Travel Journal 4 | Je ne parle pas français

French is a beautiful language and I would like to formally apologize to every French speaker I interacted with in the past three months for butchering it. I would also like to thank all of them for their incredible patience and understanding as I tried to remember how to say “fourteen” or “cat” with an apologetic look on my face. It’s pretty suiting then that the two words I used the most were “désolé” and “merci.”

One of our first tests in French class was to say or write six to eight sentences about ourselves and where we live. I remember telling my parents this and my mom responding with, “It’s been four weeks and you can only say six sentences?” But for me, that was a lot, and every time I learned something new to say, I would repeat it in the back of my head over and over again. I held onto even the most mundane French phrases like precious sweets, rolling them over my tongue as if to tattoo the taste.

Travel Journal 3 | Reflections on Nazism and Politicalism (and other ism’s)

“The past is never dead. It isn’t even in the past.” William Faulkner

Looking back on World War II, the Nazis, and the genocide doesn’t feel incredibly politicized to me. I know they’re out there, but I have never personally met a Holocaust denier. I don’t know anyone who flies a Nazi flag or tries to justify the party’s actions. Seventy years later we regard the whole era as an international, inhumane tragedy. Millions visit Holocaust museums, concentration and death camps, and other memorials and walk away mystified and disgusted by the evils of humanity. We said and still say, “Never again.”

And I believe we mean it. I believe we want to be pure-souled and good-natured. I just don’t know if we are currently executing our seemingly honest and authentic intentions.

Travel Journal 2 | Journey to Munich

Two weeks ago I arrived in Munich for my History of Nazism course through The Village. After thousands of pages of readings, papers, and evening discussions, what I learned was suddenly, so tangibly, within reach. We explored greater Munich area where the Nazi party grew in size and power, eventually executing its plans for mass genocide.

Here in Pontlevoy, France – our home base for The Village program – we have a “museum in the streets”; plaques and photographs line alleyways and monumental areas, depicting the historical and political importance of our little town. Now, if we were to create a similar exhibition in the streets of Munich, we may be able to show people the rise and regime of the Nazi party, emphasizing the significance of certain sites.

Nuremberg houses the original Nazi party rally grounds and Congress, taking over 11 square kilometers. During its regime, the Nazi party held six rallies there between 1933-1938, intended to be a sort of mecca for the government to organize and centralize nationalism. The architecture of the Congress building itself embodies the Nazi emphasis on efficiency, order, and authoritative rule with granite arches reminiscent of Roman monuments, although absent of any decoration or ornament.

Summer Reflection + Fall Anticipation | Life Update

I distinctly remember entering August with a long list of blogging ideas and a slightly shorter end-of-summer bucket list. And now, with both feet in September, it looks like I need to move on and move forward into autumn.

I’ve never been the type of person who held on to the last moments of summer. As a kid, I was always excited to start a new school year, and as a slightly older kid, my appreciation for “fresh starts” has only deepened. This fall, I probably get the freshest start I could ask for at this point in my life. I’m writing from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. I’m checking off my “study abroad” bullet point in my ever-growing life bucket list, and traveling Europe for the rest of the year.

Strangely enough, I didn’t try to rush to August, constantly waiting for this moment, my arrival. I wasn’t nervous with anticipation, but instead filled with admiration for Holland, the whole state of Michigan, our lakes, and of course, the people around me.

Maybe it’s because this time I’ll be gone for almost 4 months with no visits and less phone calls. Maybe I’ve grown wise and all-knowing after one year of college (doubt that). But the more I shuffle around and the more parts of the world I see, the more I realize that the home I grew up in probably won’t be the only home I have in my life. I spent the summer in my bedroom, already missing it.