Christmas Greetings

If there is anyone out there who still reads this blog, I extend you joyful Christmas greetings and my best wishes for the new year! It's true, I've been rather neglectful of these pages the past weeks, or, as I now look at things, months. I must say, it's been weighing on me a bit lately. Whenever I get a moment or two of down time, I hear a little voice in the back of my mind pestering ever so quietly "write on your blog". I do love writing and sharing bits of my life through this medium, but it's the life, not the medium, that's been the tiring thing of late.

*     *     *

I returned to God's own land of Michigan late on the evening of December 12th, before much of the wicked winter weather had descended upon the Upper Midwest with much ferocity. I must say, though, that I had begun to miss winter in Washington - a feeling which was exacerbated by the pitiable way in which the region dealt with a mere two inches of snowfall the week before I left. In any event, I am home safe with one semester at the Catholic University of America behind me.

I don't wish to really delve into academics too much (at the risk of boring you, kind reader), but, suffice to say it was a successful semester on both important fronts: the lesser being the grades and the greater being the personal intellectual growth sustained. I must say that I am pleased with my choice to move to Washington and to attend CUA. It has afforded me much in the way of new perspectives and experiences, and I feel as though I am making good connections personally and professionally. But, that's all rather detached-sounding, as if I am writing for a CUA prospectus or something. I'll have thaw my writing fingers a bit more before talking more in depth about people and ideas that have made impressions on me this semester.

*     *     *

The weekend before Thanksgiving I made my first visit to New York City. I went with a friend who I know from Ball State who currently lives in Washington. We took the Megabus and stayed with a mutual friend who was in the city for the semester on a co-op internship program. We scurried about like good little tourists, attempting and mostly succeeding in seeing the major sites. I was sad that St. Patrick's was almost entirely coated in scaffolding both inside and out, but I was rewarded somewhat by happening upon a mass for the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. It was the first time I had ever seen the Knights in any formal occasion, and it left quite an impression. I think such groups are good for the Church and for civilization in general. I may be accused for being motivated by nostalgia or mere conservatism, but I think such groups can truly raise the mind to the chivalric virtues they strive toward. Modern culture is wimpy. The knights of anything are inherently vigorous.

New York is entirely unlivable. Washington is the upper limit of urbanity that I could possibly ever deal with on a day-to-day basis. There are too many people in New York. There's no breathing room. There's the incessant monotonous march of regular blocks. Urbanistically, Washington wins, hands down. However, as far as the arts are concerned, New York beats everyone else, hands down. But, that doesn't make the city more livable in my eyes, it just makes me happy that I live only a short four hours away at this point.

*     *     *

I've missed Grand Rapids. I try not to cloud my mind unnecessarily with future plans, but one that I do fixate upon is that I would like to move back to Grand Rapids when the time comes. A professor whom I admire at Ball State would always admonish us, "Never give up on your hometown and never be ashamed of where you're from." This admonition, I think, stings the Hoosiers a bit more than it stung me, because it's very difficult for me to ever feel ashamed of West Michigan. I'm not going to gush on and on about how it's a "special place", but I will say there's a lot of raw material, so to speak, that makes it an interesting place to live.

People I meet in DC are utterly fascinated and bewildered by the Midwest. A classmate from New Jersey has never been further west than Penn State, and she was baffled when we had a lecture on Chicago, declaring "I never knew Lake Michigan was that big!" It's interesting being a stereotype. For many people I meet, Michigan is indistinguishable from anything else between Ohio and Colorado. This confronts my thinking in a harsh way, because there's a strong current of what you might call Michigander Exceptionalism in the Midwest. Michigan is different from everything around it. You can compare Indiana with Ohio and Illinois and be ok. Minnesota and Wisconsin are similar. But, Michigan is different.

*     *     *

I've made a lot of progress on my genealogical research in the past few weeks. For a long time, I had no information on my paternal grandfather's ancestors. I just new my great-grandparents' names and that they were from eastern Austria. I have since been able to trace back from my great-grandparents back to the beginning of the 19th Century. They were all ethnic Germans who lived in what was then the western edge of the Kingdom of Hungary. Nowadays, the territory they hailed from is a part of Austria. 

An interesting thing I've discovered throughout my research is how heterogenous my family is. There are unexpected little blips of different ethnicities that just pop up sometimes, much to my surprise. For instance, I was researching my grandma's grandfather, whose name was Frank Ryan. I had always been told he was Irish. His father was in fact a half Irish, half English Canadian, but his mother was French Canadian, descended from a family who were among the first settlers of Detroit. I guess the point is that the further you go back, the murkier things become. I started out my research thinking I was Austrian, Slovak, Polish, French Canadian, and Irish. I'm actually Austrian, Hungarian, Slovak, Ruthenian, Polish, French Canadian, Belgian, Swiss, Irish, German, and English.

*     *     *

Christmas was really nice this year. We had a lot of snow (about 14 inches) on the ground, and there were flurries throughout the day. We went to Midnight Mass at the Cathedral, which was beautiful as always. The chanting of Tollite Hostias and O Magnum Mysterium left a deep impression this year. This was the first time I have seen our new bishop of Grand Rapids. Not that it matters, but I like him. 

I got a hiking backpack, a winter coat, a little DVD player, and a nice messenger bag from my parents. It seemed a lot to me, but I won't complain about it. They will all be put to good use. I'm looking forward to doing more serious hiking in the future. Friends have a February camping trip in Virginia planned, so it will probably come in handy then. 

Friday we head up to the cottage for our extended New Years gathering. Many of the cousins will be up this year. Grandpa reported that the ice on the lake is about ten inches thick - unusually thick for this time of year. It will be good for hockey.

States and Cities

An interesting thing about moving to a new place is learning all of the new geographic prejudices intrinsic to any place. Who do we envy here? What city is the pain in everyone's side? What state is to be looked down upon? To me, these little prejudices form one of the more subtle and interesting parts of American culture, which is so homogenized in so many other categories. On the macro-level, it's hard to compare the United States with say, Germany, where the differences between a Bavarian and a Brandenburger can be quite pronounced in terms of culture and dialect. I suppose the South has a fairly intact regional identity, as does New England, and Texas, but apart from these, it's harder to discern the little frictions that develop between localities.

Michigan, of course, has a longstanding feud with Ohio. To even say the the name of that state elicits feelings of both pity and contempt. We had a war with them once, and, frankly, we just can't get over it. Indiana is not held in contempt, just pitied. There's a subtle sense that Indiana is actually a Southern state that somehow got misplaced. Illinois is ignored, apart from Chicago, which is as the region's metropole is held in obligatory esteem. Wisconsin has beer. Within Michigan, there is a distinct social divide between the two peninsulas. There is also a rather strong east/west divide. The Thumb is just a strange place. In Indiana, the vitriol toward Ohio is regrettably absent, as Hoosiers tend to focus their derision on Kentucky, and Gary. Indianapolis, like most large cities, has its social and geographic strata which became apparent while at Ball State. 

Here in DC, it's harder to tell, since many people I interact with are not from DC at all. But, basically everyone is sort of suspicious of Baltimore. And Virginia is pretty much still written off as too conservative to matter. The Midwest is not really on anyone's radar, that's for sure. Michigan was characterized as fly-over country the other day in class and I was deeply offended. There are many denizens of New Jersey lying hither and yon 'round here. They do their part to both reinforce and shatter stereotypes in rapidly bewildering succession. Philadelphia is just a dirtier version of DC. Joe Biden is from Delaware (sort of), rendering the entire state suspect.

I just think it's fascinating to see what places are on the radar of people in places I'm unfamiliar with. Where do they vacation? Where did their family live before? Who are rivals in sports? 

Death on the West Side

The city of Grand Rapids sits astride a straight north-south stretch of the Grand River as it makes its way from the centre of Michigan's Lower Peninsula to its terminus at Grand Haven on Lake Michigan. Over the course of the ages, the river has gently sculpted a valley, which the city has long overgrown. On the east side of the river, there is not much flat land, and the valley rises to the hills rather quickly. This is the oldest part of the city, and the early men of wealth and importance built their fine mansions on the crest of this hill, overlooking the city. Many of them still exist, now inhabited by doctors and lawyers. On the west side of the river, there is a wide flat plain, and then a steep rise. An almost uniform ridge from north to south, paralleling the river, divides the low river plain from a rather modest plateau of flat uplands.

Along the west side of the river, factories sprang up. The neighborhood attracted immigrants and working class people. In the early 20th Century, the area was teeming with Poles and Lithuanians, eager to work in the furniture mills that first brought national attention to Grand Rapids. As the years went on, the descendants of these immigrants became wealthier, and they moved up the hill. A sort of animosity was born between those who lived up the hill and those who lived down the hill. Nowadays, the lower west side is home to many Latino immigrants, and the animosity still exists.

A point, then, that is most interesting, is that the hill that divides the upper west side from the lower west side is home to no less than four cemeteries. At one portion of Leonard Street, a main east-west thoroughfare through the city, one passes between two cemeteries, one on each side of the road. The street cuts through the hill at a grade lower than the crest of the ridge, so the cemeteries are held back from the road by concrete embankments. As one drives through this little canyon of death, one is literally eye-level with the dead.

I consider that fact every time I drive that way, going down toward the river. Death is of course the great equalizer. The Poles and Lithuanians who worked in the factories are buried in those cemeteries. Their white-collar, suburban descendants are buried there. And, the Latinos will be buried there. One's station in life is utterly irrelevant in death on the west side, as commingling with every sort of neighbor is inevitable. The hills draw everyone together. It is especially interesting that one of the cemeteries is named Mt. Calvary, after another hill that brought humanity together.

And, I, perhaps with sensationalistic intent sometimes, make it a point to alert people of their proximity to the dead every time I pass by that way. They invariably "ooh" and "ugh", but I find it instructive. We think too little of death in our sanitary age. I would like to commend the city planner who decided to blast a road between two cemeteries, providing such a moment of reflection on an otherwise mundane urban commute. Time flies, much like the car down the hill, but death is always to be considered and prepared for - not as a morbid subject to dwell and sulk upon, but as an antidote to physical and spiritual lethargy and irresponsibility.

Big Sky

I think there are some interesting peculiarities that set Michigan apart from the rest of the Midwest. We Michiganders seem (in general) to possess a peninsular mentality. Due to the enigmatic workings of geography, the state is decidedly cut off from the rest of the country. We are not on the main east-west trucking routes that characterize the rest of the states in our nations midsection. We are bordered mostly by the Great Lakes. To me, at least, this geography makes me feel protected in Michigan. There are hundreds of spots along the coast where you can have your back to a forest and look out over the water - it feels safe and serene and primordial.

Indiana, and the rest of the Midwest, is thus a bit exhilarating. It's wide. You can see forever. It's disconcerting how far you can see in some places. There's no sense of protection from the rest of the world. The wind that blows across Indiana could have started in Colorado and just kept truckin'. There was no Great Lake to buffer it before reaching its destination. In the rest of the Midwest, borders seem arbitrary. You can drive in pretty much any direction and see the same thing. Places are not defined. Counties just bleed into other counties. One might say that everything between the Rockies and the Ohio River is just a bunch of counties. There might be one decent sized city every three or four counties. The rest is mainly agriculture. And, for the most part, there's not much that distinguishes the counties of Nebraska from the counties of Indiana.

It's just interesting. Michigan is defined, encircled, enclosed. The rest of our region is ephemeral, infinite, and open. It is big.

The photo above was taken on a hill on the outskirts of Bismarck, North Dakota in June 2008.

Acadia in the Fog

Well folks, we have returned to the delightful chore of updating this blog after a nearly two-week absence. As I mentioned in my previous post, I was on a road trip to the east of North America with my family and my good friend from Germany. It was a fantastic opportunity to see many interesting and exciting locations in both the United States and Canada. Instead of boring you with the minutiae of our day-to-day experiences, I thought I'd post a series of photo blogs showcasing some of my favorite locations/moments/things that happened on the trip.

First is a series of shots from Acadia National Park, which is located on one of the stony, peninsular fingers of eastern Maine. Given its proximity to the ocean, the park is often shrouded in a gentle fog, which dampens the sights and sounds of the wilderness. Thought of another way, the fog makes the landscapes more subtle, and in some cases, more eerie than they might otherwise be in full sunlight. Here follows a sampling of fog in Acadia.

Jordan Pond

Cliffs near our campsite

Tall ship in Bar Harbor

Fog on the hiking trail to Bubble Rock

Views from the French Quarter

Over spring break, a group of us went to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras celebrations there. We were of course overwhelmed, but nonetheless each of us found New Orleans to be a charming and beautiful city. I am eager to return at a less hectic time, but until then, enjoy these views of the French Quarter, the historic heart of a historic city.

Cathedral of St. Louis, King of France

Café du Monde, a New Orleans institution

Oh Where, Oh Where Shall I Study Abroad?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for not blogging in some time, but things have been horribly busy on this end. Architecture projects and other pests have been conspiring against me recently. But, things are looking a little less stressful during this week and a half lead up to spring break. One thing that has been (and will surely continue) keeping me busy is my exploration of study abroad options for next spring semester. I met with a person in the study abroad office yesterday and we discussed a number of possibilities. My long-held assumption that the Danish Institute for Study Abroad would be my perfect fit was shattered when it was revealed that none of my scholarships or aid would be applicable. This, combined with a number of other logistical nightmares, has made Copenhagen no longer a viable option.

Enter everything else.

Basically, because all architecture schools around the world are same in method (i.e. studio), I have decent latitude in determining where I want to study. Of course, things like credit transfer, language, geography, etc. need to be taken into account. Through ISEP (International Student Exchange Program) I can basically enroll in a partner university abroad while paying Ball State tuition and room and board. Basically, I pay for my spot on my campus, a foreigner pays for his spot on his campus, and we switch places. This, of course works nicely with scholarships and financial aid, since I would be still paying Ball State.

So, that being said, ISEP institutions are fairly limited when it comes to architectural instruction in English. The two most interesting programs I've discovered so far are the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, Scotland and the Technische Universität Graz (Technical University of Graz), in Graz, Austria. For a variety of logistical reasons, TU Graz is looking ever more appealing.

For those of you who aren't keen on your Austrian geography, Graz is the second-largest city in the country and is located approximately two hours south of Vienna near the Slovenian and Hungarian borders. It is the capital of the province of Styria (Steiermark in German) and has a very well-preserved old city complete with a castle. Styria is the driest and sunniest region of Austria, which gives it a Mediterranean flair and makes it all the more appealing. It is a foothill region of the Alps, with the main high elevation regions in the north of the province. Graz is well connected with the rest of Austria (and Europe) via many rail lines and bus connections.

There are a number of universities in Graz, and it seems to be a lively, younger town. Of course, Graz's close proximity to other major European cities make it appealing: Vienna and Bratislava are both two hours north, Salzburg three hours west, Budapest three hours east, Zagreb two hours south, and Venice four hours southwest. Of course, location is not everything when deciding where to study, but it does help the decision process along.

Courses at TU Graz are taught in English or German, depending on which you register for. However, all international students take an intensive three-week German course before classes start in order to be better prepared for the culture. This is another plus for the program. I am currently enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree, which requires foreign language. Having this practical German experience could make acquiring those credits easier and provide a springboard for future study in German-speaking lands (considering their deep commitment to sustainable design).

So that's the Austrian option. I'd be independent, living with other international students from all over the world, and largely on my own as far as my studies are concerned. This seems not a grave objection considering I came to Ball State not knowing a soul. Part of the adventure I suppose.

Another, totally different option is Ball State's Australia Center in Lennox Head, New South Wales. This is a program operated entirely by Ball State for Ball State students. A team of Ball State and Australian faculty teach. There are many nice benefits of this program from a logistical standpoint. The director of the Australia Center for Spring 2011 is an architecture professor, which would theoretically make studio credit transfer a breeze. Also, everything is done as a group, which makes the possibilities of something going wrong decrease. I would be well-connected with a group of American students and familiar faces, which on the one hand would be really comforting. Also comforting is the fact that student housing is in small cabins that lie steps from the beach.

Australia would be much less of a cultural immersion compared to Austria. That's the one major, major drawback. I want to study abroad to get a different experience than that which I'm getting here, and if I'm with Ball State people in a place which is similar to America culturally, I'm not sure if that goal is going to be met. Then, the other half of me says, "But, you'd be living on the beach!"

Dilemmas and decisions, to be sure. The weeks ahead will be filled with meetings upon meetings. I have to meet with this and that advisor, financial person, study abroad person, etc., etc. Lots to think about on this front. Readers, feel free to voice your opinion on the issue.

Gandria, Switzerland

On this cold, snowy Muncie day, I was daydreaming about one of my favorite destinations on my EuroTrip 2010 - Gandria, Switzerland. Gandria is a small, Italianate village that sits on the rocky shore of Lake Lugano - an aquatic jewel that separates the Swiss canton of Ticino from Italy. It maintains its historic character of a small fishing village with its crooked cobblestone alleys tumbling down toward the water. Enjoy some of my photos of this little slice of paradise.