad in each candidate. These students tend to develop their own opinions anyway.<br /><br />Coming into class today, many of them were very excited about the outcome.<br /><br />"Professor, Barack Obama won," one of the girls exclaimed.<br /><br />"I am so excited that an African-American will be president," another noted.<br /><br />Flashback in time. Early this morning, I attended an election party hosted by the American Embassy at a hotel in Bratislava. Unable to sleep, I woke up at 2 a.m. The event began at 9 p.m. the previous night, but I told myself I would attend if I woke up early in the morning. After laying in bed for nearly two hours, trying to decide whether getting up was worth it or not (wee hours are difficult), I crawled out of bed when my cell phone rang with my friends calling to tell me to join the election party. So, tired and a bit frustrated with a lack of sleep, I walked over to the hotel. On a ten-minute walk through the Old Town, I saw a total of three people. And people have dubbed Bratislava "Party-slava." Where do they get this idea from?<br /><br />My frustation grew when I reached the hotel and approached the sign-in desk. After slowly spelling my last name and repeating it numerous times (as you can imagine, with a last name like "Lichtenberger", this process is expected but still annoying), the hosts told me to pick a button from a box partitioned in two. The buttons said "I support Obama" or "I support McCain."<br /><br />Not noticing any other buttons, neutral, "Proud to be an American," or "I'm Just Here for the Free Food" buttons, I said, "I'd rather not wear a button, actually," First, I despise buttons; they put holes in clothes. Second, the candidate I supported was my own business.<br /><br />"But you must wear one so that the security guards know that you are here for the election party," they responded, probably thinking this was a clever way to identify partygoers.<br /><br />Recalling the time, 4 a.m., and that no one was in the lobby and no one stood between the host desk and the security guards, I desperately desired to defy them: "I think it will be okay if I go without a button and you just wave at them to say that I can enter."<br /><br />Nevertheless, I decided to play the game. So looking into the box, I asked, "May I at least take both then?" Considering the time and the event ending in two hours and the number of buttons left, I figured they would let me. Not so. Upon taking a button, I walked 20 feet from the desk to the security guards, showed them the button, and put it in my pocket. I'm such a rebel.<br /><br />I had imagined Obama would win the election; however, sitting in front of the television watching CNN announcing Obama would be the next president and listening to him speak in front of a crowd in Chicago, I began to wonder, "Is this really happening?"<br /><br />I must be honest. At times, I have a slight affection for '90s rap. Ninety-five percent of the time, I despise the lyrics, the mistreatment of women and the language; however, every once in a while, I recall a song about social or racial injustices that I find particurally important. In one of these songs, an artist says, "We ain't ready to see a black president." Well, ready or not, here he comes.<br /><br />Back in the classroom, thinking of the events of earlier this morning, I said to the class, "It is really amazing the changes that have occurred in the United States in the last fifty some years from the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement to today. I am pleasantly surprised."<br /><br />Then, considering the race relations in Slovakia, I announced, "Someday, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia."<br /><br />Nearly everyone in the class began to smirk and laugh. "A gypsy, president of Slovakia?" They questioned. "You're kidding. Professor, gypsies are different from blacks. They are lazy."<br /><br />"Yes, this is true: they are different," I replied. "But all the same, someday, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia. Maybe not next year, or in five years, or in ten years, or in fifty years, but, in your lifetime, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia. A similar thing would probably have happened in classrooms in America fifty years ago if you said a black person would be president. So, you remember this day. You remember that crazy Professor Lichtenberger foretold this event years before it happened, and remember that you laughed."<br /><br />People, ideas, and time all change in unexpectable ways. My students are just kids (I'm a pretty big kid myself, too) and must be reminded of the nature of life. I can only hope that the outcome of the U.S. election can play an important role for these people, my students and the citizens of this country I am learning about, not because of Obama's policies or popularity or what he will do, or won't do, as president, but because of the barriers that exist between people which are continuing to fall. I try to remember that by no means are race, social, or gender relations perfect now or even in the near future.<br /><br />Jung developed the theory of Collective Unconscious, the idea that there exists a knowledge that is common to all people. Some would say through this theory that when one person discovers something, it becomes infinitely easier for someone else to discover this same thing. Whether this theory is a reality does not matter. It is similar to something Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote, just as injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere, a victory over injustice anywhere is a victory over injustice everywhere. Like as a smile is contagious in a crowd, perhaps the development of people is a benevolent infection that crosses oceans.<br /><br />Be it in five years, ten years, or fifty years, I look forward to the day when I turn on my computer and hear that a gypsy is president of Slovakia. I like to imagine my students having children and telling them about crazy Professor Lichtenberger, his beard, and how he said a whole lot that they didn't quite comprehend then but, after years of consideration, finally understood.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-2764725117098935092008-11-01T03:01:00.000-07:002008-11-01T04:09:32.092-07:00Sedlec Ossuary<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdE3Aj5bAM5Z4LmLAht0anZ3EcKIt-v7bBgD1jpCS2jM42dyslfM7zRhkz7t3fETGvEPKf3UvJpo5SWa6L9svNRSgI7URD00F6a76wm4ELGhm2uOAFoLfVXKAI7h9TRvSx0-RhJNDBBQ/s1600-h/195.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdE3Aj5bAM5Z4LmLAht0anZ3EcKIt-v7bBgD1jpCS2jM42dyslfM7zRhkz7t3fETGvEPKf3UvJpo5SWa6L9svNRSgI7URD00F6a76wm4ELGhm2uOAFoLfVXKAI7h9TRvSx0-RhJNDBBQ/s200/195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263629559930683906" border="0" /></a>Our school had Thursday and Friday of this week off for Fall Break. So, my friends Amy, Jozi, Alicia, and I took a trip to the Czech Republic on Friday. The destination was the Sedlec Ossuary outside of Kutna Hora. My college buddy Josh had somehow discovered this church on the Internet and told me about it. The ossuary contains 40,000 - 70,000 human skeletons artistically arranged. These bones created pyramids, wall decorations, crosses, chalices, a coat of arms, and a chandelier among many things.<br /><br />Stepping into the ossuary, I could hardly <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z9aO2bUF6pndkvu_5AG6akE2hfSNWWn67yixkuGuJ3Bputrx0NGY96XjYMFbM6U7DJYeqbNbuosHfaoVetoqBHugZdQ94FcZQWqRuU4NPwCDoIljU42KrDNhe1aCKhCuvviv-SBReUk/s1600-h/093.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4z9aO2bUF6pndkvu_5AG6akE2hfSNWWn67yixkuGuJ3Bputrx0NGY96XjYMFbM6U7DJYeqbNbuosHfaoVetoqBHugZdQ94FcZQWqRuU4NPwCDoIljU42KrDNhe1aCKhCuvviv-SBReUk/s200/093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263631050683718322" border="0" /></a>contain myself. "Holy cow, look at all the bones" is all I could say. It was difficult not to laugh. After walking around the ossuary for a few minutes, I no longer saw humor in the situation but a fantastic message. "Death doesn't make any difference," said the handout given to us as we entered.<br /><br />Walking through this ossuary was different than walking through a cemetery. In a cemetery, one only sees names, and sometimes pictures. In this ossuary, one only sees bones, and absolutely no names. Some of the bones were placed behind glass. These were the skulls of some who fought in the Hussite Wars during the 15th century. The others were undistinguishable.<br /><br />"Each of these skulls belonged to a person who had a life," Jozi said.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQ417t364lez1seVL_cI89dEecotLg5MCPMzfc8NgQDVv-XZL94zodJ9btof8KTR4RIZPO7kYCU0BlQckSX45MiVSyf9EgnpOdkQOLd1wVd3jOZyUWfRKmpmR6g1RL2tcZ68crABRzaM/s1600-h/099.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQ417t364lez1seVL_cI89dEecotLg5MCPMzfc8NgQDVv-XZL94zodJ9btof8KTR4RIZPO7kYCU0BlQckSX45MiVSyf9EgnpOdkQOLd1wVd3jOZyUWfRKmpmR6g1RL2tcZ68crABRzaM/s200/099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263630319936305186" border="0" /></a><br />What were their lives like? What was important to them? What were their names? Most of them died of the plague. Other than that, we know nothing. They are the nameless.<br /><br />Yet, we see something. We see the effects of their actions. In death, we no longer live, but each of our actions and inactions are monumental and eternal. To influence the world, we need not run for president, be a famous writer or celebrity, or invent a new technology that changes the way we live. To influence the world, we need not do anythin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXk2VmWxWXCbNcpQ8H18Y0GMkCRLA2WbH1mhlbnN35zHC1yv-Se9RyxSc1Cng6Iy18rt0yiwvaVWGljGIhp6vpqh__7e0CwyAWAThAaYkeTFFUp9zL_d4HwWR0NnFWz7ZpUVv9C11pnI/s1600-h/132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXk2VmWxWXCbNcpQ8H18Y0GMkCRLA2WbH1mhlbnN35zHC1yv-Se9RyxSc1Cng6Iy18rt0yiwvaVWGljGIhp6vpqh__7e0CwyAWAThAaYkeTFFUp9zL_d4HwWR0NnFWz7ZpUVv9C11pnI/s200/132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263635142286331218" border="0" /></a>g. We have already influenced and are still influencing the world. Who knows how far-reaching are our actions? We might develop an idea that travels worldwide. We might teach someone something. We might even do something as mundane as raise children effectly. Or we might just do nothing. Even this inaction is action.<br /><br />Even in these people's deaths, these nameless bones are still communicating this message. But we can take this message further. Though on the outside we appear different, on the inside we are the same. We consider ourselves so different but we are 99.9999% the same. We live through similar experiences but we see ourselves are unreachably different. We're the same species. Isn't that enough?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhys3G0Xf1TzYnVTeYULn0HdEAwV0VdooRkuuLiw6tYKk0H3K0pUAEGv3-Q4vhP1TxpHvuCq92xwUl2y9TQKWSl_iZfn3I7Yh4WtESBJ3WA-3Be9yvNdLxPEJ5TlUyKhzZmDMDuIyXrQUQ/s1600-h/136.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhys3G0Xf1TzYnVTeYULn0HdEAwV0VdooRkuuLiw6tYKk0H3K0pUAEGv3-Q4vhP1TxpHvuCq92xwUl2y9TQKWSl_iZfn3I7Yh4WtESBJ3WA-3Be9yvNdLxPEJ5TlUyKhzZmDMDuIyXrQUQ/s200/136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263637954125760546" border="0" /></a><br />Though this ossuary might be considered scary. Full of millions of bones, this ossuary might give someone the hibbie-jibbies, especially on Halloween. After walking out of the ossuary, we could only see bones in everything.<br /><br />Nevertheless, the scary factor was completly outweighed by the message. The entire time I had a verse from Paul in my head: "Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. Not death nor life." What an amazing verse to contemplate during this visit.<br /><br />When we were leaving the ossuary, I told my friends that I did not want to be buried in a casket but wanted my body to be useful for something. Alicia too<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YzJuyf5hesvgELx36HNtX7qNPpULTc8X5yyFOiZ8L9_b3NSH1GIYVNwqdRYPMJaJZn06BNfaItdQ214k4855B54URM0VvLi-MDtHsUx5RqvYoEmGTc_FZ9rF4VaNXVZwr8OSwjEkXvE/s1600-h/104.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YzJuyf5hesvgELx36HNtX7qNPpULTc8X5yyFOiZ8L9_b3NSH1GIYVNwqdRYPMJaJZn06BNfaItdQ214k4855B54URM0VvLi-MDtHsUx5RqvYoEmGTc_FZ9rF4VaNXVZwr8OSwjEkXvE/s200/104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263639577964415842" border="0" /></a>k the seriousness out of me. "Okay, we will just drap your body over a chandelier at the Lyceum." I'm glad someone was a little lighthearted than myself.<br /><br />Thanks to Josh for recommending this place to me.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8909288659231777880.post-78183285594354422472008-10-28T09:08:00.000-07:002008-10-28T09:25:03.380-07:00Munich Madness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2y8mnYIBAFig-QBO2DIvfQpXdtRTx9WTjqHUVWEcaOJ4MYqEE8R9WmtWfhL8mxoVSNXCV3mxlWyhf00g_1mriB59LSrzGDf7LDWIfjZBCJeDQEV84lvzZkjJi9HVFPprN2meYTJaWj8U/s1600-h/DSC00069.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2y8mnYIBAFig-QBO2DIvfQpXdtRTx9WTjqHUVWEcaOJ4MYqEE8R9WmtWfhL8mxoVSNXCV3mxlWyhf00g_1mriB59LSrzGDf7LDWIfjZBCJeDQEV84lvzZkjJi9HVFPprN2meYTJaWj8U/s200/DSC00069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262238068064303170" border="0" /></a>Earlier in October, I went to Oktoberfest in Munich.<br /><br />I had planned on leaving Bratislava with a friend and then meeting another friend in Munich. However, both of them canceled on me. I questioned whether I should go or not. I decided to go anyway because I had already bought the ticket.<br /><br />I left Bratislava Friday night and planned on staying in a sleeping car at night. However, I had no place to stay Saturday night. I planned on sleeping at the train station. Two of my friends went to Oktoberfest the year before and said the train station was an acceptable place to sleep. Finding a hostel or hotel in Munich during Oktoberfest is like finding a needle in a haystack. A bit worried and a touch excited, I was planning on bordering my second train when I received a message from a friend who said she had a friend who would let me stay with her Saturday night. What good news!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNF7WhtUgmGSycJUfsKhLKZtaVAkfi37eze1R2eyfDmwaAQRjW76DdEjjP8Ns_BuDh40G_UM6y3Uws5DoKU_uVenezzNeerbE5bch4ESVNRtjQRo6JU8CXEHwXGKUvIvoutYerXNv0R8/s1600-h/DSC00054.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNF7WhtUgmGSycJUfsKhLKZtaVAkfi37eze1R2eyfDmwaAQRjW76DdEjjP8Ns_BuDh40G_UM6y3Uws5DoKU_uVenezzNeerbE5bch4ESVNRtjQRo6JU8CXEHwXGKUvIvoutYerXNv0R8/s200/DSC00054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262239758583270530" border="0" /></a><br />I arrived Saturday morning at 6:30 and walked around the town for three hours before going to Oktoberfest. After some time, I called my friend's friend, Verena, and we met up at Oktoberfest. We were then fortunate enough to enter a tent. Getting into a tent without a reservation is just as hard as finding a hostel or hotel during Oktoberfest. Inside the tent was one big celebration of singing, dancing, eating, and drinking. Everyone was merry.<br /><br />Sunday, I walked around town with my hostesses friends. The city was very charming. I enjoyed the city very much except for the large number of people w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxIsawdb_zJbV9MFSRFufFyt3HY6Z0B2T3dQnoJVttZ8He-au5C_dvXVAOtsLtalfylFgNjbGyciDRlak717i-kfINEwA3J1ce2dEMmDseoKSoB3UHWbymw9_Lgog6vbwtD0OZSACAd8/s1600-h/DSC00084.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxIsawdb_zJbV9MFSRFufFyt3HY6Z0B2T3dQnoJVttZ8He-au5C_dvXVAOtsLtalfylFgNjbGyciDRlak717i-kfINEwA3J1ce2dEMmDseoKSoB3UHWbymw9_Lgog6vbwtD0OZSACAd8/s200/DSC00084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262240269474346578" border="0" /></a>ho were still intoxicated at 10 a.m. from the day before.<br /><br />One of my favorite places was a church in which there was a footprint in one of the tiles. My hostess, Verena, said that this was the footprint of the Devil. I decided to see how big his feet were, and, turns out, we have the same shoe size. Either that or I am the Devil.<br /><br />After walking around town, I caught a train back to Bratislava. The trip was very exciting and an emotional roller coaster.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50iK2d5XrTdsMzoi1-omVpz9i4Hsjr2kyL7DFi5y2mHR0ZQDdBmKz0B5R4n7_pERmvUPftxPJZjsN3kpz8k8wRO2OU3mMzj-JlYA0hH5hfbAIygPlDn87ezhy_oeyLGPpZ-ep7grJ2hg/s1600-h/DSC00052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50iK2d5XrTdsMzoi1-omVpz9i4Hsjr2kyL7DFi5y2mHR0ZQDdBmKz0B5R4n7_pERmvUPftxPJZjsN3kpz8k8wRO2OU3mMzj-JlYA0hH5hfbAIygPlDn87ezhy_oeyLGPpZ-ep7grJ2hg/s200/DSC00052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262241096774422674" border="0" /></a><br />For those who were wondering what the Oktoberfest Police Station looked like. Turns out this building is permanent. Everything else at Oktoberfest is taken down except for the police building. So, they use the building for two weeks and it stands there with computers and whatever else they have in a police station for 50 weeks a year.Danielhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07943793777425160855noreply@blogger.com0