Month: March 2023

L’Osieau Blue

Written by Swati

March 15th, 2023

That which we go in search of will never be found. But that which we choose to find in the world around us, appears more easily. Something I heard from my philosophy professor freshman year that changed my mindset: The opposite of depression is not happiness, it is purpose. As humans we must always be headed in a direction, any direction at all. We must be going after things, not as a means to an end, but focusing on the journey.

A fairytale that I recently learned about is L’Oiseau Bleu, an old Belgian tale about two impoverished children on a quest looking for a blue bird, the secret to happiness. After a long adventure to different worlds, searching, capturing, and losing different birds, they find the bird waiting back for them in their own home. 

Why is it that the further we chase, the less we catch? The more we search, the less we find? I know very little about manifestation but I can say that the general improvement of my quality of life is due to a habit I developed thanks to one of my very best friends. When I first started college in the midst of the pandemic, I was truly alone for the first time, I didn’t know what to do with myself and all of the time I had to sit and think led me to some dark mental corners. But a beacon of light came through one of my best friends who encouraged me to always look for one good thing in every day, even just opening the blinds and letting the light in or slipping on a pair of flip flops to run to the dining hall. And some days it was difficult, I’d report back to her with dismal news. “Today it was raining and the dining hall ran out of fries and ice cream and every possible edible thing I could possibly imagine putting in my body.” I’d conclude it was an awful day and move on. “But?” She’d gesture. “Well I saw a flower on my way to class,” I’d relent finally. “I’m sure it was beautiful.” And just like that the sunshine in my heart was restored.

And days when I couldn’t possibly find anything she’d start off instead. “Today I got a milkshake and a nugget meal from Chick Fil A!” Finding joy in the simple things and looking for small victories which once seemed so difficult now appeared on their own. But it wasn’t because I went chasing after them, it was because it felt like they had appeared serendipitously, a miracle of their own. It’s tough to say after so many weeks of constant praise, but bad days happen everywhere, even in Europe. But it’s a mindset shift to have a sequence of bad events that don’t culminate to making for a bad day.

Just this week I had a terrible few hours where I lost one of my gloves (a recent heartbreak as they were my favorite purchase and a fur-lined pair from Edinburgh), had my umbrella inverted by the biting wind, a series of very confusing lectures that I couldn’t even pretend to follow, I was thirty minutes late to my physics meeting, and the constant rain seeped into my boots. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse a pounding headache settled in between my eyes. But right then I looked up and caught one of the most beautiful sunsets in Metz all semester. Watching the colors turn right before my eyes felt like magic. Recently, a travel buddy asked me if optimism is natural or learned. And my first instinct was to say it was natural. I was always told I was a pleasant child, smiling, and trying to brighten the atmosphere, but it wasn’t until further reflection that I’d say it’s more learned than anything. Focusing on the bad zooms in on the bad and focusing on the good zooms in on the good. Though your situations are the same, the mindset at which you approach them, and thus the conclusions you reach from them, are inherently different because of a change in processing. 

Even when we were stuck in the train station for hours due to a series of cancellations and when we spent an extra hour on the metro, small pieces of good come out of everything.

Fill your life with good things. Or fill your life with things and see them as good. 

Anywhere you are, you are the same person. You look at the world with the same eyes, and if something is to change, it must change within you to change outside of you. New locations, new cities, and new architecture might provide some refuge or excitement but at the end of the day the biggest change starts with you. And the blue bird can be found, perched right on your shoulder.

Saudade

Written by Swati

March 9th 2023

I’m fully convinced that people who live in places with nicer weather are better people. Never have I been smiled at on the street so often or found street musicians playing love songs from the early 2000s as the sun set. In the coastal cities of Portugal: Porto, Aviero, and Coimbra I see such an affection and pride for life. Life is art and art is the simplicity of life. Pastel de nata with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice first thing in the morning, the laughter of children tinkling in the background. In Portugal I see public displays of emotion for the first time in Europe, couples dance in the streets, babies waddle up to drop change in open guitar cases, others stroll by on daily walks, laughter in their eyes. How could life even be that bad with a protective blanket of sunshine over you?

I see a woman swipe away tears on the train to Aveiro, a connection on my way to Coimbra for a day trip out of Porto. White wired headphones in, I can only imagine what was floating through her ears. An old love song, reminders of a former flame, or a voicemail from a loved one thousands of miles away. Gentle waves lap at the shore out of the window, tenderness clouds her face. When our eyes meet she sends me a sad smile and I wonder what realizations she’s having on this train ride, where she’s headed, and what decisions she’s made recently that led her up to this moment. Accompanied only by a simple black tote bag, worn leather heels, and a swipe of red lipstick, she could be headed off to see the lake and decompress after a long work week or mourn a loss in her starched black dress pants. Maybe she hugged someone for the last time or hasn’t seen the sea in years and the fondness of it all brings tears to her eyes. This must be saudade. The longing and melancholy for something lost, something that may have never existed. 

Across from me a French couple does crossword puzzles together. If I was feeling any more adventurous I would’ve struck up a conversation but I’m too wrapped in scribbling down answers to Physics practice tests, sneaking in glances at the sea, and making up backstories for my fellow train dwellers. I love catching people in the midst of existence. Running to catch the bus, nodding off on early morning transportation, caught in the rain, burnt tongues from hot coffee, sticky fingers from melted gelato, widening eyes when realization hits. Struck by the humanity of it all I made the last minute decision to stop off in Aveiro and spend some time by the water before taking the next train out to Coimbra two hours later. With the lake a 30 minute walk away, I took a waterside stroll, saw Aveiro’s salt fields, and sat by the pier. On the way back to the train station I had bacalhau à lagareiro com batatas (cod with potatoes) and the blend of fresh caught seafood, homeliness of the restaurant, and kindness of the waiter made for an incredible meal. I was a bit rushed to get back to catch the train, but Aveiro was a sweet coastal town.

Monthly Musings #2

Written by Swati

March 6th 2023

They say it takes 21 days to build a habit. How sweet it is to know that your body works with your mind to make sure you thrive anywhere you go. In just three weeks you could be good as new. From weighing my own produce and getting stickers to scan at grocery stores to walking up cobblestone streets and deciding that 30-minute walks to the corners of new cities are good for the soul, every place I’ve been to has been so kind to me. I’m constantly surprised at the patience, gentleness, and warmth I’ve received from strangers and the reminder that every problem has a solution.

As always, here are 5 more things I’ve learned over the last month:

  1. Make mealtimes fun with friends! This sounds like the tagline to an awful commercial you just can’t get out of your head, but sharing meals with friends in the dorms make for good memories and opportunities to learn new recipes! Whether it’s a risotto or a simple pasta, sometimes life can get hectic and trying to figure out what to buy for your weekly grocery haul feels a bit too overwhelming. Share the burden with your neighbors and bundle in some time to swap stories about your travels!
  1. Reconnect with old friends and see who you can find nearby. Recently I shared about how I was able to spend time with an old friend from high school, but you’ll surprise yourself with the number of family or childhood friends that are currently in Europe or spent some time here and have recommendations! Keep your community and support system strong by having people outside of the GTE bubble to reach out to and connect with. 
  1. Go grocery shopping in new countries and pick up snacks and easy to eat on-the-go items! If one thing’s for sure it’s that businesses in several countries operate on their own schedules. Some restaurants close in between lunch and dinner, some close after lunch, some open just for dinner. With long days of traveling and arriving in new places at odd hours, try to stop by a grocery store to stock up on snacks and local favorites without the hefty tourist prices. If you’d like a recommendation, I favor Lidl over all of the other ones for both price and quality. Whether it’s a pastel de nata in Portugal or gelato in Italy, grocery stores have their own spin and charm on local classics. 
  1. Take pictures of everything! (Or videos, draw sketches, keep momentos, whatever your thing is.) It’s easy to fall into the normalcy of seeing cobblestone streets and grandiose balconies on every street corner, but I try to keep a collection of photos and journal entries with momentos from each city I go to just to see the differences in architecture and energy between them. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and while I’m unwont to agree completely, each city is unique and having the opportunity to look back on a clear retelling of it is truly something special. 
  1. Try to say something, anything, in the local language wherever you go because the effort is always appreciated. Even if it’s a greeting, please and thank you, and asking if someone speaks English in the local language if you’re truly at a loss for words will get you far in terms of warmth and reception. There’s a reason tourists are often regarded with exasperation and weariness, but showing appreciation and respect towards new cultures and languages will expand and increase the value of your time spent in a new place!

They say it takes 21 days to build a habit, and it’s been a little over 55, I slowly realize I could get used to this life. A desire to live, a desire to survive, a desire to thrive. I realize I’ve talked your ear off about Italy, what can I say it was 10 out of 28 days of the month and few more of preparation. But the sweetness of life is an addicting flavor. Lazy wandering streets and squeezing through back alleyways make the world feel like a treasure box. I’m glad to never know what I’ll find.

A Slice of Home (Haha! Get It? Laugh, It’s Funny.)

Written by Swati

March 3rd, 2023

What does it mean to find a piece of home everywhere you go? To me it’s following the heart, doing what feels right, chasing impulses with wild abandon, whether it means I spend the day staring at water or wander the streets of a new city and strike up small talk with shop owners and seat neighbors on trains. It means leaving a piece of your soul in every city, just hoping you’ll have a chance to come back to find it one day. 

This week I was infinitely lucky to plan part of my spring break to spend time with a good friend of mine from high school, Shelby! She traveled to Europe a few times in high school and her love of adventure and interest in politics and culture always inspired me to reach further out of my comfort zone to see what else I could learn. She was often the first of my friends to catch on to international trends, music, and TV shows, and her openness to the unknown still continues today. When I found out she’d be in Florence studying abroad for the semester, I knew we had to plan to spend some time together. 

After a particularly life-changing train ride to Florence from Venice, I trudged down the cobblestone streets with a backpack too full for my own two feet, and settled into an apartment turned into a homestay for guests. Shelby and I settled on meeting for dinner and strolled the streets of Florence before finding a restaurant. It was in her eyes and in her presence that I could truly feel how much I had changed. Gone were the days crying over points lost on exams, fitting in meetings at the crack of dawn and between lunch and class, signing myself up for leadership of any club I could get my hands on. I could finally live. I could finally breathe. I could finally understand life is all about balance.

When I went to visit Seattle last summer, it was my first time truly traveling and learning what was beyond the world that I knew. It was the first time I’d stood on a pier and thought to myself: if this is life, I must be living it. Staring out at the water I felt limitless. Ever since then I’ve chased that feeling. And I’ve found it hidden in narrow alleyways in Venice, in smiling strangers turned to friends in Glasgow, between pages at the Writer’s Museum in Edinburgh, in collecting seashells by the shore at Como Lago, and in front of my own two feet. 

Wandering Florence with Shelby and speaking fondly of our days in high school I was once again hit with the sudden realization of how much we had both grown up. How suddenly we make decisions like tidal waves in our lives that seem like ripples at the time. How easily we can find ourselves thousands of miles away from where we met, meeting again as the same but somehow fundamentally different. How three years as young adults helped solidify our senses of self and knowing that which we truly desire, even if it changes every day. 

And how sometimes pieces of home are sharing pizza with a familiar face, hearing recognizable laughter, and easy-flowing conversation. Sometimes we don’t need to go search for pieces of home in bookstores and museums in new cities. They just as easily come to find us. 

Lately I’ve been thinking about people. How people make a city. How I won’t quite remember the restaurants or exhibits I visited but I’ll always remember people and the conversations and memories that I’ve made with them. Everywhere I go I find myself staring at busy streets wondering what goes in people’s minds, what they worry about, what takes over their conversations, where they’re headed. 

And I wish I could meet fateful strangers every day, Scottish philosophers that ease the weight of the world, Korean families owning seaside restaurants, college students abroad on weekend getaways. But then I remember that not everything can matter and not everything can break and make the world whole because it would be like highlighting the entire planet. But it’s the highlights that color a memory, and it’s the feelings that make those memories last. And home can be found in people, not in places.

The People We Meet On The Train

Written by Swati

March 2nd 2023

The people we meet on the train are Fate’s hands knitting the cloth of our lives right before our eyes. On the way to Venice, a massage therapist from Thailand settled in Albania, hoping to move to Switzerland to join the rest of his family. A couple on vacation from

Gyeonggi-do, South Korea, on a romantic getaway from the cityscape. Fathers wrangle rows of children together, mothers patiently gather tickets and baggage for disembarkment.  The people I meet on the train will be scored on my heart forever. 

On the way to Florence, I could feel Fate’s hand pushing me forward into my life. After a gentle morning in Burano, a fishing village off of Venice with rows of colorful houses and small pieces of handmade lace, I took some extra time to write by the water. I decide that Venice must be God’s favorite place on Earth. Manmade creations meant to mimic greatness I’d assume he respects the attempt, and allows it to prosper. It wasn’t a place where I necessarily found happiness, but where I found that happiness could be found. And with that I took a ferry back to Venice, with more than enough time to make it to my train. Or so I thought. 

How quickly an hour disappears. Delays in turn to new ferry lines, turn into frantic scrambling down Venetian streets, canvas bag in hand, hair whipping through the wind. By the time I made it back to my hotel to pick up my bag, I had 25 minutes to make the 22 minute journey to the Venezia Santa Lucia train station. I had all but given up, but something about traveling abroad alone has instilled more fight in me. If I am to miss a train, I must first attempt to make it. A big problem I had growing up was giving up too early. As it goes with young children who are identified as talented early on, I always wanted to be a natural. I wanted to be good at everything. I wanted assurance that all attempts are rewarded. But the world doesn’t work that way. And it’s alright. Sometimes Fate reaches out a hand. And that’s all we need. 

After clattering my way to the train station, a glass bottle toppled out of one of my bags splattering all over the stoned road. I couldn’t tell you why, but once I decided I’d be spending more than 2 days at Lake Como, I fell into the domesticity of it all, and ran to the nearby Lidl to purchase supplies for a lakeside picnic. The unfortunate thing about going grocery shopping with me is that I’ll always shop as my Indian mother taught me to, looking for deals and purchasing a mix of fruits and snacks. But this meant that I ended up with 2 full bags of groceries that I then needed to take to Venice, and later Florence, with me. I’d managed to pack a backpack crammed full of clothes for 10 days in Italy, but the rest were plastic bags from grocery stores knotted haphazardly around my fingers. I ran to the terminal a mere 3 minutes prior to departure, only to find that my seat was in the last car of the train. In the midst of the chaos, I make the split decision to settle into the second car, and cross my fingers that no one else has reserved the seat that I just claimed. Across from me, I snuggle my backpack, two bags of groceries, and my tote bag. Sigh of relief. I’ve done it. I’m on the train and I will be in Florence in 2 hours. Enter Fate.

Stopping at a nearby station, Padova if I recall correctly, a dozen new passengers enter the train. A woman walks over to the couple next to me, explaining that she had reserved one of their seats, starting a bit of a stir that had me wondering if it was my mistake that would finally be revealed. But Fate would have it otherwise. A man enters as well, gesturing that he has reserved the seat that held my belongings. Eyes widening, I apologize profusely, knocking over my water bottle full of San Benedetto Allegro, a sparkling citrus fruit juice. Lovely. While I’m gathering my bearings, the couple and a nearby train hostess discuss, asking the woman with the original seat reservation if she would be okay taking a different seat nearby, as the train car was close to empty. With an agreement from all four of us in the vicinity, she heads over to a different seat and the man sits across from me, apologizing as well. I detect an English accent and a lack of the normal European distaste towards my clumsy nature. I take the plunge, asking if he was English which led to the most engaging conversation I’ve had in months.

I find that he’s John Armstrong, a Glasgow native and Oxford-educated philosopher, professor, author, and art collector. It’s difficult to read strangers, and with all the stranger danger training I received beginning at age 5, I’ve favored safety in traveling alone. But life in Italy, and maybe in overarching Europe, has an emphasis on most strangers minding their own business, often not starting conversation unless approached first. It gives me a greater feeling of control and ability to walk myself out of unsavory situations or break if conversation tapers off. In fact, the way a conversation begins is quite interesting. It feels too technical to ever engineer perfectly, which is why I’ll always believe Fate led me to that train, that train car, that seat, and that conversation. 

John Armstrong has enough stories to last lifetimes, but I find that much of the work that he’s done and continues to do in literature are along the lines of the realizations I’ve had along my European adventure thus far: small joys and finding beauty in the little things, more specifically why we are pulled to beautiful things like the stroke of a brush in a painting, or a curve of a hand in a sculpture. I’m amazed to have found a writer, but also such a mind, passing through at the same time as I did.  I’ve never quite been able to look Fate in the eye the way I did that Thursday afternoon.

If by chance you’re reading this now, Mr. John Armstrong, I hope you find that opening line you’re looking for to start your newest book. 

The people we meet on the train won’t fix us. But they will teach us, lead us, and guide us into understanding that we are fixing ourselves.