Hola queridos! Me llamo Christina, soy de Los Angeles y soy una estudiante en la Universidad de Berkeley. I’ll be starting my 5th year in the fall and have always wanted to study abroad. I figured summer is the perfect chance to try it out. I will be in Madrid for 4 weeks–not too short, not too long.

I thought I would write my first post here, in Berkeley. I signed up for Berkeley’s Travel Study program in Madrid. The application process was pretty easy. In fact, I originally applied to a peace-keeping program in Argentina but realized it was winter there and did not want to miss out on the sunshine. Switching to Madrid was an e-mail away (without having to re-do my app or essays) and was accepted! It’s a pretty expensive program and I’m a little worried about how it will all work out, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. (Click here to read more…)

Lebanon is a land of contradictions. In Middle Eastern Studies at Berkeley we beat this idea to death. We learn about the country’s confessional system of representing its many sects, its history of creation out of colonization and its many wars.

I could say more about what I’ve learned in class. I could talk about the recent political developments, but since arriving here I’ve been oblivious. After months of obsessively following the news out of Lebanon, I now wait to hear the shouting and celebratory gunfire outside my window before I check Al Jazeera to make sure we’re not being attacked.

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Sometimes when you make travel plans it’s hard not to build up impossible expectations about whatever much-imagined place has been crawling closer and closer on your calendar. It’s ordinary to have those expectations trumped, for better or for worse. No place can perfectly fit the magical idea formed over months of planning.

Except Beirut.

From the moment my plane skirted the Mediterranean and, in my sleepless delirium, I saw the city’s buildings and distant lit-up hills fly by my window, the excitement hasn’t stopped for a moment. Not a single moment. Until now, perhaps, as I sit in my eighth-floor dormitory at the American University of Beirut’s idyllic campus with a view of the sun setting over the sea and a stack of four to six hours of homework.

This is the problem with study abroad. The study part. It’s what brought me up from the beach 30 minutes ago and it’s what will keep me occupied late into my first night spent indoors since arriving here on Monday.

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On the last full day of our birthright trip, we were woken up at 4 a.m. to hike up the Masada, a plateau with ancient Jewish fortifications overlooking the Dead Sea. With the exception of a few people who were a little slow at getting to our bus on time (and almost made us miss the sunrise), I have to hand it to my birthright-mates for getting up so early, and man, was it worth it:

Photo Credit: Nick Fradkin

After a 14-hour flight to Taipei, then another layover in Hong Kong, followed by another hour and a half of flying, followed by a 30-minute cab ride to the hotel, I finally begin my journey. In total, I spend just about twenty-four straight hours in transit. Compound that upon the days spent registering and clearing the trip through both UC Berkeley and UCLA, the planning of the flights to and from, calling the bank to not lock my card, visiting the hospital to get shots, driving to LA to clear my visa, going out and buying gear, packing said gear into a bag that cannot weigh more than 50 pounds and whose dimensions cannot exceed a total of 62 inches, driving to LAX, waiting in lines that don’t make any sense, reading and hearing warnings about everything that could go wrong, and I realize just how much of a journey it’s been already.

Of course, the real adventure has yet to start. I heard about the program in my Thai studies class, and since I was a unit short of graduating for real in the spring, I decided to sign up. I’ve signed up for two classes on coastal ecosystems and something to do with sustainable communities, but I didn’t really understand any of it at the time. I knew I wanted to go to Thailand. Yet, a part of me wonders whether all this planning and preparing will really show me Thailand, or if it will simply be a watered-down, American student-friendly, Disney-fied version of Thailand.

Whatever happened to the “Get Up and Go” mentality? (Click here to read more…)

Once we made it to the southernmost point of Israel, our tour guide, Oren, led us into the Eilat Mountains, just to the north. On the way, we drove alongside the border between Israel and Egypt. A few of us tried to convince our bus driver, who was appropriately named Israel, to stop the bus so we could briefly cross the border and say that we’ve stepped foot on the African continent, a similar experience as the one at the Four Corners of Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico.

Nevertheless, we continued toward our destination, Nahal Yoash, a sort of mini-canyon. The red rocks there reminded me of Sedona, a scenic town near Phoenix, my hometown. This simple geographical parallel further solidified my realization that Israel is not just an ancient biblical land, but a land that is very real to the people with whom I share my heritage. In other words, I felt at home.

Photo Credit: Nick Fradkin

My camera took Day 5 off, but it saw plenty of photo opportunities on Day 6. Although it is not apparent here, I nearly fell off of my camel multiple times as I was taking pictures of my Birthright friends riding their camels … anything for a good shot! I can (almost) ride my camel with no handlebars.

Photo Credit: Nick Fradkin

One of the first times I remember reading a newspaper article was the morning after Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated in 1995. At the time, I was 7 years old and had just started attending Hebrew school, so I knew that Rabin was important to Israel, Israel is important to Judaism and that Judaism is important to me. Although I could make the connections and could understand the significance of the murder, it never really affected me until I visited the site. Much like the time I toured Ground Zero in New York, Rabin’s assassination, and Israel for that matter, feel more real to me. (Click here to read more…)

I came really close to seeing my life end. Seriously. I was on the island of Busuanga, headed to El Nido in the Philippines and the only way there was by boat. The boat operators told me it would only be a six-hour trip, but it ended up being more than 10 hours before we were safe ashore.

I got nervous when the boat stalled in the middle of the ocean and 10-foot waves started overwhelming our small, 20-foot wooden boat. It didn’t help that we were caught in a storm–monsoon season was now in full effect. Just then, a wave cracked the front of the boat and the bamboo rods that were holding together the sides snapped … then the roof ripped off. I looked back at the captain and saw a worried look in his eye, and I knew something wasn’t right. (Click here to read more…)