My Semester Abroad

Finally, on a train! Sarah and I are heading back to Warsaw after spending a night in Krakow. It's such a relief to sit down; yesterday we walked all over the city, checking out the Jewish Quarter and the Old Town. One synagogue has an incredibly old graveyard in the back. It's been restored but I guess some of the headstones had crumbled, so they were placed in a wall surrounding the cemetery. It's eerie and beautiful.

LAURA GEGGEL/SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The graveyard wall behind the Remuh Synagogue in Krakow, April 28, 2006.

There are bread stands everywhere, so we all bought pretzels and perched on steps watching tourists buy amber and bead necklaces from the street vendors. Laura headed off to some little Polish town today to see where her ancestors are from.

Our hostel experiences keep on getting better. Some Brits invited us to play poker , and even though I'm not a big fan of the game, we joined them and bet silly things like hair bands and health insurance cards (well, we later gave those back to them, since they were of little use to us). I had to barter a health insurance card for my ballpoint pen. Close call.

Today a nine-year-old girl held us hostage in an Old Town Church! She giggled as she leaned against the door and held out her collecting cup.

"I already gave you some zloty," said Laura, one of the friends I'm traveling with in Poland. We had to play the waiting game for a couple minutes until the girl relented and let us out. It's sad really; she should be in school.

Warsaw's Old Town is the most authentic place to visit; most everything else has been rebuilt since the city was flattened by bombs in World War II. The streets are wide and so are the sidewalks, which double as parking lots for cars. It's not as bad as Rome or Naples though, where mopeds will drive up on the walkway to avoid traffic and send pedestrians scrambling for the wall.

We had perogies for lunch. They're like little dumplings and were made right in front of us! Mmmmmm......

From Old Town, we walked over to the Warsaw Uprising Memorial. It takes up a whole plaza: the structures long and angular and concrete blocks weighing down on them. The Monument to the Heroes of the Ghetto was strewn with flowers and wreaths. My friend's guidebook said that the Warsaw uprising occurred not because they thought they had a chance at survival — but because it was a more honorable way to die rather than waiting for the Nazis to come get them.

Two days ago, my group made what might be our last expedition together. We piled into a rented bus and drove four hours to the Great Wall of China, passing through the city limits out into the dry northern border of Inner Mongolia. We arrived at our nearly deserted hotel before dinner, and, finding nothing else to do with ourselves, took over the karaoke machine in the hotel restaurant.

The sound system was a disaster and the song menu was lacking, but although the Chinese version can't quite compete with the Japanese (who invented it, after all), we have a few singers in our group who can transform even the blandest karaoke setup into a night to remember. I think the two greatest hits of the evening were a solo version of "Stand by Your Man," by Claire and Julia, and "Eye of the Tiger," performed by a chorus of the guys.

My roommate, Rob, and I woke this morning to a city covered in fine red dust. We had heard that in the spring, strong winds hurl the sand so fast that at times it's painful to go outside unprotected but we hadn't seen it in our two weeks in the city. Luckily for us, the storm struck at night while we were safe in our seventh-floor dorm room.

But Beijing's annual sandstorms have been getting worse, according to my acquaintances who have lived here for a while. They're caused by the desertification that resulted from the heavy logging and pollution of the Great Leap Forward in the late 1950s.

Although China's ecological future seems bleak, my friends and I were able to take advantage of the present situation and had lots of fun drawing pictures with our feet in the dust on the university's outdoor basketball court. This scenario is par for the course of my nine months in Asia as part of the Pacific Rim Travel Study Program: a balance of changes, contradictions, and possibilities that I have learned about during my time in Asia. I have one more month, in China, so I'm hoping to make the most of it.

"Perhaps one day, tired of circling the world, I'll return to Argentina and settle in the Andean Lakes..." — Ernest "Che" Guevara, "The Motorcycle Diaries"

I cannot help but say that I feel the same way. This country is magical, and the Argentine Lake District beyond description. The best way to see this area, Ruta de los 7 lagos, is in a rented car, so my mother and I set off Saturday morning with the sun chasing us down the road. Around every turn was another breathtaking lake or valley, all in the shadows of the Andes mountains and the Chilean border. We crossed Rio Corrientoso, the shortest river in the world (!), passed dilapidated wooden bridges and stopped more than 50 times for pictures.

Our tour of the seven lakes ended Saturday night in San Martín de los Andes. The day that followed, Palm Sunday, was one of the strangest days of traveling we have had. We started on a bike trip to my new favorite brewery, in a factory in a neighboring village. The supposedly "no tan lejos" (not very far) journey ended up being "tan lejos," up a mountain, and on a busy road filled with trucks and large buses. The final straw on the outward journey was my asking a drunk man, also on bicycle, how far it was to the next town, he gladly said he would show us ; we quickly headed back down the mountain.

At dinner at a lovely lakeside restaurant I had "Waffles Patagónico" ... Patagonian Waffles?!? What arrived was a sort of waffle sandwich with a chicken salad in between. Ordering food in other countries is always an adventure, but rarely this much of an adventure. After dinner we went to the mirador, or lookout, over the town of San Martín de los Andes as well as Lago Lacar, the lake it sits on. We arrived just in time for sunset, it was perfect.

We finished off the evening at a rock concert, we had no idea what we were in for. Los trillizas de Belville, a band who named themselves after the movie "The Triplets of Belville," was comprised of six men from San Martín de los Andes, all past their prime, rocking out to their hometown crowd. My mom had the privilege of sitting next to a boy in his early teens who happened to be their biggest groupie. This kid was singing louder than the three women who were singing backup with microphones. We had to try not to laugh too loud; we didn´t want him to hear us... Phew.

I just said good-bye to my Momma and am now in El Bolsón heading to Bariloche in a few days to have my own adventures for my Easter Break.

Everything is so quiet. Tom left Saturday for Washington D.C. and I didn't feel like starting on my essays, so I filled my day with nonsensical things like a Jack the Ripper tour of London, and seeing "Capote" after Chinese food with friends. The walking group tour guide made everything very sensational. There are quite a few Jack the Ripper suspects — there are more than 10 people who could have done it.

Everything was still much too quiet, though, so I was really happy when I got a call from my friend Sarah (not the same Sarah I traveled with), who is going to the London School of Economics for the semester. I've known Sarah and her family since I was 8. Her parents were in town so we made plans for Indian food the next day. Her friend Renee came too; she went to Seattle Prep. I've got a whole Seattle posse with me in the U.K.

Over Indian food, Sarah, Renee and I discussed how people like to study abroad to challenge themselves and experience different cultures. But once you get to your new city, you tend to cling to people you already know. Americans hang out with Americans and exchange students from other countries. You really have to go out of your way to meet locals. In fact, I had just missed a bonding experience with my British Frisbee people, most of who are in York for a tournament, because I couldn't make the train at the designated time.

After dinner we went to Renee's apartment near London Bridge for the view. It was raining softly and everything — the castle near London Tower, the bridge, the boats on the Thames — had lights enveloping them. I stayed to chat with Renee and browsed her Time Out, a weekly that lists the going-ons of London. We made plans to see Spitalfields Market on Friday when the amateur clothing designers come to sell their wares.

I could not believe the words had come from my mouth, but tonight for dinner I ordered Ciervo Patagónico or Patagonian Deer. This is coming from a girl who was vegetarian for nine years, and before this semester in Argentina I had not touched beef since I was 8. Nonetheless, last night, the first night of my adventure in the Argentine Lake District with my mother, we ventured to Kandahar, a restaurant that had been highly recommended.

COURTESY RIANA HENSEL

Friday, April 7, 2006 in Bariloche, Patagonia, Argentina. Hensel enjoys a local delicacy, Patagonian Deer, for dinner.

There were rumors that this restaurant served wild boar from the region; when we didn't see it on the menu I asked the waiter. He kindly explained that it was a complicated legal situation involving permits for wild boar hunting. So I settled for the deer. Not having ever tasted venison, I had no idea what was coming, but was pleasantly surprised! I actually loved it. My mother and I sat there, both of us in shock as I devoured this regional delicacy, quaffed down with a local artisan beer.

It was the perfect first night for our trip. Tomorrow we leave the Swiss architecture and atmospheric village of Bariloche to explore the "Ruta de los 7 lagos" or "The seven-lakes route."

It's our last day here and by far one of the most wonderful. We met up with one of Sarah's Edinburgh friends for tapas and later went to the Picasso Museum, which houses many of his earlier works. Later we wandered up to Park Guel, also designed by Gaudi, which has the longest park bench in the world. Go Gaudi! After a bit more wandering we came across a Starbucks, and I struck up a conversation with the barista in my slow Spanish. He spoke so fast, it was hard to understand, but along with our coffee, we ended up with an invitation to a Starbucks party they were having the next day. Too bad we couldn't make it!

TOM GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

Baton Rouge 224 is of the Monastery at Monserrat. Only accessible by gondola or for fierce hikers!

Then we took the train out to Montserrat. It's only an hour away and a gondola ride up a very steep cliff to the monastery on top. There were a couple groups of French high school students on field trips there. It would be great to go to school in a European country — for all of your breaks, you get to travel to different cities with your classmates. The schoolkids made the train ride back particularly crowded; Tom and I had to sit on the luggage racks and I fell asleep and almost missed our stop.

We finally found Mercat St Josep today! It's right off Las Rambas and has every sort of fresh produce you could imagine. Sarah, Tom and I split up to find supplies for our picnic; we ended up buying grapes, tomatoes, salted almonds, clementines and omelets. (I was full for the rest of the day). We took our lunch up to the old 1992 Olympic village and walked around before finding a nice grassy area near the stadium to sit. Barcelona built such a huge arena and it's a bit odd to see it deserted.

Off to ride bikes with Momma in the nature preserve in Buenos Aires. This city has some pretty great parks, and it was super fun to see one on a bike. Momma and I rode around casually for a while, then returned the bikes and headed to a street fair, rivaling the one in San Telmo each Sunday for the tourists. But I wanted her to see that one too, so after some shopping and empanadas we headed to Plaza Durango for some antique fair-ing. I bought two really cool shirts -- one is actually a dress -- and made friends with a really sweet young man who directed us to the design fair. He's an actor in a small play here and I plan to go to it. I love this city more each day.

After Rome, Barcelona feels so much wider and warmer. There are actually crosswalks and traffic lanes here — hallelujah! Hardly anybody jaywalks, even if the streets are free of traffic. We are still in Rome mode, so we are often the only ones crossing the street while people bunch up on the edges of the sidewalk waiting for the walk sign.

The hostel we're staying at is a clean, well-lighted place. I met a young couple from Switzerland who recommended we check out an outdoor market called Mercat St Josep, but we forgot the street name and ended up at a little touristy restaurant on Las Rambas instead, drinking sangria and eating tortilla espanola. Las Rambas is a long boardwalk filled with street performers and little streets branching off into swank areas with tapas bars. You can buy anything here, even roosters.

LAURA GEGGEL / SPECIAL TO THE SEATTLE TIMES

The Sagrada Familia, April 2, 2006.

Tom and I ate and ate, naming this and that in Spanish. We couldn't remember how to say "plum," but we asked the men beside us who thought we were hilarious and asked us if we wanted to know any other words.

Today we visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge basilica designed by Gaudi that was 100 years in the making. Everything about it looks as though it was stretched vertically. After our hike to the top (Sarah came too, "boot" and all), we walked over to a nearby park to play Frisbee and naps. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because when I came to, my arm was asleep and rubbery. Viva la siesta!

First order of business: Tierra Santa, the religious theme park of Buenos Aires. It was amazing: the Last Supper with moving statues, and the creation scene with moving animals and (naked) Adam and Eve. There was a Jesus statue that resurrected on the half hour, accompanied by lovely music. Quote of the day: "no salió" ("he didn't come out!"), in reference to the resurrecting Jesus, who was off schedule the day we went, taking tourists by surprise.