Vermont - In which the trees appear to be on fire and a cow eats my favorite shirt

It's long been a tradition of mine, or at least I have desired it to be a tradition, to go on a whirlwind tour of some beautiful part of New England over Columbus Day weekend. This desire first hit me when I visited Bar Harbor one year on a college visit, and I enjoyed the experience so much that I have tried to regain that excitement every year since. This year I got particularly lucky. My anniversary and Columbus Day weekend happen to coincide, leading to one magical trip to one of my absolute favorite states, Vermont.

 I've always loved Vermont. While living in New Hampshire my family would take frequent trips across the border, sometimes driving for hours just to go to a breakfast restaurant located in an old maple sugar house. The rustic charm, breathtaking beauty, rolling hills covered in barns, and environmentally conscious nature of the state has endeared it to me. Riding through the scenic byways, it was a pleasure to stop and get out of the car when there were school children helping to press fresh apple cider on the side of the road, or to wander through scenic little towns and sample cheese in the general country stores. In some ways, taking a trip through Vermont is a bit like stepping back in time.

We also got to zip up to Burlington, where we wandered through Church Street Marketplace and got to experience a little bit of the college vibe that comes from a city with three major colleges all located near the downtown. By far my favorite part is the view of Lake Champlain. The amazing combination of mountain landscape, a vast stretch of water, and the buzzing energy of college students is what makes this city so enchanting.

From Burlington we hightailed it over to one of my childhood memories, the Ben and Jerry's factory. Of course, it was the busiest weekend of the year, but it was absolutely worth fighting the crowds to pay homage to what feels like the promised land of ice cream. While waiting for the factory tour, we took a quick hike up to the flavor graveyard where countless people came to either pull a disgusted face at the flavors that quite frankly should never have been made or to mourn over a long lost ice cream love. I, personally, am still saddened by the loss of Bovinity Divinity, a white chocolate and dark chocolate ice cream swirled with white chocolate and dark chocolate cows. If there is an ice cream that gets more Vermont than that, I'm not sure what it is.

 I took another trip down memory lane when we stopped at Queechee Gorge. Unfortunately, a lot of my favorite things that used to be around here have closed: the general store is gone, and the corn man, who used to roast fresh corn on a grill and dribble it in butter before handing it to you with a bonus gift of his own clever sayings, is just a distant memory. But the beauty of the place is still spectacular. The picture does it little justice, but looking straight down from the bridge as a passing truck rattles the ground beneath you really reminds you exactly how far down the gorge runs.

No trip through Vermont is complete without a trip to a few scenic towns, and we stopped in Stowe for a couple of hours to explore one of the towns that is frequently described as a classic New England experience. One of my favorite discoveries was this lion that the local blacksmith assembled and put up in the woods behind his shop.

 The town was clearly ready for the Democratic debates and was repping a bit of Bernie pride.

 Now I'm going to warn you. I adore cows. I think they are absolutely adorable and their big brown eyes are enough to endear me to any of them in a heartbeat. So prepare yourself. You're about to see a lot of them. One of our last stops was Billings Farm, a little museum of a farm that is famous for breeding jersey cows and for being supported by a long lineage of environmentalists. I came to see the cows and found myself sucked into the life of a farmer.

 The cow with the black nose was one of the friendliest animals I have ever met. When I stood by the fence, it nuzzled its nose into my stomach and tried licking my shoes, my hands, my shirt even. It wasn't until I returned home that night that I looked down to find a very small hole in my favorite shirt where the cow must have started to nibble on me. I'd be mad, but it's hard to stay mad at that face.

 The babies were equally adorable. Billings Farm doesn't keep most of their cows since they will send them to others farms to improve their herds, but it was a pleasure to see the ones that were still around.

Overall, it was an absolutely spectacular weekend. Though the colors in some of the places resembled rust a little bit more than the stereotypically brilliant New England colors (I blame the dry summer), there were still a lot of places where if you blurred your eyes, the forest looked like it was on fire around you. Driving through the countryside was an opportunity to disconnect, breath in the crisp fall air, and to think about a simpler way of life.

Bolshie Koty - In which I swim in a fresh water sea and learn about copepod foreplay

Siberia was never on my list of destinations. My only real knowledge of the place came from my senior English class when we read A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, so whenever I heard of Siberia, I pictured a frozen tundra with hard work and little food. But I'm up for new adventures, so when my professor asked if I'd like to come to Siberia this summer to help on a research project, I jumped at the opportunity and threw myself in whole-heartedly. What a wonderful surprise it was to get to Bolshie Koty, the little village in which the biological station was, and to see the absolute beauty awaiting us at Lake Baikal.

Lake Baikal is the deepest lake in the world. If you think the Great Lakes in the states are pretty big, just consider that the volume of Lake Baikal can fit a few of the Great Lakes combined. This huge lake is often called the Sacred Sea, and it is biologically fascinating for many reasons. It has tons of species in this lake that exist nowhere else in the world, including the only freshwater seal, the Nerpa, and it has an incredibly rich cultural history with the native people. I came to the lake to study Epischura, a type of copepod that is really important in the food web. The team hoped to discover what kind of food these copepods prefer to feed on. This meant that I got to spend some time setting up the experiment, and picking copepods out of lake water with a pipette. These little guys are super fast and very zippy, making this both a challenging task and an exciting one. They also have some pretty interesting behaviors when it comes to mating which involved stroking certain hairs on their backs, and when we were searching for copepods we found quite a few females with eggs.

Bolshie Koty is a village that remains quite small, despite a recent growth in tourism to the lake. Most people leave when winter comes, leaving only about 5 people in the valley to weather the cold harsh Siberian winter. The town is full of dochas, or summer cottages, that usually have just a couple of rooms and a place to cook. There are no screens, only windows with lace curtains to block out some of the flies. Horses wander at will, munching on the wildflowers wherever they can find them and even opening gates to get into the biological station. 

 Horses aren't the only animals that have free reign of the town though. Cows also wander wherever they please. While at first I believed the local dogs were getting into the trash bags, I later realized my mistake.

 There were so many times the first few days that I was in Bolshie Koty where I thought, "It's so nice to be right by the ocean." Then I would have to stop and correct myself, reminding myself that this huge, seemingly endless body of water is actually a lake. Although you can see across to the mountains, if you look in either direction, the water doesn't seem to end. Unfortunately, after just a few days of staying in Bolshie Koty, serious forest fires hit the northern part of the forest surrounding the lake, and a thick smoke blocked out the view of the mountains for the rest of our stay. This, especially, made it feel even more like an ocean. 

I did manage to take a swim when I was there. The lake is so cold that swimming essentially involves a quick leap into the lake, 30 seconds treading water, and then a quick sprint out of the water. You then sit on the rocky beach for a few minutes, your feet aching as you start to regain feeling in your toes because a whole minute in the water was more than enough to make them go numb. And the water this summer was incredibly warm for Siberia.

 There is a park surrounding the lake, with hiking trails that are not very well marked and take you right along the cliffs of the mountains. The trails offer breathtaking views, minor confusion, and a lot of sweat and some prayers to whichever deity you think will save you from sliding down the mountain, but hiking in Russia is an absolutely unforgettable experience.

 This was one of the less scary parts of the hike. I felt like I was off on an adventure like Bilbo Baggins, and did, in fact, do a wobbly run down the road with my hiking companion yelling, "I'm going on an adventure" like a total American dork.

 I also befriended a couple of kitten when I was there. It made me feel a bit nostalgic for the days when I used to live on a farm and there were new kittens every summer. These particular kittens weren't the most friendly, but by the end of the three weeks they would let me pet them a bit before scampering off.

 The final day that I was there, I hiked up with the team to the top of the peak overlooking the village. It looked so different from above. While walking threw it, it was possible to see the people playing volleyball, the animals sorting through the trash, and the life of the little village, but from above it was obvious how truly small Bolshie Koty is. While it was not someplace I had ever planned on going, I am incredibly lucky to have seen something so few people get to.

Moscow - In which I step on Russian soil for the first time and rush to catch my next plane

So it turns out I wasn't very good at staying away from the blog. While I had decided that I would not write after I had left Spain, there are just too many cool places in this world to keep them all to myself. So here it is, I continue to photograph some of the beautiful things I've seen and offer them up as a diversion.

Since I traveled to Russia for scientific purposes, I didn't have enough space in my luggage to bring my nice camera that I took through Europe, so these photos may not be quite as nice as previous ones, but I hope they will give you a brief glimpse into what I saw.

 When I was on my way to Siberia, I had a 12 hour layover in Moscow, so a friend and I decided that we would take the time and venture into the city. Without a plan, a map, and any sleep, we found our way through the subway to the center of the tourist section of the city, where you can find St. Basil's Cathedral and the Kremlin. Getting out of the train, the city struck me as very clean, organized, and surprisingly quiet. We found very few people on the streets up until we got to the Kremlin. Apparently this is not usually how people envision Moscow, and it is probably not what the majority of Moscow is like, but the city does a very good job of putting its best foot forward to visitors.

 Red Square feels a little bit like an adult Disney World, mostly because the buildings all have a feeling of fantasy and color to them that I have seen in few other places, and with the vast expanse of the square stretched out before you, and perhaps because of my relief to be off of a ten hour flight, the space felt full of excitement and whimsy.

 It really was a pleasure to wander around the city with my friend as well. Since she speaks Russian and knows more about the culture than I do, I wasn't completely stumbling in the dark, despite the limited amount of time I had to get to know the city. For example, she was the one who told me that if I stood at this particular spot and threw a coin, I was supposed to be able to make a wish and have it granted. She may know why, but I don't, and in my sleep-addled state of mind I forgot to make a wish until after I had thrown the coin. Needless to say, it was a good thing I had her with me because I wouldn't have found my way around otherwise.

 Near the Red Square, there was a park with a nice little fountain running through it. It had lots of beautiful statues inside the canal, representing Russian fairy tales.

 Truly, I wish that I knew the stories behind the statues, or even the reason why this lion on top of a monument in the park seems ever so desperate, but in a way that is a bit of Moscow's charm for me. Since I had not slept for quite a while and was totally lost in a culture I knew nothing about, the city could become whatever I imagined it to be for just a few hours as I wandered around the streets filled with soldiers, women in 5 inch heels, and tourists gawking at the architecture.

Cordoba in May - In which I attend a lot of fiestas and say goodbye

Córdoba in May became a running joke between a lot of the PRESHCO students. Since first arriving in Córdoba, whenever we would meet a new Spaniard, they would tell us how lucky we were to come to Córdoba in the springtime because we would be in Córdoba for the blessed month of May. We better not plan any trips for that month, we better not leave the city, because this month is the best month of the year and you don't want to miss out on a single second. Yes, the unanimity of the enthusiasm for Córdoba in May was hysterical, but the truth is the Spaniards did not exaggerate the fun to be had.

May starts out with a festival called Cruces de Mayo. It's the first weekend, and it's a prime example of a festival that seems religious but actually has nothing to do with religion. 

 In almost every plaza, there is a cross made of flowers set up. There is also a stand selling alcohol, and music plays well into the morning. The mood of the cruces varies by plaza. Some crosses have more modern music, with a whole bunch of people swaying to the music, drinks in hand. Other crosses play typical Sevillanas music, with natives dancing the traditional dance of the region, each person giving it their own particular flair since most Spaniards learn the dance not from classes but from experience on the streets.

 The energy is intoxicating. Spaniards like their alcohol, and at this event the drink of choice is called "Rebujitos," which is essentially fine white wine mixed with Seven Up. While all of the stands offer this drink, most people seemed to prefer to make it themselves, meaning that wandering home at night was basically a trudge through Seven Up bottles before the street cleaners came and erased any evidence. The Spaniards party long, so the dancing stretches far into the wee hours of the morning.

After the raucous Cruces de Mayo, there is a more low key celebration, the Festival of Patios, in which home owners open up their private garden courtyards for the curious inspection of Córdoba natives and tourists alike. These gardens take an incredible amount of work, and are absolutely breathtaking. 

 Each patio has it's own flair, but a lot of them feature old artifacts or old kitchens from a Córdoba past. The patio in the photograph above has won first prize so many times that they no longer enter it in the competition because it isn't fair for one patio to win every year.

 In Córdoba, a city which reached 105 degrees Fahrenheit when I was their in May, these cool patios with fountains, shade, and flowers are incredibly important and a welcome relief from the direct midday sun.

 At the same time Córdoba had the "Batalla de las flores" or the "flower battle." This is essentially a parade where women, dressed in their best traditional gitana clothing, sit on floats decorated with paper flowers and throw carnation heads at members of the crowd. 

 The crowd, in return, catches the carnations, gathering them up from the ground or leaping into the air to grab them, and then throw them back. The effect is brilliant as the sky is filled with fresh flowers and the squeals of delighted children or surprised adults as a flower hits them right in the forehead.

 The Spaniards don't forget the fun to come though, and many of the floats either had arches modeled after the cathedral or like a caseta, a fair tent, or the wall of someone's patio.

 Next the program whisked us off to a nearby village, where we got to participate in a Romería. This is another party that seems like a religious festival but actually has very little to do with religion. In a Romería, the Spaniards get dressed up once again in their best gitana clothing, put a religious statue on a cart pulled by oxen, and march behind the cart to another church. People follow on foot, on horse, or pulled in a cart.

 The church we walked to was a couple miles away in the wilderness. We trailed along a dusty path, stopping every hour or so to eat and drink. We were surrounded by sunflower fields, olive groves, and a perfect blue sky.

 Some people followed in serious style. Besides the amazing clothing, some got to ride in spectacular floats such as this one.

 The oxen were absolutely enormous. They trudged slowly, but the pace was perfect for the warm air. Besides stopping every hour to gobble up sandwiches, cheese, apricots, water, and beer, the Spaniards also celebrated by singing the entire way to the church. This even was simultaneously one of the most ludicrous and beautiful things I have ever seen. Once the statue had been safely stowed in the church, everyone sat down in their own tents and continued to eat and drink for the next several hours, also taking breaks to dance some Sevillanas or take a stroll around the camp.

 Finally, we got to the event we had heard so much about since arriving, the Feria. Think a state fair, only instead of tents full of animals, make tents full of bars and music that are open till 6 am in the morning with excited young people dancing until the break of dawn.

 To get to the fair grounds, you have to cross a bridge lined with twinkling lights, the glittering brilliance of the rides calling you. Throngs of people head to the fair, even late at night because Spaniards are practically nocturnal when there is a party to be found.

 The besides the casetas, or the tents with dancing, the fair was a lot like something you would find in the United States, only there were food booths specifically for wine, and instead of a fried candy bar, I munched on churros filled with chocolate and fresh donuts drenched in Nutella. 

At the entrance of the fair is the spectacular model of the Mezquita, with the beautiful arches and tower gleaming in the darkness. According to the Spaniards, the one this year was quite small compared to the past. About half the size. Apparently budget cuts have hit the fair because of the economy. Despite the downsizing, I was still quite impressed, and the fair was an absolutely spectacular and magical experience, whether I was dancing in one of the tents for the various political parties in Spain, riding the Ferris Wheel (very American) or wandering among all of the people with chocolate staining my cheeks.

And with the month of May behind me, it was time to leave. I was so sad to leave Córdoba, so much so that I think I did most of my mourning before even leaving. I have rarely had as exciting a time as I did in Spain, so filled with friends and new experiences and culture. It was everything I had every dreamed of from a study abroad experience and more. I simply couldn't imagine prying myself away from this wonderful city that I had so whole heartedly embraced in the past months, and I dreaded leaving as much as I realized how incredibly lucky I was to have had the amount of time that I did. However, leaving Córdoba was much more difficult than being separated from the city. Now that I am home, with my family and friends, I am fine, and the adjustment has been much easier than I expected. I look back on Córdoba almost as if it were a dream, but the kind that is so vivid that even after waking you still feel like it is happening. I cherish every moment I had there, and one day I know I'll make it back to wander the streets and remember the blissful idyllic days of my youth.

A late view of Rome - In which I wander around gorgeous buildings and wonder what the Romans do

This blog is actually really late. I went to Rome two weeks ago but since then I have been running around like crazy trying to experience my last bit of time in Córdoba before I leave. However, I did want to show a bit of what I experienced while in Rome still, if just for having a complete well rounded list of blog entries for every place I went.

I stayed in a convent a short walk outside of the Vatican, which means that St. Peter's Square was my stomping ground for a couple of days. At night, this square that is drowning in people is absolutely beautiful and serene, something that you don't find a lot of in Rome. Sitting there and eating gelato was one of my favorite experiences of the trip.

The inside of St. Peter's is as grand as you would expect. It is the largest Cathedral in the world, and this is evident when you are inside it. It stands in baroque glory, and every detail has been very carefully cared for. It is a breathtaking monument to the power that the Catholic church has held through history.

The one thing that I will never understand about Baroque architecture is it's fascination with cherubs. These two are larger than life, bigger than a full grown adult, and I found them absolutely gaudy. Though I am not usually a fan of baroque architecture, the cathedral was quite beautiful right until I saw these.

My favorite part of this cathedral were the mosaics on the ceiling. And on the walls. Instead of paintings, the entire church has mosaics so that the artwork could be cleaned from the ash and soot from candles. The mosaics are so tiny though it is nearly impossible to tell that they aren't real paintings until you step up closer.

The Swiss Guard watches over the Vatican, and the outfits are a piece of art in themselves. This is an important job since the Vatican is probably the top tourist attraction in Rome. Which is why the Vatican has infamously long lines, whether you are trying to get into the basilica, or worse, into the Vatican Museum, where you get to see tons of precious religious artwork, but most importantly the Sistine Chapel.

Understandably the Sistine Chapel was nonnegotiable, and as a lover of art museums I stood dutifully in line for about an hour and a half. The wait in line was absolutely worth it. We were up against the walls of the Vatican, in the shade, the line moving steadily. I will say the vendors trying to sell selfie sticks and tours of the museum are relentless. They have a trapped audience and they work it to their advantage. Imagine yourself locked into a car dealership with a couple dealers who haven't eaten for a week and you have essentially the same feeling that you get when you stand in one place too long in the Vatican. 

That being said, the museum is spectacular. The artwork is breathtaking, the museum is enormous, and aside from the Sistine Chapel the Rafael rooms are a true work out art. However, the museum has a linear path through it which eventually leads you to the Sistine Chapel. It is impossible to stop and take in the artwork because there are so many people traipsing like cattle towards their ultimate destination, and if you stop you will be shoved into a statue or a corner with no hope of escape. You suddenly realize that that nice fast moving line that you just stood in has been steadily filling this enormous building with as many people possible all day, and they are all here for the same reason you are: the Sistine Chapel.

Which is spectacular. I don't have any photos of it because photography is not permitted. But I think anyone who is planning on going to the Sistine Chapel should know something. Visiting the Sistine Chapel is not a fairy tale, it is not an experience that will transcend you to another level of wonder in a still universe, it is an experience that you will have to take for the wonder that it provides as well as the annoyance. When I finally made it to the Sistine Chapel, the long line pushed its way up a small staircase and filed through some doors, where guards told us to cram further into the room. This small chapel was stuffed with people, a loud buzz echoing around from the excitement. You are pushed into the middle, where even as you stand to take in the artwork, someone pushes past you, shoving you every couple of seconds. It's a bit like standing in one place on the sidewalk of NYC at Christmas time. You look at the artwork, astonished, in disbelief that you are actually looking at something you have heard about your entire life. And then the guard comes on a loudspeaker to say "Be quiet, no photography" as your neighbor takes a flash photo in your face. The artwork is stunning, it will stir something deep inside you, and the sense of history is unbelievable. Despite Michelangelo's propensity to paint women as men with breasts, this is a masterpiece that will move you to feel something, but you also may be feeling something because your nerves have been rubbed raw by the crowds. 

After that, it was a pleasant relief to wander around Rome. The dome of the Pantheon was beautiful, and the building much less crowded. The sunlight streaming through the roof is breathtaking.

The many plazas in Rome are beautiful as well. If you try hard, you can actually cover all of the big monuments in one day. They are all close and anyone who loves walking will find strolling through the streets a pleasure. However, you will not be strolling with Romans. You will be strolling with tourists. There is this idea that is constantly referred to in pop culture that when in Rome, you should do as the Romans do. The truth is when in Rome, you will have trouble figuring out what the Romans do because it is rather difficult to find them. Most self respecting Romans seem to avoid the touristy part of the city like the plague (forget about walking through the Vatican), and this city has done a great job of marketing itself to foreigners.

The Roman Forum, however, was an absolute delight. I got in with no line, wandered around the ruins for hours, wondered what it would be like to have lived in ancient Rome. This was the highlight of my trip by far. It was just a pleasure to be out in the open air with wide open spaces again.

Also the forum is absolutely stunning. That helps a lot.

Of course no trip to Rome would be complete without a trip to the Colosseum. This too, was a wonderful experience, but mostly because I had already bought my ticket at the Roman Forum. The line to get into the Colosseum without a ticket was enormous. Standing in the Colosseum, I was amazed by how many people could fit in it now, and how amazing it must have been to have Romans filling the floors back in its heyday. Going to Rome fulfilled so many childhood dreams, but at the same time Rome was not the city that I had dreamed it would be. I am glad I went, I am eternally grateful to have seen what I have seen, but Rome does not make my short list of my favorite places in Europe.

That was my last big trip this semester. Now I am celebrating my last few days in Córdoba and beginning to pack. The next blog article I write will probably be my last. It's been an awesome journey, and I've loved sharing it with all of you.